CHAPTER SIX
Chelsea
I looked at the clock again. It was the one my grandfather had put in the store on opening day. Of course I wasn’t around in 1961 when the store first opened for business. But I had heard the family tale so many times I felt like I had been there. My grandmother had served pineapple upside down cake and champagne punch. It was the social event of the season. Knowing Brees Island, it was probably the only social event that year. The little hand was almost at the five—that was all I cared about.
“See you at eight. Don’t forget, hot stuff.” Derek tossed his apron in a ball across the counter.
“Wait, I didn’t say I was going tonight. I have things to do,” I argued.
Things that included finishing two incomplete songs that had surfaced at the most inopportune times today. Paul’s party would be like all of the rest—over the top and expensive. I didn’t mind missing it.
“Whatever. You and I both know there’s nothing else going on tonight. See ya.”
I rested my forehead against the smooth surface of the counter. This day would never end. If I could just make it through one more, then I would have a full day off. No matter what Derek had planned that day, I was going to write. He could party alone.
Bertie walked by and typed in her clerk number on the register. “You ready to clock out?” she asked.
“I can’t get out of here fast enough. I’m so glad you’re here.” I ducked out of the apron and handed it over to the petite woman.
“For someone who is going to inherit this gold mine, you don’t seem to like it too much.” Bertie flattened the apron against her chest.
“Don’t remind me,” I groaned.
I didn’t like to talk about the store as an inheritance. I had no brothers or sisters to share the burden. It was just me. If things went the way I wanted, I would be writing songs and hearing them on the radio. My life on Brees Island would be part of the past.
“All right, kiddo. Go on. Get out of here. You probably have something fun planned tonight. I’ve got the store.” She shooed me from behind the register.
“If you see my dad, tell him I closed out the drawer like he asked and the report is in his office, ok?”
“Sure thing. Don’t worry about reports. He’ll find it. Night.”
I walked past the coffee machine, and the leftover display of this morning’s donuts. In less than thirteen hours, I would be right back here, starting the day all over again.
I grabbed my purse and keys from the office and kicked open the screen door to the employee lot. Maybe I could squeeze in a few writing hours before Derek picked me up.
***
One of the advantages to working in a beach store was getting first dibs on all the cute clothes that came in. I appreciated that perk if nothing else. I tied the halter-top behind my neck and pulled the rest of the fabric around my sides. Derek was going to notice me no matter what I wore. No use in trying to hide it.
At eight sharp, I heard a knock on the door. I opened it to face the dark-haired guy who had chased after me since we were fourteen.
“Hey, you look hot. Ready?” Derek smiled, his eyes trailing the V between my breasts.
It was hard to ignore the look on his face. It stirred something under my skin—something I had felt a few nights ago. “Uh, yeah. Let me get my bag.”
I twirled away from the door and closed my eyes. Quick party and then home by ten. That might give me a couple of hours to write before bed.
Derek held the door open as I passed under his arm. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
“Why? Paul’s parties are always the same. Booze, music, and a load of tourists he seems to pick up on the beach. Scratch that, girls he picks up on the beach.”
“If you have to ask, then I’ve been doing everything wrong.” He opened the passenger side door.
I recognized the gesture as something that happens on a date. This wasn’t supposed to be a date. Hesitantly, I slid into the car and waited as he closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side.
I glanced at the light in my bedroom window. How had I let him drag me into this? My guitar was in there with two songs, like half a heart, waiting for its whole.
***
Paul’s parties were always epic. His dad was the island’s most successful realtor, and when there was less than six square miles of real estate to sell, any tiny piece of it was valuable. Mr. McIntire had figured out Brees Island was like an untapped oil pipeline long before anyone else caught on.
Derek parked next to the fence, several cars away from the main gate. During party nights, Paul kept the gates open.
“You ready?” he squeezed my hand. I felt the warmth of his palm as it pressed against my knuckles. Moments like this I knew he was the sweetest guy on the island, but I also knew he would always be the sweetest guy here—he wouldn’t leave.
“Yep. One red cup and then you have to take me home.” I tilted my head to the side.
“Whatever you say, boss.” He snatched the keys from the ignition and stuffed them in his pocket.
I hopped from the car before he could make it to my side. I didn’t want him trying any more of that chivalrous stuff tonight. We were here as friends.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that, you know. I’m not your boss. I work at Davis just like you.” I sidled up next to him as we walked through the iron gates of the McIntire beach estate.
“I’m just kidding around with you, girl. Lighten up. We’re here to have fun.” He slipped his arm around my shoulder. “Besides, I think it’s kind of hot that you’re my boss.”
I shoved into his side, just under his ribs. “Am not!”
Derek’s deep laugh echoed across the driveway. “All right, all right. But it’s definitely hot when you get mad.”
He was relentless. I rolled my eyes and followed him up the stairs that led to the massive ten-bedroom house.
Paul greeted us at the front door. His blond hair was spiked perfectly. I wondered how much time he had spent studying hair gel techniques for men.
“Dude. Glad you made it.” Paul slapped Derek on the back.
“Wouldn’t miss it, but you know this one I had to drag here kicking and screaming.” He pointed at me.
“That’s not true, Paul. I love your parties.” I reached up to hug him.
He didn’t seem fazed. We had all known each other since elementary school or longer. When you graduate with a senior class of thirty, you know people well. I didn’t think Paul cared one way or another if I made it to one of his summer parties. All he cared about was the minivan that had just pulled up with a load full of college girls.
“Excuse me. Girls are here.” He pushed past Derek and me to meet the blondes and brunettes in tight sundresses.
Derek laughed. “I guess I should go get us some drinks.”
I held up my finger. “One. One drink.”
“Ok, ok. Meet you on the deck.” He walked into the crowded living room as I made my way to the ocean side deck.
At least I didn’t recognize anyone else. It would be a lot easier to escape after my one drink max, if none of the other Brees High classmates made an appearance.
Our high school class was evenly split: fifteen went to college like me, and the other fifteen stayed on the island and drifted into family businesses or took community college classes like Derek. It wasn’t that those fifteen weren’t college material, but there was a strong pull to stay on the island. Parents needed help running restaurants and fishing boats, and it was too expensive for most families. I knew I was lucky my parents had a year-round business, with year-round income that could fund my education. I also knew my four years of college and two years of graduate school came with strings, more like heavy metal chains.
In the far corner of the deck, the music wasn’t quite so loud. I could hear the occasional wave crash on the shore. I leaned over the railing and looked at the pool below. Paul had turned on the iridescent lights. The water sparkled between a pink and purple hue. Tacky, I thought.
“Here you go.” Derek arrived with a full cup of something the bartender had whipped up.
“Thanks.” I took a timid sip. “Paul’s got the lights in the pool on a disco show or something.”
Derek peered over the side. “He’s such an asshole. Probably one of those girls in that pack will think there’s something cool about it.”
“If you don’t like him, why do you always come to these parties?”
Coconut. Tonight’s concoction was a smooth coconut mix almost like a pina colada. I sipped again.
“Because, I get to see you and hang out with you—not at work.” He caught a strand of my hair and tucked it behind my ear.
It felt familiar. It felt sweet. “Der, this isn’t going to happen.” I paused and looked into his dark brown eyes. “We—us—it’s not—”
He cupped the side of my face with his free hand, gazing intensely at my lips. It was hard to talk to him while he stared at me like that. Even harder with him so close and so warm.
“How’s your drink?” He moved so that there was just enough space to allow the cup to tip up and take a sip.
I watched his throat move with each swallow. I knew he was giving me time to soak in the physical connection we had. Logic told me to stop right there. We didn’t have anything in common; we never would. How could we when our goals were so different?
He reached around my waist and slid his hand under my shirt so that it rested against the small of my back. I darted my eyes to his.
“Der—”
“Shhh.” He placed his cup on the railing and pulled me against him.
His grip was strong, but I relaxed into him as his lips pressed against my mouth, hot and firm. Kissing him felt wrong, all kinds of I-shouldn’t-be-doing-this wrong, but maybe that was why I couldn’t stop doing it. I moaned as his tongue moved against mine.
He broke free to whisper in my ear, “Let me take you home. Now.”
My mind was screaming no, no, no. This was what happened the other night. This is what leads to confusion, hurt, and a ruined friendship.
“If you’re worried, I promise I won’t make a big deal about it.” He nipped the side of my neck. “Just tonight.” His fingers stroked the skin along my back. It felt good. The way Derek touched me always felt good.
My resistance wasn’t as strong as I wanted it to be. He had two free hands, and while one kept me pressed against him, the other slid along my stomach and made its way below my shorts. I tried to press back, to break free, but as soon as I leaned into the hand holding me in place, he plunged his fingers between my legs.
“Oh, Der. You can’t. We can’t—” I rocked my head back, giving him full access to my neck. He kissed the skin along my throat. His fingers teased the sweet spot until I was pressing deeper against him.
“Either you let me take you home, or I’ll make you come right here. And everyone will hear you.” He growled in my ear, sending more heat through my body.
God, I didn’t want him to stop. But I knew this was a big mistake. He dipped inside me again, filling me with more want than I was ready to handle. “Ok, ok,” I stammered breathlessly. “But it’s the last time.” Maybe this was what I needed. I could get it out of my system and stop having these moments with him. Moments that made me hot, wet, and beg for anything he would give me.
Abruptly, he shifted his fingers from between my legs, grabbed my hand, and led me around to the steps on the side of the deck. No reason to go back into the party crowd.
The red cup was still in my hand. I chugged the rest of the coconut drink and tossed it in the bushes. The McIntire’s gardener would find it in the morning.
Derek’s pace picked up as we neared the car. I knew he was worried I would change my mind. Somewhere in the back of my head, I kept waiting for my goodie-goodie self to emerge and tell him she was kidding and that the place he had touched between her legs had cooled off, but that girl never showed up. Not on the ride home. Not when I fumbled with the keys to my door. Not when he untied the knot on my halter. And not when I turned off the lights.
***
The alarm was sounding, but it wasn’t mine. I thought crickets were bad, but car horns in the morning were like nails on a chalkboard. Where was the sound coming from? And why was there an arm draped across my chest?
I sat straight up. Shit. It had happened again. Well, not completely again, but enough. I ran my fingers through my hair. Those horns had to stop.
“Der, Der, can you turn off your alarm?” I shoved against his heavy frame. He slept hard.
“Aw, sorry.” He reached for the floor, and eventually the sound stopped. He rolled back to the center of the bed, pulling the sheet over his head and covering the wave tattoo on his shoulder blade.
“Thanks.” I looked at my phone. It was 4:45. He got up even earlier than I did. That must be how he always made it to the store first.
I watched as he fell back into a pattern of deep breathing. Things had really gotten out of control last night. We almost had sex. As naked as we were, it seemed like we had, but no, it hadn’t actually happened. The crazy thing was I was just going to do it, but Derek said he wanted the first time to be special between us. Something about romance and candles. That was when I knew it had to be the last time. Every part of my body reacted to him except my heart, and that wasn’t fair. Last time, I swore.
I cared about him enough to stop leading him on. I was never going to love him like that.
I maneuvered to the edge of the bed, slipping one foot to the floor and then the other. If I could make it to the shower before he woke up again, I could avoid the awkward naked thing. He was completely wrapped in the sheet, and we had kicked the comforter to the floor last night. It was a run-for-it kind of situation.
I waited for his next exhale, and then counted: one, two, three. I dashed to the bathroom and closed the door behind me.
I picked up the timer. I turned the dial to seven minutes and reached for the shower handle. At least today I wouldn’t be late for work. That was a first.