He ran his long fingers through the wet strands of his hair and finally looked up.
His eyes were a startling icy blue, like his mom’s, and they reflected shock back at me when he finally noticed us standing there.
His lips parted in surprise. “Willow? Dean?”
I rushed around the large center island in the kitchen and into his arms. He caught me easily and I hugged him with every ounce of strength I possessed.
I’d known I’d missed him, but I didn’t realize how much until that very moment.
Liam set me down and turned to hug Dean.
“Did you guys fly in?” He asked, mystified. He reached up, continuously having to push back the longer strands of his hair.
Dean shook his head, his hand settling on my waist. “No, we drove. Road trip.”
“Mhmm,” Liam’s eyes fell to where Dean touched me, “I see.” Looking up at me, he put on a stern expression. “Does your dad know about this?”
I rolled my eyes. Now was not the time for Liam to act like this.
“Yes,” I answered honestly, but he looked at me doubtfully.
Noticing his friend behind us he groaned. “Fuck, Ollie. I forgot about dinner.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“It’s okay,” Ollie replied, but it came out garbled and I looked over my shoulder to see that he was devouring the Cheetos again. “Decided to help myself.” He held up the bag.
“Put the Cheetos away, Ollie.” Liam groaned. “You guys hungry?” He asked us.
We both nodded.
“I’ll go shower and change and then we can go to Mo’s.” Liam snapped a finger at Ollie. “Put. The. Food. Away.”
Ollie hung his head like a scolded dog and put the bag away in the pantry.
“Watch him,” Liam warned me, “and make sure he doesn’t get that cheese stuff everywhere. It drives me crazy.”
Liam walked away and jogged up the steps.
Ollie grinned. “That’s why I do it.” He then proceeded to reach up and wipe his hand across the white wall, leaving behind a streak of orange.
I snorted and buried my head in the crook of Dean’s shoulder to stifle my laughter.
Ollie washed his hands in the sink then and jumped up on the counter.
“Road trip, huh?” He asked.
Dean nodded, leaning his hip against the opposite counter and pulled my body in front of his so that we lined up. After last night he hadn’t stopped touching me. A small brush of his fingers here, his hand on my thigh, the glide of his lips against my neck.
“I wanna go on a road trip,” Ollie said, picking up an orange from the counter and tossing it from one hand to the other. “My van probably wouldn’t make it, though.” Licking the peel of the orange he put it back.
Poor Liam. His friend obviously loved to mess with his OCD.
“We should ditch him.” Ollie pointed upstairs, like we needed clarification that it was Liam he referred to. Hopping off the counter, he walked over to the glass door that opened out onto a deck. “I mean,” he continued, “he already forgot he was supposed to have dinner with me. So, maybe we should conveniently forget we were supposed to wait for him.” He frowned, his lower lip jutting out. “Then again, we better not, because he’ll get all pissy and when Liam gets pissy it’s worse than a Drag Queen on his period…or would that be her period. Hmmm.”
“Um…what?” I asked, stifling laughter.
Liam came downstairs then, dressed in a plain white t-shirt, black jeans, and sneakers.
“It’s an Ollie-ism,” he explained with a shrug, “if you’re around him enough you’ll get used to it.”
“Mhmm, I see,” I laughed.
Liam scanned the kitchen and spotted the handprint streaked across the wall.
“Dammit, Ollie!” He cursed, grabbing a rag from a drawer and wetting it in the sink before rubbing the spot until every last trace of cheese dust was gone. When he turned, he spotted the orange in a different spot than it had been before. He started to move it back, but stopped suddenly, holding it in mid-air. Ollie was still looking out the window, Liam’s meltdown not bothering him one bit, but happened to glance over his shoulder at this moment. Liam glared at him icily—how Ollie could stand there grinning like nothing was wrong was beyond me. “You licked it again, didn’t you?” Liam asked, a muscle in his jaw ticking.
Ollie shrugged and twisted his lips. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Liam groaned and opened a cabinet, tossing the orange into the trashcan hidden there.
“You definitely licked it,” Liam mumbled.
He scanned the area once more and once he was sure nothing else was out of place, he nodded to himself.
“Okay, let’s go.”
We followed him through the kitchen and down a hallway, where he opened a door that led into the garage. A big white Jeep Grand Cherokee with shiny black rims was parked inside. The rest of the garage was lined up with surfboards and other beach gear.
Liam grabbed his keys off a small hook and hit a button. The Jeep made a chirping sound and the headlights came on.
“Shotgun!” Ollie cried, skittering past us and over to the front passenger side.
Liam shook his head. “That guy,” he muttered.
Mo’s wasn’t too far from Liam’s house and located right on the beach. It was a small local place and easily missed if you weren’t familiar with the area. The outside of the building was painted a bright teal color with a yellow door while the roof was made to look like it was covered in straw.
We followed Liam and Ollie inside as they weaved around the tables and out onto a back deck.
They chose a table by the railing, close to the sandy beach and ocean. It was a high top table and when I sat down my legs dangled back and forth.
A waitress appeared immediately with two menus for Dean and I. She didn’t even bother grabbing ones for Liam and Ollie, which told me they had to frequent this place often.
“What can I get you guys to drink?” She asked Dean and I.
“Water for both of us,” I replied.
“I’ll be right back with that.” She smiled pleasantly. Glancing at Liam and Ollie, she said, “I assume you want the usual?”
They both nodded and she bounced off, her ponytail swinging.
I looked around, noticing that all the waiters and waitresses were dressed in khaki shorts and royal purple shirts with Mo’s emblazoned across them.
“What do you get here?” I asked Liam.
“Fish tacos,” he replied, gazing out at the water. He seemed a bit distant and I worried that maybe I’d been wrong and he wasn’t happy to see us.
“Oh yes, the fish tacos are ammmazing,” Ollie crowed. “They have really good burgers too.”
I nodded at this information and went back to studying the menu, only looking up when the waitress returned with our waters and two Coronas for Liam and Ollie.
I lowered my menu, eyeing Liam as he raised the beer to his lips.
“What?” He asked, feigning innocence.
“You know what.”
Liam was nineteen too, almost twenty since his birthday was in November while mine was in April.
“People are really lax about this kind of thing here.” He shrugged indifferently.
“Is it that or is it your last name that makes a difference?”
“Willow, you have the same fucking last name that I do, so what do you think?” He raised a single dark brow, glaring at me.
“I think for someone who hates fame,” I spat the word, “you sure do use it to your advantage.”
He sighed heavily and muttered, “Might as well.”
“Wow!” Ollie gazed out towards the water. “Is that a flamingo?”
It was quite possibly the worst topic change ever, but it worked, and we all couldn’t help but laugh.
“Flamingo. Familia. See where I’m going here? You’re family! Why can’t we all get along and forget about the consequences of underage drinking?” Ollie slung his arm over Liam
’s shoulders.
Liam immediately shrugged him off, shooting a disgusted look at his friend.
“Ollie-ism?” I eyed Liam.
“Yep.” He took an exaggerated breath before bringing the beer to his lips.
“You’re not drinking a lot are you?”
When we were in high school Liam had gotten in trouble several times for underage drinking. I mean, I confess I’d had a beer now and then, but Liam…I didn’t want it to become an issue for him.
“Leave it alone, Willie.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “It’s like you’re asking me to stab you with a fork or something,” I muttered. I hated that nickname a thousand times more than Will. “I’m worried about you,” I admitted.
His shoulders deflated and his eyes softened. “I’m doing good. An occasional beer isn’t a big deal.”
I wanted to argue it was when he was nineteen and the waitress automatically knew to bring him one. But I knew now wasn’t the time to fight this battle.
Beneath the table Dean rubbed his hand up and down my leg, trying to soothe me.
When the waitress returned we both placed an order for the fish tacos and, like with the drinks, she didn’t bother asking the guys what they wanted.
Turning my attention to Ollie, I asked, “Do you surf?”
“Yeah, but not like this one.” He clapped Liam on the shoulder and Liam ducked his head, chuckling under his breath. “King of the Wave, this one.” He wagged his thumb at Liam.
“Hardly.” Liam snorted. “And Ollie could be at a higher level if he wasn’t constantly raiding my pantry.”
“It’s true.” Ollie shrugged.
“Are you from here?” I asked Ollie.
“Grew up in San Diego, but after I dropped out of high school I found myself here.”
“Do you have a job?” I knew I probably sounded like an annoying parent or something, but I wanted to know more about who Liam was hanging out with. I didn’t want him to be influenced by the wrong kind of people.
Ollie nodded. “I work at a bike shop.”
“Motorcycles?” Dean questioned, excitement flaring in his eyes.
“No, bikes like bicycles, the ones with the little bells on the handles. Ding, ding.” He gestured with his hand like he was ringing a bell.
Beside me, Dean suppressed laughter.
“You’d be surprised at how much of a profitable business it is. These rich people love to drop money on stupid things,” Ollie continued. “I once sold a man a bracelet for two-hundred dollars because I told him it was made by one of the founding fathers.” Shrugging, he said, “I made it myself out of my hair. I shed like a fucking dog.”
I’d been taking a drink of water but at this information I ended up spitting it out across the table. Water droplets splattered across Liam and Ollie’s shirts.
Ollie plucked his shirt away from his chest. “Sadly, I can’t say that’s the first time that’s happened.”
Liam chuckled and grabbed a napkin, wiping up the water from the table.
Recovering, I continued my interrogation of Ollie. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Have you ever smoked weed?”
“Have you seen me?” He countered.
“Stupid question,” I agreed, and that probably explained why he’d been going after those Cheetos like they were going to disappear any second. “Favorite color?”
“All of them.”
“Have you ever been arrested?”
“Willow,” Liam groaned at that one.
“No,” Ollie replied. “I wouldn’t last a day in jail. I’d drop the soap and get rammed.” He gestured crudely with his hips and I lost it laughing. Dean looked torn between laughing and hauling me out of there.
“Okay, you’re cool. I rest my case.” I let my interrogation drop—question wise, at least. I’d still be watching Ollie closely.
Dinner went smoothly from that point on and I found that I actually really liked Ollie. He was odd, to say the least, but a nice person.
Before heading back to Liam’s house, he had to drop Ollie off at his. He lived in a small little bungalow—shack might be more appropriate because the place was that small—and I had to grin at the VW van parked outside. It suited Ollie completely.
When we made it back up the cliff to Liam’s house, it was after nine, which would typically be early, but I was exhausted and I was sure Dean was too.
Liam seemed to sense this, because when we got out of the car he told us to grab our things and he’d show us our rooms.
Rooms. Like with an s.
I was going to end up kicking him in the shin. I could feel it.
Once we had our stuff we followed Liam inside and up the stairs, down a hallway past several rooms with closed doors.
Stopping in front of one door, Liam slung it open and snapped his fingers at Dean. “Your room. And yours is this way.” He pointed at me to keep following.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I cried, not moving.
“Willow,” Dean muttered, probably fearing I was about to get in a fight with my cousin.
“I’m an adult,” I told Liam, crossing my arms over my chest. “If I want to sleep in the same bed as my boyfriend I can and I will.” I stuck my chin in the air, daring him to force me into another room.
Liam eyed me in a calculating way and I knew I wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
“I wonder what your dad would think of you two sleeping in the same bed? Hmmm?” He mused, glancing from me to Dean and back again.
I deflated like an old balloon. “You’d tell him, wouldn’t you?”
“In a heartbeat.” Liam grinned, knowing he had me.
“Ugh, I hate you.” I stormed past him, purposely bumping his shoulder with mine.
Childish? Yes. But I was mad.
“Actually, it’s that way.” Liam pointed down the other hall.
I glared at him and turned, heading the way he pointed.
Liam laughed behind me. I couldn’t help feeling like this was partly punishment for me asking about his drinking. I was worried though. I didn’t want to see Liam go down the path of alcoholism.
Liam opened the door for me and I stepped inside with a dramatic huff, dropping my duffle bag and backpack down on the wood floors. The room was painted a pale green with black and white pictures of the beach, ocean, and seashells on the wall. I was sure Liam had taken them, but I was currently too mad to take a moment to appreciate them.
I sat on the bed, running my fingers over the white linen.
“Goodnight.” Liam sang with a grin and closed the door.
“You better sleep with one eye open!” I yelled after him.
He merely laughed.
I collapsed on the bed, my hair fanning around me. “Goodnight, Dean,” I whispered at the ceiling and closed my eyes, wishing I heard his familiar, “G’night, Willow.”
Dean
I lay in bed staring up at the ceiling.
Sleep wouldn’t come.
It was weird to lie in bed without Willow.
In only a few days I’d grown so used to her presence that I didn’t know what to do without her now.
My room had several large windows overlooking the backyard—although calling it a yard wasn’t accurate. It was mostly decking and the pool. It looked like there was a set of stairs leading down to the beach as well. It didn’t seem like Liam would like that—because someone could gain access to his house from the stairs, but for all I knew he kept a padlock on the bottom and only he had a key. It sounded crazy, but it was something Liam would do.
With a groan, I pushed the covers off of me and stood, staring out the window.
The bright white of the moon reflected off the water, casting an eerie glow.
I wondered if Willow was having as much trouble finding sleep as I was, or if I was alone in my suffering.
Not only was sleep elusive because I missed her, but also since I kept replaying the night before in my mind.
I hadn’t expected that to happen. Not in a tent, at some campsite, in the middle of nowhere. But sometimes things can’t be controlled and it was only a matter of time. Willow was right, though. The time, the place…none of it mattered. None of that was what made it special. It was us.
Turning away from the window I decided to head downstairs. It was after one in the morning and hoping for sleep was pointless.
I found myself in the kitchen, opening the refrigerator in search of orange juice. I spotted it and grabbed the bottle before searching the cabinets for glasses.
I’d just located them when I heard shuffling on the stairs.
A moment later Willow appeared.
My eyes roamed over her bare legs, to the pair of teeny tiny shorts she wore, and then had to laugh at her shirt.
“You stole that from my bag.”
She plucked at the too big for her t-shirt with a small grin. “Looks better on me.” She winked.
Just a simple wink.
The lowering of one eyelid.
And yet I wanted to grab her and kiss her until my breath was hers and hers was mine.
“Can’t sleep?” She questioned, padding towards me.
She stopped in front of me, and like my hands had a mind of their own they settled at her waist. I needed to touch her to remind myself that she was real, that this was real, and not a figment of my imagination. I’d dreamed so often of this, of finding someone to complete me, that I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around it. My lips lifted at a memory of something dad always told me.
“What?” Willow asked, noting the twitch in my lips. She smoothed her fingers through my hair, looking up at me with loving blue eyes.
“I was thinking about something my dad always tells me.”
“And what’s that?” She’d been on her tiptoes, but now she stood flat on her feet, her chest pressed against mine.
“He always told me to dream with my eyes open, that even when we’re awake our dreams shouldn’t fade into nothingness. Only we have the power to turn those dreams into reality. You were my dream, and now you’re my reality.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet.” Willow lifted to press a fleeting kiss to my jaw. “I’m hungry, you want something to eat?”
The Road That Leads to Us Page 22
