Chapter 29
“So you’ll have to, like, testify against him, right? Like, you’ll be going to court?” Annica asks from the pool chair beside
me.
“I mean, yeah, I guess so.” I honestly hadn’t even thought of that fact until right now. I’ll be called as a witness, especially
since it was my journal, and I was there for most of the deaths. They’ll likely walk through them all and I’ll have to relive
them dying all over again. They might even read the pages aloud. The idea fills me with instant dread.
“What, did I say something wrong? Your face is, like, white right now,” Annica says.
“No, I’m fine. Let’s just try to not talk about it this week. I’m tired of talking about it.”
“Talking about what?” Asher asks, walking out to the pool in swim trunks and no shirt. I look away, suddenly really admiring
the outdoor umbrellas and the yellow-and-white-striped pattern on them.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Annica says.
Erin chimes in then from behind him. “You’re the girl, right? The one everyone was calling the Pembroke Psycho? Bet you’re glad that’s over. Although I’m kind of jealous. I wish someone would go around killing my exes. That’d be nice.”
I sit up and lower my sunglasses so she can see the glare I give her. “Well, sure, if you think holding a dying person in
your arms and not being able to do anything to help, plus knowing that it’s your fault they were shot in the first place,
is nice . . . then yeah.”
Erin blinks. “I just meant that, like, as a joke.”
“Hilarious,” Annica mutters.
I imagine pushing Asher’s girlfriend into the pool. Erin shuts up, thankfully, and gets in the water. Without me having to
push her.
“Someone’s not playing nice today,” Asher says, walking behind my chair to take a seat on the other side of me.
I turn to him, talking just above a whisper. “What I went through has been traumatic enough to send your Goth Barbie girlfriend
into a spiral, so if she wants to make jokes, I’ll gladly tell her why they aren’t funny.”
“Hm, so I take it I won’t be able to talk you into an apology?”
“Apology? You want me to apologize to her?” I look at him incredulously.
“She was only trying to make conversation.” He shrugs. “And you nearly bit her head off.”
I think about pushing Asher into the pool as well.
“Who wants to play a game?” Jake yells from the patio, tossing a volleyball in the air.
Wes leaves for the market, and the rest of us make our way to a worn-down volleyball net on the beach. “All right, Dani and
Charlie are team captains,” Jake says. “Dani gets to pick first because she’s a girl.”
“Asher,” she says immediately.
I scoff. “Dani, what the hell? You know I played in high school.”
“I know, but we played the other day and Asher is really good. I’ll pick you next, promise.”
“Hey!” Annica whines.
“I pick Sam,” Charlie says, which is also insulting because Sam is built like a toothpick. Surely I was still the better choice.
“Sloane,” Dani counters.
“Jake.”
“Great, now he has all the guys.” I cross my arms. Asher rolls his eyes.
“Annica,” Dani says.
“Then I’ll take Erin.” Charlie smiles. I smile too, because I’m going to spike it at Erin’s face.
“If you target her you’ll regret it,” Asher says like he can read my mind, then looks at Annica. “That goes for both of you.”
We take our spots in the sand, on either side of the net between us. Charlie serves first, and he floats an overhand serve
to our side. Dani bumps it right in between Asher and me in the front.
“I got it!” I yell, going for a set.
“Mine,” he says, jumping to tip it. We collide but he still manages to tap the ball over, earning us a point.
“I said I had it,” I snap at him.
“So did I. If I call it, just back off.”
“Okay, go team!” Dani says from the back. “Good start!”
We rotate so it’s Asher’s serve. He sends it over hard, and it smacks off Sam’s arms and goes up to the net, where Jake spikes
it down. It looks like it’s going a little to my back left and I turn to dive for it when Asher dives for it as well. We run
into each other again, this time with my arm landing under him.
I hiss in pain, bringing my arm close to my chest. “I had it, Asher.”
“That was clearly my ball,” he snaps back.
“You didn’t call it!”
“Neither did you!”
“Guys?” Jake calls from the other side. “Is everyone ready? I’m going to serve.”
“Just peachy,” I mutter, getting up. Jake serves it far to our side and I run to the sand-drawn line to call it out.
“In,” Sam says. And I guess it is, as the ball indent hits the line directly.
Asher lets out a long sigh, and I turn to him. “Why didn’t you call it in, then?”
“Probably because you called it out?”
“This is going to be a long game,” Dani mutters.
Jake serves again to Annica, and she returns it on one hit. Sam volleys it back and Asher bumps it from the back row, setting
up the front. I call it and go for a set. Erin moves in on the other side of the net, leaving the front corner open, so I
pretend to set up Annica but push the ball behind me so that it falls perfectly on the line. And now it’s my serve.
“Good luck on the serve,” Asher says as I walk past him. “Try not to blow it.”
My fingers tighten on the ball. I toss it in the air with my left hand, and bring my right hand down hard, aiming at the back
of his head. I hit my target, and he turns around rubbing his head. “What the fuck?”
“Sorry, accident,” I say with a fake pity frown. He turns back around, and I toss the ball up again, bringing it down hard
on his head a second time.
“Okay, what the hell is your problem today?” he says, stalking toward me until we’re face-to-face.
“My problem?” I push my finger to his chest. “What is your problem?”
He grabs my wrist.
“Guys!” Dani yells.
I yank my arm from his grasp. “I can’t be on a team with him,” I say to her, pushing past Asher.
“Well, if I’m not on your team, then whose head will you serve the ball at?” Asher snarks.
“I said it was an accident.”
“Seemed intentional to me. You know, when something happens multiple times, it’s no longer an accident.” He inclines his head,
not talking about the serve.
“Ugh, screw this,” Annica says. “I’m going back to the pool.”
“And I need a drink,” I say, following her inside.
Everyone gathers in the living room waiting for the Ubers to pick us up. I can tell Asher is watching me from the corner of
my eye but I don’t acknowledge it. When the cars pull up, everyone goes to leave, and Wesley grabs my hand.
“You guys have fun,” he calls out to the group.
Asher turns around. “What do you mean? Are you not coming?” He looks between Wes and me. I just stare at Wes, confused.
“No, Sloane and I have other plans,” Wes says, eyeing me.
I glance back at Asher, who is still standing there, like he might say that if we aren’t going then neither is he.
But he turns around to leave with the group.
“Come with me.” Wes takes my hand and leads me out to the backyard, down the beach path, and out to a spread of blankets on the beach.
“What is all this?” I ask when we get closer, seeing rose petals sprinkled around the blankets, two charcuterie boards, a
pizza, and a bottle of white wine on ice.
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“You did all of this yourself?” I sit on the blanket, wiping the sand from my feet before crawling farther in, plucking a
piece of prosciutto from the board.
“Well, yes and no.” Wes joins me, grabbing the bottle from the bucket and pouring us each a glass. “Dani helped me set it
up.” He hands me a glass and I take a sip.
“This is amazing, thank you,” I say. “No one has ever set up a beach picnic for me. Or any picnic.”
“Oh, I’m just trying to stay on your good side,” he teases. “I wouldn’t want to end up in that journal of yours.”
I take a breath and let it out with a nervous laugh. “Right, wouldn’t want that.” I bring my wineglass back to my mouth for
a big gulp, or two.
We talk and eat until the sky turns vibrant with the colors of the sunset.
“So I just thought,” Wes starts, “we’ve been taking things slow lately, and I love slow, really I do. Some of my favorite
things move slow, like . . . turtles and my grandpa—”
“Turtles and your grandpa?” I laugh.
“What I’m trying to say is, um, would you be my girlfriend?”
His girlfriend. This is what I’ve always wanted. So why do I have to remind myself of that before I answer? “Yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Wes leans in to kiss me, and I kiss him back. His hands are light on my skin as his thumb brushes against my jaw and over
my collarbone. Our mouths press together harder, the kisses deeper as his tongue slips into my mouth. He moves from my mouth,
down my neck, to my collarbone and shoulders, slipping the straps of the dress down past my shoulders. I lean back on my elbows,
tilting my head back as he explores. Wes positions himself over me and I lie down. His mouth is back on mine, and his hand
starts to move up my thigh, under my dress. He traces his fingers over the thin line of my underwear.
We hear a loud splash in the pool up at the house, causing him to pause.
“I guess they’re back,” Wes says, sitting up. “We’ll finish this later.” He kisses my forehead and helps me up. I put the
dress straps back over my shoulders. We clean up the picnic, carrying everything back up to the house.
“How was it?” Dani smirks from the pool, still in her dress she wore to dinner, with Charlie, who is also fully clothed.
“She said yes,” Wes says.
“She said yes to what?” Asher asks from the patio with a bottle of wine in hand.
“To being his girlfriend!” Dani squeals.
We walk past Asher and Erin on our way into the house, where we put away the food.
Wes leans in for another kiss but his phone starts to go off.
I hear him sigh a few times on the line before saying, “I have to go pick up Jake, Sam, and Annica from a bar that’s like thirty minutes away.
Jake is apparently so drunk that no Uber will take them. ”
“Oh,” I say, not surprised. Jake can get that way. “I’ll take care of the blankets and the rest of the food.”
“I’ll be right back with the rest of our dumb friends,” he says, grabbing his keys. Asher walks into the kitchen as I grab
the blankets from the floor.
“Girlfriend, huh?” he says, following me down the other end of the hall toward the laundry room.
“Yeah, I guess so.” I still can’t believe it either.
“Looks like we both got everything we wanted, then,” he says, but there’s an edge in his voice. I start the washing machine
and walk back out to where he stands in the hall. “Miles is in jail, and you’re Wesley’s girlfriend.”
“We did,” I say, standing in front of him with my arms crossed. “And you got your precious resort.” He doesn’t say anything.
“Is there a problem?”
“Not at all. I couldn’t wait for the whole thing to be over with.”
I scoff. “Good, because neither could I.”
“I hated every moment of it,” he says.
“And I hated you.” I didn’t. I didn’t hate him. I hated how frustrating and argumentative he could be. I hated how he’d leave
me when I felt like I needed him. And I hated the way I wanted him despite it all.
His mouth twitches like he might laugh. “Is that so?” He takes a step toward me, and I step back. “Hate is a strong word.”
“Well, it’s true,” I say, though it’s not. “I hate you.”
When he steps to me again, my back hits the wall. Asher leans in. “Say it again,” he says. “Lie to me again.”
“I hate you,” I whisper.
He drags his thumb against my lip and down to my throat, before pulling me in and crashing his mouth into mine. And I don’t
stop him, I don’t push him away. He picks me up, holding me against the wall of the dark hallway. I wrap my legs around him
before he takes me into his room and shuts the door. He swipes everything off the dresser that he sets me on; whatever it
is lands on the floor and shatters.
“Asher,” I breathe his name, but more so as a reprimand. He kisses me wildly, down my neck and my chest.
“It’s part of the remodel,” he mutters, ripping down the front of my dress, his mouth on mine again, our teeth and tongues
clashing. But then he’s pulling me from the dresser, and I unbutton his pants, tugging them down along with his briefs. He’s
trying to find a way to get the dress off, but it’s corseted in the back.
“Fuck it,” he says, turning me around to the wall and lifting the dress.
His one hand snakes up the front of me and grasps at my chest as he pushes himself inside me, igniting a fire throughout my body.
This time I can’t stop from crying out. He quickly brings his hand from my chest to my mouth to muffle the noise as he thrusts into me from behind, licking and biting at my neck, wild and uncaring.
I’m grasping at anything, including the curtains over the window, which come down with a crash.
I feel him start to rip at the corset in the back, desperately trying to get the dress off.
He turns me around, pulling the dress down as I rip through the buttons on his shirt until we’re both standing there completely naked together for the first time.
I push him down to the bed and climb on top of him, like I had intended to do in Boston. I slide down onto him, savoring the
sound he makes when I do. I rock my hips over his, and when he groans it sends chills down my spine. Asher flips me onto my
back, putting a leg over his shoulder, and rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs with his other
hand.
“You’re mine,” he says, breathless. “You’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I say without hesitation. In this moment I am his. Or perhaps I have been for a while now. His breathing becomes
ragged in my ear and I know he’s close. “I’m yours,” I say again, my back arching and legs shaking as I tumble over the edge.
And he thrusts hard a few more times as he finishes in me.
Asher remains on top of me while we catch our breath and the post-orgasm clarity rushes through us.
“Fuck,” he says, before getting off me and stepping off the bed. “Fuck.” He smacks the lamp right off the nightstand, causing
me to flinch, and goes into his bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
I bring my knees to my chest, taking in the scene. The curtain rod is half on, tilting down with the curtain on the floor.
The knickknacks from the dresser lay shattered on the floor. The lamp on the nightstand is now on the ground with the shade
broken.
I get up, grabbing my dress from the floor before scurrying from his room and back to my own undetected. I shower and get
into bed, letting silent tears fall down my cheeks over what I just did. What we just did. And whatever that means.