Waking Up to Boys (4 page)

“Thank you all so much for coming to the first
ever
Glitterlake Resort Plant and Tree Identification Walk!” she said enthusiastically. “I’m so glad you could make it. Now, I hope you all wore comfortable shoes and brought water, because…”

Sara launched into a laundry list of safety precautions, and Chelsea wandered over to join her parents at the back of the crowd. They beamed at Sara with what Chelsea could have sworn was even more pride than when she had won her first wakeboarding trophy at the Tahoe Junior Invitational.

“How’s it going, Champ?” Chelsea’s dad asked, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Teaching going okay?”

“Oh yeah. It’s just great!” Chelsea said, plastering a somewhat fake smile on her face. For once, she couldn’t say anything to him—not about the party or Sebastian and certainly not about how badly she was doing with the McCullough boys.

“Good. I knew you’d be great. There’s nothing you can’t do if you set your mind to it, Chels.” Chelsea looked up and saw the proud look on her dad’s face and felt like she would burst into tears.

“Sara seems to be doing well so far,” Chelsea began, trying to change the subject.

“I know! Isn’t this exciting?” Her mom grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly as Sara informed everyone that they were all standing under a giant ponderosa pine. “I had no idea these walks would be so popular.”

“We should have thought of doing them years ago,” her dad agreed. “I don’t know why we didn’t.”

Up front, Sara motioned for everyone to follow her, and the group snaked slowly along the path. The cadre of boys up front jostled one another to get closer to Sara as the few kids who had tagged along rushed around their legs to exclaim over the jack-in-the-pulpit Sara was pointing out.

“She is an absolute natural,” Chelsea’s mom said proudly. “And she just looks lovely in that blouse.”

Chelsea tugged at her ratty old tee and wondered if her mom was ashamed of the way she dressed. It hadn’t really occurred to her before, but maybe her mom wished she would wear prettier things—stuff like Sara’s. Chelsea hung back, trying to think of how to bring this up with her mom without making it into a big deal.

But her mom was already rushing ahead to look at
some purple blossoms that Sara had discovered by the side of the path. Chelsea wondered if she should just turn around and go home. But at that very moment, Todd hung back and tried to strike up a conversation.

“Hey, Chels. What’s up?” He sauntered up to her with his thumbs hooked casually in the belt loops of his cargo shorts. He flashed his adorable lopsided smile, and Chelsea’s heart began thrumming like the motor in an idling boat. She’d managed to avoid him pretty well since the island party and had thought she was making progress on the whole getting-over-it thing.

“Not much,” she whispered—because she didn’t want to interrupt Sara’s plant talk, of course, and
not
because standing this close to Todd made her lose her voice. Definitely not.

“Your sister sure knows her stuff, huh?” Todd said. “Pretty impressive.”

Chelsea’s cheeks went hot and her palms started to sweat at the same time. She was so sick of hearing about how great Sara was that she could have screamed. It wasn’t like plant walks were a competitive sport or anything—nobody had ever won a medal giving tours. It wasn’t even high-risk. The way Chelsea saw it, they were just a random pastime…and one of Sara’s many ways to look cute and be on display. “Yeah, you just try getting her on a wakeboard and see how she does then.”

“Good idea,” Todd said, grinning. “I just might do
that.” And he wandered back into the crowd, leaving Chelsea to fume by herself in the rear of the group.

The thought of Sara trying to learn wakeboarding made her skin crawl. But the thought of her learning from Todd was even worse. Wakeboarding was the one thing that Chelsea had left, the one area where she would always be better than Sara. She fervently hoped that Todd wasn’t serious—if so, it was almost like he was doing it just to hurt her. Chelsea might have been a strong, kick-ass chick on a wakeboard, but that obviously didn’t extend to matters of the heart.

W
hat’s so great about Sara anyway?
Chelsea asked herself as she trudged along the path home. So she knew a lot about plants—Eugene Fitzgibbon from Chelsea’s freshman biology class had known a lot about invertebrates, and it wasn’t like the whole world went falling all over the place over
him
. Usually knowing a lot about something dorky like plants was a good way to get people to make fun of you, not act like you were the coolest thing to happen to Glitterlake Resort since Todd showed up to start the water sports program.
Todd
. Chelsea sighed.

Deep down Chelsea knew that the way people reacted to Sara had
nothing
to do with her expertise in local flora. People liked Sara because she was nice, and
laughed a lot, and always had fun. But mostly, people (especially guys) liked Sara because she was pretty, and well-dressed, and acted like…well, like a girl.

Chelsea unlocked the door to her house and climbed the stairs to her room. Nobody ever came right out and said that being good at all that girly stuff was what made guys really like you, but that was obviously the way it was. Between her experience with the girly girls at school and now her sister, Chelsea felt like she stuck out like an overgrown third-grader.

She plopped down on the end of her bed. It was probably only a matter of time before Sebastian, too, would see that she was a sporty, competitive, too-tall tomboy and lose all interest. What did he see in her anyway?

After tossing and turning and generally wallowing in frustration for about as long as she could take it, Chelsea decided to go wakeboarding after all. She knew it would make her feel better to get in a solid hour before dinner.

But as she passed Sara’s room, she saw the stained shirt that Sara had discarded on the floor before the plant walk through the open door. And beyond that Chelsea could see her closet, with the doors wide open showing beautiful, feminine summer clothes made out of silk and linen and soft brushed Egyptian cotton. Chelsea couldn’t even imagine the expense that had gone into amassing that wardrobe, let alone the hours
and hours of shopping and trying on clothes that must have accompanied it. Most of her own clothing came from stores and Web sites that also sold things like carabineers, tennis rackets, and surf wax.

So she couldn’t quite understand why she was suddenly entering Sara’s room, gliding over to the closet, and running her hands along the rows of skirts, blouses, and sundresses. Or why her hand lingered on a flimsy silk shirt the exact color of the lake first thing in the morning, rubbing the tissue-papery sleeve between her fingers. Or why she took the blouse off the hanger and held it up against herself, the fabric cool and light against her bare arms.

Chelsea was usually fairly aware of her motivations for doing things, but she couldn’t quite explain what drew her to slip the shirt on over her lime green Roxy tank top with the built-in bra—or why, when she saw the way she looked in the mirror, all she could do was stand there staring at the way it seemed to soften her features and bring out the blue in her eyes.

The thud of footsteps coming up the stairs jolted Chelsea out of her trance. She quickly stashed the top back in the closet and practically leapt out of the room. Sara was coming down the hall.

“Did you need something?” Sara asked her.

“No, thanks, I’m good,” Chelsea stuttered. Then she pushed past Sara, down the stairs, and out the door. She
ran along the paths connecting the buildings, her breath settling into a regular rhythm. Her Pumas crunched against the gravel, and beads of sweat started to pop out on her forehead. What had she been thinking, snooping around like that? Since when did Chelsea care about clothes? She felt stupid and clueless, like she just wasn’t herself anymore.

Chelsea ran past several honeymooning couples and a few families straggling back up from the resort’s private beach, dragging towels, half-empty sodas, and industrial-sized bottles of sunscreen. She even passed the McCullough family and ignored Matt completely when he yelled after her, “Where ya goin’, Chels? To meet your
boyfriend
?”

Where am I going?
That was a good question. And then she realized she was running down to the lake. For her, the lake had magical healing properties. Whenever she was on the water, her troubles fell away and she could finally be at peace.

As she reached the dock, she slowed down to a jog, wondering if she should take out one of the boats and give herself some real peace and quiet. That’s when she saw Todd, tying off a boat as he said good-bye to a middle-aged guy whose wetsuit stretched thin around his sizable paunch. The man was thanking him for a great lesson. “You’re a real slave driver and you’re harsh, man, but you’re the best coach I ever had,” the man was
saying, standing so close to Todd that his hair dripped onto Todd’s Chaco sandals. “You sure know how to whip a guy into shape. Think you got time for another lesson tomorrow?”

“Maybe. You can check with the front desk for my schedule,” Todd said, shooting the man his twenty-million-dollar grin as he shook his hand. The guy walked off to the locker room, briefly smiling at Chelsea as he passed. Looking after him, Todd noticed Chelsea and waved. She wondered if she should have turned around, but it was too late now.

“Hey, want to take the boat out?” Todd asked. “I’m dying to ride. And it looks like you are, too.” He always seemed to read her mind, though she could never read his.

Chelsea was annoyed that her emotion showed so obviously on her face, but the thought was beyond tempting. Landing the whirlybird 540 she’d been working on for the past week would make up for all the weird things that had happened that day, and Chelsea was aching to give it another shot. Even if it meant being around Todd.

“Definitely,” she said, heading toward the locker room on the side of the boathouse where the staff kept their gear. “Just let me change.”

Chelsea slipped into her wetsuit in the comforting dankness of the locker room and started to feel better.
The embarrassing incident with Sara still lingered in the back of her mind: She really hadn’t meant to sneak into Sara’s room—it felt strange. But all of that was now eclipsed with the delicious, tingling anticipation of a long late-afternoon ride on the lake with Todd.

His sexy lopsided grin met her as she emerged from the boathouse, and Chelsea was floored. Was it possible that his biceps had gotten even more defined in the week since he’d arrived at the resort? His hair was certainly lighter and his tan darker from being out on the water all day. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, and she hurried to toss her board in beside him and untie the rope that tethered the boat to the shore.

“So, Chels.” Todd maneuvered the boat into the open water, his hand loose on the throttle.

“So, Todd,” Chelsea mimicked flirtatiously, feelings rising and falling in her chest. Being with him felt so right and natural, and at the same time very awkward and wrong.

“Do you really think Sara would be into learning how to wakeboard?” he continued.

The beginnings of Chelsea’s buoyant mood deflated. “How would I know?” she snapped.

Todd shot her a quizzical look from under his thick eyebrows. “I dunno—maybe because she’s your sister?”

“Half,” Chelsea corrected.

But Todd just shrugged. “Wow, you’re testy,” he observed. “Get out of the boat and into the lake before you bite my head off.”

He was right. The only thing that could make her happy at this point was landing that damn jump. Chelsea grabbed her board, slid her goggles on over her eyes, and leapt off the back of the boat, letting the towrope go taut in her hands as she stood on the board.

The nothing-else-matters feeling washed over her the moment the delicious flying sensation kicked in, and she laughed into the wind.
Oh yeah. Wakeboarding is good
. No matter what else happened, she would always have this.

She warmed up with a few simple handle passes in and out of the wake and built up to a couple of 180-degree jumps and spins that had her body buzzing and her brain focused 100 percent. She realized she would work things out with Sara somehow. And Sebastian, too. He was a good guy.

Chelsea flung herself into a 360-degree flat-line spin, rotating her body over the rope and landing on her feet, laughing into a face full of foamy spray.

She thought she could see Todd raise his eyes in surprise in the rearview mirror, but she couldn’t be sure from eighty feet away. Well, if he thought that was impressive, she would show
him
. She took a huge, clarifying breath as she built up her momentum. Chelsea
navigated way outside the wake and then gathered speed coming back in. She bent her knees deeply and launched her body high into the air. She rotated for half a turn, then a full one and then,
for the first time ever
, she completed another half turn before the lake rushed up toward her. She made a quick save and planted her feet.
Yes!
She landed triumphantly in the calm center of the wake and did a quick 180 handle pass so that she was facing the boat again. This time there was no mistaking Todd’s look of awed reverence in the mirror…even from the full eighty feet away. Chelsea pumped her left fist above her head, yelling, “Hell, yeah!” in her best I-rock-the-world battle cry. Then, exhausted but elated, she maneuvered her way up the towrope.

“I can’t believe you landed that jump!” Todd said excitedly when she climbed back into the boat wet and triumphant.

“Why?” Chelsea grinned as she squeezed out her ponytail. “Didn’t think I had it in me?”

Todd sapphire eyes flickered. Was that doubt, envy, or something else entirely? As familiar as Chelsea was with how his body moved, with all those summers spent together on the lake, she could never seem to read his mind. But she wasn’t going to let it get her down: not after landing that whirlybird 540!

“Eh, you’re just having a good run.” Todd zipped up his wetsuit and got ready to go out on the water.

“Whatever,” she laughed. “Let’s see what you can do,” she said, reaching out to tousle his hair—without even thinking about it. His hair was surprisingly soft and fine between her fingers.

“Well, your handle pass at the end was a little sloppy,” Todd said sulkily.

“Let’s see if you can top it then, champ.” Chelsea reached over and tousled his hair one more time. Just because it felt too good not to.