Missy and Braeden weren’t together; they never really were. Yes, they had a “friends with benefits” relationship, but that had been last fall, before winter break. So technically, me hooking up with him shouldn’t be a big deal.
But it totally was.
Missy might not say it, but I knew she was still hung up on B. I knew she’d wanted more from him… had hoped the casual relationship they had would turn into more.
It took her a while to come around once Braeden stopped calling. She pulled back from our group, pulled back from dating. And for that, I hated Braeden. I hated guys like him. So cocky and charming. They only ever thought about themselves, never about the girls they slept with and left.
But the past few weeks, Missy had been coming around; she was more like herself, and being around Braeden didn’t seem to bother her as much. We all managed to spend an awesome week here at the beach with barely a single tinge of awkwardness.
Until I broke the girl code and slept with the guy Missy wanted.
She’d been asleep when I snuck past her room on the way to mine last night. Her room was dark and silent, and I let out a huge breath of relief no one seemed to hear the romp Braeden and I just had.
Even though I went to bed super late, I was still the first one up. I was too keyed up after what happened, my body and mind unable to sleep. I tried, but all that happened was me reliving every second I’d spent with Braeden as I lay there in the dark.
So I got up. I showered and blew out my hair. It was the first time since we got here I actually styled it straight. There’d been no point with all the time we spent in the ocean. But today we were all leaving. Getting on a plane and flying back to Maryland, back to Alpha U.
After I distracted myself by styling my long, blond hair and did a minimal makeup routine, I got dressed. Since we were flying, I put on a long maxi dress with a bold black and white chevron print. The top of the dress was all black, making it look like I was wearing a black tank top with a skirt even though it was all one piece. I figured it would be comfortable for the plane yet still offer some warmth on my legs when we landed. I was also going to add a black cardigan. Maryland wasn’t going to be as warm as Florida.
I didn’t bother with jewelry; I wasn’t in the mood. The only thing I was wearing was the bracelet made of seashells from a beach shop nearby. All three of us got one to remember the week we spent here together.
Looking at it just then made my stomach hurt.
No one else was in the kitchen, so I put on a pot of coffee and waited impatiently for it to brew enough for a cup. Once I had a mug full of caffeine and sugar, I carried it out onto the back deck. I stood at the railing beneath the early morning sun and stared out at the glistening waves.
As I sipped at the coffee, I saw Romeo and Rimmel down the beach. Rimmel had a bucket in her hand and was searching in the sand for shells. I smiled. She finally dragged Romeo out of bed to go seashell hunting.
I watched the pair with a bit of envy as a wave crashed close by and rushed toward Rimmel. She’d been so intent on the shells she didn’t notice the water until it was close, and even from this distance, I saw her body react when she saw.
But Romeo was there. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her just before the water touched her. It rushed around his feet and ankles, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy kissing her.
Sometimes I wondered if I would ever know what that kind of love felt like.
The sliders behind me opened and my body tensed, afraid it was Braeden. I wasn’t ready to see him yet. I didn’t know what it would be like between us.
“There you are,” Missy said and sidled up beside me at the railing.
“Hey.” I gave her a smile and sipped at my coffee. “Can you believe the week is already over?” I asked, gazing back down the beach toward Rimmel and Romeo.
“It went by fast,” Missy agreed, following my gaze. “Those two really are perfect together.”
“Yeah,” I agreed and turned back to her. She was wearing a pair of navy loose, lightweight pants with a high waist and a fitted red T-shirt tucked into the waist. Her dark hair was pulled up in a messy bun on the top of her head and she had a pair of large white sunglasses on her makeup-free face.
Missy was gorgeous. She was tall and thin, moved with grace, had olive-toned, perfect skin and wide gray eyes. In all honesty, she could be a model. That’s how beautiful she was.
And since I was standing here being honest, I could admit sometimes she made me feel like a frump. Out of the three of us, I was probably the most plain. Rimmel had the whole adorably rumpled thing going on, and when she let me style her, the rumpled look turned into unique beauty. Rimmel might not realize it, but all her “imperfections” made her very eye-catching. Hell, she’d caught Romeo’s eye.
I’d hate her, but it was impossible. She was so incredibly genuine. I’d much rather have her as a best friend than an enemy.
Missy made most girls look plain. She was just naturally glamorous. Most eyes went to her when she walked in a room.
And then there was me.
I was somewhere in the middle of the unintentional beauty and the natural beauty. More average. I guess it’s why I tried so hard with my appearance. Well, that and I just really loved clothes.
I was average height, not short or tall. I wasn’t fine boned or long and lean. I filled out my clothes, honestly more than I’d like. I wasn’t heavy, but I was curvy. My hourglass shape sometimes frustrated me because trying to dress it wasn’t always easy. Some days I wished I had the kind of body everything looked good on, like Missy, and sometimes I wished I didn’t care how I looked, like Rimmel, but I didn’t and I did.
My blond hair was highlighted to be brighter because if I didn’t, it would look like I soaked my head in dirty dishwater on a daily basis. Ew. My blue eyes didn’t seem that exotic or spectacular when I scrutinized them in the mirror, and my skin was on the pale side—it lacked the golden glow Missy always seemed to have.
Basically, I was high maintenance. Most people probably thought I dressed cute, styled my hair and always had makeup on because I was self-absorbed. They probably thought I spent too much time looking in the mirror and assumed I thought I was better than everyone else.
You know what they say about assuming.
(ASS-U-ME = makes an ass out of u and me)
The truth was I did that stuff for me. To make me feel good about myself. There was nothing worse than walking around with this voice constantly whispering inside your head that you aren’t good enough. That people would cast their eyes your way, only to immediately dismiss you as someone who didn’t deserve a second glance.
So yeah, I styled my hair every day and I put on makeup. I wore cute jeans and heels to make me a little taller. I wore tops that accentuated the curves I had instead of hiding them. Everyone always thinks blondes have it easy, that they’re the most beautiful.
It’s not true.
Being blond and blue-eyed gets me more distasteful looks than being exotic-looking ever could. I’m stereotyped before I even open my mouth. My mom used to tell me girls were just jealous. Maybe she was right. However, it’s hard to believe someone could be jealous of the way I look when I wouldn’t be.
I’d rather have gorgeous dark, shining hair I never had to color. I’d rather have olive-toned skin that didn’t need the help of bronzer. And I sure as hell would rather have less body.
But I didn’t.
Dying my hair dark would totally wash out my skin and it wouldn’t go with my light-colored eyes. And these curves of mine? They weren’t going anywhere. I tried for years—all through high school—to diet and exercise them away, but eventually, a girl gets tired of trying.
Eventually, a girl wants a slice of pizza.
So I work with what I have. And I try to be the best version of myself, even though on most days, my best version still feels kind of lame.
Still, I’d never show the way I actually felt on the outside. I’d
rather people think I was shallow and full of myself than insecure and vulnerable.
I’d rather sling out a witty comeback than let anyone get the better of me. Over the years, I’d built up a strong defense for the softness inside me, so much so it was part of me now. Sometimes even I forgot about the weakness I kept hidden deep, so when I felt it—when it reminded me it was there—it frightened me.
For some reason, that weakness was reminding me now.
“Ivy?” Missy’s voice cut into my inner thoughts. She tentatively touched my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
I gave her a bright smile and nodded. “Of course.”
“You seemed a million miles away,” she replied, still eyeing me cautiously.
“You caught me.” I shrugged. “I was staring at the piece of man candy down there running on the sand.”
Missy turned to stare at the guy who was conveniently running down the beach with no shirt. His back muscles were cut and glistening with sweat under the early morning sun.
“He’s definitely enough to distract anyone.” Missy elbowed me in the side gently.
The truth was I hadn’t noticed him at all. I probably wouldn’t have if I didn’t need an excuse for my lapse into La-La Land a few moments ago.
I wagged my eyebrows, and she laughed. “So,” I began, taking another sip of coffee, “I need the details.”
“The details for what?”
I rolled my eyes. “Girl. You and Trent. So what’s up with that?”
Missy sighed and glanced out toward the ocean. “Girl,” she mirrored my tone, “you’ve been here all week. You know what’s up with that.”
I made a snoring sound. “Look, we all know certain people were hoping you and him would hit it off this week.”
Missy glanced my way. “I really don’t like it when people try to get involved in my love life.”
“That’s what friends are for. So come on,” I fished. “Do you like him?”
Smiling, Missy shook her head. “You should run a dating website.”
I made a rude sound. “Gross. The last thing I want is a bunch of disgruntled women trying to blame me because they ended up dating a dog.”
We both laughed. Wind blew up from down on the beach and pulled my hair in all different directions. “I’m going to take your evasion to my question as a no, you don’t like Trent.”
Missy leaned her forearm on the railing of the deck and angled her body toward me. A few strands of hair had come loose from her bun and waved wildly around her face. “Trent is a really great guy. And he’s definitely easy on the eyes.”
“But?”
“But he’s not Braeden.”
I choked on the coffee I was drinking. It spewed back out between my lips and splashed back into the half-empty mug as my body was racked with coughing.
Oh my God.
Did she just say what I thought she said?
My mind was spinning as I tried to calm my racing heart and swallow down the rest of my coughs. After a few minutes, I seemed to be able to rein in it. Sitting the cup aside on the railing, I sucked in a deep breath.
Missy was watching me closely, and I shook my head. “Sorry. Wrong hole.” I dabbed at my lips with the back of my hand, making sure there wasn’t coffee all over me and trying not to smear my makeup in the process.
“You good?” she asked, concerned.
“Yeah.” My voice was hoarse, and I cleared my throat and said it again, this time more confident. Then I threw out my hands as if to stop everything around us. “I’m sorry, but did you just say you’re still into Braeden?”
I didn’t have to disguise the disgust in my voice.
‘Course, I wasn’t sure who I was more disgusted with. Her or me.
Missy shrugged, suddenly shy. But she couldn’t be shy with me. Not after that bold statement.
“I thought you were finally over him, Miss,” I pressed.
“Why, because I stopped wallowing in the fact he wasn’t calling anymore?”
“Well, yeah. And we’ve all been hanging out. You even agreed to weekend pancakes with us all. This week…”
“This week?” she prompted.
“You and Trent…” I echoed again.
Flashes of last night wouldn’t stop assaulting me. His mouth. His abs—good Lord his abs. The way he felt between my thighs. I turned abruptly away from Missy and toward the ocean. I forgot about my coffee and I bumped the mug.
It fell over the side of the deck. I grappled for it, but it was too late. Missy and I watched as it fell down into the sand dune among lost seashells and tall beach grasses.
“Oops,” I said.
“Was what I said really that surprising?” she asked, amusement clear in her tone.
I groaned. “I need to go get that.”
“You can’t. People aren’t supposed to climb on the dunes.” She pointed to a sign posted near the public access next to our house. It promised hefty fines if anyone was caught climbing.
“I’m not climbing,” I countered, flipping my hair over my shoulders. “I’m retrieving.”
“Just leave it down there.”
I probably should have. I mean, really, it was a stupid mug. There were a dozen others just like it inside. But if I stayed here, I’d have to finish this conversation. I’d have to listen to Missy tell me she was still interested in B. In the guy I had hot sex with just hours ago.
“No one will even know I went down there,” I said and rushed toward the side of the deck that led down to the parking beneath the house.
“Ivy!” Missy hissed.
“I’ll be right back!” I called and rushed down the stairs. Once I was standing on the concrete parking pad beneath the house, I leaned up against one of the stilts the house was on and dragged in a ragged breath.
Get it together, Ivy! I told myself. If I reacted like this every time she said his name, everyone would know what happened without me saying a word.
So what if she still had a thing for him? He already made it clear—the big jerk—that he wasn’t interested in her that way. It’s not like her feelings were going to change anything. Other than make me feel worse about what I did.
However, that was my cross to bear, and I could do that quietly.
Feeling much stronger and less caught off guard, I pushed away from the thick wood pole and went to the side of the house underneath the stairs. I hesitated a moment because it was cooler and shadier under here. The deck kept the sun off the sand and the grasses were grown up well past my knees.
What if there were creatures living down here?
I told myself to get over it and pushed forward. My feet sank into the sand as I climbed beneath the deck and walked along the house until I came to the edge of where the deck above ended.
“Hurry up!” Missy called from above me.
I looked up to see her staring down at me. She pointed toward the mug, and I followed her direction to where it lay nearby.
The weeds brushed against my skirt and pulled at it. Shuddering, I gathered the fabric up in one hand and bunched it up around my knees as I made my way over the mug.
“There’s a lot of crap down here,” I yelled up. A Frisbee, a beach ball without its air, scattered shells, a couple straws, and empty plastic cups littered the sand. It was cold beneath my toes and so was the grass that brushed against my calves.
The sounds of the beach were a little muted down here, and it sort of felt like I was in a whole other world.
Sounds from up above caught my attention, and I looked up, squinting against the bright sky. Missy turned away from me and was looking toward the house. Footfalls against the deck vibrated the wood, and I started praying.
Please be Trent. Please be Trent.
“What the fuck are you doing?” boomed a voice overhead.
My teeth snapped together. It wasn’t Trent.
“Washing my car,” I spat.
Missy told him about my mug, and he laughed.
“How much of that coffee did yo
u actually drink before you dropped it? Apparently not enough.” Braeden was clearly amused by his unwitty banter.
Missy’s light giggle floated above, and I narrowed my eyes. Oh no she didn’t just laugh.
“Jerk face!” I yelled and then totally turned my back on the both of them. The mug had fallen near a patch of tall grasses, so I had to reach my hand into them to get it.
Before I did, I parted the foliage and peered in, making sure there wasn’t something else in there. I heard talking above me, but I ignored it. I ignored him.
My hand closed around the ceramic and I lifted it. Well, part of it. The other half was still lying in the sand. Figures. Stupid thing was broken. Since I was already down here, I was going to pick it up. Even though, by the looks of everything lying around, no one else ever bothered to clean up after themselves.
Once I collected the pieces of the mug, I straightened up, one hand full of the glass and the other holding my skirt up so I didn’t trip.
“Be careful,” Missy called down.
“Wouldn’t want you to trip and break a nail.” Braeden chortled.
I tossed my hair back and glared up. The smartass remark died on my tongue as the breath in my lungs stuttered.
He was leaning over the railing, watching me with a red hat turned backward on his head. From where I was standing, he really wasn’t much more than a dark shape looming overhead, but he still affected me. He still caused awareness to crash through my limbs.
I jerked my face away and started walking toward the underside of the deck. My foot stepped on a large shell and my ankle turned a little. Stumbling, I threw my opposite foot out to catch my balance.
“Ow!” I howled as sharp pain sliced through on the bottom of my foot. I fell backward, the pieces of the broken cup falling into the sand beside me.
Chapter Seven
Braeden
I didn’t think. I just reacted.
I leapt over the railing with ease. The distance down and the uneven sand I would be landing on didn’t even cross my mind.
It didn’t matter.
I landed like a cat, no trouble at all, and the second my feet hit the sand, I moved forward. Ivy was almost beneath the deck, but not quite. Her back was to me and she was sitting up, hunched forward over part of herself.
#Selfie Page 4
