#Selfie

by Cambria Hebert

  She was muttering some pretty damn colorful curse words beneath her breath, and my face split into a smile. “Another angry crab attack you?”

  She stiffened and looked over her shoulder. Long blond hair cascaded down her back and partially over her shoulder, creating a waterfall around her.

  God, she was beautiful.

  Wait. No. No, she wasn’t.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Braeden?” She glanced up, surprised. “Did you jump down here?”

  “Well, you screamed like you might be dying,” I quipped.

  “Hardly.” She tried to roll her eyes, but it turned into a grimace. “I need a Band-Aid,” she said pathetically.

  I bit back a smile and crouched down beside her. “Let me see.”

  She leaned back a little so her body wasn’t blocking my view. The movement brought her closer against me, and the scent of cinnamon wrapped around me. My stomach muscles tightened and I jerked slightly. There was no way she could have noticed, but her head tilted back and her eyes found mine.

  We stared at each other for the span of a few heartbeats, neither of us moving or saying a word until someone called down from above, wanting to know if we were okay.

  I blinked, bringing myself back from the edge—the edge I always seemed perched on around her—and motioned for her to show me what was wrong.

  She lifted her foot into her lap, and I looked down.

  I heard myself mutter something, but I was back to not thinking again.

  She had the cap of a beer bottle sticking out of the bottom of her foot. Blood oozed out around it and dripped into the sand.

  I cradled her foot in my hand and gently stroked my thumb along her heel. A shudder moved through her, and I glanced up.

  “Hurts, huh?” I murmured.

  She blinked. “Uh…” She blinked again. “Yeah.”

  Using one hand, I reached around to the base of my neck and pulled my T-shirt up over my head. I didn’t say anything when I reached for her again, and without any warning, I yanked the cap free.

  Her breath hissed between her teeth and she smacked my arm.

  “Hey!” I snapped.

  “That hurt!” she yelled, but it came out more like a whimper.

  I tossed the cap over my shoulder and glanced back down. Fresh blood welled. “It’s over now,” I said gently and used my shirt to wrap around her foot.

  Once the shirt was in place, I pressed her foot between my hands, applying a little pressure.

  Really, I just wasn’t ready to let go.

  “Braeden?” Her voice caressed me. Being down here mostly concealed by the deck in the cool sand and low lighting brought back last night. It reminded me of the undeniable electricity between us.

  I thought for sure it would be gone.

  It was still there.

  One of her toes was red and looked scraped, too. I touched a fingertip to it. “You hit your toe, too.”

  “That was from last night.”

  I smiled. “Ah, yes. The angry crab.”

  Our eyes met again. I reached between us, my fingers itching to tuck her hair behind her ear, but I stopped just before I made contact.

  What the hell was I doing?

  I pulled back and released her foot. “Come on. Let’s get your clumsy ass up the steps so you can clean that up before we gotta leave.”

  “I’m not clumsy,” she snapped and pushed to her feet. I started to help her, but she pulled away.

  “Thank God for that,” I retorted. “Rimmel is all the clumsy I can handle.”

  She made a face and turned away to take a step. But she didn’t make it very far with one foot down for the count.

  “C’mon,” I drawled and wound an arm around her waist. She relented some of her weight to me, and we started toward the concrete pad under the house.

  “The mug,” she said, whirling to go back.

  “Leave it.” I tightened my arm.

  “But—”

  “But nothing,” I snapped. “That fucking thing is the reason your foot’s all sliced up.”

  The vehemence in my voice shocked us both.

  Before I could say anything, someone turned the corner and headed straight for us. It was Trent. His eyes went right to Ivy and stayed there. When he saw my shirt around her foot he frowned.

  “What happened?”

  “I got in a fight with a bottle cap, and it won,” Ivy replied.

  Trent chuckled. “Beer is one tough opponent.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Ivy’s voice was dry.

  We made it to the concrete, and I all but lifted her onto the flat surface.

  “Getting up the stairs like that isn’t gonna be too fun,” Trent observed.

  I thought about the way I carried her up a set of similar stairs just last night. Carrying her up today would just be the right thing to do. We’d be here all day if I had to help her drag herself up.

  Before I could pick her up, Trent did. He swept her right out of my grip and up against his chest. I felt my eyes narrow.

  Ivy squealed.

  “I’ll help you clean that up,” he offered.

  “You mean you aren’t going to tell me how clumsy I am?” Ivy asked, and irritation punched me. Was she trying to annoy the shit out of me right now?

  “Clumsy?” Trent smiled down at her as we made our way to the stairs. “Nah. That cap had it in for ya.”

  “I know!” Ivy agreed.

  Of course she would. Missy was coming down the stairs as we were going up. Her eyes bounced to all of us, and then I thought I saw a look I didn’t recognize pass behind her eyes when she glanced at Ivy and Trent.

  It was almost calculating.

  I remembered when Trent casually asked Rome and me about Ivy’s status.

  Did Missy think Ivy and Trent made a good couple?

  I felt my upper lip curl at the thought, like I’d just eaten something sour. Ivy and Trent?

  Hells no.

  A hand slid over my arm and I glanced up. Missy was standing close, gazing up at me with worry in her gray eyes. “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, she just cut her foot.”

  “You just leapt right off the deck.”

  I glanced down at her hand, where it still rested against me. Then I looked back up. “Well, yeah. Rim woulda kicked my ass if I just let her lay down there.”

  Missy’s lips curved up. “How did she manage to get your heart?”

  “Who?” I demanded, a little bit of alarm pulsing through me. How did she know about last night?

  Missy gave me a look. “Rimmel,” she spoke slowly.

  Right. Rimmel.

  Trent disappeared around the side of the house with Ivy in his arms, leaving Missy and me here alone. I shrugged. “She’s good for Rome. She’s family.”

  Missy tilted her head to the side and regarded me. Even through her shades, I could feel her stare. “You got any more room left in there?” She pulled her hand back from my arm and poked me in the chest, just above the heart.

  What the fuck was she asking me? I swear, chicks might as well speak Spanish. I decided charm would be the best answer here. Charm with a side of truth. I gave her a lopsided smile. “Haven’t ya heard? I’m like the Grinch. My heart is two sizes too small.”

  She laughed and pulled back. “I better go see if Ivy’s okay.”

  We walked together around the side of the house toward the sliders. Inside, I could see Ivy sitting on the kitchen counter and Trent standing in front of her with a first aid kit beside him. Missy went ahead, but I hung back for a second.

  The familiar heat of anger swirled inside me, practically appearing out of nowhere. My fingers curled into my palms, and I took a deep breath. There was no reason to be getting so worked up. I just needed to chill.

  The boards of the deck vibrated underfoot, and I glanced around at Romeo and Rimmel, who were coming toward me. Rim had a bucket of shells in her hand and flushed cheeks I knew weren’t from the morning sun. Romeo was right
behind her with a pair of shades wrapped around his eyes.

  “What’s going on, B?” Romeo’s tone was casual, but I knew he sensed more. We’d been friends since first grade; we read each other well. He knew me. He knew my inner workings. He knew things most everyone else didn’t.

  “Ivy cut her foot,” I replied.

  Rimmel gasped. “Is she okay?”

  “I’m sure she’s being a drama queen,” I muttered.

  She smacked me in the stomach and then handed me her bucket of shells. “I’ll go see if she needs help.”

  I was pretty sure she was already getting help, but I didn’t stop her from rushing in the house.

  Romeo was watching me when I set the bucket down by my feet. “You straight?”

  I pulled the hat off my head and ran a hand through my hair. “Yeah.”

  “What’s got you so worked up?”

  “Fuck,” I muttered. “It just hits me sometimes. Ya know?”

  “Yeah.” Stepping closer, he palmed my shoulder with his hand and turned me toward the ocean. “Just look at the waves. Be one with nature and shit.”

  I laughed. “Dude. You are so lame.”

  “You totally feel peaceful right now,” Rome cracked.

  I guffawed.

  Romeo grinned and slapped me on the back. “You’re welcome.”

  I snickered. Even though I laughed, I did owe him thanks. I did feel better. More in control. Romeo always knew how to pull me back. I glanced over at him, feeling grateful.

  He must have seen the sincerity in my gaze because he shook his head. “I just spent a long time picking up seashells on the beach. If I have any more girl moments today, I’m gonna grow tits.”

  “On that note…” I scooped up the bucket and held it out. “Here’s your shells. I’m gonna grab some coffee.”

  “Whoa,” Romeo said after I turned toward the sliders.

  “What?”

  “Trent and Ivy.” He gestured inside with his chin. “Guess Trent really is interested.”

  “Poor guy,” I muttered and walked in.

  Ivy was still sitting on the counter with Trent right in front of her. Missy and Rimmel were on either side of him, and everyone’s attention was focused down.

  “Does it need stitches?” Rimmel worried.

  “Nah,” Trent answered as he tore open a large Band-Aid.

  I ignored them all as I went for the coffee maker on the other side of the kitchen. As I was walking past, Rimmel grabbed my arm. “What do you think, B? Think it needs stitches?”

  The muscle in my jaw jumped when she pulled me into the situation I was trying to avoid, but when little sisters asked for your opinion, you gave it.

  “Let me see,” I said, and Trent angled off to the side so I could move forward to look.

  My shirt was lying on the counter beside Ivy, and I could see the stains of blood. Trent was holding her ankle, supporting her foot, and I focused on the cut, not the way his fingers wrapped around her.

  It was good slice, and if it had gone any deeper, she probably would need stitches. However, it seemed like Trent had cleaned it out well and the bleeding was pretty much stopped. It looked like it hurt, though, all red and raw-looking.

  I glanced up at Ivy. Her cheeks seemed a little pale, but when her eyes found mine, her gaze was steady. “How’s the foot, Blondie?”

  “Nothing a Band-Aid won’t fix.”

  I felt the side of my mouth kick up in a half smile. “Sounds good to me,” I agreed and moved away, retreating to the coffee.

  I poured a cup, and when I turned back, Trent was smoothing the Band-Aid on her foot. I tossed some of the brew down my throat. It burned.

  “Thanks,” Ivy told him. The softness in her voice had me throwing back another gulp of the black stuff. I felt Romeo’s eye, but I avoided it and stepped out of the kitchen.

  “I’m jumping in the shower before we gotta leave,” I called, not really talking to anyone specific.

  “Wait,” Ivy yelled.

  I turned back.

  She lifted my shirt up and held it out. “I sort of ruined your shirt.”

  I shrugged. “Toss it. It’s just a shirt.”

  Not waiting for her to reply, I disappeared down the hall, away from everyone.

  It was just a shirt.

  Just one night.

  Just one more thing for me to forget.

  Chapter Eight

  Ivy

  Damn, baby.

  Two words.

  Two words that were spoken millions of times during an average day of everyone’s average lives.

  But he said them.

  And when he said them, it was anything but average.

  He spoke them so well they replayed in my brain over and over again, like some annoying song you hear on the radio and can’t get out of your head. Except this song wasn’t annoying.

  Every time those words replayed, I recalled the way he looked when he said them, and a piece of me literally melted. If it didn’t stop soon, I was going to be nothing but a puddle.

  No one had ever called me baby before. I mean, sure, I got the occasional, “Hey, baby,” pickup line that was sort of like hearing nails on a chalkboard.

  Oh, but this was so different.

  It was the way I sometimes heard Romeo talk to Rimmel when he thought no one else could hear. The way it seemed to rumble out of him with so much emotion, yet without seemingly any thought. He spoke like it was an endearment, like I meant something to him. Something other than the girl he insulted so often it could be considered a hobby.

  Even so, this was Braeden. The king of “having fun,” the king of avoiding what he so un-charmingly referred to as the feels. He might have said it, but I knew I shouldn’t read too much into it. He acted like he hadn’t even heard himself speak. That was the worst part, that those two whispered words could mean so much to me and him not even realize he’d spoken.

  And so I heard them on repeat over and over again, wanting it to stop, but also never wanting to forget.

  I was totally screwed up.

  I mean, seriously.

  “How’s it feel?” Trent asked. His voice was so close I wondered how I’d forgotten he was standing there.

  I glanced up and smiled. “A lot better. Thanks for helping me get it cleaned up.”

  “Next time you want to get in a fight with a bottle cap… maybe just don’t.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, maybe.”

  His smile was lopsided, and the tooth to the left of his two front teeth was slightly crooked, giving him an ornery, rakish look. This week was the most time I’d ever spent with him, the most I’d ever really seen him. I mean, sure, I knew him. He hung out in Romeo’s crowd and was always with the Wolves. We went to the same parties, and I saw him around campus, but I hadn’t really ever bothered to get to know him. I’m glad I did, though, because Trent was a great guy.

  He liked to laugh and seemed to have one of those easygoing, Namaste personalities. You know, the even-keel kind of vibe that never really went off balance.

  He was the complete opposite of Braeden, who always seemed to be walking on a fine line between aggression and intensity.

  I watched him as he gathered up the empty bandage wrappers and leaned away to toss them in the nearby trashcan before he screwed the cap back on the antibacterial cream. Trent was good-looking, like the kind of good-looking you did a double take to see.

  I was beginning to think to be friends with Romeo, you had to be smoking hot.

  He was a big guy, of course, being a college football player. Trent had a wide chest and shoulders that tapered down into a narrow waist and hips. His skin was golden from the week we spent here at the beach, and the warm color only drew more attention to how defined his body was. His hands were large, too, and his skin was warm like he’d been sitting in the sun. At least that’s what I’d thought when his entire palm wrapped around my heel and ankle as he fixed up my foot.

  His hair wasn’t blond like Romeo’s, and it
wasn’t dark like Braeden’s. It was somewhere in the middle—a sandy-brown shade that complemented his hazel eyes. He had wide cheekbones, a strong brow, and a straight, almost-perfect nose. He had that clean-cut look so many college guys had, even though the top of his hair was too long and flopped down over his forehead.

  I don’t know how long I stared at him, but it was long enough he seemed to notice. A slow, knowing smile tugged at his mouth and his golden-greenish gaze caught mine. “Think you’re gonna be able to walk on that?”

  I swallowed and tore my eyes away to glance down at my foot. My dress had ridden halfway up my thighs while everyone was assessing my foot and trying to clean it up. The ankle of the cut foot was thrown over the top of my knee—so unladylike for a girl in a dress. I dropped my foot so it could hang off the counter and tugged the dress until it fell down, covering all my legs from sight.

  “Oh yeah, I’ll be fine,” I mumbled.

  Trent didn’t say anything, but he did muffle a laugh as he slid his arm around my waist. I stiffened at the unexpected touch. Did I mention he wasn’t wearing a shirt? The skin of his arm and chest was just as warm as his hand had been earlier.

  “Have you already been out in the sun?” I wondered out loud.

  “I went for a run on the sand this morning,” he replied. His voice was low because I was so close he didn’t have to talk loud.

  With one arm, he lifted me off the counter and lowered me carefully to the floor. I put most of my weight on the uninjured foot and balanced with the toes of my other. I wasn’t quite ready to find out how it was going to feel to walk with a chunk of skin missing from the bottom of my foot.

  “Thanks,” I murmured when I was firmly on the floor.

  He didn’t pull back right away; he waited to make sure I was steady before stepping back and palming some stuff lying nearby. “You should take some of these big bandages. Keep them handy in case we need to change the Band-Aid on the plane.”

  “We?” I glanced down at the small stack of wrapped bandages in his hand.

  “Yeah,” he replied casually. “If you need help getting it changed, just let me know.”