#Selfie (Hashtag Series Book 4) (5 page)

Missy shrugged, suddenly shy. But she couldn’t be shy with me. Not after that bold statement.

“I thought you were finally over him, Miss,” I pressed.

“Why, because I stopped wallowing in the fact he wasn’t calling anymore?”

“Well, yeah. And we’ve all been hanging out. You even agreed to weekend pancakes with us all. This week…”

“This week?” she prompted.

“You and Trent…” I echoed again.

Flashes of last night wouldn’t stop assaulting me. His mouth. His abs—good Lord his abs. The way he felt between my thighs. I turned abruptly away from Missy and toward the ocean. I forgot about my coffee and I bumped the mug.

It fell over the side of the deck. I grappled for it, but it was too late. Missy and I watched as it fell down into the sand dune among lost seashells and tall beach grasses.

“Oops,” I said.

“Was what I said really that surprising?” she asked, amusement clear in her tone.

I groaned. “I need to go get that.”

“You can’t. People aren’t supposed to climb on the dunes.” She pointed to a sign posted near the public access next to our house. It promised hefty fines if anyone was caught climbing.

“I’m not climbing,” I countered, flipping my hair over my shoulders. “I’m retrieving.”

“Just leave it down there.”

I probably should have. I mean, really, it was a stupid mug. There were a dozen others just like it inside. But if I stayed here, I’d have to finish this conversation. I’d have to listen to Missy tell me she was still interested in B. In the guy I had hot sex with just hours ago.

“No one will even know I went down there,” I said and rushed toward the side of the deck that led down to the parking beneath the house.

“Ivy!” Missy hissed.

“I’ll be right back!” I called and rushed down the stairs. Once I was standing on the concrete parking pad beneath the house, I leaned up against one of the stilts the house was on and dragged in a ragged breath.

Get it together, Ivy!
I told myself. If I reacted like this every time she said his name, everyone would know what happened without me saying a word.

So what if she still had a thing for him? He already made it clear—the big jerk—that he wasn’t interested in her that way. It’s not like her feelings were going to change anything. Other than make me feel worse about what I did.

However, that was my cross to bear, and I could do that quietly.

Feeling much stronger and less caught off guard, I pushed away from the thick wood pole and went to the side of the house underneath the stairs. I hesitated a moment because it was cooler and shadier under here. The deck kept the sun off the sand and the grasses were grown up well past my knees.

What if there were creatures living down here?

I told myself to get over it and pushed forward. My feet sank into the sand as I climbed beneath the deck and walked along the house until I came to the edge of where the deck above ended.

“Hurry up!” Missy called from above me.

I looked up to see her staring down at me. She pointed toward the mug, and I followed her direction to where it lay nearby.

The weeds brushed against my skirt and pulled at it. Shuddering, I gathered the fabric up in one hand and bunched it up around my knees as I made my way over the mug.

“There’s a lot of crap down here,” I yelled up. A Frisbee, a beach ball without its air, scattered shells, a couple straws, and empty plastic cups littered the sand. It was cold beneath my toes and so was the grass that brushed against my calves.

The sounds of the beach were a little muted down here, and it sort of felt like I was in a whole other world.

Sounds from up above caught my attention, and I looked up, squinting against the bright sky. Missy turned away from me and was looking toward the house. Footfalls against the deck vibrated the wood, and I started praying.

Please be Trent. Please be Trent.

“What the fuck are you doing?” boomed a voice overhead.

My teeth snapped together. It wasn’t Trent.

“Washing my car,” I spat.

Missy told him about my mug, and he laughed.

“How much of that coffee did you actually drink before you dropped it? Apparently not enough.” Braeden was clearly amused by his unwitty banter.

Missy’s light giggle floated above, and I narrowed my eyes. Oh no she didn’t just laugh.

“Jerk face!” I yelled and then totally turned my back on the both of them. The mug had fallen near a patch of tall grasses, so I had to reach my hand into them to get it.

Before I did, I parted the foliage and peered in, making sure there wasn’t something else in there. I heard talking above me, but I ignored it. I ignored him.

My hand closed around the ceramic and I lifted it. Well, part of it. The other half was still lying in the sand. Figures. Stupid thing was broken. Since I was already down here, I was going to pick it up. Even though, by the looks of everything lying around, no one else ever bothered to clean up after themselves.

Once I collected the pieces of the mug, I straightened up, one hand full of the glass and the other holding my skirt up so I didn’t trip.

“Be careful,” Missy called down.

“Wouldn’t want you to trip and break a nail.” Braeden chortled.

I tossed my hair back and glared up. The smartass remark died on my tongue as the breath in my lungs stuttered.

He was leaning over the railing, watching me with a red hat turned backward on his head. From where I was standing, he really wasn’t much more than a dark shape looming overhead, but he still affected me. He still caused awareness to crash through my limbs.

I jerked my face away and started walking toward the underside of the deck. My foot stepped on a large shell and my ankle turned a little. Stumbling, I threw my opposite foot out to catch my balance.

“Ow!” I howled as sharp pain sliced through on the bottom of my foot. I fell backward, the pieces of the broken cup falling into the sand beside me.

Braeden

I didn’t think. I just reacted.

I leapt over the railing with ease. The distance down and the uneven sand I would be landing on didn’t even cross my mind.

It didn’t matter.

I landed like a cat, no trouble at all, and the second my feet hit the sand, I moved forward. Ivy was almost beneath the deck, but not quite. Her back was to me and she was sitting up, hunched forward over part of herself.

She was muttering some pretty damn colorful curse words beneath her breath, and my face split into a smile. “Another angry crab attack you?”

She stiffened and looked over her shoulder. Long blond hair cascaded down her back and partially over her shoulder, creating a waterfall around her.

God, she was beautiful.

Wait. No. No, she wasn’t.

I cleared my throat.

“Braeden?” She glanced up, surprised. “Did you jump down here?”

“Well, you screamed like you might be dying,” I quipped.

“Hardly.” She tried to roll her eyes, but it turned into a grimace. “I need a Band-Aid,” she said pathetically.

I bit back a smile and crouched down beside her. “Let me see.”

She leaned back a little so her body wasn’t blocking my view. The movement brought her closer against me, and the scent of cinnamon wrapped around me. My stomach muscles tightened and I jerked slightly. There was no way she could have noticed, but her head tilted back and her eyes found mine.

We stared at each other for the span of a few heartbeats, neither of us moving or saying a word until someone called down from above, wanting to know if we were okay.

I blinked, bringing myself back from the edge—the edge I always seemed perched on around her—and motioned for her to show me what was wrong.

She lifted her foot into her lap, and I looked down.

I heard myself mutter something, but I was back to not thinking again.

She had the cap of a beer bottle sticking out of the bottom of her foot. Blood oozed out around it and dripped into the sand.

I cradled her foot in my hand and gently stroked my thumb along her heel. A shudder moved through her, and I glanced up.

“Hurts, huh?” I murmured.

She blinked. “Uh…” She blinked again. “Yeah.”

Using one hand, I reached around to the base of my neck and pulled my T-shirt up over my head. I didn’t say anything when I reached for her again, and without any warning, I yanked the cap free.

Her breath hissed between her teeth and she smacked my arm.

“Hey!” I snapped.

“That hurt!” she yelled, but it came out more like a whimper.

I tossed the cap over my shoulder and glanced back down. Fresh blood welled. “It’s over now,” I said gently and used my shirt to wrap around her foot.

Once the shirt was in place, I pressed her foot between my hands, applying a little pressure.

Really, I just wasn’t ready to let go.

“Braeden?” Her voice caressed me. Being down here mostly concealed by the deck in the cool sand and low lighting brought back last night. It reminded me of the undeniable electricity between us.

I thought for sure it would be gone.

It was still there.

One of her toes was red and looked scraped, too. I touched a fingertip to it. “You hit your toe, too.”

“That was from last night.”

I smiled. “Ah, yes. The angry crab.”

Our eyes met again. I reached between us, my fingers itching to tuck her hair behind her ear, but I stopped just before I made contact.

What the hell was I doing?

I pulled back and released her foot. “Come on. Let’s get your clumsy ass up the steps so you can clean that up before we gotta leave.”

“I’m not clumsy,” she snapped and pushed to her feet. I started to help her, but she pulled away.

“Thank God for that,” I retorted. “Rimmel is all the clumsy I can handle.”

She made a face and turned away to take a step. But she didn’t make it very far with one foot down for the count.

“C’mon,” I drawled and wound an arm around her waist. She relented some of her weight to me, and we started toward the concrete pad under the house.

“The mug,” she said, whirling to go back.

“Leave it.” I tightened my arm.

“But—”

“But nothing,” I snapped. “That fucking thing is the reason your foot’s all sliced up.”

The vehemence in my voice shocked us both.

Before I could say anything, someone turned the corner and headed straight for us. It was Trent. His eyes went right to Ivy and stayed there. When he saw my shirt around her foot he frowned.

“What happened?”

“I got in a fight with a bottle cap, and it won,” Ivy replied.

Trent chuckled. “Beer is one tough opponent.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ivy’s voice was dry.

We made it to the concrete, and I all but lifted her onto the flat surface.

“Getting up the stairs like that isn’t gonna be too fun,” Trent observed.

I thought about the way I carried her up a set of similar stairs just last night. Carrying her up today would just be the right thing to do. We’d be here all day if I had to help her drag herself up.

Before I could pick her up, Trent did. He swept her right out of my grip and up against his chest. I felt my eyes narrow.

Ivy squealed.

“I’ll help you clean that up,” he offered.

“You mean you aren’t going to tell me how clumsy I am?” Ivy asked, and irritation punched me. Was she trying to annoy the shit out of me right now?

“Clumsy?” Trent smiled down at her as we made our way to the stairs. “Nah. That cap had it in for ya.”

“I know!” Ivy agreed.

Of course she would. Missy was coming down the stairs as we were going up. Her eyes bounced to all of us, and then I thought I saw a look I didn’t recognize pass behind her eyes when she glanced at Ivy and Trent.

It was almost calculating.

I remembered when Trent casually asked Rome and me about Ivy’s status.

Did Missy think Ivy and Trent made a good couple?

I felt my upper lip curl at the thought, like I’d just eaten something sour. Ivy and Trent?

Hells no.

A hand slid over my arm and I glanced up. Missy was standing close, gazing up at me with worry in her gray eyes. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she just cut her foot.”

“You just leapt right off the deck.”

I glanced down at her hand, where it still rested against me. Then I looked back up. “Well, yeah. Rim woulda kicked my ass if I just let her lay down there.”

Missy’s lips curved up. “How did she manage to get your heart?”

“Who?” I demanded, a little bit of alarm pulsing through me. How did she know about last night?

Missy gave me a look. “Rimmel,” she spoke slowly.

Right. Rimmel.

Trent disappeared around the side of the house with Ivy in his arms, leaving Missy and me here alone. I shrugged. “She’s good for Rome. She’s family.”

Missy tilted her head to the side and regarded me. Even through her shades, I could feel her stare. “You got any more room left in there?” She pulled her hand back from my arm and poked me in the chest, just above the heart.

What the fuck was she asking me? I swear, chicks might as well speak Spanish. I decided charm would be the best answer here. Charm with a side of truth. I gave her a lopsided smile. “Haven’t ya heard? I’m like the Grinch. My heart is two sizes too small.”

She laughed and pulled back. “I better go see if Ivy’s okay.”

We walked together around the side of the house toward the sliders. Inside, I could see Ivy sitting on the kitchen counter and Trent standing in front of her with a first aid kit beside him. Missy went ahead, but I hung back for a second.

The familiar heat of anger swirled inside me, practically appearing out of nowhere. My fingers curled into my palms, and I took a deep breath. There was no reason to be getting so worked up. I just needed to chill.

The boards of the deck vibrated underfoot, and I glanced around at Romeo and Rimmel, who were coming toward me. Rim had a bucket of shells in her hand and flushed cheeks I knew weren’t from the morning sun. Romeo was right behind her with a pair of shades wrapped around his eyes.

“What’s going on, B?” Romeo’s tone was casual, but I knew he sensed more. We’d been friends since first grade; we read each other well. He knew me. He knew my inner workings. He knew things most everyone else didn’t.

“Ivy cut her foot,” I replied.

Rimmel gasped. “Is she okay?”

“I’m sure she’s being a drama queen,” I muttered.

She smacked me in the stomach and then handed me her bucket of shells. “I’ll go see if she needs help.”

I was pretty sure she was already getting help, but I didn’t stop her from rushing in the house.

Romeo was watching me when I set the bucket down by my feet. “You straight?”

I pulled the hat off my head and ran a hand through my hair. “Yeah.”

“What’s got you so worked up?”

“Fuck,” I muttered. “It just hits me sometimes. Ya know?”

“Yeah.” Stepping closer, he palmed my shoulder with his hand and turned me toward the ocean. “Just look at the waves. Be one with nature and shit.”

I laughed. “Dude. You are so lame.”

“You totally feel peaceful right now,” Rome cracked.

I guffawed.

Romeo grinned and slapped me on the back. “You’re welcome.”

I snickered. Even though I laughed, I did owe him thanks. I did feel better. More in control. Romeo always knew how to pull me back. I glanced over at him, feeling grateful.

He must have seen the sincerity in my gaze because he shook his head. “I just spent a long time picking up seashells on the beach. If I have any more girl moments today, I’m gonna grow tits.”

“On that note…” I scooped up the bucket and held it out. “Here’s your shells. I’m gonna grab some coffee.”

“Whoa,” Romeo said after I turned toward the sliders.

“What?”

“Trent and Ivy.” He gestured inside with his chin. “Guess Trent really is interested.”

“Poor guy,” I muttered and walked in.

Ivy was still sitting on the counter with Trent right in front of her. Missy and Rimmel were on either side of him, and everyone’s attention was focused down.

“Does it need stitches?” Rimmel worried.

“Nah,” Trent answered as he tore open a large Band-Aid.

I ignored them all as I went for the coffee maker on the other side of the kitchen. As I was walking past, Rimmel grabbed my arm. “What do you think, B? Think it needs stitches?”

The muscle in my jaw jumped when she pulled me into the situation I was trying to avoid, but when little sisters asked for your opinion, you gave it.

“Let me see,” I said, and Trent angled off to the side so I could move forward to look.

My shirt was lying on the counter beside Ivy, and I could see the stains of blood. Trent was holding her ankle, supporting her foot, and I focused on the cut, not the way his fingers wrapped around her.

It was good slice, and if it had gone any deeper, she probably would need stitches. However, it seemed like Trent had cleaned it out well and the bleeding was pretty much stopped. It looked like it hurt, though, all red and raw-looking.

I glanced up at Ivy. Her cheeks seemed a little pale, but when her eyes found mine, her gaze was steady. “How’s the foot, Blondie?”

“Nothing a Band-Aid won’t fix.”

I felt the side of my mouth kick up in a half smile. “Sounds good to me,” I agreed and moved away, retreating to the coffee.

I poured a cup, and when I turned back, Trent was smoothing the Band-Aid on her foot. I tossed some of the brew down my throat. It burned.

“Thanks,” Ivy told him. The softness in her voice had me throwing back another gulp of the black stuff. I felt Romeo’s eye, but I avoided it and stepped out of the kitchen.