Chapter 14
I’d rather ride my old banana-seat cruiser with flat tires than bother my mom for a ride while my car gets fixed.
She didn’t seem to notice it wasn’t in the driveway.
And she also seemed oblivious to the fact that I haven’t been around in twenty-four hours.
The only thing she made sure to check off her list when she called me during her lunch today was that I, in fact, met with the dean and was filling out the application.
Rather than open the debate with her over the phone, I simply said “yes.”
I lied.
I should feel bad about that, but I don’t.
Cami has been a good sport. While I would have ridden my old bike, I didn’t have to because my best friend offered to chauffeur me to my new job, then to the lake for beer and unsafe fireworks with a few of our friends tonight.
She’s been sweating her ass off on the bleachers while I teach an unruly group of twelve-year-olds how to flip turn for the last hour.
“You should have brought a suit,” I holler to her from across the pool as she dips her feet in the water while sitting on one of the free towels they give away at the counter.
“Next time. How long did Rowan say it would take to get your wheels fixed?” She squints against the sun as I shrug.
“He didn’t. He said that Jersey would have to help him with part of it.” I don’t know Jersey as well. His real name is Tyler Gris, but he transferred to our high school from New Jersey when Miguel and Rowan were freshmen, and some nicknames have a way of sticking for life.
“Ugh, that’s not good,” Cami says, stretching her arms over her head with a yawn. She knows Jersey better than I do.
“Yeah?”
I squint one eye, the weight of having to piece together transportation for the next several days making my belly twist.
“He’s just not very punctual is all. He’s a genius, like legitimately. He can simply look at things and mentally take them apart and put them back together before he even touches a tool to anything. But he’s lazy.” Cami kicks her feet in the water, splashing.
“Why do the guys put up with him?” I ask.
Cami shrugs.
He’s rich. I think he floats a lot of things when they can’t pay the bills.
I nod as I drop my gaze to the ripples in the water. Rowan is from money too, but he refuses to tap those resources. I admire him for it. His principles.
The last few swimmers in my class are climbing out of the pool, so I hold up a hand to high-five them as they pass.
Even the simplest positive reinforcement goes a long way.
I remember being that age. I felt slow in the water until one day, when one of my coaches called me lightning. That’s all it took.
“Give me five minutes to clean up and change,” I say as my friend pulls her feet from the water.
“Finally!” She drags her feet along the deck, accentuating her pouting. I know she’s just being funny, but I feel guilty taking up her time. Even if she has nothing better to do.
I swap out my one-piece black suit for the floral bikini I brought for the lake.
I run my hair through the shower to get the stench of chlorine out, then twist it on top of my head with a clip.
I slip my white gauzy cover-up over my body and stuff everything else in my drawstring backpack, then skip out to Cami’s waiting car.
When we hit the highway that cuts north through the mountains, I lean forward and turn the music up, ready to clear my mind of the constant unanswered questions that have been plaguing me since Rowan dropped me off.
At the top of the rotation is finding a way to see my father next weekend if my car isn’t fixed yet.
And then there’s the man repairing it for me.
For free. Again. The debt feels heavy, but the gesture also sets off a strange ache in my chest.
I sit back in my seat and shut my eyes for a deep breath, but before my lungs have a chance to fill, Cami turns the music down to nearly zero. My eyes pop open a hair before her inquisition begins.
“Okay, girl. We’ve got an hour drive ahead of us. Spill it!”
“Ugh, I don’t know. There’s nothing to spill,” I groan. I needed to unpack this thing with Rowan with someone, and it had to be Cami. But she’s making me regret not simply stewing over things on my own more and more.
“Saylor, you spent the night in a hotel room with the finest man to ever come out of this damn state. There’s plenty to spill, so . . . go on.” She sweeps her hand at me, prodding me to open up, and my cheeks blush as the first memory to rush through my mind is of Rowan’s mouth on my breast.
“Oh, there’s more than I thought,” Cami laughs out, punching my shoulder in jest.
The coy smile pulls the corners of my mouth into my cheeks, a reaction beyond my control, and my body warms from both embarrassment and the memory of Rowan’s hands . . . everywhere.
“Okay, fine. Yes, things happened,” I admit.
“Things. Bitch, elaborate.”
A hard laugh flies from my chest, and I choke on it, coughing while my cheeks burn. Cami has no shame when it comes to sharing things about stuff like that. She made a video with her ex, Warren, that she keeps on her phone. I’ve seen it, well . . . parts of it. Begrudgingly.
“Cam, I love that you’re free and open, with absolutely zero hangups about your sexuality.
I think it’s a beautiful thing. That’s your feminism, and I applaud it.
But I’m a bit more modest. Can you respect that?
” I bunch my mouth up on one side and hold my stare on her, waiting until she glances my way and gives in with a roll of her eyes.
“Fine. I’ll back off. But tell me one thing.” She pushes up the sleeve of her thin, cropped sweatshirt and holds her fist up with her elbow bent.
“What am I supposed to do with that?” I think I know what she’s getting at, so I mentally prepare myself with an answer.
“You start at my fist, then draw that line down my forearm until it’s in the ballpark. I want a visual representation of what my girl is dealing with.”
“Cam,” I protest.
She shimmies her arm, though, urging me to play along, so I do. My finger draws a slow line down her wrist, inching toward her elbow as flashes of exactly how big Rowan is creep into my mind. I stop around the ten-inch mark and tap my friend’s skin.
“Fucking hell, Saylor. How’s your vagina holding up?”
I slap my palms over my face instantly and giggle.
“Oh. My. God!” I can feel my hot skin against my hands.
Cami is torturing me, but also, what an incredible thing to be teased about.
This is the fantasy. I’m sure we giggled over this very subject when we were freshmen.
And now here I am, possessing hard facts, so to speak, of exactly how big Rowan Anderson’s cock is.
“It was . . .a lot,” I finally admit, peeling away a few fingers and glancing at my friend. Our eyes meet as she laughs.
“I’ll bet!” She slaps the steering wheel, then wraps her hand around it to mimic me gripping Rowan, I suppose.
“It got easier, though. I mean . . . a lot easier.” I can’t believe I’m sharing this much.
“Oh, I see. Okay, okay. This thing is good for you, whatever is going on between you two. My girl is having an awakening,” she says.
Awakening. Hmmm. I suppose I am. I sink back with that thought, letting it settle over me while my skin tingles replaying our night together.
I like the woman I am with Rowan. I like her a lot.
She’s bold and a little wild. But there’s more to it than the sex, at least I think there is.
I don’t know if I would have had the guts to say my desires for my future out loud if it weren’t for Rowan’s gentle support.
He makes it feel safe to step out of line. To dream.
“Caleb texted me looking for him when we were together,” I share.
“Oh, that’s interesting. Kind of a nice bonus, I suppose . . . making that joke jealous.” Cami’s dislike for Caleb doubled when we broke up.
I waggle my head.
“Kind of. I mean, my spiteful side likes watching Caleb suffer. But I think Rowan likes it too. They’re not exactly close, and I wonder how much of what we’re doing is about him shoving it in his brother’s face, and how much of it is real.”
My friend doesn’t have an immediate response for this question, offering me nothing more than a crooked, wry smile and a heavy sigh.
I haven’t shared the details Rowan gave me with her about how Caleb sold him out.
That’s Rowan’s story to tell, when and if he wants.
I won’t betray his trust. But it’s that bond, the one beyond the physical appeal and the sweet revenge byproduct, that has me feeling so conflicted.
The party atmosphere is in full swing by the time Cami pulls into the lakeside dirt parking lot. Within minutes of arriving and rubbing our bodies down with sunscreen, I have a cold beer in my hand and an offer to take over a beach chair from some guy I barely knew in high school.
“I’m good. I think I’m going to take a dip first,” I say, fluttering my eyes at him for practice. I’m not exceptional at flirting, at least I don’t think I am. There’s no harm in practicing, especially if this thing with Rowan is temporary, which I’m starting to think it is.
I pull my coverup over my head and toss it on one of the towels Cami stole from the swim club. I take my friend’s hand as we tiptoe our way through the rough desert sand until our feet hit the cool water.
“How can it be so damn hot in this state yet this shit is still freezing-ass cold?” My friend inches her way deeper, stopping when her foot is covered up to her ankle.
“You’re never going to get in at that rate. You’ve gotta just go for it,” I say, pulling the clip from my hair and tossing it toward my towel on the shore. I rush into the water with my next breath, skimming across the water in a manic breaststroke as my breath is taken away from the instant chill.