Chapter 16
KATIE
“This is the life.” Sienna wriggles her toes on the cushion. We’re laid out like sardines on the stern of the boat, baking in the mid-morning sun.
“Totally.” Emory sighs.
“It’s about to be your life,” I remind her. “Are you excited?”
She covers her face with her hands. “Is it lame that I don’t even care about the sailing? I’m just excited to be with Aiden.”
“Not lame,” Sienna says softly. “I love it.” She lays her head on Emory’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you.”
“I’m jealous of me,” Emory says with a little laugh. “How is this real?”
I squeeze her arm and then flip onto my stomach. I know exactly how Emory feels. Crownhaven isn’t real life. It’s an oasis in the madness of the world. I adjust my bikini bottoms and sigh happily. I love it here.
Sienna took us out on the forty-foot speedboat today, yelling “yeehaw” and pumping her fist in the air as she gunned it over the waves.
Now we’re anchored in an inlet near one of the islands in the bay.
She’s on her stomach, picking at a platter of grapes and cheese while she thumbs through a magazine.
Her hair is pink today, like the inside of a shell or a soft sunset, and her bathing suit is classic Sienna—tiny, expensive, and alarmingly bright.
Emory is tanning topless because she says it’s very important to get a base tan before her sailing journey.
The entire world is just blue sky, gulls crying, and hot sun.
“So how many guys did you pick up last night?” Sienna asks idly.
Emory snorts a laugh and cracks a lid to look at me. “Yeah, Katie, was it a threesome or a foursome?”
I poke my friend in the arm. “Knock it off, you two.”
“Come on,” Sienna moans. “I need to live through you. All I do is study.”
“It was nice,” I say, thinking back to the guy I gave my number to. Cary, his name was, which I liked because it sounded old-fashioned and romantic, and he had the manners and smile to go along with it. “I didn’t really feel a spark with the guy I met, but we did dance.”
“That’s a start,” Sienna crows excitedly. “Do you have pictures? Do you like him?”
Emory laughs into her towel.
“I don’t know,” I exclaim. “It felt good. I guess?” Better when I danced with Tristan, though. “Can I ask you guys something?”
“Shoot,” Emory says from where her face is smashed into her towel.
“Tristan said something last night.” I worry my lip briefly before continuing. “He said feeling sexy is the first step to having good sex. Do you agree with that?”
Sienna sits up slowly, magazine forgotten.
“Yes,” she says. “That’s not how I’d put it, but broadly, yes.”
“It definitely helps,” Emory chimes in. “Feeling sexy means you feel deserving in my mind.” She turns her head to look at me. “You know all those stupid magazines that talk about ways to give him pleasure?”
I nod, having seen countless magazines like that on drugstore shelves when I was younger and hiding them under my bed so David wouldn’t see.
“Those magazines have it all wrong. It should be mutual. And frankly, given how much crap like that we’ve been forced to ingest and how much bad sex we’ve all had, we should all be a little more selfish.
Feeling sexy means you’re way more likely to ask for what you want, and it means you’re less likely to settle. ”
“Amen.” Sienna is nodding.
The pit in my stomach says I’ve been settling. That maybe I haven’t felt like I deserved to reach for more. Reaching for more might mean being bold enough to upset people.
I swallow and look out at the water. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt sexy.”
When I look back at my friends, I can see them trying to hide expressions of shock.
“Relax, you two. I’m not upset about it. Well, not that upset. I guess I just didn’t know what I was missing.”
“Do you want to feel sexy?” Sienna’s head is cocked. “Because you’re extremely hot and I won’t hear a word otherwise.”
“I do.” The words slip out of me. “Is that dumb?”
“No way. It’s a mindset thing, mostly. You wear what you want and you do what you want and you love yourself.” She grins triumphantly. “Voilà. Sexy. For me that’s backless dresses and pink hair. This month, at least.”
“I’m not like you,” I exclaim. “I don’t even know where to start. Aren’t you worried about people judging you?” I can’t help the little jump of fear in my stomach when I think about being the center of attention. Living loudly like Sienna does. Being seen.
Sienna’s expression darkens. “The whole world tells us to be less. Quieter. Softer. Take charge. Lean in. Oh no, not that much. Wear a dress, but not that one. Look feminine, but not like you’re trying.
” She leans forward. “Everyone will have an opinion. Everyone, forever, for the rest of your life. They’ll try to tell you that you should be one way, when in your heart you want to be another.
Why lower yourself to meet their expectations?
Be exactly who you want to be. Because the world will ask you to change either way.
” She shrugs. “The way I see it, if you do what they want, everyone ends up disappointed. If you do what you want, at least someone is happy.”
“Bravo,” Emory says quietly before she squeezes my knee. “So how did dancing make you feel?”
“Awkward, then giddy and a little out of control,” I say slowly. “I was definitely out of my comfort zone, but I think that was Tristan’s goal.”
Sienna grins. “So you were treated to the Tristan Prince School of Dance?”
Emory turns her head. “He’s good?”
“Really good,” I admit. “I had no idea.” And I had no idea how it would make me feel. Like my insides were sugar, melting as his hands climbed my hips.
“Is that not weird? Dancing with him?” Emory asks.
Sienna nudges her magazines aside and pillows her head on her hands while I think.
“No. Not weird. Just…different.” I bite my lip while I think about how different things were last night. Special. It felt like a date with Tristan, not with Cary.
“I don’t understand.” Sienna props up her chin. “You guys spend like all of your time together, right?”
“A lot of it. We run together and he drops by the security center when he’s not working and we watch movies and…what?” My words trail off at the way Sienna is smiling.
“You spend all of your time together and you danced with him and you claim it wasn’t weird. I just—I don’t get it.”
“You don’t have male friends,” Emory says knowingly.
Sienna looks briefly horrified. “Of course I don’t. I spend enough time around testosterone-fueled idiots, I wouldn’t invite one into my home.”
I snort a laugh. “You make it sound like someone mailed you nuclear waste.”
“Tomato, tomahto,” she mutters. “Explain it to me.”
I give Emory a pleading glance, but she just snorts a laugh and raises her brows. “Go ahead, killer. Tell us why it’s not weird and how much you don’t want Tristan.”
I blow out a long breath. “I do want him.”
There’s silence, then a gull cries, then Sienna screeches, “You what?”
Emory is laughing, burying her head in the cushion, her shoulders shaking.
“Of course I want him. He’s objectively attractive. I’m not a liar.” Despite my nonchalance, admitting that I want Tristan feels like I’m cliff-diving into the ocean.
“But you’ve never acted on it.” Sienna’s eyes widen before she sits up in a rush. “Or have you acted on it? Oh my god, have you been hooking up and you didn’t—”
“No, no. Nothing like that. Just—of course I want him. I noticed he was hot on the first day I met him. I might not get out much, but I’m not blind.”
Emory nods. “He’s tall. Smart. Bigger than Aiden. If you’re into that.” Her tone of voice makes it clear that her husband is her ideal man, and I smile to myself.
Sienna’s brow wrinkles. “I guess he’s the most conventionally attractive of my brothers.”
I wriggle my toes on the cushion and try to think about how to explain that he makes my stomach swoop but also that the swoop will never turn into anything more.
“So what do you do?” Emory asks. “You thought he was hot. He’s helping you date. Now what?”
“Nothing.” I shrug.
My friends stare at me. “Nothing,” Sienna echoes.
I chuck a grape at her, and she ducks quickly. “Guys. Come on. We danced. I met a guy. Tristan met someone too. This is not a thing.”
Sienna’s face wrinkles. “He picked someone up when he was out with you?”
“Of course he did,” I exclaim. “Marriage, remember? He’s meeting two more women today.”
Sienna looks briefly murderous. She is not taking the thought of a stranger in the family well.
Before she can argue, I hold up a hand. “Yes, on occasion I notice that he’s attractive.
And yes, dancing with him felt good. But also isn’t that how it is whenever you’re friends with a hot guy?
Like…there’s always a little part of you that wonders, you know?
” I look between them. This is how everyone feels, right?
“Is there?” Emory asks.
“Of course there is. And usually that part is pretty small. And sometimes it’s bigger.”
“What if it grows?” Sienna asks quietly.
My stomach leaps. It grew when we danced. “You just don’t let it.”
When I woke up this morning, I went for a run alone and I did all the mental exercises I do when I need to center myself. I finished refreshed and ready to not let it all over again.
I’m practical, not fanciful. I’ll be fine.
Emory gives me a skeptical look. “You don’t let it? That’s the secret?”
I trace patterns on the cushion’s smooth surface. “You have to keep it from growing. Or you can’t be friends.”
“And that’s better.” Sienna cocks her head.
“Of course it’s better.” I reach over and snag another grape from the platter that catering prepared for us. “I’m not going to pant after him. That’s embarrassing. That makes me like everyone in his DMs begging for a nude selfie.”
“Just for the record, I think he’d send you one.” Emory grins.
“Oh my god.” I laugh. “He would not. I’m not Tristan’s type. There has never been anything like that between us and there never will be.”
Even if for thirty-seven seconds I liked the way his body felt pushing against mine. Even if dancing made me want to melt into him.
Sienna makes a sound of disagreement.
I sit up. I can’t go my whole summer speculating about this. “Guys. I’m serious. He proposed. Right after the party.”
Sienna and Emory wear equal expressions of shock before Emory’s morphs to triumph.
I shake my head. “Not like that. He asked to give it a go. Said it could be fun.”
Their faces fall.
“He didn’t,” Sienna whispers. “God, that’s shitty.” She lays a hand on my arm. Her eyes are warm with sympathy, and it makes my stomach squeeze.
“It’s not,” I protest. “It’s not shitty. I mean, it would be if I—you know.” The unspoken words hang in the air.
“But you don’t,” Emory says staunchly.
“I don’t.” I swallow, then straighten my shoulders and look my friends in the eyes. “I’m dating other guys now, anyway. And Tristan is my friend. Maybe my best friend.”
“Traitor,” Sienna says affectionately, but she passes me the last cluster of the grapes I like, and her loving gesture takes the sting out of her words.
“Good friends are hard to come by,” Emory says, giving me a small smile. She and I are more similar, while Sienna makes friends just by breathing. She’s the type of person you want to bask in the presence of.
Emory is prickly on the outside and sweet deep down. Fierce and loyal.
“Totally.” I pop another grape into my mouth, the juicy flavor bursting in a rush, my heart full of love for these women who care enough to ask about me and listen to the answers. “I didn’t always have an easy time making friends.”
The silence after my words is comfortable. Emory’s eyes are shut, but I know she’s listening. Sienna is watching me as she pops open a sunscreen.
“We moved a lot growing up. Like, all the time. Sometimes David would keep a job for only half a school year. That was the hardest.” I fiddle with the stem on the bunch of grapes. “I was always the new kid.”
“Oof.” Sienna’s word comes out on a breath.
“Yeah. It sucked. I invested in people, and then we’d move, and things would fizzle.
Friends who texted on my birthday would stop remembering, guys who swore we’d keep talking after I left would get girlfriends, and I don’t know…
” I lift one shoulder. “I guess I started to get more protective. More closed off.”
I let my eyes drift shut, and then Emory’s head lands on my shoulder. “Well, I’m glad you have us now. And Tristan.”
“Me too.” I smile to myself. “That’s why I can’t lose him. Wanting him and acting on it would ruin everything.”
There are a few heartbeats of silence, then the low drone of a motor coming toward us.
I push up to sitting, shading my eyes at the boat that’s coming closer.
It’s a small fishing boat. There’s a guy in it.
And a dog that seems to be loving the trip by the way it stands at the stern, tongue lolling in the wind.
“Who’s that?” Sienna asks.
“Not sure.” I shade my eyes while Emory sits up next to me and covers her breasts with her arm.
The man in the boat comes closer, until we can see that he’s not wearing a shirt and should probably never wear one again.
“Holy shit,” Sienna murmurs. “That’s Christian Halpern.”
We watch the mayor motor over the waves.
“I didn’t know he looked like that under his clothes,” Emory says.
Sienna tilts her head, and I’m not sure what’s going on behind her hazel eyes.
“Christian,” Emory shouts, then turns to us. “He married us. He hates us.” Her words are cheerful, and I snort a laugh.
The mayor tips his chin, looking none too happy about running into Emory on the water, and she laughs.
“Bye, Christian,” she shouts as he turns the other way, and the dog barks happily.
My phone dings, and I pull it out from under a stack of towels.
“That better not be work,” Sienna says. “We’re off today.”
My stomach tumbles at the name on the screen. “It’s Ryan Valdez. He got my number from Tristan. He wants to go out.”
Sienna makes an excited noise. “Do you want to go out with him?”
“What do you think? Is he a good guy?”
She nods. “He’s hot and pretty nice.”
Feeling sexy is the first step to good sex.
Ryan is definitely hot enough to make me want good sex with him, at least. Even if he is intimidating.
“Okay.” I blow out a breath.
Sienna claps her hands. Emory is grinning.
I squeeze both my eyes shut. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but first, I want a makeover.”
In my mind, I add feel beautiful to my list of goals.