Olivia and the Older Boy: Young Adult Sweet Romance (Love in Ocean Grove Book 5)

by Anna Catherine Field

  “Nature’s bathtub,” he proclaims, using a term our parents called it when we were younger. We’d all go down to the beach late in the day with a bar of soap and shampoo. It was the cheater, lazy parenting way of taking a bath but it worked.

  After digging out the blankets we used the night of the movie, he spreads them across the seats. The mud cakes to my skin, heavy and dry.

  “Toss your shoes in the back,” he says, throwing his in. He has a line where his sock begins, revealing pristine white feet. Mine follow his with a clank against the bed. He pulls at the hem of his T-shirt. It’s one he had made with the logo of his business. Now it’s mostly brown and I doubt the stain will ever come out. I glance down at my own tank top, probably ruined for good, when I sense a quick movement and look up.

  Ben removed his shirt.

  Okay so here’s the thing. I’ve been to the beach a lot with Ben. Gabe and his dad surfed, and Ben often went with them. He wasn’t as skilled, but like most people that live on the coast, the water is just part of our lives. Same with bathing suits, tank tops, shorts, and flip-flops.

  But I haven’t seen Ben shirtless in a long time. And things have changed. A lot.

  There was a point in time when Ben was an odd mixture of lanky and chubby. A ring of baby fat clung to his waist and cheeks. He’d slimmed down before graduating high school, but during the last year he gained inches in height as well as in the width of his shoulders. His arms leaned and his muscles, probably from all the manual labor, grew hard and firm. I’d already spent too much time looking at the line creasing his forearm--something about it strangely appealing--but without a shirt I see the smooth curve of his chest and the fit muscles of his stomach.

  In the passenger seat, I keep my eyes averted and hands to myself, even though both are drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The drive isn’t long, just to the house where he’s staying this summer. He parks near the guest house and leads me past the pool, ducking into the house to grab a bucket. I see that it’s filled with shampoo and soap.

  How prepared.

  “Do you always keep a bucket of bathing supplies by the door?”

  He grins. “Believe it or not, this may not be the first ocean clean-up needed this summer.”

  We walk toward the boardwalk that leads down to the beach. This area is pristine, too far for most tourists to walk, and I should be impressed by the beauty, but I can’t keep my eyes off the way the muscles ripple on Ben’s back or how the late afternoon sunlight glints in his hair. I’m focused on the way he’s transformed and suddenly, maybe I was wrong. I am still just a kid and this guy is way out of my league.

  Even if he did say I’m gorgeous.

  I lag behind, feeling the warm sand on my feet, watching as he steps to the edge of the water. He bends and washes water over his legs, splashing it on his arms until he looks back at me.

  “Coming?”

  I reach for the hem of my filthy tank--I’m wearing a sports bra underneath, which is as covering as a bathing suit--and toss it on the ground. His eyes skim over my skin and I’m aware that he watches my every move as I walk out to meet him at the water’s edge.

  It’s time for us to come clean.

  The salt water keeps us afloat as we scrub the mud from our skin. It’s everywhere; behind our ears, in our scalp, deep inside our pores.

  “Turn around,” Ben says, grabbing a handful of sand from the ocean floor and using it as a natural loofah. While I try to shampoo the mud from my hair, he scrubs my shoulders, neck, and arms. His touch is both feather-light and firm, and I laugh when he hits a ticklish spot.

  “Hey!” I shout, turning to splash him. “No tickling.”

  He wipes the water off his face and raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were ticklish.” I duck my head under the water to get the suds out. “Your sister, yes. You? No.”

  I tilt my head and narrow my eyes. “Don’t do it.”

  He stands, forcing rivers of water down his defined chest. “You have an awful lot of rules for someone that doesn’t like following them yourself.”

  I duck back underwater rather than respond to that. When I emerge, he’s closer, and I don’t think he was propelled over by a wave.

  “Thanks for your help today.” His tan skin is pink from the sand. “I’m going to have to put you on the payroll.”

  “You pay me in Slushies and beef jerky. What more could a girl ask for?”

  His eyes drop to my mouth, something he’s done a dozen times today alone. Each time it happens my stomach hollows out, and I remind myself that Ben is a friend. My older sister’s best friend, and our friendship alone is pushing the boundaries of appropriateness. Anything beyond that is asking for trouble.

  The bad thing is that I’m not sure either of us has ever shied away from trouble.

  “I like you, Liv,” he admits, squeezing the sponge in his hands. “More than I probably should.”

  The warm ocean water crests over my hips, like it’s nudging me to speak. “I like you, too. Definitely more than I probably should.”

  His eyes light up and an explosion of jittery nerves rockets through my belly. It’s hard to get appropriately close in the water like this, the waves pulling and pushing against us. Kind of similar to what we’ve been doing for days, if not weeks. We move close, then pull away. In, then out. Near, then far. Taking a risk, I reach out for him, holding onto his arm like an anchor.

  “If you were any other girl,” he says, tucking his hand behind my neck, “I’d already be kissing you.”

  “A girl that’s not still in high school? A girl that’s not your best friend’s sister? A girl that’s not carrying around a lifetime of baggage?”

  He shakes his head. “That I can handle, but you? You’re the girl that terrifies me.”

  My heart thrums, pounds, races. “I doubt that.”

  “It’s true. Norah, your parents, my parents…They’ll think I’m taking advantage of you.” He frowns. “Maybe I am.”

  “You’re definitely not.”

  “What do we do?”

  I look into his clear blue eyes, the water and sun reflecting off of them, and see something worth embracing. They’re focused on my lips again and more than anything, I want to feel them against mine.

  His thumb grazes my cheek, then my chin, then my lips. His head tilts, waiting for an answer to his question—this time I’m not getting away without answering. Neither of us are.

  “We’ve spent the last few years doing what everyone else wanted, Ben. You taking the gap year. Me going to that stupid school. We’ve paid for our mistakes. I think it’s okay for us to take a chance on something we want.”

  “You’re so smart.”

  “Then kiss me,” I say, meaning it fully, wholly, completely. More than I ever wanted a kiss from Spencer or any other boy I’ve ever met.

  He doesn’t need to be asked twice, and with the water pushing against our legs, he brushes his lips against mine. They’re warm, salty, and he tastes like the ocean. I feel the fear in his touch—combined with eagerness—and I kiss him back, harder, a jolt of energy traveling all the way to my toes. They curl deep in the wet sand and I cling to him. Minutes pass and our kisses grow more sure, more defined, and I lose track of where we are until a wave builds, shadowing over us and crashing down, breaking us apart.

  I flail until his hand grips mine, pulling me up and hard into his chest.

  “Still scared?” I ask him, feeling both our hearts pounding.

  “Terrified,” he admits, but leans in to kiss me again. I curl my fingers in to the hair on the back of his neck, holding him close. I have the sneaking suspicion that, like horror movies, Ben and I both like scary things.

  20

  Olivia

  “I wish we could do something different,” Abbigail says after we leave the pool. “Like the amusement park.”

  “FunLand’s too expensive,” Melina says. “And it’s not in walking distance.”

  It’s not an official rule that
it has to be in walking distance, but it helps. The Girls' Home does have a van we can use, but we’d have to get permission and request a driver from the home.

  “What if we raised the money?” Beverly asks.

  “Like a fundraiser?” I ask.

  “Yes!” the little girl says, pumping her fist.

  I glance at Melina. Both of us know that whatever fundraiser they want to do will land on us. “It’s not a bad idea,” she says. “It would give us another activity to do and maybe teach them something. We could turn it into a lesson about money, purchasing supplies, marketing…”

  I can see the wheels turning. She thinks this will look good on her college applications. “Any suggestions?”

  “What about a bake sale? We could probably get the grocery store to donate some supplies and then we could see about getting a booth at the farmer’s market they have every Wednesday morning downtown.”

  “And you want the kids to bake?” I glance down at the girls. Even getting them from one place to the other is like herding cats. I can’t imagine them making and selling something edible.

  Melina rolls her eyes at me. “It may take some work, but what else do we have to do? I’m tired of the pool already, and we can easily use the kitchen at the girls' home.”

  “Same,” I say, knowing she’s right. I’ve been antsy all day, mostly eager to see Ben again. I’m convinced I still feel the tingle of his lips on mine. Is that even possible? “Okay, let’s do it. I can ask Maya tonight at group.”

  “We should probably narrow down some recipes.”

  I nod. Baking isn’t my thing, but my mom isn’t bad. “Maybe you and I can get together at my house to work on it? Will your mom let you come over?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “How about tonight? I don’t have anything planned. I’ll send you my address.”

  “I’ll bring the brownie mix.”

  We reach the house. My phone buzzes with a reminder from the pharmacy to pick up my medication on the way home today. When I look back up, I see that Ben is already waiting for me across the street, sitting in his truck. A large box sits in the back—our afternoon job. I smile when I see him, and Melina notices. “He’s cute.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You sure you don’t have plans with him tonight?”

  “No,” I say, kind of wishing I did. After our kiss in the ocean, neither of us wanted to cut through the bliss to figure out what comes next. Do we keep this a secret? Do we tell our families? Norah and Gabe will be back in town tomorrow, which complicates things. I’m not sure how either of them will feel about us seeing each other. I’m still not sure how I feel about it, other than the gooey warmth bubbling in my chest.

  “Is that your boyfriend?” Abbigail asks. They ask a million questions every day, but this one I’m not sure how to answer.

  “Not yet,” I reply, because he hasn’t asked, and I’m not exactly sure he will. Whatever this is, it’s new. Exciting. And yeah, scary.

  We usher the kids inside and I wave for him to wait. When I come back out, he’s already got my bike secured in the back.

  “Hey—” I say, slamming the door as I get inside. He cuts off the rest of my words with a kiss. A slow, sweet, didn’t-know-how-much-I-wanted-it kiss.

  “I’ve been waiting all day to do that,” he says, pushing my hair off my cheek.

  “Me, too,” I admit, already wanting another one. He senses it and touches my chin, tilting it up, leaning in for another. When we part, I glance over at the Girls' Home. Six faces peer out the window. “Oh boy.”

  He looks over, smiles, and waves.

  “Don’t encourage them,” I say. They’re going to have a million more questions tomorrow, and I’m still not sure if I have the answers.

  I text Melina when group is over. The bike ride isn’t long and her brother’s car is in front of the house when I get there, but that’s not what has my attention. There are two other cars in the driveway. Ben’s huge truck and in front of that, Norah’s blue Volvo.

  Melina gets out of the car holding a canvas bag full of groceries while I stare at the house.

  “Something wrong?”

  “My sister’s home. I didn’t think she’d be here until tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” She shifts uncomfortably. “Is it a bad time? I can call Hector to come back.”

  “No,” I say. “Her friends are here, and I’m sure they’ll be catching up.”

  “Her friends?” she nods at the truck. “Isn’t that the truck that’s been picking you up every day with the cute boy inside?”

  “It is,” I admit, then grimace. “He’s my sister’s best friend.”

  “So?”

  “And he’s older, and no one knows we’re dat—you know, hanging out.” I look at her pointedly. “Except you.”

  “Is it a big deal?”

  I shrug. “Maybe? Maybe not, but I don’t plan on finding out tonight, which means you and I baking in the kitchen is the perfect cover.”

  “I doubt it needs to be this complicated.”

  “Even if Norah was okay with it--which is a huge maybe--you don’t know my mom. Right now, she’s cool with me hanging out with Ben sometimes. He’s safe—”

  She snorts. “Sure he is.”

  “Well, she thinks he is, and I’m not ruining that.” She doesn’t look convinced. I make a pleading face. “Please help me?”

  She sighs. “Fine, but only because I really want some brownies now, and I’m going to need some help with the spreadsheet I’ve created.”

  “Spreadsheet?” I shake my head, but then give her a quick, unexpected hug. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t go crazy. You don’t know if I’m good under pressure. If I’m asked to lie, things may fall apart quickly.”

  “No lying necessary—we’ll do our best to avoid them entirely.”

  I don’t know if I’ve ever been nervous about walking into my house. I’m excited to see Norah and Gabe. I want to hear everything about what they’ve been doing. The conventions are packed with panels, interviews, and fun activities. They’ve definitely met some celebrities, and I need all the dirt. I follow them on social media, and we text, but it’s not the same. After living in the same house as my sister my whole life, and even though we didn’t always get along, it’s been weird having her gone. And now, knowing she’s getting married and moving out for good? That’s even harder to imagine.

  I push open the door and hear their voices instantly. It’s not Norah’s that catches my attention—but Ben’s. He’s loud and excitedly telling a story—his voice filled with more animation than I’ve heard in months.

  My heart skips a beat when I hear him, but I stay on track, entering the kitchen. My mother is standing by the stove, a huge grin on her face. It expands when she spots Melina.

  “Liv, did you bring home a friend?”

  I swear her voice cracks on the word “friend.”

  “This is Melina—my co-volunteer at the group home.”

  “Melina!” she says, reaching for her hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Hopefully good.”

  “Just that you’re the only thing keeping Liv sane this summer.”

  “One of the things, at least.”

  I shoot her a glare.

  I told you, she mouths, but my mother isn’t paying attention.

  “Well you arrived on an exciting night. Norah and Gabe just got back from weeks of traveling to conventions for his book.”

  “Gabe?” Melina says, looking between us. “Like Gabe Foster from Photobooth Society?”

  Did I not mention that? “Yes. That’s my sister’s fiancé. They work on it together.”

  “You really are good at keeping secrets.”

  Again, I shoot her a glare, before smiling at my distracted mother. “We’ve got to do some baking for work tomorrow. Is it okay to do it here?”

  “Of course. The kids ordered pizza. You know how much they love Pie Whole, so if you want some, go in and gra
b some before the boys eat it all.” She gives me a look. “Before you get started, go in and say hello. Norah’s been waiting for you to get home.”

  If my mother senses my hesitation, she doesn’t show it. She’s too giddy about Norah being home and probably the fact I brought a friend over. I know I can’t hide out in the kitchen forever, even if I do have a guest. I walk into the living room and stand in the doorway, taking it all in for a minute.

  Norah's curly hair is piled on top of her head in a twisted knot. She’s sitting next to Gabe, the outside of their legs pressed together. The diamond ring on her finger glints in the light, and it’s still hard to get used to her wearing it. She’s young to be getting married, but these two…they’ve been best friends forever. Can you really get to know someone better?

  Gabe, like Ben, looks bigger every time I see him. Taller, broader, his face leaner and defined. His eyes light up when he looks at my sister, his grin wide as he laughs with Ben. They’re so familiar, but a clique of their own. I’ve never been part of them…just on the edge.

  Ben sees me first—his eyes drawn away from his friends. I see the spark of excitement, the same one I feel in my belly, but it clouds quickly as he glances at the others. He taps Norah with his toe and says, “Look who finally came home.”

  Norah looks up and her eyes widen.

  “What?” I say, looking down. I’m in a tank top and shorts. Pretty much what I wear every day.

  “You’re so…tan.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “No, it’s just…” her eyes narrow. “You look different. Good.”

  “Uh, thank you?”

  For some reason, I don’t like her pointing out the changes. I know they all see it as progress. That I’ve finally broken out of my shell and getting sun and making friends, but that’s not it. At least not all of it. I glance at Ben. He looks at his shoes.

  “I’m just surprised, really, Liv, you look great.”

  Gabe stands and walks over, giving me a big hug. He feels good. Stable, and I need something to hold onto while my sister overanalyzes me and my boy—whatever he is—friend can’t pry his eyes off the floor.