CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Kaia
The school bus rolled past a row of mansions with manicured hedges and paused at the red light.
“It’s not just the school. All of Oakwood Springs seems exclusive,” I said.
Alba chuckled. “Something like that. But the town’s cute, and the shops are fun.”
“Hope we can see them.”
Not all students stayed for Willowbrook’s summer SAT prep, but the school had organized five-day trips for those who did. Today’s excursion to Oakwood Springs was the first.
“Do you need anything?” Alba asked. “I need more pink yarn, but I don’t think they sell it here. I’ll have Dad bring more.”
“I need clothes.” I glanced at the cafes and stores with colorful awnings lining the cobbled street. “Asher and I are spending the weekend together soon. I want something special.”
As in lingerie for my first time. After the beach night two days ago, I hadn’t stopped thinking about him and what we’d do when he picked me up in two weeks.
“I’m sure we’ll have time to hit a few places.” Excited voices filled the bus as we slowed beside a coffee shop with pink tables scattered on the terrace. “Fan favorite?” I asked Alba.
She smiled with one corner of her mouth. “Instagram favorite. But the coffee’s great.”
The no-phone rule only applied on school grounds, thankfully. I didn’t plan to take a million pictures, but I wanted to send one to Asher—he’d won Sunday’s race and sent me a photo with the trophy Alejandro took.
Off the bus, Teagan joined Alba and me. Her two best friends had gone home for the summer, but she’d stayed.
Her dislike of Alba had conveniently dissipated now that she had no one else to hang with.
The three of us settled for lattes on the sun-soaked terrace, watched from afar by Sarah and our tutor, Rose.
The sun was merciless at ten a.m. I twisted my hair into a low bun and secured it.
“What’s on your neck?” Teagan narrowed her eyes.
Shit. I’d forgotten the mark Asher had left. No longer hidden by my hair, it was obvious. His mark showed too, but I doubted anyone would give him the judging look Teagan gave me. She hadn’t tattled—yet—but she might. I needed to be careful.
I shrugged. “Nothing.”
Teagan spooned foam into her latte. “You had it after sneaking out on Saturday.”
“Yeah.” Alba deadpanned. “It’d be hard to get at school unless someone volunteered.”
I snorted into my drink.
“I’d never let anyone do that to me,” Teagan said. “That’s disrespectful.”
Alba pushed her coffee aside. “Not if it’s consensual.”
I winked. “Oh, it was. I left one on him too. All good.” I’d enjoyed every second.
Teagan scrunched up her face. “Weird.”
“Nobody’s forcing you to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” I said, irritation coiling under my skin. “But don’t offer judgment unless someone asks for it.”
Teagan had just turned seventeen—a year younger than me, technically nothing, but with her it felt like a gulf. She leaned on her parents and soaked up teachers’ attention. None of that was bad; it was the judging that ate at me. I got enough of that from my father and hated it with every atom.
“I’m just saying, if my grades were at risk, I wouldn’t waste time sneaking around with a guy. Our parents sent us to Willowbrook to focus on our studies.”
“Yours might have. My father just likes fucking his girlfriend when I’m not around.”
Teagan’s eyes went wide. I swallowed a mouthful of coffee; the sip rattled.
Alba rose as if unfazed. “I’ll ask Sarah if we can see the store across the street. We can go while everyone’s here.” She skirted the table and left.
“I’m sorry,” Teagan said, lowering her voice. “I just think holding on to that resentment isn’t healthy. Maybe you should forgive your dad. I’m sure he has your best interests at heart. You don’t need to sneak out to make him notice you. Just tell him how you feel.”
I’d told him how I felt for years; he’d never made time to listen. I wasn’t sneaking out to punish him—I was sneaking out to be with the guy I loved.
“We can go once you finish your coffee,” Alba called from the doorway.
I drained the mug and stood. “Want to come, Teagan?” Although she pissed me off, I didn’t want her to feel excluded.
She shook her head. “I’m calling my friend from home while we’ve got our phones.”
“Cool,” Alba said. “Let’s go, Kaia.”
Outside, a good chunk of the irritation slid off me once we left Teagan’s earshot.
“Don’t let her words get to you,” Alba said, waiting for the light to cross the street. “She doesn’t know your story or your relationship. People hand out opinions when no one asked for them.”
I forced a smile. “Thanks. I wonder what she’d say if she knew Asher’s mother and my father are dating.”
“She’d probably say she’d never do that. Then she’d say the same about anything fun. It’s your life—fuck what everyone else thinks.”
Her lack of judgment steadied me. After the coffee shop scene, that felt like a small lifeline.
In the store, my mood snapped back. I ran my fingers through racks, feeling fabric, looking. A pink strapless top caught my eye. I held it to my chest, weighing it.
“It’ll look great with jeans,” Alba said. “Get it.”
Money was tight now that I didn’t have a job. But I liked buying things for myself instead of asking Dad. I grabbed the top and wandered to the lingerie wall. A pale-pink set winked at me from the shelf—thong and sheer lace bra, my size. I took it and held it to my chest.
“Lucky boyfriend,” Alba said, waggling her brows.
A girl stepped from a changing cubicle. I nodded at the empty stall. “I’m going to try it on, and I’ll need a favor.”
Alba studied me. “Sure. What?”
“You’ll take a picture when I call.” I handed her my phone. “It’s for Asher.”
I slipped into the changing room, heart pounding, shed my uniform shirt and bra, and pulled the new bra on.
“Ready.” I opened the curtain just enough for Alba to slip inside. She pulled it closed behind her, raised the camera, and asked, “How much do you want him to see?”
“Enough to get him more excited for the weekend.” After a beat, I added, “But not so excited he’d crash in training today.”
***
I sat on the windowsill in the yoga room, holding my breath as my phone lit up. It had been off all day; now I’d finally see Asher’s reaction to Alba’s pics. The call hit my ear almost at once.
“If you wanted to kill me, peque, mission almost accomplished.” His voice warmed my chest.
“You liked it?”
“Loved it.” He lowered his voice. “But I have two questions.”
“Go on.”
“First: who the hell took those photos?”
“Who do you think?” I tried to sound innocent. “A random guy at the store.”
He exhaled. “Okay. I’ll pretend you’re joking.”
“Good. You’ll sleep better not knowing. What’s the second?”
He chuckled, tired. “Do you know what I was supposed to be doing on track today?”
“Getting ready to win on Saturday?”
“Dawson would say so. Instead I fucked up every lap—my timing in the corners was off. Dawson actually said, ‘Son, are you sure you picked the right sport?’”
I giggled. “He wouldn’t.”
“He did. I had to smile and shrug because the only thing I saw while riding was my girlfriend’s ass under that skirt I love, and her breasts in a bra that covers nothing. I got hard in the middle of the lap, imagining what I’ll do to you in twelve days.”
“But who’s counting?”
“Me. Please tell me there weren’t any guys there.”
“Where’s this jealousy from? The racer every girl would drop her panties for is insecure?”
“Yours are the only ones I want dropped. Though I’d rather take them off myself. With my teeth.”
“Can’t wait,” I whispered, gripping the phone.
“Same, peque.”
“And no—no guys. Just Alba.”
He blew out a relieved breath. “Good. Now I can sleep.”
“Or look at the pictures again. At least you’ve got something to stare at.”
His warm chuckle traveled down the line. “You will too. Give me a sec.”
“Okay.”
We hung up.
A minute later, a text popped up. He’d sent a photo: him in his en suite, towel hanging so low it looked like it might slip an inch and show everything.
His muscles looked even more carved in the mirror’s fog; wet hair fell over his forehead, and he was smiling.
Written on the glass in a finger smear were the words Te amo.
Our weekend couldn’t come soon enough.