by Angel Lawson
“You can let me know until the students meet at the gate. It’s your decision to make, Summer.”
It’s nice to hear, I think, as we exit the office and walk down the empty school hallway. I have a choice in what’s ahead in my life. From now on, I plan on making the right ones.
* * *
“So, tell us everything,” Catherine says. We’re in the mall food court, clustered with Irene around a small table.
“It’s been an interesting summer, that’s for sure,” I tell her. “I met some family I never knew existed, learned all about the most notorious serial killer in South Carolina history, and spent most of my days on the beach.”
“Your tan is fabulous,” Irene says, eating a forkful of salad.
Catherine and Irene are my oldest friends. They’re the ones I turned my back on when I was busy sneaking around with Mason. I’d called them once my mom left that morning, intent on getting back to work, the beach…Richard? We left with the understanding I was going to France. My bag was packed. All my paperwork in order. We hugged. Cried, but it was also good to be alone in a big house for a minute. I just needed a chance to breathe.
“The beach is beautiful. I learned a lot about the area, hung out with some locals, ate a lot of fried food.”
“Guys?”
I shoot her a look, but that doesn’t stop Catherine from continuing. “Someone gave Mason that black eye. Looks like something a protective guy would do.”
Someone. I’m not even sure who.
I rest my elbows on the table and play with the straw from my drink. I’m tired of holding secrets. I’d almost ruined our relationship once that way. “Okay, yeah, I met a few guys. Four of them.”
“Four?” Catherine’s blue eyes bugged out.
“Best friends. They grew up down there and work in the area. They surf and play hard. They’re fun. Two are in college already and the other two are headed to the Citadel in the fall.”
“Oh, military guys. Rawr,” Irene purrs. I shake my head. “Who did you like the best?”
I can’t lie. “I don’t have a favorite. I liked them all.”
The girls glance at one another and laugh. “So, what? You’re crushed on all of them?”
I smile. “Yeah, I guess so. They’re okay with it. It was just a causal thing. Just a summer fling.”
“Flings,” Irene says, accentuating the ‘s.’
I shrug and give them a knowing smile. Catherine’s eyes bulge impossibly larger. “Did you kiss them? All of them?”
“Maybe,” I say slyly. But in the middle of that busy suburban mall, I can feel the heat of their mouths on mine. Their strong hands on my body, and I miss them. “They’re really great.”
“And you left them?” Irene asks.
“I came home—to go to France!”
Catherine puts out her hands to either side and balances them like weights. “Hmmm…France or four hot beach guys. Which to pick. Seems like a no-brainer, girl.”
“You’d pick the guys?” I ask, seriously.
“Maybe,” she replies, taking a sip of her drink. “If I liked them enough.”
That was the question. How much was enough? And what if it was too much to just have to leave them again anyway?
“So what time are we meeting tomorrow?” I ask, changing the subject. Even though it’s impossible to stop thinking about them, I can control speaking about them. It hurts too much to dwell on them.
“Eight,” Irene replies.
“In the morning?”
Catherine rolls her eyes. “Look at you, getting all soft, lazing around the beach all summer.”
“I’ll be ready. My mom scheduled a taxi to come pick me up. I’ll make it.”
“I’ll text you, too,” Irene says with a smile.
“Thanks.”
The conversation diverges again, the way it tends to with friends; from what we’re packing to who’s going on the trip, to the places we want to see. It feels normal. It is normal, and if I can get through this lunch, I can get on that plane. That’s what I tell myself all the way home, but when I pull into the driveway there’s already a car waiting for me. Not a car, but a Jeep with South Carolina plates, and my stomach drops like a stone while my heart races like a humming bird. I almost fall over myself opening the door. A lone figure sits on the front step waiting for me, but it’s not Justin. No, the build is bigger, hair darker.
“Nick?” He stands and watches me cross the sidewalk. “What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t really think we’d let you go without a goodbye, did you?”
“We?”
I look around but no one else appears. No Whit or Pete. Certainly, no Justin. I knew how much I’d hurt him that night before I left. There’s no way he’d be here.
“Okay, me. I’m the only one that isn’t too stubborn to come up here.”
“You came up here for a goodbye?” I ask, feeling my heart hammer around my chest. Seeing him here, at my house, in my world, rocked me.
He takes a step down, closing the space between us. He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me until our bodies are pressed together. “You and I have unfinished business,” he says, mouth close to mine. “And you’re not leaving the country until we’re really done.”
My hands tremble and the bag I’m carrying in my hand falls to the ground. With two strong arms, he lifts me until we’re face to face and he kisses me right there in the yard.
His mouth is warm and his tongue bold and I’m panting when he’s done. “D-do you want to come inside?” I ask, still a foot off the ground.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 19
“So, this is how the rich and famous live.”
Before we spent half the summer in Ocean Beach, I would have said Julia wasn’t rich. She’s not, compared to my classmates whose fathers are senators or plastic surgeons, but by Nick’s standards? Julia is loaded. I’m hyper-aware of Nick walking through each room, studying the furniture and artwork. He pauses over the row of photographs of me as child, peering at each one.
“You came here to get decorating ideas?” I say, when my skin starts to itch.
He picks up a photo of me when I was about six, riding a horse. I have on silly sunglasses and a huge bow in my hair. “I came down here to find out why you left.”
“I’m going to France.” My suitcase is visible by the front door. “Tomorrow.”
“And Mason?”
“Has been fired and is under investigation by the school for having an inappropriate relationship with a student.”
His eyes flick to mine and his shoulders relax. He says quietly, “Good.”
“Any idea who gave him that black eye?”
“I wish I could say it was me but Anita held me back. She was worried I’d lose my scholarship.”
“So it was Whit.” A strange feeling builds in my chest. Pride? Appreciation. It’s weird.
“Whit has a temper,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s done inspecting the room, which means his eyes are on me. “His grandpa used to beat his granny. He doesn’t handle violence against women well. And you already know he doesn’t give a rat’s ass if he gets kicked out of the Citadel.”
No. I suppose he doesn’t.
“And Justin? What’s he up to?”
He shrugs. “He’s hurt. Pete’s just sad. Anita is crushed.”
I didn’t say goodbye to her either. If anyone could have talked me into staying, it would have been her. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. That’s why I left. Trouble seems to follow me around. Better now than later.”
He walks across the room and it’s strange. We don’t have a lot of men in our house. It’s usually just me and my mom, and Nick feels both out of place and perfectly at ease. He stands before me and pushes my hair over my shoulder, fingertips igniting a fire on my skin.
“You came into our world like a breezy afternoon and left like a raging hurricane. You didn’t think there would be damage?”
&nb
sp; “I didn’t mean to.”
He frowns. “Sometimes life doesn’t work that way. People connect. Bond. Walking away doesn’t cut the cord.”
“I told Justin that I know you guys have plans. A life outside of Ocean Beach—one where I don’t fit. And I get that, I have plans, too. I was part of your life when it was just the Pact—just fun—nothing more. But it moved somewhere else for me.” I look up at him and connect with his eyes. He’s listening to every word. “It was supposed to be a summer fling. A rebound from my disastrous relationship with Mason.”
“Was supposed to be?” he asks, repeating my words.
My heart pounds, aches. “Yes.”
“What happened instead?”
I shake my head, not wanting to say it out loud. He may be here but that doesn’t mean he or the others want the same thing I do.
“Well, I’ll tell you what happened to us. You brought a breeze into our hot corner of the world and opened yourself up to us—allowing us to open up in return. None of us had much time for relationships before you showed up. We said were committed to one another and getting the hell out of Ocean Beach—at least for a minute. But the truth is, we were scared. Scared of being locked in and locked down. Scared of caring for someone—building something lasting with someone outside our tiny group. But you showed up and made us realize that being from that little strip of sand isn’t a bad thing.”
“No, it’s not.”
“What we have there is special and when the right girl came along, we had something to offer. That she’d accept each of us for who we are and that we could give that same unconditional acceptance back.”
Hot tears build in the corners of my eyes. “As much as all of that is nice to hear, it’s not sustainable, Nick. Not the type of relationship we have and not with all of us going our separate ways.”
He touches my chin and tilts it upward. “You can’t relax, can you? Just let this develop naturally and see where it goes.”
“Ride it like a wave?” I wipe a tear away.
He smiles. “Exactly like a wave. See? We did rub off on you.”
“I’m going to France. Tomorrow.”
Whatever he feels from that statement he holds back. Instead he makes me an offer. “I won’t stop you if that’s what you want, but do me one thing.”
“What?”
“If you’re leaving, then spend the night with me. Give me that.”
My knees threaten to buckle at his suggestion. His voice is think with sincerity. His eyes full of desire. I have no doubt he’s serious. He drove all the way up here to find me. He took a risk for himself and everyone else.
I nod and he wastes no time crashing his mouth into mine. In a matter of seconds, what were well-controlled emotions crumble, unleashing weeks of pent-up feelings. Unlike the library or the beach house, we don’t have to hold back, and I break away from him long enough to lead him, panting, up to my room.
Nick doesn’t waste time assessing my room, the knickknacks or mementoes. His eyes are on me, never wavering, blazing a trail over my skin. He leads me to the edge of my bed, kissing my neck, my shoulders, my mouth, and I tug him on top of me, desperate to feel his weight.
The empty house is filled with nothing but the sounds of us together; our breath, our hands, the rumpling of fabric.
“People wear less clothing at the beach,” Nick grumbles, pulling off my layers. When he reaches the navy blue of my bra and panties he pauses, running a finger under the delicate lace. A shiver ripples across my body, surging from my breasts down my belly, until it settles hot and wet between my legs. Desperate, I rock against him, seeking whatever friction I can find. He smiles slowly and presses back, his length hard and ready.
I quickly remove his shirt and shorts, leaving only snug boxers. His body is perfection; well-honed and tuned for his athletic pursuits. He uses that strength now to lift me like a rag-doll, flipping our positions so that I’m on top of him. I can feel him better this way and he can explore me fully. I hum in response to his large hands palming my breasts, tweaking my nipples until they harden into peaks.
His fingers wander and I rock against his erection, still separated by two layers of cotton. I feel the shock waves rolling across my skin. It’s been months since a man touched me like this and even then, it wasn’t like this at all. Until this moment I didn’t have much to compare it to, nothing but the teasing experiences with Justin and Whit. Both of those stopped short, but now? I didn’t want Nick to stop. I wanted to feel every part of him inside every part of me.
Nick’s jaw tightens as he reaches for me, the ladder of hard-packed abs straining as he sits up. I cry from the loss of friction, wanting more. His hand dips between us, fingers grazing over the hot flame. I push at his shorts and he shimmies out of them, allowing his cock to spring between us.
I bite my lip, thankful in that moment that I’m not a virgin. That I’m on the pill. That this is not my first time, because I reach for his cock and spread the clear goo at the tip down and around his shaft. He groans, falling backwards onto the bed, as if experiencing ecstasy.
He grips my ass and lifts me up, angling his cock between my legs. I sink down, feeling his girth stretch my insides until we’re both settled in and he gazes at me with a lazy, content smile.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, like a man with his dick wrapped up tight. But even though it’s cheesy and even though he’s horny, I believe him when he touches my chin and trails his fingers down my breasts before settling on my hips. Because he’s beautiful, too. I believe him when his hips move, and when I ride him like a wave; rolling over the small, gentle ones as the bigger, rockier ones tremble in the distance.
Sweat pools between us and his breathing and my breathing, it merges into one. His hands and my hands combine as we float toward that same big one, roaring toward us.
I falter first, biting down on my lip. He grunts, jaw tensing, eyes closed as if fighting against the most pleasurable pain. The wave rolls over me, like that day in the ocean. It’s all-consuming, wild, dangerous and for a moment I think I’m lost, that I’ll never emerge, but then I hear him, hear my name fall from his lips, see his jaw slacken and his hips slow but the thrusts deepen. I crumble on top of him and he holds me tight, hands in my hair, breath in my ear, and I feel it in every speck of my body when he comes, rumbling like a wave beating against the shore.
We settle, hearts beating against one another, and I roll to the side, nestling under his arm. I’m sticky, hot, and my pulse thunders, but I don’t move. I don’t speak. I don’t dare miss a moment of this moment.
* * *
Nick kisses me on my forehead and pulls me in close, covering me like a blanket.
“Hey,” he says, running his fingers down my arm.
“Hi.” I kiss his chest, thinking about how nice this is. How peaceful. That is, until a horn blares from outside, making me jump. Fuck. “What time is it?”
He checks his phone. “Seven-fifty-eight.”
“Fuck.”
His eyebrows raise at my language, but I don’t care. I’m already stumbling out of the bed, too frazzled to worry about my nakedness. I search for my clothes—any clothes.
“What are you doing?” he asks, watching me.
“That’s my taxi. I’ve got to get to the airport.”
Nick doesn’t move, he’s sprawled out on the bed, not even trying to hide the tenting of the sheets between his legs. My eyes slide toward it—him, and I blush. “Are you just going to lie there?”
He shrugs. “I don’t have to be at the airport.”
The horn blares again. I race down the hall, and bang on the window, waving to the driver. He gives me the thumbs up. The last thing I need is a bunch of angry neighbors pissed about the cab.
Again I race around my bedroom, running in and out of my attached bathroom, throwing everything I can into my toiletry bag. Fuck, fuck, shit. I was supposed to do all this the night before. You know, when I was screwing Nick.
I glance
over at him again, eyes trailing over the way his tanned skin contrasts against my crisp, white sheets. The way the V of his hip highlights the scattering of hair under his belly button. I sigh at myself and catch his eye, which leads me to notice the smirk tugging at his mouth.
“What?” I ask, shoving my headphones and charger into my bag.
“You’re cute when you’re all frazzled.”
“You could help me, you know, instead of lying in the bed all sex-god-like.”
“I think I helped you last night.” He wrinkles his nose. “You had a lot of pent-up stress.”
I stop and narrow my eyes, again that smirk is too much. Too there, and I finally ask, “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Why do you think they sent me?”
There’s no doubt, not one single doubt who the “they” is he’s referring to.
“They knew? They sent you to have sex with me?
Nick shrugs his big, dumb, wide shoulders again before saying, “Everyone has a gift, Summer. I’m just really good at being persuasive.”
His eyes hold a challenge, one that despite the taxi idling at the curb, I can’t pass up. “Oh really? Are you persuasive or your cock?”
Horn honks. 8:05. My phone buzzes. Irene texting—my reminder.
“Does it matter?”
His cock, barely hidden beneath the sheet, seems to know the answer. God, everyone other than me probably knows the answer. Without another word I walk back down the hall and get the driver’s attention. This time I wave him on. To leave, because there’s no way I’m walking away from Nick naked in my bed. Not his body, not his face, not his being. Because he ties me back to the others and there’s no chance in hell I’m leaving them, either. Not yet. Not before I get the chance to see them again and figure out where this can go.
I walk back into the room and dig out the plane tickets before crawling back in the bed. I’m greeted by Nick’s hard body and warm lips.
“I guess I don’t need this,” I say, holding up the ticket. Fate didn’t want me on that plane, and even though I’m enjoying it, I’m not sure fate wants me in this bed, either.
“Didn’t I hear you guys say there’s a big Fourth of July party at the beach?”
