Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The car tore down the coastal highway, sun-drenched and gleaming, slicing through the warm air like something out of a commercial. It handled like a dream, responding instantly to the slightest press of Bea’s foot, the faintest turn of her hand.
“I want one,” Naomi sighed from the back seat, stretching her legs out.
“It’s like sitting inside a bank account,” Isabel added, running a hand over the leather interior.
“The King’s bank account,” Naomi agreed with a grin.
Bea shook her head, eyeing them in the rear view. “You do realize all of you drive cars very similar to this one?”
A collective giggle.
“Yes but we’ve never been in Gage’s car with Gage’s girlfriend driving,” Georgina teased. “It’s a milestone.”
Bea smiled.
Lillian sat quietly in the passenger seat, hands folded neatly in her lap. She fiddled with the dials in front of her, choosing a song from her playlist, turning it up.
It felt like summer. Windows down, black hair whipping across her cheeks, the music loud enough to drown out her thoughts.
The road curved, then finally, the beach came into view.
It was packed.
Bea pulled into the parking lot, easing the car into a space between a battered Jeep and a convertible. The moment she cut the engine, the car doors flew open.
Naomi and Isabel were out first, stretching their arms over their heads, basking in the sun like they were born for it. Georgina followed, tossing her hair over one shoulder, already adjusting the straps of her bikini top.
Bea glanced down at her outfit. A modest, blue and white one-piece swimsuit, and a pair of cute floral board shorts. It was everything she’d always worn to the beach—but now, it looked out of place.
Lillian, even more so. She stepped out of the car, tugging the sleeves of her rash guard, looking mostly content but undeniably overdressed.
“I don’t care if I look ridiculous,” Lillian said before anyone could comment. “I burn.”
“You look fine, Lils,” Bea said, a little too quickly.
Naomi groaned, swinging an arm around Bea’s shoulders. “Come on, Bea. Board shorts? Really?”
Isabel sighed, nodding toward Lillian. “And long sleeves on this one.”
Clusters of students were already sprawled across bright towels. The sound of crashing waves mixed with distant laughter, the scent of saltwater thick in the air.
Nearby, the three boyfriends, as Bea thought of them—Hunter, Charles, and Mason—were already gathered at one of the volleyball nets dotting the sand. Shirtless, loud, and fully in their element.
Naomi and Isabel kicked off their sandals. Georgina, ever the leader, directed Hunter to help prop up their oversized beach umbrellas, making a show of claiming their space like it was prime beachfront real estate.
The six of them rushed to play in the water.
Bea smiled as she watched them.
She loved the beach. Back in Toronto, the lakefront was calmer, its water edged by boardwalks and distant city lights.
Her parents had taken her to Cape Cod as a graduation gift for making the honor roll: a whole week spent exploring sweeping dunes, climbing lighthouses, wandering through quaint towns, eating fresh lobster rolls.
Before her, the ocean spread out wild and unbound, like it didn’t know how to be tamed. The sand gleamed almost powder white, unbroken for miles.
This wasn’t just any beach. It was a beach full of St. Ives students.
She wasn’t nervous. Not exactly. She’d been here nine months. She was Gage King’s girlfriend. People stared. People whispered. But most of the time, she could stay where it was safe and stick to Lillian, Georgina, the ones who knew her.
The Winter Regatta had been just as crowded, but Gage had been there. He was her anchor in moments like these. When he was beside her, she never had to wonder where she fit.
But he couldn’t always be there. She needed to learn how to belong, even when he wasn’t.
Bea glanced at Lillian, who was flipping through a novel. She liked blending in. And right now, she stood out in a way she probably hated.
Bea lowered onto her towel beside her, flipping open her own book. The one Gage had bought her. Not because she had really planned to read it, but to mirror her friend. And to give herself a moment.
That was when Catherine Vale arrived, and not alone. Jessica and Harrison Langley flanked her like perfectly sculpted bookends, the three of them strolling across the sand as if it were their own personal runway.
Bea recognized them by now. The Langley name was everywhere—old money, government, power. Their father was a political powerhouse. Their mother sat on the board of two Fortune 500 companies. People whose family trees weren’t just long; they were gilded.
The twins were the successors of it all. Tall. Lean. Flawless. And speaking to Catherine like they were equals. People who understood exactly where they stood in the hierarchy. Her eyes confirmed what her head already knew: Catherine was St. Ives royalty.
Bea could’ve bought every subscription box in the world and it wouldn’t have changed a damn thing.
Catherine’s gaze flicked over. Found her. A subtle tightening of her mouth, like Bea was a smudge she’d been trying to wipe clean for months. She said something to the twins, a smooth, seamless conclusion to their conversation, and then turned.
Bea’s pulse kicked up. Her fingers gripped the edges of her book, bracing. She schooled her face into a neutral expression.
Catherine approached, deliberate enough to make it clear this wasn’t accidental; effortless enough to pretend it was.
“Bea,” she said almost pleasantly. “Love your swimsuit.” She stopped a few feet away in an ivory bikini, a sheer cover-up draped over her shoulders. The sun seemed not to touch her.
Bea didn’t look up. “Thanks,” she said, turning a page she hadn’t read. “Something on your mind?”
Catherine’s lips curved. “I’m just so glad you came. With your friends.”
Bea finally met her eyes, the way you do when you want someone to know you’re not afraid of them. Even if it was only half true.
“My boyfriend is joining later,” she said, with just enough emphasis.
Catherine reared, a fraction too obvious. Recovered. “I’m sure he’ll rush to you as soon as he’s able.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Bea said blandly.
“As you should.” But Catherine didn’t leave after that. “I suppose that’s why Gage likes you.”
Not loves. Likes. The word serrated, and she was almost certain Catherine didn’t even intend that part to be the insult.
“You know your place,” Catherine finished.
Lillian, who was beside her, stared at Catherine, but didn’t speak.
And somewhere in the periphery, Bea registered another presence.
Catherine must have noticed it at the same moment. Her gaze arced slightly to the right, just for a second. Rafael stood a few feet off, casually watching the scene unfold. His expression didn’t give anything away. But Bea knew he’d heard. He understood exactly what this was.
And Catherine knew he knew, too.
“Rafael.” Her tone was silk, like he’d just joined the conversation, not witnessed the end of it. She offered him a tranquil smile. Then she turned without waiting for a reply, rejoining the world of the Langley twins.
A soft thump broke the quiet she’d left in her wake.
Bea glanced up.
Rafael was watching her while turning a volleyball lazily in one hand. He tossed it, caught it without effort. The motion was reflexive, as though his body was doing it without even needing the instruction from his brain.
Her eyes tracked the ball on instinct. Which meant they landed on him.
And of course he looked like that.
She had seen him a hundred times on campus, in town, decked out at Imperium. But not like this. Rafael at the beach bordered on obscene.
A trail of water droplets traced paths down every carved line of his body, a testament to a lifetime of sports and genetics working way too hard. His board shorts sat low on his hips. Sunlight turned his skin golden, like the universe had decided he deserved his own personal spotlight.
Bea’s toes clenched a little in the sand. Even Lillian had gone still.
She’d looked too long. She wished, belatedly, for sunglasses. His mouth tipped, just enough to tell her he’d caught her.
And she knew. He was about to say something inappropriate.
“Want a better look, little Bea?”
Her mind stuttered. No, thank you. She enjoyed sanity. And functional brain cells.
Lillian let out a strangled sound somewhere between disbelief and amusement.
“I’ve seen enough,” she countered, voice light.
Rafael smirked. “Now you’re just lying to me.”
A charge suspended between them, electric.
Then, just as easily as he came, he turned and walked away.
She couldn’t help but watch how people noticed as he passed. A group of girls sitting under a nearby umbrella shifted, stealing glances. A pair of guys playing frisbee called out louder than necessary.
Even here, among the elite, Rafael Griffin disrupted the balance.
Beside her, Lillian was watching, too. Not just him. Her.
Eventually, she asked, “You okay?” It was a simple enough question.
Bea gulped. “Of course.”
“You’re different around him,” Lillian noticed.
Lillian noticed everything.
Bea could have laughed. “I’m not around him at all,” she said instead.
Lils hardly looked convinced.
Her gaze flew back to his retreating form. “I get it now,” Lillian said quietly.
Bea pressed her book firmly into her lap. “At least one of us does.”