Blue Crush

by Barnard, Jules

  There’s so much I don’t know about Lewis and so much I’m still figuring out. I don’t even know what our kiss meant, or if it meant anything. I totally screwed up the moment with my Drake flashback.

  Nessa comes over after Cali leaves, for a Gen-can’t-walk movie marathon.

  She plops beside me on the couch. “How are you feeling?”

  I lift my legs onto a pillow and let out a sigh. “Like an invalid.”

  “Will you be able to work tonight?”

  “I think?” Not exactly sure how I’ll carry heavy trays all evening. “I’m downing a handful of Advil an hour before I leave and hoping for the best.”

  She glances around. It’s eerily silent in the chalet, which is unusual with Tyler in town. “Where is everyone?”

  “Tyler is out riding his bike, or whatever he does, and Cali started her new job. She’s having orientation this afternoon.”

  Nessa pulls out the DVD for Sixteen Candles. “I’m so happy it worked out at Lewis’s company.” She cues up the DVD player beside the flat screen—the two most expensive objects in the chalet. Cali and I are convinced a dude owns the place, because everything except the electronics is outdated and heinous.

  Nessa’s into eighties classics like Cali, which means I’m properly schooled on big hair. Sixteen Candles is one of my favorites though. Jake Ryan anyone? Oh, hell yes.

  Speaking of mysterious, dark-haired, mouth-watering men … “So, Nessa, I’ve been hanging out with Lewis. For our training,” I quickly add. “And I was wondering about his relationship with Mira. Purely for scientific purposes, of course.”

  She smirks. “Of course. His being hot has nothing to do with it.”

  “No, nothing at all.” I smile. “Anyway, what’s with them? He says she’s not his girlfriend, but they seem so—so—”

  “Together?”

  “Yeah, that. Like a couple, with the fighting and the possessiveness, on Mira’s part anyway. I don’t get it.”

  The microwave beeps, the scent of buttery popcorn filling the air. Nessa continues her valet service and retrieves the steaming bag, holding it away as she peels the top open so as not to steam burn her face. “They have a complicated friendship,” she says and pops a yellow kernel in her mouth. “It’s like—” she munches, her eyes unfocused as if considering “—all tangled up.” She holds out the bag for me and I grab a handful. “Zach told me once that Lewis was there the day his dad rescued Mira from an abusive home when she was three. Her mom was hooked on drugs and had abandoned her for days. It was a lucky coincidence that his dad was working nearby on a project and found her.”

  My stomach pinches. “Oh my God, a three-year-old?”

  And I thought my mom was bad.

  Nessa nods. “Yeah, so it’s understandable why Mira has issues. When Lewis and his dad walked in, she went straight to Lewis. He was only a few years older, so that could explain why, but she’s been at his side ever since. Lewis takes his protector role seriously. It’s crazy how much his life revolves around her happiness.”

  He saved her and that’s a good thing, so why does my heart sink? Lewis and Mira aren’t together, but they’re connected in a very profound and important way. All I have is a kiss. One hot, hot kiss.

  “Lewis mentioned he’s only had one girlfriend. I got the feeling he won’t date girls because of Mira.”

  Her eyes soften, as if understanding the direction of my thoughts, which I imagine are transparent. “That sounds about right. I’ve seen him with a couple of women, never the same one. Mira threw a fit the one time he brought a girl around in her presence. It’s always been like that. Zach said Lewis never dated in junior high or high school. Tons of girls liked him. Well, you know—” She waves at me as an example of said women fawning over him. Definitely transparent. “No one questioned why he wanted to stay home and prep for the SATs instead of going to prom, because he had one of the top GPAs. Now that he’s an adult, not much has changed in the romance department. He’s a bit aloof, you know? But I think that’s because of Mira. She turns into the Tasmanian Devil if she senses he’s interested in anyone.”

  Getting mixed up with Lewis was always a bad idea. For a moment, when he said he and Mira weren’t a couple, a spark of hope flared, but his connection to Mira is too big, too important—it’ll never work out. I sensed this, but now I know it for a fact. So why then did I attack him? And I mean, attack.

  I’ve never thrown myself at a guy before. I don’t even fantasize the way some girls do (Cali). Sex is a part of the relationship I expect and to some degree, bear. But with Lewis, I think about him. Crazy stuff like the way he smells, his eyes, that scar—stopping what we were doing on the top of the cascades was the last thing on my mind, until visions of Drake shocked me out of my hormone haze.

  Nessa shifts toward the television. “So now you know why Mira acts the way she does.” She punches up the volume. “I feel bad for her, but she needs help. Lewis shouldn’t have to give up his life to make sure she’s secure.”

  On the television, Sixteen Candles opens with Molly Ringwald’s Sam, assessing her sweet-sixteen figure in the mirror. Her body hasn’t caught up to where she is emotionally, while mine is a hormone inferno, attacking Lewis before my brain can figure out which side is up.

  A knock sounds at the door.

  Nessa and I stare at each other. “You expecting someone?” she asks.

  “No.” I jump up, and land on my butt. Damn sore muscles!

  I rock off the couch and grab the armrest for support, hobbling to see who it is. Nessa shut the blinds for the movie, and a thick layer of Tahoe dust covers the peephole. I jerk the sticky door open.

  Lewis stands on the other side, holding a small paper bag. He looks me up and down, his expression serious.

  My skin flushes, as if my unruly hormones and thoughts of jumping him on top of the cascades show on my face. He’s in his usual jeans and a plaid button-down—and why is that so hot? I’ve seen Lewis in nothing but board shorts, but there’s something about his plaid shirts that has me fantasizing about slipping my hands underneath to his smooth skin. I want to be the only one who knows what lies below.

  “Hey.” My gaze flickers in Nessa’s direction. I feel like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. I don’t know why I’m worried. It’s obvious Nessa is on to me.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks.

  In excruciating pain. “Um, sore.”

  He hands me the paper bag. “This should help. Are you working tonight?”

  “Yeah.”

  He grabs the back of his neck. I’ve seen that stance before. He’s nervous or uncertain. “Is that wise?”

  Worried.

  The underlying message with Lewis is never clear. Will I be okay after he destroyed my walking capability on the cascades from hell, or around Drake? “I’ll manage.”

  He nods. The scene where Long Duk Dong says, “No more yanky my wanky,” blares behind us. Lewis raises his eyebrow.

  “Sixteen Candles. Nessa’s here. You want to come in?”

  He looks over my shoulder and nods in greeting to Nessa. “No, I better get going. I was … I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

  All right after the kiss? After he crippled me? What? “I’m fine.”

  “Okay, well, I’ll catch you later then. Take it easy tonight,” he says, scanning me once before he turns and walks to his car.

  I close the door and return to the couch. If Nessa hadn’t been here, what would have happened? Would he have come in?

  I tuck the paper bag he handed me near my feet. I’ll look inside later, after Nessa leaves. She’s already staring at me with an odd smile on her face.

  “What was that about?”

  “Nothing.” I shake my head, gazing at the movie. “He was making sure he didn’t kill me yesterday training.” Which he kind of did. In more ways than one.

  I’ve kissed him—a kiss to shame all kisses—and I can’t forget.

  The combination of
the Tiger Balm that Lewis dropped off and a handful of Motrin staves off the worst of my pain. I smell like a medicine cabinet, but I’ll be able to walk tonight at work.

  Lewis brought me a gift. A stinky, guilt-laced gift, but proof I’m on his mind.

  I’m blow-drying my hair, getting ready for work when Cali busts into the bathroom. I hold a hand to my pounding heart, gripping my roller brush with the other. “Shit, Cali. What the hell?”

  “Sorry.” She flips down the toilet lid and sits on top. “I have to talk to you.” She huffs out a strained breath. “Lewis works at Sallee Construction. He’s the owner’s son.”

  Did I forget to mention that?

  Her eyes narrow. “You don’t actually care for this guy …?”

  Cali doesn’t want me mixed up with Lewis because she thinks things are dodgy with him and Mira. She’s not totally off-base, but I’d like to deal with it on my own. “Leave it alone, Cali.”

  “Gen—”

  I storm out, because I so don’t need this right now. My ass and every muscle I never knew I had hurts. My emotional state isn’t much better off.

  Cali follows, close at my heels. “I was stupid at the start of the summer. I didn’t understand what you were going through, because I’d never been in love. You were more involved with the A-hole than I ever was with Eric. I get that now.”

  She’s so wrong. In comparison to the emotions Lewis stirs, I felt nothing for the A-hole. Lewis makes me feel everything.

  Cali cradles one arm by the couch, rubbing the tip of her nail across her bottom teeth in a rare nervous gesture. “And I don’t want to tell you what to do, because when it comes to this, I’m not as experienced as I thought, but I’m scared for you.”

  I glance at her quizzically, then search my purse on the couch, forgetting a second later what I’m looking for. I shake my head. “Cali, there’s nothing to fear—”

  “I’m worried that I pushed you to date guys before you were ready and now you’re running headfirst into the same situation you escaped.”

  “You’re giving yourself too much credit. I do actually select when and who I want to date, and I told you, the situation with Lewis is not the same as my past relationship. Besides, I’m not actually in a relationship.” A kiss does not a relationship make.

  I sweep inside the bedroom and pull out clothes. Cali watches from the doorway. “Look, I can’t help who I’m attracted to. That’s nature, but I’m not planning on repeating the past if that’s what you’re worried about. Even if I did, it wouldn’t be your fault.”

  “Okay. But Mira visited Lewis at work today.” Her words send an ache through my chest. Is that why he didn’t stay this afternoon? “If you’re spending time with him, just—be careful.”

  Lewis and Mira aren’t together, but I don’t understand what they are, not really.

  “I will.” But that’s a lie. I want to be more than friends with Lewis, and that isn’t the safe choice.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I can’t believe Maryanne gave you her pit. She shouldn’t have done that, you know.” Amber’s giant hoop earrings wave like a finger with her words.

  My body hurts and I’m confused as hell about Lewis, our kiss, and what it all means. The last thing I need is Amber nagging me.

  I slam my tray on the counter, startling the bartender. “Well, she did. Get over it.”

  Amber looks at me askance like she’s seeing a stranger. The insanity that turned off my filters at the cascades hasn’t abated. It’s contaminating my every conversation.

  Drake walks up the steps to the lounge, his gaze flickering between me and Amber. Amber ducks away and I’m left standing there, locked in the icy depths of his gray eyes. I hate that my instinct is to lock up around men who have hurt me. It’s what I did when the A-hole showed up, and it’s what I’m doing all over again with Drake.

  Anger burns my chest, stealing my breath. I grab my tray, arms stiff, and return to my customers, tracking Drake as I do.

  He doesn’t approach me. He chats up a group at the front of the lounge, then saunters to the floor, exchanging a few words with one of the pit bosses. The tension in my limbs eases somewhat, though not entirely. He may have come to talk to customers, but the confidence he exudes speaks volumes. The way Amber scurried off, the way I went still like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car—Drake is in control here.

  He walks past the lounge, almost out of sight, when I catch him hooking his arm around a waitress on her way to the floor. He tugs her into the elevator alcove and they disappear from view.

  I count to twenty … fifty. The girl doesn’t return.

  My feet move before my head wraps around the notion that I’m going after Drake and the pretty, young waitress I’ve never seen before. I round the corner and Drake has the woman plastered to a wall. He’s gripping her arm and leaning down, talking into her ear. She smiles a tight smile and tries to inch around him. He steps to the side, blocking her.

  “Mr. Peterson.” My voice comes out strong, determined.

  I feel the opposite. I’m wondering what the hell I’m doing. The temper I’ve kept bottled is coming out everywhere, and in full force.

  Drake lifts his head. He doesn’t look back. He releases the girl and she slips past him, glancing apprehensively my way as she passes.

  “Did you miss me, Genevieve?” Drake turns slowly.

  “Not particularly. Do you like touching women who don’t want you?”

  His face reddens, lips compressing. “Funny, I see you’ve returned for more.” He doesn’t move and I make sure to stay away from his hidey nook. There’s a black orb nearby, but it’s blocked by a palm.

  “I’m going to tell management.” Am I trying to get him to attack me? Obviously, I haven’t thought this rescue thing through.

  I take a step back, but my stupid words trigger Drake into action. He stalks me and I take another step and another. My shoulder bumps the palm in front of the surveillance camera. Drake grabs the side of my neck painfully, dragging me into the shadowed corner I avoided.

  “Let go of me.” I’m scared, but not mentally frozen for once. I can’t say I’m making intelligent decisions though. Friggin’ mouth! Why didn’t I leave with the girl?

  I don’t know what has sparked the sudden bravery. Maybe a buildup of shitty encounters since I arrived in this town, my frustrating feelings for Lewis, all of which may have pushed me from passive to not-taking-this-shit-anymore.

  Drake’s fingers dig into my flesh, a reminder of how much stronger he is physically. A whimper escapes my mouth at the pain, not the threat.

  “I saw you the other night.” His eyes travel my body. “At the club.” He gives me a shove and I trip a few steps until I’m as isolated as the other girl was. “I meant to find you, but—I got distracted.”

  He’s talking about the night he tried to force himself on Cali? He was looking for me?

  My heart races. I glance over his shoulder, but the elevators are empty. Where the hell is everyone? My bravery definitely has its limits and that’s a good thing, because I’d like to remain alive and the waves of hostility rolling off Drake are not good.

  “I enjoy watching you move around the casino, talking to your short little friend, Nessa. She’s not my type. The tall ones put up a better fight. Not you though, you frighten easily. Now …” He breathes in, his nostrils flaring, before his gaze steadies. “I like the new spunk.” He strokes my arm with the hand that isn’t holding me in place, grazing the side of my breast. I barely feel his touch through the wired bustier, but the insinuation has my throat burning with revulsion.

  I straighten. When I’m not cowering, I’m as tall as Drake in heels, though he’s much wider, stronger—I’m not going to think about that. “Let go of me before …”

  His eyes widen and he licks his lips. “Before?” He places his hand on my hip, and that’s it.

  I lean in, smelling his expensive cologne and sour breath. “Before I knee your balls into
your throat.”

  Drake smiles, but he releases me and steps back. I’m breathing heavily, panting really. He walks away and points two fingers at his eyes, then the black surveillance orb. “I’ll be watching. Looking forward to our next time alone.”

  I threatened to tell management and he’s as concerned as a bear swatting a fly. Why does he believe he can get away with this?

  Mason nods as I pass the East Bar to Maryanne’s pit, a concerned look on his face. I ignore him and touch Maryanne’s shoulder to get her attention.

  She spins around, her overprocessed dark hair not moving with the motion. “What’s up?” I swallow. No words come out. “Yes?” she says, annoyed.

  “Will you watch my station? I—I have to file a sexual harassment claim.”

  Maryanne didn’t bat an eye when I told her where I was going. She nodded once and said, “You got it.”

  Mr. Breadon, the director of Human Resources, also didn’t bat an eye, which worries me. He handed me a sheet to fill out, then filed it away and told me to take the evening off. He said he’d contact me after he looked into the matter.

  There was something so casual about Mr. Breadon’s attitude. I have this awful sense he only said he’d investigate to put my mind at ease. And if management really doesn’t care what Drake does, then Lewis was right: It’s not safe to work at Blue.

  I park my car and walk up the drive to the chalet—and spot an enormous tent the length of our patio peeking above the fence around our backyard.

  What the hell? I walk inside and set my purse on the couch, glancing out the open backyard door. “Cali,” I call, a question in my voice.

  “Over here.” Her head emerges from the tent.

  “What’s going on?” I say, leaning against the doorframe.

  “Oh, well, you see—Jaeger’s gonna stay with us for a bit.”

  “He’s living with us? Along with your brother?”

  She raises her shoulders sheepishly. “Yes?”