by Cameo Renae
Tiff exhales loudly. “Fine.” She knows she can’t do anything about it.
The shed is to the left of the cottage, and it’s not really a shed. Mr. Preston modified it with a bathroom and a small office with a fold-out bed, so he could disappear to work on business while the family was on vacation.
“I guess I’m calling the couch then,” I say, dropping my bag onto the floor next to it.
Travis narrows his eyes at me, his head tilts slightly to the side. “Why don’t you take the room and let Stacey have the couch?”
I shrug. “Stacey has a friend who’s coming. They’ll need the room.”
“No guy coming for you?” he asks, his right brow lifts.
“No.” I laugh out loud and plop on the couch. Dust explodes around me, and I start having a coughing and sneezing fit. Once I regain my composure and wipe my watery eyes, I lean back and stretch my arms to my sides. “I’m a free bird. No cages confine me.”
Travis laughs, and it warms my heart. It always has.
Tiff rolls her eyes as a horn blows outside. “They’re here,” she squeals, running out the door, leaving Travis and me alone.
There is an awkward silence between us, and I’m afraid to look at him. The thought alone causes my cheeks to heat. But the vision of his gorgeous, shirtless self is still embedded in my mind, and I wonder how awesome it would be to run my fingers over those perfect definitions.
“So, how have you been, Lyssa?” he asks. I gasp, feeling embarrassed by my thoughts, and when I turn, he’s throwing a shirt on.
Thank God.
“Fine, I guess.” I smile, looking up, and his chocolate eyes are sparkling. They catch my eyes like a tractor beam, sucking me in deeper and deeper. I can’t look away.
His eyes seem lighter than I remember, and have specks of gold scattered throughout. A smile widens on his full lips, and I wonder what they would feel like pressed against mine.
Dammit, Lyssa. Stop.
His stare is heavy and making me a bit uncomfortable. “What?” I breathe, wondering if there is something wrong with me.
Are there crumbs on my face? I do a quick swipe, but I’m all clear.
He shakes his head and rakes his fingers through his thick, dark hair. “You’ve changed so much, I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Really?” My head shoots up.
“Really,” he answers, taking a step closer.
The heat in the room is stifling, and my chest constricts a little more.
I usually don’t feel intimidated around guys, but there is a difference under Travis’ weighted stare. He’d always been easy to talk to, so why is it so hard now?
I glance down at my white leggings and bright pink T-shirt which is tied on one side. Yep, I’m fully dressed, but there is something about Travis that makes me feel completely bare and vulnerable. Hopefully, the feeling passes, but as he takes another step closer, my heart feels like it’s about to escape my chest.
I tuck a stray hair behind my ear and break eye contact. “I hope it’s a good different and not a terrible one.” I giggle, trying to make light of the situation.
He steps over my legs and sits on the couch next to me. His left thigh rubs against my right. He’s too close, and I’m afraid I’m going to do something to embarrass myself. So I stay frozen like a damn statue. Doesn’t he know about personal space?
But who am I kidding? Having Travis invade my space is something I’d secretly coveted for years. But here and now, those feelings are intensified—times a gazillion. The scent of his spicy cologne surrounds me, it’s intoxicating and making me woozy. God, I’m in love with that smell.
He leans over and places his arm on my shoulder.
Blood is rushing through my ears, and I can barely make out the words he whispers. “Yes, Lyssa. In a very good way.”
I’m melting. He speaks my name as if God had spoken it himself. The warmth of his breath sends tingles across my face, and it echoes through the rest of my body.
This is wrong. So completely wrong.
Travis is off limits. I begin the mantra in my mind, but his closeness is doing crazy things to me.
It must be me. I must be reading his intentions wrong. Travis is four years older than me and has never shown a bit of interest. He’s always been super sweet, but never in a lustful way.
As I turn to look into his eyes, I see things. Hurt, regret, but also a softness and a look I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s not lustful, but more like…desire?
No. It can’t be. I have to pull myself from the fog he’s smothering me in and stop acting like a stupid teenage girl with a crush. Oh, wait. I am a teen with a secret crush that apparently never left.
At this moment, I hate that I’m not as practiced as other girls. He must think I’m such a dork.
“Congratulations on your graduation,” he says, breaking the silence.
“Thanks,” I say in response.
He pulls his arm away, probably noticing my internal struggle, and I instantly feel the loss. The heat turns to cold, and I find myself craving his touch. But when he is close, I can’t breathe.
God, I’m a mess.
He chuckles and leans back onto the other arm of the couch, his body relaxed and angled toward me. His right foot rests on his left knee, and dammit…even in a relaxed state, he’s so flipping handsome.
“So, which college are you headed to?” he asks, his eyes carefully watching me.
“Harvard,” I reply, fiddling with my fingers.
“Really?” He sounds interested.
“Yep, and I’m shooting for a master’s degree in business administration.”
“That’s awesome.” A genuine smile lights up his face. It’s the same goal he was shooting for before the accident and the move to London. “I know you’ll do amazing. I heard you graduated with honors.”
“How?”
“My mom told my grandma.” He laughs, answering quickly. “She spills everything that goes on with the family, you included.” That last statement makes my heart swell. “Your parents must be proud.”
“They are.” I smile thinking about them.
“How are they doing?”
“Oh, they’re good. My dad was deployed last week to Iraq.” My heart hurts knowing he’s somewhere out there, fighting a war while I’m on vacation.
“Oh man, I’m so sorry. That must be hard on your mom,” he says.
“Yeah, it gets harder every time he leaves. But my mom said she’s happy to be rid of us for a while.” I laugh, knowing she didn’t mean it. It kills her whenever we’re away. “He’ll be back in six months.”
“If I were her, I’d be heartbroken if you were gone,” he says.
I look over at him, and his smile is so wide, mine automatically mimics his.
The door throws wide open, and Tiff enters with bags hanging over her shoulders and in both hands. “They’re here!” she announces with a broad, toothy smile.
I stand from the couch and head over to help her. When I turn around Travis is throwing his duffle over his shoulder and heading out the back door.
“See you guys, later,” he says.
“See ya,” I reply, hoping it’s sooner than later.
I swore on the trip back to the States that I was done. I would never give my heart to another damn girl. Not for a while. My heart was broken. I’ll never admit it, or allow anyone to see how much it truly affected me, but that bitch, Emily, cut me deep.
There were a few brief moments I felt like crying, but I’m not going to give that whore my tears. Instead, I allow the pain to feed the anger, which helps contain the tears. Hating her is much easier right now.
That was my plan until Lyssa Taylor stepped through the door. I swear it was as if God sent me an angel.
Unexplainable emotions filled me as soon as I laid eyes on her. Call it lust, or whatever the hell you want, but it was strong.
Sweet, little Lyssa, the girl who practically grew up with our family, had blossomed
into the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Sure, she was cute growing up, and I knew she’d be good-looking, but never like this. Her legs are long and lean, and she grew a lot taller, filling out her youthful body.
But when her soft green eyes had connected with mine, it was like all the crap in my life became a haze. For a moment, she was like a balm that seemed to sooth my soul, making my heart do some weird flip. Shit. What the hell? On the couch, I couldn’t resist touching her. Her skin looked so damn soft, and her long auburn hair smelled like ripe strawberries. My body reacted positively. Hell, it wanted her.
So, I put my arm around her shoulders and held my laugh as she stiffened.
Touching her was a rush. I felt something, and I know she felt it too. It was written in the wide expression of her eyes, and the blush on her cheeks.
I always knew she had a crush on me. Growing up, it was pretty obvious, but I made sure she didn’t feel awkward about it. She was so sweet and innocent, much different from Tiff and Stacey who were a lot more outgoing, so I couldn’t help but be nice to her.
But she’s off limits. Not only is Lyssa my little sis’s best friend, but also Captain John Taylor’s daughter. He would cut my dick off and feed my balls to the sharks if I laid a finger on her. I was probably his least favorite person in the world, especially after the accident. I’d lost my best friend, and the captain had actually come to my dorm to try and talk some sense into me while I was high. Bad move. They say I was swearing at him, and when he tried to settle me down, I punched him in the face. I don’t remember a thing, but I freaking regret it.
Hell, there are a million things I regret in my past. Things I can never take back. Every one of those regrets has left me with scars. Yes, they are invisible, but a constant reminder of the shit I’ve done. The biggest scar, still healing, is the loss of my friend.
Bobby should still be alive. He probably would be, if I had driven the car that night. Either that or I’d be the one dead. And believe me, there are countless times I wished I was the one who died instead of him. That night, my life shattered and fell to pieces.
We were drunk, and while talking and laughing he dropped his cigarette on the floor. When he reached down to get it, the car veered off the road.
It all happened too fast.
I woke up in excruciating pain and could barely breathe. It was dark, and the front of the car was smashed against a tree. Shards of glass were everywhere, a large hole in the windshield where Bobby flew out.
It’s something that haunts me to this day. Whether I’m awake, or asleep, I am plagued with repeating visions. I see Bobby’s lifeless body lying on the ground, in a crumpled heap, near the injured tree just beyond the car. One working headlight illuminating the horrific scene. There was so much blood. I called out to him, over and over again, but he didn’t answer. His eyes were wide open, staring at me, but there was no life left in them. He was dead. And my life would never be the same.
I tried to take the blame. I didn’t want people to talk badly about Bobby, knowing his death was caused by something so stupid. The agonizing pain from my broken ribs only allowed me to climb into the driver’s seat before passing out. But my plan didn’t work. Others saw Bobby in the driver’s seat when we left, and they stood up for me, keeping me from going to jail.
I know I hurt a lot of people during my time of grief, but drugs and alcohol seemed like the only way I could deal with the pain. They made me numb, but never completely took the pain away. So, I kept using. Self-medicating to keep myself numb, and not giving a damn how it affected everyone else around me. Everyone who loved and cared about me.
I was a selfish bastard, and as I look back, I would have done things a whole lot differently. I sure as hell wouldn’t have turned drugs, or dropped out of Harvard. But shit happened, and I can’t take any of it back.
Bobby must be pissed, rolling in his grave, watching me waste my life away. If he could have, he would’ve kicked my ass and told me to wise up. “Life is too short to have your head up your ass. It’s either in or out,” he’d say.
On the flight home from London, I made up my mind. This day was going to be the beginning of the rest of my life. A turning point. I’m done living in a shadow, a hollowed out shell of the person I used to be. I still have a lot of living to do, and I’m not going to waste another minute of it.
I cut through the stale air as I enter the shed. I toss my bags into the office and, after opening all the windows to air the place out, I settle onto the front steps to watch Tiff and Lyssa greet their friends.
Tiff’s boyfriend looks like a typical sports jock. He’s tall but smooth, lacking definition. I swear, if I ever find out the dude ever screwed with her, I’ll kick his ass so hard he won’t remember his name. The last thing I want is for my little sister to suffer through heartache as I have.
Stacey’s dude has his tongue in her mouth. What an ass. The rest of us don’t want to see that shit. At least I don’t.
Stacey’s grown up a lot and is cute, but her voice is similar to the sound of nails scratching down a chalkboard. Plus, her vocabulary is filled with that annoying Valley girl talk. Her blonde bangs are a mile high and stiff as a board, and I swear to God, if a hurricane swept through right now, those damn bangs would still be standing.
Being in England for the past two years has kept me from some of the stupid trends. But, the more I think about it, the more I regret the London move and everything associated with it. Everything except my grandparents, who helped me recover. I owe them so much. Their patience and understanding during my lowest moments is something I could never repay.
I know it would mean the world to them to watch me get my shit life together.
I sobered up, started working out, and got a job as a bouncer at some glitzy nightclub in London. That’s where I first met Emily. We had some kind of a future. She swore I was the only one for her, and I believed it. We shared some special moments, but every single memory we shared over the past year and a half is now gone. Wasted and completely erased by the vision of her betrayal. The fucking whore.
The rage builds, and I have to take in a deep breath.
Shit. I need a mind douche, or maybe a few beers. I can’t let this crap get to me.
Lyssa’s laughter catches my ear, and as I look at her, I can feel my heart start to beat again. The last time I saw her was before I left for college. That was almost four years ago.
God, she’s gorgeous. Inside and out.
Looking at her I can’t help but remember the last words my grandma had spoken before I left. “There are times when we feel as if all hope is gone. But always remember, just because you can’t see the sun, doesn’t mean it’s not shining. Better days will come. Your wounds will scar, and although the scars will remain, the pain will subside. Even the darkest clouds have silver linings. Just you watch. When you least expect it, your silver lining will appear, and light your path to the future.”
Maybe Lyssa is that silver lining. Maybe she’s here to help clear my mind. God knows I can’t think of anything else when I see her.
And maybe I’m here to make sure she doesn’t feel alone or awkward on this vacation. We both have plans for the future and don’t come with strings attached. Maybe that’s a good thing.
Everyone in our group is here and settling in their rooms. I’m on the couch in the living area while they unpack and change for our afternoon trip to the lake. I couldn’t help but giggle, hearing Stacey talk Valley girl to her boyfriend, Matt.
My dad hates it, so I don’t speak it at home. Tiff can turn it on and off too, but Stacey is like, totally all-out Valley.
Digging through my bag, I find my swimsuit and head for the nearest bathroom.
The Prestons’ cabin is more like a log-style home than a cabin. It’s huge. There are hardwood floors throughout, three bedrooms, two full and one-half bathrooms, a full sized kitchen and dining area, and a decent living room.
I called the large brown floral couch, which faces the t
elevision. On one side is a matching love seat, and directly across it are two huge beanbag chairs.
“Let’s roll!” Tiff says, prancing out of the bedroom and down the hall. She’s wearing a black knit top over her one-piece, hot-pink bathing suit. Her hair is pulled up into a ponytail with a matching scrunchy. David is behind her with colorful board shorts and a white tank top.
Stacey exits her bedroom and saunters down the hall wearing a bright yellow bikini top and matching bottom, with a white crop-top over it. Her nails are pink and yellow, her lipstick is pink, and her hair is pulled back with a yellow and white scrunchy.
She’d color coordinated her entire wardrobe for the lake. Even poor Matt had yellow and white board shorts.
As he meets her, his arm slips around her waist, but his eyes are on her breasts.
Gag.
Stacey is the Barbie doll of our group. She’s 5’5” with an hourglass body, big boobs, long blonde hair, and sky-blue eyes. Her parents are wealthy, so Stacey doesn’t have to worry about money. She’s also the only one of us not leaving for college, opting to stay back and attend a local clothing design school. It’s what she’s always wanted to do, and she’s really good at it.
As we head out, Travis is sitting on the shed stairs. He has a blank stare, and by the deep furrows in his brow, I can tell he’s battling his demons. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to walk in on the one you gave your heart to, having sex with someone who was supposed to be a friend.
There are probably no words I could say to help, yet I have an overwhelming urge to walk over and comfort him. But I don’t…because Tiff is watching me like a hawk.
“Hey Trav, you coming to the lake?” Tiff yells.
His head turns, and he offers a sad smile. “Yeah, I’ll head down in a bit. I’m gonna wait for Dallas.”
“All right. We’re gonna have water wars,” she tempts.
“Cool,” he says, apparently not interested.
