The Shore (3 page)

“Why’d you do that?” Curt asked. “I probably could have gotten him down to nothing.”

“It wasn’t fair,” Avery said. “He’s trying to run a business, not a charity.”

“Well, it wasn’t fair of him to give away our room,” Curt argued.

“He made a mistake,” Avery said. “That doesn’t mean you have to crucify him. Let’s have a good summer, Curt, please? It’s about having fun, not winning every battle.”

Typical Avery, Curt thought. Always running from a fight. Never standing up for what she deserved. “You can’t let people step all over you,” he shot back.

“What are you talking about?” Avery asked. “He didn’t step all over me. We got that other room for a bargain, and you know it.”

With the last of the gear, Curt followed her into the house and up the stairs. In their new room, he dumped the stuff on their bed. “You’ll put everything away?” he asked.

Avery looked up, surprised. “What?”

Curt broke into a smile. “Just kidding.” He slid his hands around her waist and pulled her close. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and he breathed in her sweet scent. “I figured if you let Fred take advantage of you, you’d let me, too.” It had been nearly a week since he’d held her this close and he could feel the growing desire mute any lingering annoyance he felt toward her for letting the blonde get their room.

Avery kissed him, but when his hands began to wander, she pulled back. “You can take advantage of me later,” she whispered. “In ways that Fred will never know. But for now, help me unpack.”

They started opening bags and putting things away. Even though he’d just as soon live out of a suitcase for the summer, Curt knew Avery enjoyed doing stuff like this. To him it was a little like playing house, but if she got a bang out of it, he was glad to oblige . . . up to a point. After a while other concerns began to nag him. The band wasn’t ready. Their songs weren’t ready. Shouldn’t he be spending his time and energy on that?

“I better get back over there, Ave,” he said. “The band’s still got a long way to go and we should be rehearsing.”

“Oh, okay.” Avery hung her head, clearly disappointed.

“Hey, I’ll be back later.” Curt took her in his arms. “And if you’re a good girl, I might just let you take advantage of me.”

She smiled. “You should be so lucky.”

“No, you should be so lucky.” He kissed her hard and held her tightly, knowing she liked it when he lingered.

Soon enough, he left the room and headed back down the
stairs. He was just going out the front door when a girl came up pulling a heavy black suitcase on wheels. She had reddish, neatly bobbed hair and was wearing a baggy pink polo shirt with pleated khaki shorts. She looked like the kind of preppy girl who’d be class secretary.

“Excuse me,” she panted. “You wouldn’t know if the bathrooms are working, would you?”

“What?” Curt said, taken by surprise.

“I was warned that plumbing on this street can be kind of a problem. My cousin said she once rented a room in number twelve and they had to use a Porta Potti for half the summer.”

“No kidding?” Curt said.

“So, can you tell me if they’re working,” the preppy girl said. “And if they’re not, when they might be?”

“How should I know?” he asked, trying to figure out what was up with her.

“Aren’t you”—she gave him a once-over, taking in his clothes—“like, a workman or . . . something?”

Now Curt understood. “No, I happen to be moving in here,” he answered indignantly.

The girl raised her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize . . . wait, you’re living here this summer?”

“Yeah, and your point is?” Curt replied. She was starting to annoy him.

“It’s just that, so am I,” she said, her brown eyes wide. “We’re roomies!”

“Well, hey, that’s just fabulous,” he said, with feigned excitement. Unlike the hot blonde, this one was nothing to get excited about.

“Yeah, hi!” she answered even more excitedly. “Listen, I’m Polly.” She offered her hand.

“And I’m Curt.” He shook it.

“Look, I’m really sorry about what I said before,” Polly gushed. “I just . . . well . . . the truth is, I have this way of putting my foot in my mouth.”

No kidding, Curt thought.

“I mean, I do it all the time,” Polly went on. “It’s really best not to pay any attention to me.”

Can’t say I was planning to, Curt thought.

“Just ignore me and I’ll go away,” Polly said. “Also, another thing is, when I get nervous, I talk too much, you know?”

“I’m kind of figuring that out,” Curt said. It was not unusual for girls to become nervous around him. And while this one definitely had the potential to be annoying, he couldn’t help enjoying the idea that he had the looks that provoked it.

“Well . . .” Polly bit her lip, “I guess I’ll go inside and see if the toilet’s working, you know? So, uh, see you around, roomie.”

He went past her and out to the street. Roomie? He was pretty certain no one had ever called him that before. Could he really spend an entire summer sharing a house with someone like that? She’d probably have them all singing “Kumbaya” around the campfire if she had her way.

He started for the band’s house, but found his thoughts drifting back to number 15 and that hot blond babe who’d brushed against him. The good news was that he’d probably be seeing plenty of her around the house. And that was something to look forward to.

Polly brushed off the encounter with the moody but great-looking guy. It bothered her when she got nervous and began to blather, but this was the first day of summer and she wasn’t about to let him or anyone else spoil it. She was frightened and excited the way someone feels just before they do something wonderful and unexpected, and scary. That’s what this whole summer was going to be. She had never lived away from home before. Even after her freshman year of college she’d still commuted from her parents’ house nearby. This summer that was going to change. She had made up her mind. She was going to do something on her own, and it was going to be wild and crazy. She entered the house. There were three doors off the living room, and the closest one to the stairs was a bathroom.

Polly went in and checked it out. The walls were painted white to match the tile. On the far wall there was a white shower curtain pulled across a combination shower-tub. Most importantly, the toilet flushed! Delighted that the plumbing worked, Polly was checking her hair and lipstick in the mirror when she heard voices. She came out to find a nerdy-looking guy with
thick black glasses coming down the stairs. He was dressed in a white V-necked T-shirt, and green plaid shorts, with black socks and shoes. Oh, please don’t be one of my roommates, Polly thought. All she wanted was one cute guy in the house. The tall, handsome guy had been too good-looking (a girl had to be realistic, she told herself), and this one seemed too far on the other end of the spectrum. What are the chances of meeting Mr. Perfect? Her summer plans involved a guy, but not just any guy; it had to be the right guy.

“Uh, hi.” The nerdy guy seemed puzzled to find her coming out of the bathroom.

“Hi, I’m Polly Prentice,” she introduced herself. “I’m renting a room here this summer?”

“Oh, yes,” the guy said. “I’ve been expecting you. I’m Fred, your landlord.”

“Oh, that’s . . . er . . . very nice,” Polly said, relieved that he wasn’t one of her new roommates.

“Let me show you your room,” Fred said. “It’s down here.”

Polly had one of the two downstairs bedrooms with entrances off the living room. The good news was that it was right next to the bathroom. She paused on the threshold of her room and took it in. It wasn’t huge but it wasn’t a cracker box either. The important thing was that it was all hers. There was a nice double bed with a white comforter and fluffy-looking pillows. A window looked out right onto the next street over. Not exactly ocean view, but, hey, at least the ocean was nearby.
She smiled. It was a perfect blank slate, and she was going to have a great time making it hers.

“So what do you think?” Fred asked behind her.

“Could I do a little decorating?” she asked. “Like maybe some shells from the beach? I could use the bigger ones to hold things like my jewelry and makeup. And stick the smaller shells around my mirror—”

“No glue on the walls!” Fred interrupted, sounding aghast.

“Oh, of course not,” Polly quickly agreed. “I’ll stick them with putty. By the way, was that a Wi-Fi router I saw by the cable box?”

Suddenly Fred brightened. “You bet. I just installed it,” he announced proudly.

“Great!” Polly gushed. “I brought my laptop. This is going to be so much fun!”

They smiled at each other. But then the silence became awkward. Polly had the oddest feeling. Fred might not have been the best-looking guy around, but they shared some sort of connection. “Uh-oh. I’m going to start babbling,” Polly warned him. “When I’m nervous, I tend to talk too much. Everything that’s inside comes tumbling out. Some people say I overshare, but I just think I communicate well.”

“Hey, I’m all ears,” Fred said eagerly. “Babble away.”

She glanced at Fred under her eyelashes and tried to make her next question sound casual. “So, how many guys will be living here this summer?”

“Three. And four girls, including you.”

“Are . . . you going to be living here?” she asked.

“No,” he said, then added, “but I’ll probably be around a lot. You know, fixing stuff.”

Polly quickly did the math. There were still two male roommates left. Always good to keep your options open, she thought as she went outside to retrieve her luggage from her car. A little while later, back in her room, she began to unpack, hanging up a few sundresses and putting everything else into drawers. She wondered for a moment what to do with her toiletries. Given that her bathroom was downstairs and liable to be used by everybody, she decided it was safer to leave her little bag in her room.

Satisfied, she left the room, hoping to meet some of her other roommates. A pretty girl with long brown hair was coming down the stairs. Polly admired the way the other girl’s hair just seemed to float about her when she moved, and wished that she could get her own red hair to do something as nice. “Hi! I’m Polly,” she said. “Are you one of the summer renters?”

“Yes.” The other girl smiled and offered her hand. “Avery,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

Polly was relieved by the other girl’s friendly warmth. “So have you met any of the others?”

“Well, sort of,” Avery answered. “Just first impressions, you know?”

“Oh, do I.” Polly dropped her voice conspiratorially. “I just
met this guy outside, dressed all in black. Good-looking, but kind of moody. And weird—I mean, who wears a long-sleeved black T-shirt at the beach?”

The girl named Avery smiled painfully. “That would be my boyfriend, Curt.”

Polly lost her breath. Oh, no! Foot in mouth again! “I am so sorry!” she gasped. “Sometimes I just don’t know what I’m saying. Like you said, first impressions, right? Of course I’m sure he’s a wonderful guy. And since you two just got here, he wouldn’t have had time to change into his beach clothes.”

“Actually those are his beach clothes,” Avery said, still smiling.

“All right, then just shoot me.” Polly felt a wave of humiliation wash through her.

To her relief, Avery laughed. “Believe me, you’re not the first person to notice that Curt is a little dark. He takes a while with strangers, but once you get to know him, he’ll lighten up. After all, we’re all just here to have fun, right?”

Polly smiled back. “Definitely. So you haven’t seen any of the other guys who will be living here, have you?”

“Not yet.”

“I hope they’re nice,” Polly confided. “And tall and strong and gorgeous. Of course, also sweet and gentlemanly.”

“So, uh, let me guess,” Avery teased good-naturedly, “you’d like to meet someone?”

Before Polly could answer, they were interrupted by
knocking on the front door. Polly went to open it. Outside was a good-looking, bare-chested guy with long, bleached-blond dreadlocks, a bright red surfboard under one arm, and a very large bong under the other.

“Hey.” He had an easy smile. “This the rental house?”

“Yes,” Polly said, staring incredulously at the bong.

“Looks pretty good.” The blond guy gazed over her head into the house.

“You’re . . . renting here too?” Polly asked.

“Sure am,” he said. “I’m Lucas Haubenstock.”

“Polly Prentice,” Polly replied, thinking, Two down, one to go. The prospects were dimming quickly. He might have been good-looking in a laid-back California kind of way, but the dreadlocks and bong were definitely not her thing.

“Think I could come in?” Lucas asked. “This stuff’s getting heavy.”

“Oh, sorry.” Polly moved out of the way. Lucas stepped in. As he did, the skeg of his surfboard bumped Polly, and she jumped back in surprise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to clip you,” he said.

“That’s okay” Polly said, giving him a closer look. He was wearing board shorts and Tevas. His bare chest was bronzed and thin, but muscular. She found herself starting to look where she shouldn’t have, then swallowed and forced herself to look away. On second thought, she might not be crazy about the hair and bong, but the rest of him wasn’t bad at all.

Once inside, Lucas put the board and bong down and looked around. Avery came out of the kitchen, and Polly introduced them.

“Nice house,” Lucas said. “Would either of you know where the owner is?”

“Right here.”

They turned to find Fred coming in carrying an armload of pillows. He dropped them on the couch and offered his hand to Lucas. “I’m Fred.”

“Lucas Haubenstock.”

“Right. From Princeton.” Fred glanced at the board and bong and frowned. Then he looked back at Lucas. “Isn’t there some economist up there with that name? I think I read his book in college.”

“People have asked me about that before,” Lucas said. “He might be some kind of distant relative or something.”

Polly listened to the exchange with interest. Not only was Lucas good-looking, but he seemed easygoing and nice and had an unusual aura of confidence that she found appealing. Like Avery said, you couldn’t always trust first impressions. Maybe Lucas was worth taking a second look at. She’d just have to see.