Turtle Bay (6 page)

Holding out the bottle so Evan could twist off the top for me, I followed his lead as we sat on the edge of the pool, dangling our legs in the cool water that lapped at our knees.

"How was your thing last night?" Evan asked, scooting closer so our thighs were pressed against each other.

"What?" His movement momentarily distracted me as I glanced over at the others to see if they were watching us.

"Your date or whatever, last night. How was it?" he repeated nonchalantly. He was trying to act cool, though he was clearly digging.

I laughed, flattered that he assumed there was another guy in the picture. "Not a date. I had a job interview."

"A job, really?" He acted like he'd never heard the word before.

As if his house that looked like a small hotel wasn't evidence enough, the bewildered expression on Evan's face indicated that I might be out of my element with this group. Obviously, he had never held a job in his life. Was that really someone I could seriously consider dating? Not that I judged him. I just wondered how we could relate to each other. Back in Kansas, part-time jobs for kids our age were a given if you were lucky enough to have parents who allowed it. Considering there weren't that many part-time jobs to go around, you were envied if you had one. Having a job in a rural town meant freedom and independence.

"Yeah, at Tasty Freeze," I said, trying to interject enthusiasm into my voice.

"That's cool," he said, shrugging as he took a swig of his beer.

Neither of us commented on the matter further, which led to a stretch of awkward silence. I did the only thing I could think of, which was to slide into the pool, hoping the water might kick-start the conversation in a different direction.

"Sorry. I was hot," I said, observing Evan's questioning look when I came up for air.

"You were, huh?" He winked confidently as he slid into the water to join me.

Go figure
, I thought, rolling my eyes. Boys were all alike—hormonally driven. "I think you need to cool off too," I said, devilishly splashing water his way.

A sinister smile spread across his handsome face. He really was good looking. Even in the pool with his hair messed up and water dripping down his face, Evan was hotter than the average guy. I giggled, trying to dart away from his stalking advances.

A huge cascade of water hit me square in the face before he could reach me. "Water fight," one of the twins bellowed. I think it was Steve.

"You're dead," I said, flipping him off his raft before he could paddle away with his hands.

Steve's brother, Trevor, dove off his own raft and an all-out water fight ensued with lots of splashing and dunking. It was lighthearted and fun. Only when I was gasping for breath did I throw in the white flag and stagger toward the steps to leave the pool. Water dripped from my body, and I couldn't help noticing Evan and the twins eyeing me as I wrung the water from my hair with my hands. Maybe they thought they were flattering me, but it felt kind of creepy. I had a strong urge to wrap a towel around me as their stares not so subtly rested on my chest. Turning away from them, I looked to Farrah, Leslie, and Paris, who had removed their cucumbers sometime during our water fight.

Leslie eyed me critically as I stood near their lounge chairs, dripping water on the deck. "You guys just wake up?" I asked, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Girls had been judging me for years, so Leslie's attitude was nothing new.

"Cute," she said, setting her phone to the side.

I returned her look balefully. I wasn't looking to make any enemies, especially since I'd just arrived in Turtle Bay, but I also wouldn't bow down to the apparent queen. Just when I thought neither of us would budge, she looked away with disinterest, giving me a mild victory.

"Do you want to sit with us?" Farrah asked, smirking like my mild standoff with Leslie had amused her.

What I really wanted was to high-five someone or chest bump in celebration of my victory, but I settled for accepting Farrah's offer. "Sure," I answered.

"Are you coming tonight?" she asked brightly as Leslie and Paris began talking between themselves.

"I might swing by for a while," I answered. I liked Farrah. She was the most approachable and easygoing of the trio of girls.

"You should. Evan's parties are usually pretty legit. His parents aren't around, so we have the house to ourselves. My parents would rather have their fingers gnawed off by sharks before ever allowing me to throw a party," Farrah admitted wistfully. "How about you?"

I shrugged. Butch and Buttercup would probably be thrilled if I threw a party. I just wasn't sure how this crowd would fit in with them. It would be like trying to mix oil and water. "Our place is too small for a party," I answered honestly. "Plus, we don't have a pool."

"For some people, that hardly matters," she said, looking pointedly at Leslie and Paris, who were still ignoring us. "My parents love our pool though. It was a must-have when they bought the house. They're both writers who sit in front of their computers most of the day. They claim swimming and the ocean keep their creative juices flowing."

"Writers?" I asked, jumping on her statement. Writing was my passion. I had stacks of journals sitting in two boxes in the corner of my room. They were filled with short stories I had been working on all my life. Writing was my way to escape. When you read them in order, you would see how my interests changed during the years. Like my walk among the exotic animals of the jungle when I was nine. When I was ten my stories moved to the paranormal, where I became a superhero everyone looked up to. Puberty introduced stories about love and first kisses. Each story I penned contained elements from my innermost thoughts, almost like a diary. As much as I enjoyed writing, I had never reached the point where I felt comfortable letting anyone read my stories. Not even Buttercup and Butch. Thankfully, they had always been the types to respect my privacy. As far as they were concerned, whatever I was doodling or writing, at least I was being creative.

"Yeah, lame, right?" Farrah asked, looking over her shoulder to see if Paris and Leslie were listening.

"Why would it be lame?"

"Because it's not a real career," she said quietly, shooting another glance over her shoulder.

"Says who?" I asked. "I'd assume if they made money from it, it's a career." I didn't mention that my dream was to someday be able to support myself with my writing.

"That's what my dad says, but they write—well, adult novels. Some people think it's not reputable enough to be considered real literature."

"Yeah, her dad and mom write some freaky stuff," Trevor said, sitting on the foot of Farrah's lounge chair. "It's smoking hot," he added, whistling through his teeth.

"Gross, please tell me you haven't read their books," Farrah said, looking mortified as Paris and Leslie returned their attention to us.

"You're such a perv, Trevor. You know you don't need a book to get off. I'm sure Farrah would be more than willing to help you out in that area," Leslie added.

Farrah's face turned a deep shade of red. She looked at Leslie as if she had been betrayed. What a cow. Farrah must have had a thing for Trevor, and judging by the way her face now resembled a tomato, it was a secret.

"Read a lot of adult romance, do you?" I taunted Trevor, trying to take some of the attention off Farrah.

Evan snorted, sitting down next to me. "If it has pictures he does; otherwise, he can't make sense of what he's reading." He chuckled when Trevor flicked his towel at him.

"You wish, bitch. It's a good thing you're pretty 'cause your dumb ass is going to need it."

Steve and Trevor high-fived.

I shot a look at Farrah, glad to see that my comment had deflected the attention off her. The color in her cheeks was slowly returning to normal. The conversation after that flowed better with the guys trading insults and stories. Leslie and Paris spent the majority of the time on their phones, which suited me just fine. As the afternoon wore on I got to know them all a lot better. Steve and Trevor were total players, but it wasn't anything I wasn't used to. The more Farrah and I talked, the more I liked her. The jury was still out on Evan. At times he was cool to talk to, but his vanity had a way of obscuring that from view. Time would tell whether we would turn into something.

The afternoon ended when Paris and Leslie claimed they needed to go home to get ready for the party. Farrah and I left also since I wanted to take a quick shower to wash away the chlorine from the pool.

My shower turned into a marathon affair as I took the time to shave my legs with care before dipping my fingers into Buttercup's homemade hair conditioning cream. As I waited to rinse the concoction from my head, I sorted through the many thoughts floating through my mind. It felt good to have a job and some new friends. If Butch and Buttercup could stay off the town's radar, things might actually work out in Turtle Bay.

I left the bathroom surrounded by a billow of steam and made a pit stop in the kitchen to get a glass of iced tea before heading to my room. Player greeted me with a meow as he trotted toward me on his slightly bowed legs. Smoothing a hand down his back, I scooped him up and skirted around the supplies the plumber had left stacked in the middle of my floor. I was thrilled with the progress he was making on my bathroom. A toilet, still in the box, sat to the side of the small construction zone, but everything was nearly finished. Before long I would no longer need to trek into the main house every time I needed the bathroom, which was a plus.

Player batted around a small piece of PVC pipe that had been discarded while I got ready for Evan's party. Selecting an outfit was simple enough since my wardrobe was limited at best. Working at Tasty Freeze a couple days a week would help supplement that eventually.

Since my hair was the most time-consuming part about getting ready, I did that first. I had been blessed, or cursed depending on your point of view, with stick-straight hair. I didn't need to spend hours every night straight ironing like some girls, but if I wanted any kind of waves or body, I had to work at it.

Once my hair had as much life as I could coax into it, I pulled my dress off the clothing rod Butch had suspended from the rafters and eyed it critically. I had a sneaking suspicion this crowd was at a different level when it came to fashion than anyone back in Kansas, which was why I selected the simple white sundress. It had a timeless, vintage look.

After slipping on the dress, I glanced in the mirror, pleased with my appearance. Even with my limited resources, I felt I would pass any judgment tests.

"Well, what do you think?" I twirled around for Player who responded by flopping over and swiping at the strap of my sandal. I was beginning to think he was a bit self-centered.

Leaving my rambunctious kitten behind, I headed out for Evan's party an hour after it started, figuring fashionably late would be better than arriving early. Butch and Buttercup sat on the front porch, sharing a jug of their homemade wine.

"Do you want to take a jug with you?" Butch asked.

Coming from any other teenager's parents, this question would have been a test or joke, but from Butch, the question was genuine. The thought of showing up with a jug of our family wine concoction didn't seem like the cool thing to do. "That's okay. I'm sure they'll have enough liquor to float a small boat."

"Just be smart. Don't drink anything that you didn't see being poured with your own eyes," Buttercup advised.

"Sound advice. Trust me, I know," Butch agreed. Clearly, he had personal experience in that category. "And don't set your drink down," he added for good measure.

"Got it," I said, waving to them as I made my way down the short path toward the busier street that separated our houses from the ones that sat directly on the beach. I could still hear Butch bellowing out advice as I waited for a break in traffic that would allow me to cross the road. Evan's party was in full gear by the time I circled around to the backside of his house. A sudden case of nerves stalled my steps as I took in the crowded deck. Not knowing the proper protocol or party etiquette, I debated if I should circle back around and ring the doorbell.

"Hey, Rain," Farrah called out, peering down at me over the railing. I could tell by the way she was slightly swaying she was already well on her way to enjoying the party too much.

"Hey," I answered.

"Come up and dance with me. Paris and Leslie are too busy texting to enjoy the party," she slurred before turning back to the party when someone behind her called her name.

"
Going to the party?" a soft voice asked from the darkness, making me jump. It took less than a half a second to realize it was Turtle Boy.

"Stalk much?" I asked, placing a hand on my heart. The sudden rapid beating had as much to do with seeing him again as it did with being startled. "What do you do, work twenty-four seven?"

"Just passing by to make sure you and your friends don't use the beach as your own personal trash can."

"Just because we like to have fun doesn't mean we're all asshats who litter," I countered. "Are you always such a dick, or is that just for my benefit?"

Even in the dark I could see his eyes narrow. He didn't answer right away, and I was beginning to think he really was a tool. He surprised me by shooting me a rueful smile a moment later.