Chapter 5
Chapter Five
I amble into the kitchen at close to two in the afternoon later the same day. We don’t usually arrive home from work at six thirty a.m., but the fishing expedition made our wake-up especially late.
Gen’s by the sink, her eyes half-lidded, slowly scrubbing coffee stains in a trancelike state from the Adult Sippy Cup mug. She yawns. “Eloww.”
Translation: Hello. She hasn’t had her coffee yet, so she’s technically not awake. I pour mine into the Sexy Bitch mug. There are about fifty mugs to choose from. Our summer rental sports more mugs than it does dishes.
I open the fridge and scan the door. There you are, my beauties. I pop the lid off my favorite deli jar, spear a green olive with a fork, and jam it in my mouth.
Gen gags. “That’s revolting. Why are you doing this to me before I’ve had coffee?”
Innocently, I offer her some.
“Bitch,” she says without much power behind it. If ever there was a time to tease Gen, it’s in the morning, when she’s at her weakest.
I hold up my coffee. “That’s Sexy Bitch to you.”
Thirty minutes later, Gen’s eyelids are fully operational and she’s flipping through a People magazine propped on her lap in one of the lounge chairs out back.
I’m in the chair next to her in a bikini top I threw on above my pajama bottoms, my sketchpad on the table beside me.
I started doodling in elementary school. It’s turned into an obsession.
My eyes are closed, body angled toward the sun. I like the feel of the sun on me, but I wear SPF one thousand so my skin doesn’t crisp and fall off. I’m a pretend sunbather.
The scrape of a page turning rustles beside me. “A waitress from work invited us to dinner tonight.”
I pop open an eyelid. “One of the veterans?”
Gen pulls in her chin and shakes her head. “No, not one of them. Nessa’s our age and really nice.”
“Sounds fun, but I’ve got a Skype date with Eric.”
Finally, finally, I managed to pin down my boyfriend via text. I glance at the exchange on my phone from earlier and smile.
Cali: Thinking of our tubing trip down the American River with all this glacial water nearby. Totally your fault we tipped. Saving that beer was not worth it!
Eric: Worth it.
Cali: Miss you. Skype tonight? 8 p.m.?
Eric: Sure.
Gen shivers, elbows pressed to her sides. “In that case, I’m glad I won’t be around.”
I set my phone back in my lap. Eric and I have been known to discuss sex around Gen. It could be because we have no shame, or it could be because it drives her crazy—okay, it’s both.
Somehow, though, I don’t think our conversation tonight will cover Sex-Skyping.
We haven’t spoken over the phone in weeks.
I’m more interested in getting reassurance that everything is okay.
My instincts were right that day on the hike.
Something is up with him, but I’ve been so busy with my new job, I haven’t had time to do much about it.
No point in drawing conclusions until I talk to Eric. I smile, just to irritate Gen. “Probably so.”
Mostly I’m nervous. Once I know everything is fine with Eric, I’m sure my head will clear over this thing with Jaeger.
It’s midnight, and I’ve officially been stood up.
I’ve never been stood up—and by my own boyfriend? Friggin’ hell!
As I’m digging into my second pint of butter pecan ice cream, the sound of the bolt scraping comes from the front door. Gen walks in. Well, stomps is a better description.
I kick up my fuzzy slippers onto our rental’s retro wood coffee table (it’s actually old as hell, but I’m trying to think positive), and wait for her to set down her stuff and tell me what’s up. Because something’s definitely up. Her gaze is cagey and she slammed the door closed after she entered.
She eyes my carton of ice cream and huffs out a sigh. “Out of every Ben & Jerry’s flavor in existence you picked butter pecan? What about cookies ’n cream, Super Fudge Chunk, or, I don’t know, vanilla?” She tosses her purse on the floor and plops next to me on the couch, staring straight ahead.
I glance at her, the discarded purse, and then the tub of ice cream resting on my belly, the spoon sticking out like a flag. “Ouch. What’s wrong with butter pecan?”
Another long exhale, this time through her nose. “Let me have a bite of your disgusting ice cream.”
“Disgusting ice cream is an oxymoron. Get a spoon, and I may allow your grubby fingers to grace the lip of my carton.”
Gen hoists herself from the couch and shuffles into the kitchen.
The sound of drawers opening and closing and dishes clanking in the sink comes from behind.
There are no clean spoons. I know this because I took the last one.
If she succeeds in finding a clean spoon, I will happily donate my firstborn child to—
Gen enters the living room holding up a spoon like it’s a trophy. It’s bent at a sixty-degree angle with divots on the sides from the garbage disposal, but it’s legit.
Damn. Bye-bye firstborn.
She plops next to me, digs a massive scoop from my carton, and jams it in her mouth. Easing the spoon out, she considers her warped utensil. “I met someone.”
Ahhh, so that’s what this is about. Sounds promising. I can almost forget my Eric misery with this news.
“He didn’t talk to me.”
Okay, maybe not so promising. “And why is he of interest? Steer clear of the A-holes, Gen. We’re looking for good guys.”
“I know—believe me, I know.”
“But?”
“He kept looking at me, like he couldn’t help himself, and then I realized one of the girls at the party is his girlfriend.”
I choke on a drizzle of butter pecan running down my throat. “Oh God, no. Please tell me you are not interested in this guy. I thought the last one was an anomaly. Are you attracted to two-timing bastards, or something?”
Gen angles her head, her expression exasperated. “Let me finish. Once I realized he had a girlfriend I wrote him off, okay. But—”
Oh, no. Nooo. She’s rubbing the sharp divots in her spoon as if to smooth them out, her train of thought lost. I’m afraid to think where this is going, and refrain from exploding all over her ass by a hair. The last thing she needs is the situation she escaped.
“—we sort of ran into each other in the hallway, like literally, we bumped into each other.” She turns to me, her eyes searching my face. “Cali, I’ve never felt that before. When he touched me… God, I don’t know how to explain it.”
Oh, I think I know. I grind my teeth, vividly remembering when Jaeger caught me from falling out of the fishing boat and time stopped. Hormones—pheromones—whatever. Lots of them wreaking havoc.
This is not good. It’s all wrong. Neither of us should be feeling this way. Not with these two people. It’s my stupid advice coming back to bite me in the ass. I pushed Gen to get out into the dating world and look what’s happened. If she hooks up with A-hole number two, it’ll be all my fault.
She shakes her head. “I’ve never felt that kind of attraction. Not with anyone, especially not my ex. I can’t stop thinking about this guy.” Her petite nose scrunches. “It’s annoying.”
I hear you, sister.
I shift until I’m square with her. “Listen to me. Forget that guy. He’s no good or he wouldn’t be staring at you with his girlfriend in the room, and rubbing on you—”
“He didn’t—”
“Whatever. Point is, you have the power to choose. You don’t have to fall in love with someone who will break your heart. That’s not love.”
She sniffs in a deep breath and nods.
“Don’t forget Mason and Jaeger. They’re both hot and single. Very important detail right there.”
Gen looks at me as if she’s miffed. “It’s not like I wanted a cheating boyfriend.” Her voice catches, and now I feel bad.
I put my hand on hers. “No, but not all guys are trustworthy, and you need to be careful. Stay away from the ones who give you”—I shake my head and look around—“I don’t know, a gut feeling that they’re hiding something. There’s a good chance they are.”
A vision of Eric flashes in my mind. I should take my own advice.
“You’re right.”
I watch her, trying to detect what’s going on inside her pretty head as she chews the corner of her lip. “Eat more ice cream—it’ll make you feel better.”
Gen digs her warped spoon into my carton, and I do too. Sugar-shock therapy after the evening we’ve both had is in full effect.
“The good thing is, you never have to see this guy again.”
She glances at me guiltily.
“What? You didn’t make plans with him…”
“No! But I sort of made plans to meet Nessa tomorrow. They’re friends. He may be there.”
“So, don’t go.”
“Awesome.” She glares. “I’ll just become a hermit. You’re the one who pushed me to get out.”
Dammit, she’s totally right. Foiled by my own advice.
“Look, come with me,” she says. “They’re going to that place you talked about, Zephyr Cove. It’ll be fun and you’ll be there to intervene if I need it, which I won’t. The guy… he doesn’t seem the aggressive type. This is probably all one-sided anyway. There’s nothing to worry about.”