Chapter 21
twenty-one
AUTUMN
As I sink into one of the fold-out chairs next to Lydia, I can’t help but watch Zeke and the cute little blond chick with the pink stripes in her hair make their way across the sand. Trey hands me a beer, and I crack the top, immediately taking a long, long swig.
I know I made things pretty obvious with that last, sharp spike—and maybe I was a little overzealous—but god. When I saw Zeke grab that girl’s ass, something just let loose in me. And I don’t even know why. It’s not like I like him. I mean—not like that.
It’s just… ugh. Zeke’s the first guy to fuck me in two years—and the first guy other than Patrick in, like, six years. I think I enjoyed it so much that the thought it might not ever happen again, that Zeke might be involved with someone else, made me a little nuts. That’s all it was.
But I’m cool now. I’ve got a beer, and although Trey is still looking at me sideways, I’m chill. But the pendant’s still in my pocket. No way am I putting that back on when Zeke’s strutting his little playmate around in front of me.
“So who’s the chick?” Lydia asks, one eyebrow raised. “The one Zeke came trotting out with, I mean.”
Goddamnit. I wish I could elbow her, tell her to shut up because I don’t want to talk about it—but I can’t. She doesn’t know, and she’s not going to know. I don’t need that judgment from her and Will.
Phoebe rolls her eyes. “Oh, who the hell knows. Does it matter? It’ll be a different one tomorrow.”
I tip my head back and swig my beer. Because yeah, that’s certainly how it’s seeming. We had sex how many days ago? Two? Jesus Christ.
“Well, he’s definitely got some charisma,” Trey says, stroking his five o’clock shadow.
He looks at Dustin, then at me, and I already know what he’s going to say.
“Autumn and I were at the house one night a couple weeks ago, and he came to the door at, like, three in the morning. Forgot his keys, I guess, but was clearly on his way back from a booty call and—I shit you not—straight up hit on us both.”
That makes Dustin crack up. He squeezes his husband’s thigh and blows me a kiss. “I mean, I can’t blame him. I would’ve, too.”
“I’m just glad he’s not barging into my house every night anymore,” Will says. “I love him, but damn—it gets to be a lot. Thanks for taking one for the team, Autumn.”
“Ha. Sure,” I say, pasting on the fakest grin ever and very carefully avoiding Trey’s eyes. “But honestly, he’s been fine. I barely even remember he’s there.”
Benji’s gaze flicks to mine, like he suspects something. But then he clears his throat.
“Not to be that guy,” he says, “But maybe we can change the subject? I’d rather save the criticism for when Zeke’s here to defend himself.”
Once again, Phoebe rolls her eyes, but she wraps her arms around her twin. “Oh, my lovely brother. Always the softie. But you’re right. And actually, come to think of it, I could use some advice on something work-related. My boss is a total dickwad—”
There’s a high-pitched shriek, and Phoebe stops mid-sentence.
Everyone’s heads whip around, necks craning to see where the hell that came from.
And then all of a sudden, Phoebe’s about flipping over the picnic table in her haste to stand up and run toward the female figure sprinting across the sand toward us.
I look blankly to Lydia, and she just shrugs.
“Oh, my god!” Phoebe screeches, throwing her arms around whoever it is. “Caroline Walcott?! Is that really fucking you?! Giiiiiiiiiiirl! What are you doing here?”
Across the picnic table, I see Benji start.
He straightens a bit, his spine drawing up in a way only a yoga dude’s can, and I swear his dark eyes get just a little wider.
But then, as suddenly as his surprise came, it’s gone, and his handsome face is smooth again.
His posture relaxes, and he slides on his sunglasses—which is weird, given that the sun’s already started to set.
But whatever. Benji’s a good guy, and I saw that look he gave me.
He’s not prying into my business, so I won’t pry into his.
I turn my attention back to Phoebe, who’s finally pulled back from her hug and is holding the woman she just crushed at arm’s length. They’re both laughing, and although I can’t hear what they’re saying, the occasional shriek and howl drift over to us.
“Who’s that?” Trey asks. “I mean—who’s Caroline Walcott?”
Will cracks open another beer. “Phoebe’s childhood bestie. They were, like, inseparable until middle school, when her family moved away. I guess they stayed in touch, but I haven’t seen her in ages.”
“Huh. Looks like a nice little reunion,” I say, downing the rest of my beer.
A man has come to stand behind Caroline, and he looks brooding as all hell.
I’m easily ten yards away, and even from here I can see the scowl on his face as she chats with Phoebe.
They haven’t even been talking for five minutes when he suddenly wraps a huge, burly arm around Caroline’s shoulder and jerks her in close to him.
Caroline smiles weakly, like she’s used to this cue, and waves goodbye to Phoebe before being steered back across the sand.
“Well, that was random,” Phoebe says as she returns to our little group.
She sits next to Benji at the picnic table.
“I saw on Facebook that Caroline got engaged a few months ago, but I didn’t realize her fiancé’s mom is from Hawthorne Bay.
Small world, right? Sounds like they’re planning to move here after the wedding. ”
“Really?” Lydia asks. Out of all of us here, she’s the only one who actually grew up in Hawthorne Bay. “What’s his name? Or, rather, what’s his mom’s name?”
“His name’s Spencer, but I didn’t ask further than that—sorry. Dude seemed like he wanted to leave, so I wasn’t going to bring up his family tree,” Phoebe says, winking at Lydia.
Lydia nods and leans into Will, lacing her fingers through his. They’re so cute together—it gives me all sorts of fuzzy, yet wistful feelings. Like, why couldn’t I have met someone like that? Why’d I have to fall for the jerk that was Patrick? I know, I know. We’re all stupid in college, but still.
At least now I’m focusing on me. My business.
What I want from life. That’s a step in the right direction.
And as we all head over to where the rest of the community is gathered, munching on M&M cookies and sipping beers as they schmooze about the goings-on in town, I’m kind of relieved to see that Zeke is gone.
He’s hot, he’s fun. He makes me feel like the stuff I normally worry about isn’t quite so precious.
But he’s also a distraction, and I don’t have time for detours.
Besides, that chick he came with—Jenny or whatever her name was—is probably way more what he’s into.
She’s adorable. Vibrant. His actual age.
She’s also definitely not divorced. Clearly a much better fit for him.
But god. His abs? While he was hitting that volleyball around tonight?
Those abs will fucking kill a girl.