Back Where We Belong (A Second Chances New Adult Romance)

by Hart, Alana

  ***

  The next day, I'm back there waiting, hoping he'll show up.

  The sun is out and I'm in a t-shirt and cut-offs, sitting on the sand with a pile of stones I've gathered and a book I can't be bothered to open. I just keep thinking about Luke. What if I only imagined how he looked at me? What if he kisses every girl around just like he kissed me?

  It's much busier on the beach today. There's a toddler who keeps wandering off from his mother. He's interested in my pile of stones.

  “You like them?” I ask.

  He nods and picks one up.

  I throw one in the water and so does he, but his plops two feet from the edge of the water and splashes us both and we laugh.

  “Sorry,” his mom says. “I need eyes in the back of my head with him. You here on vacation?”

  “Yes, for the summer. We have a house along the beach.”

  “I live along there too,” she says.

  We chat for a while. Her name is Jill and the toddler is Ben.

  “If ever you need a babysitting job, let me know,” she says. “He's a handful, and I could do with a break sometime.”

  We swap numbers and she takes Ben for his afternoon nap. I'm happy I made a friend and I have a job. My parents give me an allowance, so I'm not short of money, and I don't spend much here at the beach, but it's nice to make my own money, not to rely on them so much, especially with the way I feel about them right now.

  I sit happily enough for a while, but as it gets later and later, I know Luke is not going to show up. It's well past the time he interrupted my gloomy thoughts yesterday and most people have left the beach by now.

  Why did he let me think he wanted to see me again? And why would he even want to? A guy like him must have his pick of girls on vacation. I thought that kiss meant something yesterday, but now I'm not so sure. Now, it's like I was just target practice for his pick-up techniques. I know I should just admit defeat and go back to the beach house. I wasted my time sitting there waiting for him (like I had anything else to do anyway). I get up and trudge along the sand. What else did I expect? I should have known I wouldn't mean anything to a guy like Luke.

  ***

  “Hey, Madison.”

  I hear him shouting across the sand and I turn round, my heart leaping.

  “I thought you weren't coming.” There I go again, saying exactly what I'm thinking. I have to stop doing that.

  He catches up with me. “It was crazy at the restaurant this afternoon. I thought I missed you when you weren't where I saw you yesterday.”

  He looks at me as if he's expecting me to be angry with him for being so late. But I'm not angry. I wasn't angry with him even when I thought he had stood me up. Just disappointed.

  “Hello again,” he says, smiling, and he kisses me softly once, his lips just brushing mine, and when I don't protest, a little more firmly and I get that wonderful heady Luke scent and aftershave combination, without the chocolate ice cream this time, the tip of his tongue just teasing mine. My heart does a somersault.

  “I've been looking forward to that all day,” he says when we break apart.

  Smiling, I resist saying “me too”, but then half the time I was thinking he wouldn't show up.

  “I don't have long,” he says. “I have to get back. I came to ask if you wanted to go out later. It will be much later though. I don't get off until eleven.”

  Eleven will be fine. More than fine. I can sneak out and it will spare me all the comments from my mother if she sees Luke driving his beat up old car when he comes to pick me up.

  I give him my address, and he kisses me again in the sun, a deep searching kiss on the beach in broad daylight, as if he's proud to be with me.

  CHAPTER 2

  LUKE

  I don't know what it is about Madison. She's different than all the girls around here, the ones hanging around the trattoria, flaunting their curves in my direction.

  I'm no saint. I don't always resist. Who am I kidding? I hardly ever resist. When it's laid out on a plate, who can? Not me.

  But if they start to get serious, I'm out of there. I don't lead them on. I don't care whether they are local or just looking for a bit of excitement on vacation, I'm always upfront with them. I make sure they know the score. I tell them I don't want to get involved. I tell them I'm not looking for anything serious right now. I tell them I'm gay. Well, not the last one. That one isn't true. But I use the other excuses because that's how it is.

  I don't want to get tied down. I want to get on with my life without being lumbered with some girl. But sex, that's okay. More than okay. Some of those women will do anything to make me like them. It's as if I rule their world when I'm with them. I'm just finding out how much I like that—being the one in control, telling them what to do to please me. But whatever they do, it's not enough to make me stick around.

  But there's something about Madison I can't put my finger on. She looked lost when I first saw her on the beach yesterday. Even when she realized I was looking at her, she didn't start primping and preening, fidgeting with her hair or anything. Her eyes lit up a little when she saw me. I get that a lot, but I thought she might take off like a nervous colt rather than talk to me. I could see she didn't quite trust me, her eyes mirroring her confusion.

  She doesn't know how attractive she is with her pale skin and the little freckles on her nose, nothing like the beach crowd who spend hours toasting themselves. And when she looked at me with her big eyes that are not quite blue and not quite green and blushed, I felt my protective side coming out.

  Every time I kiss Madison, I hope she doesn't take flight. I can't imagine her trying to get into my jeans while I kiss her like some of the girls do. I want to see her again tonight, but fuck only knows why. I'm not going to get anywhere with her.

  CHAPTER 3

  MADISON

  I have a friend in Jill, a job and a date for tonight. This is a good day. At least it is until I get back to the beach house. Slamming doors, screeching, shouting, crying (from my mother), exasperation (from my father.) They don't notice me come in, and I slip to my room.

  I put on my headphones to block them out. I want to think. I want to think about Luke and relive the feeling of his lips on mine and how warm that made me feel inside, but it's hard with the pair of them raging downstairs.

  I don't know what they have to be so upset about. Why can't they just get along?

  But I guess my mother was never going to be an easy woman to live with. I should know. I bear the brunt of her rages and spite often enough, when she notices me at all. She is so wrapped up in herself and stupid stuff like what her friends think of her or what they think of Dad or me, as if it has anything to do with them what we do.

  I hope there's some kind of truce between my parents before dinner because I can already feel my stomach churning thinking of the atmosphere around the table. I've had enough dinners where everyone is civil on the surface but undercurrents of hate are passed around like a dish of mashed potatoes. I think I'd rather starve than suffer another meal like that. But I won't be allowed to miss dinner. Apparently, in my mother's world families have to eat together around a properly set table or it’s the end of civilization as we know it. Whereas I think it's more important whether the people at the table actually like each other or hate each other's guts.

  But perhaps that's going a bit far. I don't hate my parents. Not really. At least, not all the time. They are the only parents I have. I just wish they were different.

  I wish my mother was the kind of mother who gave hugs and baked apple pie that didn't have to be perfectly formed, just taste good.

  And I wish my father was the kind who doted on his daughter and thought her the prettiest little girl in the world even when she obviously isn't, a father who has time for his daughter no matter how busy he is.

  But they aren't like that. I see my friends back home with their parents. Mine are nothing like that. I envy my friends, but I can't change the parents I have.


  I sometimes think they don't care about me at all. But that's only when I'm feeling really down.

  And today I'm not feeling so bad. Luke kissed me. I can get through dinner no matter how awful it is because I know I'll see him later.

  ***

  When I look out my bedroom window at ten to eleven, I see Luke's old wreck of a car pull up. My heart jolts seeing him there, but I have to act fast. I have to get out without anyone seeing me. My parents are watching TV, not speaking at all. I don't need their questions, my mother's interference, her turning up her nose at Luke's car. I don't need any comments from them. I need to get out before Luke rings the doorbell. I should have told him not to come to the door. I’d planned to be outside on the porch before he arrived, but it's too late for that now.

  It's not hard to open my window and get out onto the garage roof. It looks a long way down to the ground from there though. Why didn't I think of that?

  “What are you doing up there?” Luke has noticed me and come over while I'm contemplating the probability of breaking an ankle and weighing up the pain of that against the idea of going inside and dealing with my parents.

  “Ssh! I don't want them to see me.”

  He shrugs his shoulders as if he thinks it’s normal for a girl to appear on her garage roof to avoid being seen.

  “Wait a minute.” He ferrets around and pulls over an old trash can that seems to be stable and high enough so that I can slip down onto it from the roof. He catches me in case I fall and kisses me quickly on the lips. I'll never get tired of his lips on mine.

  “I was expecting you to come out of a door. That's the conventional way to leave a house,” he says.

  “Parents,” I say, “an evil best avoided.”

  “That bad, eh?”

  “Yes, that bad.”

  He opens the car door for me. It's really not as much of a wreck as it looks on the outside. The inside is clean and the thing actually goes.

  “I thought we'd go to Thistle Beach,” he says.

  It's only three miles down the coast. Despite outside appearances, I'm sure the car will make it there and back now that I'm in it.

  “You hungry?” he asks on the way.

  “No, I ate dinner.” Even if I hadn't, seeing Luke has taken my breath away, never mind my appetite.

  “We'll just drop into The Shack then,” he says.

  ***

  The Shack is hot and crowded, the music pounding. We have to squeeze through the throng to get anywhere near the bar.

  “You ever been here?” he asks. He has to shout in my ear above the heavy thud of the music.

  I shake my head. No one ever invited me here, and my parents wouldn't go to a place like this. I'm pretty sure there's no one over twenty-five here. I recognize a few of the crowd and nod to them. My mother is always hoping I'll be friends with the sons or daughters of her tennis club cronies. The parties she drags me to so that I can “meet other young people” are always agony.

  I can see their eyes widen when they see me with Luke, but I feel like a fish out of water. I'm wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but I'm not dressed right for this place. The girls show a lot more flesh and wear a lot more make-up than me.

  A few women say “hello” to Luke and look right through me as if I don't even exist. One even puts her arms around his neck and he says something to her I can't catch as he takes her hands away. She turns away in a mood and disappears into the throng.

  “Who was that?” I ask.

  “Sam, one of the waitresses from the restaurant. It's her day off. One too many margaritas I think.”

  Luke gets some drinks. I feel as if he must be regretting asking me out. He has to see I'm not like the other girls here. It's obvious, I don't fit in. I don't fit in anywhere. Not at home. Not here.

  I feel a lump forming in my throat. Luke has women in high-heels and make-up throwing their arms around his neck, happy to see him. What does he get with me? An eighteen-year-old in jeans and t-shirt who he caught escaping out of a window like a kid out on an adventure. I sip my root beer and try not to cry.

  “Let's get out of here,” Luke says.

  He's taking me home already, because I’m such a let-down as a date. I know it. I find a gap in the bar to put my bottle down, and he leads me through the crowd.

  CHAPTER 4

  LUKE

  How fucking stupid am I? I should have known the Shack wasn't the right kind of place for Madison. I could have taken any of my other dates there and pressed up to them real close on the dance floor, bought them a drink and fucked them half an hour later at their place, or failing that, somewhere on the beach. But not Madison.

  I could see she wasn't comfortable as soon as we went in. I want to make it up to her, but I'm not sure I can. There's no place I can take her around here this time of night, not where they wouldn't take one look at me in my jeans and kick me out.

  “It was crowded tonight,” I say, though I know it's always like that in there.

  She smiles at me faintly, but at least it's a smile.

  I hold out my hand and wonder if she'll take it. That's a first, caring if a girl will hold my hand or not. Jeez, usually I'm wondering about getting into a girl's panties on the first encounter, never mind wondering about holding hands on the third. I'll be turning into a real pussy here if I'm not careful.

  We get back in the car. I even hold the door open for her (again!). Mom taught me some nice manners. I don't always use them, but I imagine they are just what a girl like Madison expects.

  “Are you taking me home?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  This isn't working at all. What else can I do with her? I know what I'd like to do to her or have her do to me, but it's not going to happen. She's not the kind I can wind around my finger and have dance to my tune. She isn't even on the same wavelength.

  She gives a kind of sob. I hope she's not going to cry. I can't stand tears. They're usually because some woman I fucked didn't listen when I said I wasn't looking for anything long term.

  I grab her hand. I don't want her to cry. Before I know it, I'm holding and kissing her, like I care whether she cries or not. What the fuck?

  CHAPTER 5

  MADISON

  I feel so miserable until that moment when Luke says, “Hey, Madison,” and kisses me in the parking lot of the Shack. That changes everything. I know he likes me then, or maybe he feels sorry for me. But whatever, I kiss him back. I can feel my heart thud as he holds me tight. I want to lose myself in that kiss and never come back to earth.

  I'm not stupid. I know all the girls he's been with are more experienced than me. That isn't difficult. I have no experience! I don't want to lose him, but I'm scared. Scared of losing him and scared of what I'll have to do to keep him.

  “I'll take you back to Sandy Cove,” he says. “We can walk along the beach there if you like.”

  “Okay.”

  I wonder what a walk along the beach entails. It's midnight. We're not going to be building sandcastles.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No.”

  “You're shivering a bit. This car has a heater. It might even work.”

  He adjusts the controls and warm air blasts out. “Polar to tropical at the touch of a button.”

  I laugh. “Every modern convenience.”

  “And even air conditioning,” he says, and winks, winding down his window and then winding it back up.

  We're almost there. I wish the drive was longer. I feel safe with Luke in a moving car, but we're at the beach in no time at all and getting out. He puts his arm around me and draws me to him. He kisses me gently, just a touch of his lips on mine, twice, butterfly-light kisses.

  “You look like you're worried I'm about to eat you up,” he says. “I can just take you home if you like.”

  I don't want him to take me home. “Let's walk on the beach. It's a nice night.”

  A nice night? Is that all I can say? Crap.

  He holds my hand and
we walk along the sand. I feel the cool grains between my toes where my sandals kick up the sand. The waves are slow, lapping the beach then receding in an endless rhythm.

  “Do you like living here?” I ask.

  “I like living by the sea. But there are four kids between five and seventeen, plus me and Mom and Dad at home. We're living on top of each other all the time. In summer there’s not even any school. It's like a zoo at times.”

  “It does sound like chaos. But it's better than when there's just you.”

  “You're an only child then?”

  “Yes, I'm not sure if they only wanted one or couldn't have any more children. I think I put them off having any more. I expect I got in the way of Dad's work and Mom's social life.”

  “You're looking sad again. We can't have that. I like it better when you laugh.” He squeezes my hand.

  “Race you to that rock” He points to a dark jagged mass jutting out from the sea onto the beach about three hundred yards away. “Ready? One...two...three.”

  He takes off, and I run after him. We tumble onto the cold sand when we reach the rock, out of breath and laughing.

  “That's better.” He looks at me in that intense way he has and he kisses me, his lips soft at first and then more insistent, his hands holding me, pressing me so close to him that I'm sure he'll feel my heart thud against his chest through our clothes. I can't help responding to the feeling of his lips on mine, the gentle probing of his tongue, his hard body, and I open my mouth to him and kiss him right back, the sound of the waves in the soft night air providing the perfect backdrop for that kiss.

  “Much better,” he says gently, kissing my nose when we finally part, a little breathless.