Discovering Delilah (Harborside Nights, Book 2) (7 page)

“Nah, just checking out the longboards and some clothes.” His eyes take a slow roll over me, and then he turns toward the boards.

It never really bothers
me when guys check me out. I think it’s the whole long blond hair and fit body thing they’re attracted to. Guys are so cursory. It’s like they have a mental checklist that can be marked off in three seconds:
A face that doesn’t require too many beers to look good, boobs, nice ass.
 Whereas with girls, at least with me, when I check a girl out, it goes much deeper than looks. The first thing I
notice is a girl’s eyes. Are they cold and wary or intense and seductive? I like them to be somewhere in the middle. Wary enough to be careful, but sexy in the right moments.

Like Delilah’s.

Gaaaahhhhh! Stop!

I’ve never been interested in guys.  Never even kissed a guy. I do like to look, though, from an artistic perspective. Sometimes that gets me in trouble and guys think I’m checking
them out, so I’ve learned to be discreet about it. I can’t help it if I find the human body fascinating. I’m an artist. It feels natural to notice sleek curves and taut muscles. It’s not like I’m Brandon or anything. He practically undresses guys and girls in a single glance and would sleep with either or both at the same time. I’ve never felt a need to flaunt my sexuality. I don’t even like
to talk about it, but after dating Sandy Andraka for a few months, I realized that I also don’t want to be someone’s dirty little secret. Sandy acknowledged me only as a friend in public, because she wasn’t
out
yet. Because I was sensitive to her feelings, I overlooked all the telltale clues of a liar. We saw each other only on weekdays, at my place, and never after ten at night. It was only after
we broke up that I found out she was living with a guy and our relationship was nothing more than a fun distraction for her.

“Excuse me.” Blond surfer guy waves in my direction.

I push thoughts of Sandy away and go to help him.

“Hi. What can I help you with?”

He holds up a shirt. “Do you have this in XL?”

“I’ll check.” I go in the back room and retrieve his size, and when I
bring it to him, he’s on the phone again, having a heated discussion as he watches me approach.

I hand him the shirt and he holds up a finger, asking me to wait.

He covers the mouthpiece and asks, “Isn’t it easier for girls to surf than guys?”

“Um…” I notice Brent and Jesse come out of the back room.

He raises his brows.

“You’re asking the wrong person. I don’t surf.” I hate
admitting that to customers, but it’s true. Brent hired me because I’m organized, a hard worker, and really good with people. He said it would be good if I learned to surf, and I had planned to learn when I first moved here, but then I got busy. “Ask him.” I point to Brent.

“Dude, I’ll call you back.” The guy ends his call and leans on the clothing rack, like he has all the time in the world.
“How can you work in a surf shop and not surf?”

“I know the mechanics of it. I’ve read up on it. I’ve just never taken the time to learn.”

“Do you
like
working here?” he asks.

I can’t tell if he’s asking because he’s interested or trying to figure me out. He’s looking at me so intently that I think it’s the latter. “Yeah. I like working with customers, and I’m not one of those people
who could sit behind a desk all day, so for now, yeah, I like it.” I’m hyperaware of Brent and Jesse just a few feet away, and although Brent knows that one day I hope to make a living with my art, I’m careful not to reference it.

“Drake!” Brent and Jesse join us. Brent high-fives Drake. “I see you met my best employee, Ashley.”

I laugh. I should have known Brent would know him. He’s one
of the best surfers around. I’d bet he knows every surfer in Harborside.

“Ashley.” Drake holds out a hand. “Nice to formally meet you.”

Jesse pats Brent on the back. “See you at the party. I’ve gotta run.” He waves to me. “See you tonight, Ash.”

“Party?” Drake asks.

“Yeah, for Brandon’s birthday,” Brent explains. He and Brandon play in a band together all over town.

“Cool.
Is it an open party, or do I need to know someone besides you and Brandon to get in?” Drake asks as we walk toward the cash register.

Brent turns to me. “Think Wyatt and Delilah will mind?”

“How should I know? But based on their past parties, probably not.” Parties at Wyatt and Delilah’s house are always crowded with Brandon’s friends.

“You know Brandon never misses a chance to play.
Our band is playing tonight, so I can’t really introduce you to Wyatt and Delilah.” Brent joins me behind the counter and pats me on the back. “But Ashley…”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll introduce him around, sure.”

By the time I’ve rung him up, I learn that Drake likes working with his hands, doing metal and construction type work, and grew up in Harborside.

“In exchange for introducing me
tonight, I’ll show you how to surf,” Drake offers. “You really should learn. Don’t you think, Brent?”

“Absolutely. Ash, take him up on the offer. He’s the best surf instructor around.” Brent hands Drake his purchases.

“You’re a surf instructor?”

Drake nods. “Yup. Leave it to me. I’ll have you up on the board and comfortable within a week. You’ll love it—you’ll see. What’s your schedule?
Can you make dawn patrol tomorrow?”

Dawn patrol is when surfers catch early-morning waves. That’s usually when I sketch with Delilah, but we haven’t planned anything for the next few days, and honestly, maybe the distraction would be a good thing. It’s getting progressively harder to resist Delilah when we spend mornings together, and until she and I fall into a conversation that naturally
transitions into talking about guys or girls, I’m keeping my lips sealed. She’s got so much going on, and she never talks about hooking up with anyone. I know it’s the last thing on her mind.

“Sure, but just so you know, I might suck.”

“Or you might be awesome,” Drake says.

We exchange numbers, and after Drake leaves, Brent convinces me that Drake is the greatest surf instructor around
and a trustworthy guy, which is good, considering we plan to meet here after work and go to the party together. He’ll be a welcome distraction, much easier to handle than drooling over Delilah—or worse, accidentally on purpose kissing her.

~Delilah~

WHEN THE SUN goes down the temperature always drops, but tonight it’s cooler than normal—even so, I’m hot.
Hot, hot, hot
. I’ve been hot since I left Janessa’s last night. I’m all nervous energy and anxious anticipation. I hear Brandon’s band playing on the back deck, and I’m upstairs, pacing in my bedroom, waiting for Ashley to get here. I’m too nervous to
wait outside, because now that I know I’ll
like
kissing her, I can’t stop thinking about the possibility.

I’m probably going to wear a path in the hardwood. I’ve been pacing for more than half an hour. My bedroom is spacious, so there’s a lot of room to pace. I love this bedroom, with the double bed and the futon over by the doors to the deck. I’m glad I moved back in. Nothing compares to
living right on the beach, and it’s easier to be here now than it was those first few nights when we arrived after my parents died. Back then I felt like their ghosts were everywhere. Maybe it’s because time has passed since they died, or maybe it’s because I spent several weeks living at Brooke’s and the memories had time to skitter away before I moved back. I don’t know, but it feels good to be
back, and every day it feels more like home.

I walk out the glass doors to the deck and look down at the people dancing and laughing on the beach. There are lots of people dancing on the deck while Brandon’s band plays. We live at the end of a private road, and the closest house is about half a block up the road. The beach is private as well, so we don’t have to worry about party crashers
or bothering neighbors.

Cassidy is taking pictures of the party—she’s always taking pictures. She’s been working with Brooke all summer at Brooke’s Bytes, and they just started a party-planning business. In addition to helping with the business side, Cassidy is the photographer for their events. I watch as Wyatt comes up behind her, wraps his arms around her waist, and nuzzles against her
neck. She puts the lens cap on her camera, and her long brown hair swings as she turns in his arms and presses her lips to his. I long for that. The ease of being in a real relationship with someone I care about. Being able to hold and kiss and nuzzle without the guilt of who I want to do those things with.

I want that with Ashley.

Brandon’s band starts another song and, thankfully, it
nearly drowns out the guilt raging in my head. People begin to
whoop
at the song choice. I don’t know most of the people who are here, but this is Brandon’s birthday party, and because his band plays all over Harborside, he knows tons of people. 

As I descend the steps to the side yard, I see Janessa come around the corner of the house from the front. I invited her, but she’d said she couldn’t
come because she was picking up Jackie from Dean’s. She’s scanning the crowd, and I know she’s looking for me. I hurry down the steps and weave through the crowd, expecting to feel strange around her, or at least embarrassed, but when I spot her in front of a guy and make my way around him, I don’t feel either of those things.

She turns, and when our eyes meet, she smiles and throws her arms
around me. “Hi.”

Her perfume brings back memories of last night. I’m not sure what it says about me that while the memory floods me with good, sexy feelings, I also feel detached from it. Janessa was right. It was
just
sex. It didn’t create the type of feelings toward her that I have toward Ashley, but I also don’t feel ashamed of what we did. I don’t feel like a slut. I think I’ve compartmentalized
our night as a learning experience, just as it was intended to be. Memories of my parents make me feel ashamed enough, for my thoughts, my desires.
Ugh
. For the life I want and am afraid to have.

 “Hi. I’m glad you made it.” She looks great in a pair of jeans, a cami, and an open sweater.

“I only came by to see how you were. I can’t stay.” Her eyes roll over my face, looking for an answer.

“I’m good.”

“Delilah!”

I spot Ashley waving from behind a group of girls. I wave and she turns and grabs some guy’s arm and leads him over. I look at Janessa, who must read my mind—or maybe the floored look I’m sure is on my face gives away my disappointment.

Janessa touches my arm, and as Ashley approaches, she leans in close and says, “Don’t jump to conclusions. They’re probably
just friends.”

“Hi.” Ashley smiles, still holding that tall, good-looking, towheaded guy’s arm like he’s hers. “This is Drake.”

“Hi, I’m Delilah.” I force a smile, but my stomach is tying itself into a knot.

Drake says hello, and the feel of Janessa’s hand on my arm brings me out of my jealous head and back to the moment.

“Oh, and this is Janessa,” I say loud enough to be heard
over the band.

“Hi, Ashley. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Janessa waves to the guy. “Nice to meet you.” She turns her attention to me and lowers her voice. “I have to go, but I wanted to make sure you were okay. I had a good time last night.” She kisses my cheek and whispers loudly, “Good luck.”

Janessa waves to the others as she leaves.

My earlier hopes of telling Ashley how I feel
are dashed, and for a minute we just stand there staring at each other. I’ve got to do something. Say something. But I’m pretty sure,
Is he yours? Are you straight? Can I change your mind?
isn’t the way to go.

“Drinks are in the kitchen.”
I’m so lame
.

“Great.” Drake looks at Ashley. “Want me to bring you one?”

“Sure. Wine, if there is any.”

“You got it.” He lifts his chin in my
direction. “Want anything, Delilah?”

Only Ashley
.  “Uh, sure. Whatever Ash is having.”

He heads for the kitchen as the band starts up another song, and Ashley watches him walk away. I wish I could disappear into the night like the music.

“So, you were with Janessa last night?” Ashley steps in close and practically yells for me to hear her.

“Yeah. How do you know Drake?” I can’t
help but ask. I’ve never seen the guy before and suddenly she’s holding his arm?
I guess I can assume you’re not into girls
.

Her smile fades. “I…um…I met him at the shop. He’s going to teach me to surf.”

“He’s…Oh.” Maybe Ashley doesn’t remember, but the day after we met, I offered to teach her how to surf. She was nervous about the whole process and told me that maybe she’d take me up
on it one day. Uh-oh. Maybe she
does
remember and this is her way of drawing a line between us because she noticed the way I must have been looking at her yesterday morning when I wanted to kiss her.

I feel my shoulders drop and pry for more information.

“How are you going to do that with your schedule at the surf shop?”

“I’ll hit dawn patrol with him when I can, and sometimes I’ll
go in the evenings when the tide is in. Brent is all for it. He’s excited that I’m willing to finally learn how to do it.” She takes my hand and leads me off to the side of the house, farther away from the music.

She’s held my hand dozens of times, but this time I’m aware of how our hands fit so well together, how good it feels to have our fingers interlaced, and I want that hand on my body.
She stops walking and I nearly plow right into her. We’re standing so close I wonder if she can feel the space between us heating up like I do. She looks into my eyes and my head is so confused about seeing her with Drake and knowing she’s blowing me off to be with him that I want to look away. But I can’t. I’m drawn to her even though my heart is aching.

“You don’t mind, do you?” she asks.

Being this close to you? No. I want more of it
.

It takes me a minute to realize she’s talking about going surfing in the mornings instead of meeting me. I want to tell her,
Damn right I mind
. I want to ask her if she’s seeing him, and a hundred more questions, but none of them matter now. She’s definitely into Drake.