“Where do you want to put the shells?” I ask, patting the sand down to create what looks like a road around it.
“Hmph. How about we put them on top? You know, instead of a flag. Ooooh!” she exclaims, eyeing a shell on the ground. “I love this one. It’s so pretty!” She examines it, holding it up to the sunlight. “It’s got silver and blue inside. Let’s use this one, too.”
“Okay, good thinking.” I choose a couple more shells and we both press them into the sand.
“There.”
We stand up and dust our hands off, admiring our work.
“For an architect, you certainly make crappy sandcastles,” she teases.
I cup my hands full of water, preparing to strike, and Fran retreats a few steps back.
“You wouldn’t d—” she starts to say, but then stops herself, already aware of the consequences.
“Ah, don’t say it, Fran. It won’t end well for you.” I grin, taunting her with the water as it seeps through my fingers.
She surrenders, holding her palms up and out in defeat. “All right, all right. Let’s go find the lovebirds. Knowing Peyton, I have a feeling they’re held up in a cave somewhere.” She laughs, and the sound carries in the air.
As we look for Peyton and Caleb further down the beach, we end up getting roped into a group volleyball game. We play for a while before we go in search of them again. I’ll admit I didn’t mind watching Fran jump up and down, and I noticed I wasn’t the only one.
“Wait, is that them?” I squint, trying to make out the couple I see a ways down the beach standing in front of the café. We start walking in that direction and I find myself wanting to reach for Fran’s hand but I hold back. She was just talking about losing the love of her life and I highly doubt she has any interest in me or my hand.
We meet up with Peyton and Caleb, and from the obvious swell of Peyton’s lips, he’s definitely been keeping her busy. I eye him suspiciously until I hear a grumble coming from Fran’s stomach. “Hungry there, little spark?” I grin and bump Fran’s shoulder playfully.
“Little spark? What’s that about?” Caleb asks, “Are you going to let us in on your private joke?”
“Nope,” I shoot back, and throw a wink in Fran’s direction.
Peyton leans over, whispering something in Fran’s ear and they both giggle, which leaves me wishing I knew what the hell they were saying.
We enter the café, a rustic interior that’s lined with wood tables, leather booths, and black and white framed photographs of the shore. I request a table outside overlooking the ocean and the hostess leads us to a terrace that’s lined with various exotic flowers in yellows, oranges, and golds. The tables are driftwood, bleached by the sun, each with a single yellow rose in the center.
I pull out Fran’s chair and she sits down, peering over her shoulder at me. “Such a gentleman,” she says, an edge of sarcasm to her sweetness.
Caleb directs his attention to Fran, raising both his brows. “Ha! Ask him how much of a gentleman he was with Hayley Williamson in eleventh grade.”
Peyton leans forward in her chair, her brown eyes aglow with curiosity. “That sounds interesting, do tell.”
I kick Caleb under the table and he groans, reaching under to rub his now throbbing knee.
Fran rests her chin in her palm as she waits for an explanation I’m not sure I want to give. “Well, we’re waiting. You’re not getting off that easy.”
“Oh trust me, he got off,” Caleb says laughing, and I’m two for two when I nail him in the shin. He scowls but doesn’t let my wrath deter him, continuing with the conversation. “The ladies are waiting.”
“How about you tell us, and then each one of us will also tell something about ourselves, to ease your pain,” Fran says, a mischievous smile floating across her lips.
I fold my arms across my chest, contemplating her proposition and interested in what story she might have to tell. “Okay, deal,” I concede, trying to figure out how to word what I’m about to say. “So…in a nutshell, Hayley’s mom caught her giving me head in their garage…in the front seat of her mom’s Mercedes…just as she was about to….” I hesitate and look to Caleb who isn’t any help at all. “Uh…swallow. Needless to say, her mom’s front seat needed a thorough cleaning.”
“Oh my God,” Peyton and Fran say at the same time, and their laughter ensues and it doesn’t stop. My ears heat and a streak of red slashes across my face.
I eye Caleb with a vengeful grin, anxious for him to take his turn so I can laugh my ass off, although he’s got a ton of stories and a lot more variety than I do.
“Caleb, you’re up dude,” I say, in hopes that he can take the focus off of me.
“Hmph,” he mutters, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “There are so many good ones. It’s really hard to choose.” He glances over at Peyton and then back to me. “Okay, I’ve got one. This was when I was in high school. So my parents had gone away for the night and I invited my girlfriend Valerie over. My bed was way too small and she suggested my parents’ king-sized bed, which I thought was a bit weird, but decided to go with it. Anyway, she left me for a minute and came back with some whipped cream, and…some other stuff. We were getting busy with the whipped cream when my dad ran up the stairs because he’d forgotten something, and caught us stark naked with, uh, certain parts of Valerie covered in whipped cream.”
I shake my head and chuckle as I recall that night. Caleb called to tell me his dad went through the roof, not because he found them naked, simply because they was on his bed.
“Whipped cream, huh?” Peyton asks with an arch of her brow. “I didn’t know you were into that.” She moves closer to him, whispering something in his ear and once again, I feel like I’m in the dark.
“All right, break it up you two. Fran, it’s your turn,” I tell her, excited to hear what she has to offer up.
“Wait,” Fran says loudly, “does it have to be dirty? Or can it be anything?”
Caleb pipes back instantly, just as the waitress returns with our drinks. “It can be whatever you want, but we prefer it be dirty. Right, Matt?”
The waitress eyes us curiously and I bite back a grin, keeping my fingers crossed it’s something dirty so I can get a visual.
“Okay.” Fran takes a deep breath and rubs her hands down the front of her skirt and I take that to mean it’s going to be a good one. “So when I was in high school, I was dating this guy Eddy and we had sex in the haunted house at the Halloween carnival.”
That’s it? I had my hopes up for something with a bit more gusto. But I suppose it’s adventurous and fun and that does seem to fit Fran to a tee.
She looks to me and then over at Caleb and Peyton. “That’s it? No reaction. Nothing.”
Caleb gives her a sympathetic smile, reaching out to pat her hand. “To be honest, Fran, it’s not all that exciting.” He turns to Peyton. “Okay, babe, your turn.”
I move closer to Fran and talk quietly so only she can hear. “That’s okay. I liked it.”
“Figures,” she teases back, and there’s that sassy mouth again. My eyes are immediately drawn to her lips and I take a sip of water to cool down, distracting myself from the divine temptation sitting beside me.
Peyton’s entire face beams when it’s her turn, obviously taking a liking to this game. “Well, I’ve got a one-up on your garage story. My boyfriend Rob and I were messing around at my house and he asked if he could tie me up, to which I responded, ‘of course.’” Caleb’s head does a 360 and he coughs, nearly choking on his drink. Peyton pats him on the back a couple of times before she continues. “So, let’s just say I was tied to my headboard in quite the awkward position when my sister walked in, followed by my mom. The sheer terror on my mom’s face let me know I probably would never be allowed in the house alone again. So needless to say that was the end of my escapades with Rob.”
Caleb’s phone rings, interrupting our hysterics, and he puts his finger up in the air, motioning for us to hold on. “Hi,
Mom,” he says, but the smile on his face disappears almost instantly, leaving me concerned.
I love his mom and dad as if they were my own. They’ve stepped up for me in every way possible since my mom died—from Friday night dinners and helping with my studies, to being emotionally available for me. They mean the world and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.
I keep my eyes glued to his face until he hangs up. “What’s going on Caleb? Is your mom okay?”
He pushes his chair back and stands up, shoving his cell phone in his back pocket. “My dad fell and hurt his hip, and I want to get back so I can check on him.”
“Oh shit,” I mutter, throwing some cash on the table to cover the bill. “I’ll come with you.”
“No, man, but thanks. My mom said he’s really irritable because now he can’t get up off the couch and do his woodworking so you don’t want to be exposed to that right now. You remember how he gets when he can’t keep busy.”
“All right, well, I’ll definitely come by in a day or so to check on the old man. You know he’s gonna drive your mom crazy now.” We laugh, letting Fran and Peyton go ahead of us as we exit the restaurant.
Fran stops Caleb when we reach the car, setting her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry about your dad,” she says earnestly, and it makes me smile. This little spark has a heart of gold.
I lean my head back on the seat and look out the window, my eyes drifting upward. The sky is a kaleidoscope of colors; streaks of orange, pink, and blue graze the landscape as we head back to the hotel. A contented smile sits on my lips when I think about the day. It was a lot of fun and I’m glad I decided to be a part of it. Rolling my head to the side, I catch a glimpse of Matt, his cheeks sun-kissed, his arms tanned, and his features relaxed. He must feel me staring because he looks over and sends a smile my way.
There’s a tap on my shoulder and I wake up disoriented, trying to get my bearings, when I see we’re already back in the front circle of the hotel. I rub my eyes and yawn, not knowing when I’d even dozed off, but feeling somewhat rested as a result.
Matt comes around to open my door and I climb out, stretching my arms before bending over to rub my calf, now cramped from the ride. “I can help you out with that, if you want,” he offers, one hand resting on his hip, a devilish smirk on his face.
“I’m sure you could,” I reply, standing back up and shaking my leg out, “but I’m all set.”
The valet pulls the car out and I look over my shoulder for Peyton, only to realize that she and Caleb are nowhere in sight. “Where are Peyton and Caleb?” I ask, heading in through the revolving door of the hotel.
“Caleb went to visit his dad and Peyton said something about heading to the bar for a quick drink. Do you want to join her?”
The only thing I feel like doing is crawling into bed. “No, thanks. I’m going back to my room. I’m super tired and we have to be up early tomorrow for the conference.”
“Okay,” Matt says, randomly kicking at the ground. “I’ll walk you.”
We’re quiet on the elevator ride up, my eyes practically drifting closed as I lean back against the wall. When I open them, Matt is staring at me, the corner of his mouth tipped up in a lazy smile.
“What?” I ask, reaching down and taking my sandals off, my feet feeling the effects of new shoes, the thought of a soak in the Jacuzzi tempting me.
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, right. Like I believe that.” I grin. “You look like you’re up to no good.”
The elevator dings and I walk out into the hallway, Matt following close behind. We stop just as we reach the door and I dig in my purse and pull out the keycard, hesitating for just a beat, knowing there’s something I want to say.
“So I just—” we both say at the same time.
“You first—” we say, again in unison.
Matt waves his hand as if rolling out the red carpet for me. “No you. Go ahead.” He rocks on his feet, his tousled beach hair strewn across his forehead.
For some reason I find myself unable to look in his eyes, so instead I focus on the wall behind him. “I had a really nice time today, thank you.”
“I’m glad. I did, too. This is the most fun I’ve had in a while so thanks for helping me remove the stick.”
A wide smile eases onto my face, the thought that I’ve helped him in some way causes me to feel lighter. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” I say brightly, and that simple flex of his dimple makes it impossible for me not to smile back.
“Yeah, it does,” he mumbles quietly, and starts off down the hall. “Goodnight, Fran.”
“Goodnight.”
He walks away, but jogs back just as I’m putting the keycard in the door. “Hey, I almost forgot.” He reaches into the pocket of his shorts and pulls out the silver and blue shell from the beach. “Here,” he offers, handing it to me, “I thought you might like to have this.” He shrugs. “You know, as a souvenir or whatever.”
My smile broadens and I close my fingers tightly over the shell before meeting his gaze. “Thank you.”
“Sure,” he replies, and takes off for the elevator.
I open the door to my room and start to walk through when I hear Matt’s voice.
“Hey, Fran,” he yells from the other end of the hallway, “I like seeing you smile.”
And then he disappears…leaving me doing just that.
I’m in my room for all of about two minutes when there’s a knock on the door. For a split second, I think it might be Matt, and I curse myself because a small part of me is hoping that it is.
“Fran, it’s me,” Peyton says from the other side of the door, “let me in.”
I open it and Peyton is standing there with a whimsical look on her face, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed.
“Hey.”
“Geez, don’t look so excited to see me. Were you expecting someone else?” she teases, kicking off her heels and dropping down on the bed, getting a little too comfortable.
“No,” I reply quickly. “I was planning on going to bed.”
“Hmm…mmm…yeah, okay, whatever you say.” She lets out a contented sigh. “I think I’m in love,” she says dreamily, grabbing a pillow and putting it over her face.
I place the shell on the side table, jump on the bed, and promptly remove the pillow, forcing her to look at me. “What did you say?”
“Oh, relax,” she responds playfully, “I’m only kidding…well, half kidding.” Another sigh escapes from her chest. “Caleb is so wonderful.” She touches her fingers to her lips. “And those kisses”—her thumb rubs across her bottom lip—“to die for.” She turns on her side, leaning her head on her elbow and smacking her lips together. “That Matt is pretty dreamy, too…don’t you think?”
“Yeah, he’s okay, I guess.” I try to conceal a smile. “When he’s not being uptight.”
My cell phone vibrates and I hop off the bed to retrieve it from my purse. It’s a text, but I don’t recognize the number it’s coming from.
Just testing, is this you?
“Who’s it from?” Peyton asks, tossing a pillow behind her head.
“I don’t know. I don’t recognize the number. It must be a mistake.”
“Let me see it,” she says, and I throw the phone on the bed. She picks it up and studies the number before a knowing grin appears on her face. “Oh, it’s not a wrong number, sweetie.”
“You know who it is? Who is it, then?” I ask, my nose wrinkling, a tiny crease forming between my eyebrows.
“It’s Matt.”
“What are you talking about? It can’t be Matt. I didn’t give him my cell phone number.” My brain is moving much slower tonight and it takes me a second to process before I place my hands on my hips and glare at her.
“I did,” she says simply, seemingly pleased with herself. “You dozed off and while you were sleeping he asked if he could have it, so I gave it to him.”
“Well, why did you do that?” I ask, my voice cracking a bit while I
bite the inside of my lip.
“Why not?”
“Gah,” I grumble, before trotting into the bathroom to groan one more time. Why is she giving Matt my cell phone number? We’re in the same hotel for heaven’s sake! I peek out of the bathroom and she’s typing something on my phone. “What are you doing now, troublemaker?”
“I’m telling him it’s your phone.”
“Gah!”
Her voice bubbles with laughter as she calls out, “Me thinks thou dost protest too much.”
I stick my tongue out at her before I close the door so I can pee and compose myself in private. I’m not really sure why I’m so upset. Maybe because you like him, says the little voice. “Oh, shut up!”
“Who are you talking to,” Peyton yells through the door, “your little friend?”
I flush the toilet and take extra time washing my hands while staring at my reflection. My skin is touched by the sun, the caramel highlights in my hair are shining, and my eyes are bright. Hmph. I look happy. Almost.
It’s quiet when I make my way back out to the bedroom but I catch the devious look still stuck to Peyton’s face.
“So did he text back?” I ask, fiddling with the hem of my skirt and secretly hoping the answer is yes.
“What do you care?” She smiles, lifting one of her shoulders in a shrug. “You don’t want him texting you anyway.”
I lob a pillow at her head and she nails me right back before I settle myself on the bed, leaning against the plush velvet headboard. “So what was up with that sex story, you being tied up? Quite the adventurous one in high school, weren’t you?”
“Hey! Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” She grins while rolling a strand of hair around her finger. “What about you? What was up with sex in the haunted house? It’s dark and scary in there.”
Scarred Beautiful Page 7
