“See that house over there on the shore?” She asks, pointing out to a small modern house at the end of the beach, cradled in the corner of the beach formed by the cliff edge. It’s the last in a line of similar properties and they don’t look cheap. I nod in unison with Manda and Mollie as Chloe reaches into her pocket and pulls out four keys, each on a different coloured feather key-ring.
“Happy birthday, Callie.” She smiles and hands me one of the keys. I stare at it blankly. She got me a key-ring?
“You guys know my grandma died a few months back? Well her last will and testament finally came through and my parents have said we can use it whenever we want for ‘studying’.” She boasts and laughs to herself slightly.
“The Hotel Del Coronado is just up there by like a few miles and there’s a naval base down that way, but this beach is basically ours.” She continues to brag and I can only gawp along with Manda and Mollie who she then gives a key each, they’re clearly just as stunned as I am. Mollie finally finds the words to speak.
“What the house, on the beach … we can use it? Whenever we want?” She questions, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Like totally. My parents already have a beach house; this one is going to be mine when I go to medical school anyway.” She smiles, obviously loving our disbelief. Both her parents are dentists, private dentists, so it is obvious they are rolling in money. I mean she has a Land Rover and she’s never worked a day in her life for goodness sake. Everyone knew that Hotel Del Coronado was the most exclusive tourist resort in San Diego, but private beaches were hard to come by, unless you had the crazy amount of money to buy a property somewhere like Pacific Beach. But a house on the beach? For us? I launch forward and hug her at this unexpected generosity. Chloe has given me much more than just a house, but unknowingly provided an escape from Fort ‘Carl-is-boss-here’. I release Chloe and she looks a little ruffled. She really doesn’t do physical affection, unless of course it’s with a really hot life-guard named Jose who she met that one time in Jamaica on vacation.
“This is really … Thank you.” is all I can manage. She looks back at me and my necklace catches her eye from beneath my poncho.
“You’re welcome.” She responds graciously, but I see the slight appearance of envy behind her sparkling green eyes.
“Wow, so we can come here, like, anytime we want?” Mollie asks breaking the tension.
“Yep, bring guys here; come to study, party, like whatever. I’ll barely be using it this summer anyway, my parents are taking me to Barbados.” She says matter-of-factly, and slight irritation rises in my throat at her boastful tone. It has always, in fact, seemed strange to me that someone as wealthy as Chloe was friends with such simple people as me, Mollie and Manda. I guess we never really questioned it that seriously. It seemed that she accepted us immediately as friends, but I couldn’t deny that the group dynamic between me, Mollie, and Manda had changed since she had come along two years ago after transferring from LA. It seemed Manda had become the sheep to Chloe’s wolf, following her like a loyal puppy no matter what insensitive comments fell out of her mouth. Mollie stands next to me, the epitome of Switzerland, neutral and unmoving in neither mine nor Chloe’s direction.
I blink a few times, returning to the conversation, which has now turned to the interior of the house as Chloe explains we will all have our own rooms and ensuites. I look at Chloe and then at Mollie who is clearly in awe of her. I can’t deny I am a little in awe too.
“This isn’t even the full plan.” Chloe brags, walking down from the concrete platform near the parking lot and into the sand, kicking it up in the wake of her bedazzled sandals.
“Oh?” I ask, curious as to what she is implying.
“We have, like, the whole grade coming down here, well everyone who is cool anyway, just to celebrate your birthday!” She reveals and my gut tightens slightly. I hate group activities.
“Seriously?” I ask, looking to Mollie who nods enthusiastically.
“I’m not dressed for a party.” I state lamely, wondering what happened to the small get together I had been assured of.
“I’ve got you covered” Manda assures me with a sly smile, placing her arm around my shoulder, her red hair a frizzy flame against the sunset.
“Okay. Thanks.” My elevated mood has gone, worried about what will happen if anyone, particularly my stepfather finds out about the magnitude of this ‘small’ get together.
“Callie, chill out, it’s all good!” Manda encourages me, until I break into a small smile as the wind moves my hair from around my face. Chloe steps forward and grabs my left hand, pulling me down into the white powder sand that I have come to expect from San Diego’s numerous and gorgeous beaches.
“Come on, I want to show you around the house before people start arriving.” She demands, arching a beautifully plucked brow as she strides forward in steps much longer than mine. We move along the beach and I look at the towering cliff top which cuts us away from the rest of the world. I smile as I turn my head and look over my shoulder at the sea, which beckons under the sun hanging lazily in the sky and lowering with each passing second. The waves slosh up the beach and kiss the sand with each roll of the tide generously wiping them clean of imperfection. As we move along the two mile stretch of beach, the house comes into closer view, elevated onto a wooden deck that acts as foundation, and which holds several other beach homes that seem stark and empty.
“This beach is for residents only, it’s private, and the other houses haven’t been sold yet. The housing market isn’t great, according to my parents. It’s private for now; we just have the Hotel and Naval Base … so basically hot tourists and hotter sailors.” Chloe informs me as I peer into the barren living rooms, not breaking stride.
“So we basically have this beach to ourselves?” I ask, feeling slightly giddy.
“Basically, until someone else buys property here or tourists start to make their way down this far.” She says, confident as always. I hear Manda and Mollie catching up from behind.
“So this is it?” I ask as we stop outside the largest property, which also happens to be the house closest to where the cliff makes a right angle against the sand.
“This is the one.” Chloe answers, in charge as always. I clutch my key in my fist tightly. Chloe beckons us forward impatiently, her legs beautifully tanned and smooth, propelling her through the sand. She climbs the wooden staircase and stands on the deck looking down at us.
“Come on then, people will be arriving soon and I still have to show you the best part.”
“I love how she says that, like this already isn’t amazing.” I quip, getting over my nerves. I muse that as the invites have already been extended I can plead ignorance later. I move into the lap of the house’s luxury with a smile, deciding that I may as well enjoy myself.
The inside of the house is gorgeous, lightly furnished in whites, blacks, and pastel colours to accentuate the light that flows in from the giant glass windows making up the walls of the sitting room. This is not just a beach house; this is a multimillion dollar property. Upstairs the house contains a massive four bedrooms, each as beautiful as the last, with built in ensuites. As I stand in the doorway of the room which I’ve claimed as my own, I turn my back on my backpack which lies at the foot of the queen size bed and head back downstairs. I walk down the clinically white, high ceilinged corridor and cannot believe I am actually standing in such a luxurious building. When I arrive downstairs I can see my friends assembled on the deck and my heart swells. Four lounger chairs lie with cream cushions tied to them and one of them is free. I walk out of the wide open glass double doors and onto the deck, taking my place on the only empty deck chair next to the rest of my friends.
“This is incredible, Chloe, thank you again.” I gush, feeling like I may burst with gratitude.
“Yes, thank you Chloe.” Mollie and Manda say in unison. They laugh at themselves but Chloe interrupts their giggling.
“You’re welcome! Don�
��t mention it. I’m sure you guys would do the same for me if you had an awesome beach home like this.” She borders on bragging but we all smile, just glad to be laying on its beautiful front deck.
“Oh, I forgot!” She blurts, remembering something. She jumps up, storming through the house, as only Chloe can, and into the kitchen. We all get up to follow her curiously as she stands in front of the fridge and swings open the door. Inside lays the mother lode of booze and junk food. We all inhale and then she smiles, passing me a beer.
The dying light of day greets the first arriving guest. I’m standing on the deck in a black shift dress tied around with a white belt and red pumps which Manda and Mollie gifted me for my birthday. I’m wearing a spattering of red lipstick too, which so isn’t my colour, but Chloe insisted it matches, and I didn’t have the energy to argue. To no one’s surprise, the footballers, along with a keg are the first to arrive. Daryl, in his letterman’s jacket, supporting our school initials over his heart, is the first whom I recognize. His silhouette is broad against the sky as his buddies run across the sand like school children, testosterone pumping through them like a drug. Daryl doesn’t run, but walks, slowly, sweeping his overly long fringe out of his dark eyes, tilting his square jaw upward. I swear I can hear someone exhale deeply in a sigh, so I turn to look back over my shoulder, catching Mollie staring at him too, shielding her eyes against the orange glare of the sun. I look away, letting her admire in private, a knot forming in my belly.
“Hey Cal!” Daryl calls, alcohol forming a box like shape against the arm he isn’t raising in a brisk wave.
“Hey!” I say back, cringing at his nickname for me. Nobody ever calls me Cal, and I can’t help but feel like he doesn’t have the right to be making up cute nicknames. As I’m pondering the inappropriateness of his adopted pet name, he steps up the wooden stairs and ascends to the decking. I stand stone still, rooted to the spot, not sure whether running at this point would be rude or not. He puts one arm around me.
“Happy Birthday, Cal!”
“Thank you, please, it’s just Callie.” I plead with him, plastering on a fake smile. I look up into his face as he pulls away and holds me at arm’s length. I stand, impervious to his crooked, American teen smile.
“Sorry, Callie.” he moves his hair out of his eyes again with a sweeping motion of his palm and I wonder if he’s nervous.
“So um … where should I put this beer?” He asks, placing his free hand in his jeans pocket.
“Uh, inside should be fine.”
“Gary has gone to ask about setting up the decks, you wouldn’t know where he could do that would you?” He questions me again, trying to draw out the conversation.
“I’d go ask Chloe, it’s her grandma’s old place.” I say, stepping aside so he can move past me. I sit down on the lounger beside the door and he turns back to me, a wicked gleam in his eye.
“Save a dance for me, okay?” He demands.
“Daryl I …” I begin but he walks away before I can reject him. I sigh and place my head in my hands, letting ringlets fall around my face.
The Party is in full swing not one hour later. The house is crammed full of people who I apparently go to school with, though I can’t say I know even half of them. The music is obscenely loud, so much so that it’s starting to give me a headache and I find myself sat on a couch in the corner of the living room, watching Manda and Mollie throwing themselves around in a crowd of strangers that are celebrating my birthday without me. I see Chloe coming in through the crowd, narrowing in on me like a long legged bird of prey.
“Oh my God Callie, are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m good thanks, enjoying the party.” I smile back at her politely; not wanting to point out this is so not my scene after all the effort she’s put in.
“Really? You don’t look it.” she frowns.
“I’m sorry, I’m just tired. I guess Kayla wore me out earlier.”
“Well that’s too bad, there’s a guy asking for you and … If you don’t mind my saying, I think he might be from SDSU, he’s WAY HOT. Like oh my God, Callie, you have to see this guy! He might sway even your frigid resolve.” She says the last sentence with far too much enthusiasm to be fully aware of what’s coming out of her mouth. It’s obvious she’s had too much to drink. I sigh internally, why the hell can she not just back the hell off? I’m not here for her entertainment in spite of what she might think. I can almost see a thought bubble coming out of the top of her head with the words ‘Dance puppet dance!’ in cartoony scrawl.
“Oh …” I begin, but she’s pulling me up off the white leather corner sofa and through the throng of people as the song changes into something slow and romantic. Before Chloe can pull me behind her toward the mystery man she insists I meet, I am confronted with an expectant Daryl. The lights become dim and it seems like his towering height means everyone in the room turns, eyes on us.
“May I have this dance, madam?” He has a mock posh tone on. His leather jacket discarded and his white t-shirt and jeans combination seems to have every female in the room staring daggers at me. Chloe looks back over her shoulder with a smirk.
“Don’t leave the boy hanging Callie. Go on.” She nudges me with one hip and I stumble forward, twisting my left ankle behind my right in a fit of gawky incoordination. Daryl catches me, and for just a second it’s like in the movies, our eyes meet and I can see him willing me to kiss him. Vomit rises in my throat.
“Uh, dance … yes.” I steady myself, swallowing hard. I step back and give him my hand, I don’t really want to, but it’s better than the alternative. He looks disheartened, but takes it, leading me into an open space which is cleared by the masses of sweaty teenagers that, a few seconds ago, were throwing themselves around to a thudding beat. The music has changed to a slower song, very cringe worthy, with the title ‘Love you like that’. Daryl puts his muscular arm around my waist, and I can feel everyone staring. I cough, averting my gaze, hoping this will diffuse the tension, but I can’t keep my gaze from my partner’s for too long. Why am I doing this? I wonder as I see Chloe watching me out of one eye, talking to a tall guy with his back to me. She was right, if this was the same guy who was asking for me he was stacked and attractive from the back at least. I realise what has happened as my eyes narrow: Sabotage.
“Thank you.” Daryl whispers, trying to ignore the circle of people standing around us.
“For …”
“The dance …” He says, rolling his eyes and I laugh.
“No worries.” I say with casual reserve. I don’t really want to talk, after all, if Chloe hadn’t been standing right next to me I would have bolted like a weasel.
“So about the other day, I’m sorry, if I came over too keen. I just … I really like you.” Daryl says and his puppy dog, all American, blue eyes stare into mine fiercely.
“I get that Daryl. Trust me.” I say, feeling irritation rising in my throat like venom.
“So …” I can almost hear the hamster running on the plastic wheel that’s powering his brain. His forehead creases in thought as he searches for what to say next. I cut across him impatiently. His brain-hamster clearly needs a Red-bull.
“So, I’m giving you this dance, because I’m sorry I was harsh. You didn’t deserve such a flat out rejection.” Even if that is exactly what you need, I think to myself bitterly.
“That’s it?” Seriously, he still wants to push his luck … Really? He’s like a dog with a bone and I am so not in the mood.
“What more is there?” I mutter, calming the urge I have to smack him into next week.
“But I thought …” The urge within me rises again.
“Look, can’t you just enjoy the dance?” I plead with him and he exhales in disappointment.
“Of course.” he looks determined and pulls me closer. It is then that something happens, something I can’t explain, and has no rational explanation. I feel eyes on me. Not the kind that are staring out of half interest, but something on th
e back of my neck that feels like a burn, making my downy neck hair stand erect. Goose-pimples rise up on my spine and I can feel Daryl’s grip tighten on me.
“I knew it. I knew you felt this attraction. Look at you. You’re practically gagging for it.” He whispers the words in my ear and I can’t help myself. My head snaps up.
“Excuse me?” I can’t help but raise my voice and pull away from him in disgust. Who the hell does he think he is? In what world does me getting goose-pimples equate to ‘hey let’s get it on!’ What the hell is wrong with Daryl … no wait not just him, men. I’ve so had enough of this crap. The little devil on my right shoulder stirs with interest, making my right palm twitch. On-looking party goers are beginning to stare
“Oh come on Callie. You’re such a tease. You know you want this.” He pushes his crotch towards me and I push him away with all the force I can manage. If he hadn’t had a drink or seven, I don’t think I could have moved him at all.
“No, I most certainly don’t want this, you total and complete pig!” I move before I think, raising my hand, giving into the slap happy devil on my right shoulder and delivering the mother of all fish slap’s across his left cheek. The contact leaves a sharp sound that echoes through the now silent room like thunder. The music has been cut off mid-song and the idle chatter has seized. I turn on my heel, storming from his shocked expression, my hair blowing back from my face and out of the front door. Chloe is looking over, trying not to laugh, and Mollie’s mouth is a tiny ‘o’ shape in shock. I am so done with Daryl, and men, which in this moment seem like the root of all evil. Once the sea air hits me, I break into a run, fleeing down the sand and into the moonlight bathed night.
I sit at the edge of the shore for a while, breathing in the cool salt vapours that cling to my skin. The water is lapping at my toes, kissing them gently as I’ve discarded my shoes; it’s cool and refreshing even though the air is chilly. My mind is racing … what is it about Daryl that makes me so crazy? He’s attractive-ish, isn’t he? So why is it that while every other girl in the room is slobbering over their shoes, I get my kicks out of slapping his supposedly attractive, stupid face? I wonder if the slap rattled that hamster running in its plastic wheel, smacking some sense into him and I smile to myself at the image. I sit for a while longer, pondering my incapacity to fall for guys that have normal women ‘gagging for it’, using Daryl’s term.
The Kiss That Killed Me (The Tidal Kiss Trilogy Book 1) Page 4
