Chapter 11
Eleven
Emmett and Kalani find me as soon as I get out of the pool.
“Carina!” Kalani stops in front of me to take me in. Emmett hands me my purse, and I’m so glad he was holding it or else it would’ve ended up at the bottom of the pool. They both scan me, and Kalani jostles Emmett with the back of her hand. “Emmett! Give Carina your shirt!”
“Oh, right!” He unbuttons his shirt, but I stop him.
“It’s all right, Emmett. I might end up back in the pool.” My hair, makeup, and dress are already destroyed. No reason to ruin his shirt too. “Have you seen Emi or Daphne?”
Kalani shakes her head. “We should definitely find them before Emi ends up in the pool with her phone and keys and gets locked out of her house again, then we’re the ones stuck driving her around all night. Let’s go, Emmett.”
She grabs Emmett’s hand without waiting to see if he objects to leaving and pulls him through the crowd of people to find Emi.
“What do you see in him?” Jay’s voice from behind me makes me jump. “The guy didn’t even offer you a napkin. He stood there, totally useless.”
I frown at Jay. He does have a point. I’ve never seen Emmett so unsure of what to do.
“Carina!” Ralph emerges from somewhere and joins us.
His hideously patterned shirt somehow looks less hideous with food stains on it, if that’s possible.
But then I feel terrible because I realize this is his backyard that we’ve covered in spoiled food, his pool that has chunks floating around in it, his food table we’ve ruined.
“Ralph! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Sorry?” he interrupts, breaking into a huge grin. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. This is awesome! People will be talking about it forever. It’s going to go down as the party of the year! I came here to thank you.” He squishes me to him in a hug, and I laugh as I pat his back.
“Um, you’re welcome? But it was technically Jay—”
He cuts me off, releasing me from his hold. “Hey, Zach! I bet I can chug at least three of . . .” His voice drifts away as he strides over to his friend.
“He seemed sober enough to mean that, right?” I ask Jay, who nods his head.
“He meant it.”
The breeze picks up, and even though it wasn’t particularly cold before, now that I’m soaking wet, I shiver. Jay’s eyes track my movement as I wrap my arms around myself for warmth, and a muscle in his jaw pops.
“Come on,” he says, turning and walking through the crowd toward the house.
I stand there, watching him part the crowd with his broad shoulders, making good progress even as he says hello to the occasional person.
He gets past the makeshift dance floor and to the sliding door before he turns to look at me.
He knew I wasn’t following, and he sends me a look that says, What are you waiting for?
Am I really going to spend more time with Jay? I glance around the backyard as if I’m waiting for a better option to present itself, but then I realize I kind of want to see what Jay has in mind. Before I can overthink it, I start through the crowd and meet him by the door.
“Where are we going?” I yell over the music as he leads me into the house.
It’s way more crowded in here than when we first arrived.
People are packed shoulder to shoulder, and the air is thick with noise and heat.
If Jay wasn’t so tall, I would lose sight of him in the crowd immediately.
Still, that doesn’t stop me from falling behind even though I’m trying my best to stick close.
I get stuck behind four guys in a playful shoving match, and before I can squeeze my way around, Jay doubles back. Without a word, he grabs my hand and pulls me through the group.
He leads me through the kitchen and into the hallway, and it’s so much easier now that I only have to trail behind him since he’s so big and his grasp on my hand is so firm and—
Oh my god. I’m holding Jay’s hand. We’re holding hands!
The thought hits me like the pie I took to the face or the splash of cold water when he pushed me into the pool.
We’re walking through a party while holding hands.
And sure, it’s just to help me keep up with him, but it doesn’t stop me from thinking about how big and warm his hand is, how confidently and possessively he holds me, how much I like the way his fingers intertwine with my own.
Get a grip, Carina!
“Where are we going?” I ask again now that the music isn’t as loud, trying to distract myself from the fact that my body doesn’t seem to hate being this close to him.
Jay spares me a backward glance but keeps walking as he says, “Ralph’s got spare towels in the bathroom.”
He stops at a door in the hallway, trying to turn the handle but finding it locked.
He drops my hand to knock on the door, and I immediately wrap my arms around myself even though I’m no longer cold.
I press my arms harder against my chest, like I can stop my heart from beating as hard and loud as it is at his statement.
“We’re in here!” a girl’s voice calls from behind the door, and a few other girls chime in that they’re dealing with an emergency and to give them a few minutes.
Jay crosses his arms and leans his shoulder on the wall, facing me. “They’ll probably be a while. Ralph might have a change of clothes for you if you want.”
I push my wet hair off my shoulder and lean against the wall with him, trying to stay out of people’s way as they move through the hallway. “It’s all right, we can wait.”
Jay knew I was cold and soaking wet, so he brought us here to get me a towel.
He watches me carefully, like he’s deciding if I mean it or not, and I pray my face doesn’t betray my internal freak-out over this weird change in our relationship.
From him hating me and calling me a Preston Whitmore to saving me from being humiliated and getting me a towel because I’m cold.
And he’s not even drunk! He’s completely, one hundred percent sober, and so am I, so there’s no alcohol to blame for this disorienting turn of events.
There’s an intensity in the air and something in the way he’s looking at me that makes my stomach flip with too many emotions, so I change the subject by asking, “How did you have such great aim with that potato salad? You didn’t even get a single splatter on Emmett, and he was standing right beside me. ”
“I grew up throwing the ball around with my friends and even made the baseball team in ninth grade. I’ve got a good arm.”
“Were you the pitcher?”
“No, I played center field. The position demands a lot of running, and I was already conditioned from soccer.”
It makes sense he plays soccer, since he is coaching his sister’s team. And he looks athletic enough, especially right now with the way his biceps bulge as they’re pressed against his chest.
“Kalani convinced me to try out for volleyball in eighth grade, and it only took the first day, when I left covered in bruises, to realize sports aren’t really for me. I’ll stay in the art room where there aren’t projectiles flying toward my face at record speeds.”
He laughs at that. It’s a nice sound. “Well, it’s been a while since I played, so I’m glad my aim is still on point.”
“You didn’t play throughout high school?”
“Only soccer. I had to drop baseball in tenth grade because it ran at the same time as debate club.”
I study him, looking at him in a new light. “Math awards, debate team, quick problem-solving skills by starting that food fight out there.” I give him a smile like I’ve got him all figured out. “You act like a huge jerk so people don’t find out what a big softie you really are.”
He rolls his eyes, but his lips quirk up. “That doesn’t mean I’m a big softie. It means I’m smart.”
“What about the fact that you saved me from public humiliation? You hate me, you could’ve let me suffer.”
“Hate is a strong word.”
“I annoy you.”
He pauses, turning thoughtful as he considers his words. When he looks at me again, his voice is low, serious. “You sure do. You’re not just annoying, you’re annoyingly unforgettable. Which is so much worse.”
Something changes in the air between us, and I’m struck by how hot Jay is, how magnetic his energy is, how my pulse speeds up every time he looks at me.
I don’t know what’s happening or why I suddenly feel like I want to step closer to him, but my voice comes out in a breathy whisper when I ask, “Then why not let me suffer?”
His gaze turns heated as it lingers on my face. “Apparently, I’ve got a thing for pretty girls who annoy the hell out of me and still manage to live rent-free in my head.”
My heart stops for a whole three seconds as I process his words, and he apparently doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence either.
We gaze at each other, somehow suddenly only a foot apart, with the space between us closing inch by precious inch as we’re drawn toward each other like magnets.
He uncrosses his arms and reaches out as if to put his hand on my hip when the door to the bathroom bangs open behind him.
We jump apart, released from whatever spell has taken hold of us, and Jay turns to the bathroom. Five girls come out, each of them sporting fresh French braids and gushing about how good the style looks on them.
Jay clears his throat and doesn’t wait for me before entering the bathroom. I shake my head to clear it.
Get. It. Together. Carina!
When I enter the bathroom, Jay is pulling two fluffy pool towels from a white cabinet.
He hands me a colorful red and purple one with hues so different it almost hurts my eyes; his is neon blue and orange with competing undertones that make it way too bright.
I laugh to myself as I wrap it around my shoulders, because there’s no mistaking who these towels belong to.