Twelve hours earlier…
Vanessa
I tiptoe down the stairs praying that she’s gone. Carrying my flats in one hand, and my bag in the other; I sidestep each spot that might creak under my weight.
I hold my breath.
The only sound in the house comes from the battery-powered clock above the kitchen table.
Tick tick tick.
With no sign of her, I let out my breath only to realize that there’s no chance the front door won’t squeak when turning the handle.
Bending down, I hastily slip my shoes on and prepare to run—just in case she’s there lurking in the shadows.
“One, two, three, go—” I whisper, twisting the knob to make my escape.
Screaming, my arms flail wildly. I reach out and grab the porch railing.
Thank God, it stops my momentum.
I might fantasize about taking her clear out, but I would never actually do it.
“Holy shit! Mom! You scared the crap out of me. What are you doing out here so early?” The last thing I expected was to see her outside planted on the front steps.
“Getting the paper,” she answers dryly.
“Doesn’t Dad usually bring it to you?”
“Yes, but Milestones prints every Thursday and I need to read it before my yoga class. Pat checks the obituaries and I scan the birth announcements and then the engagement section. I need to keep up with what’s going on in this town.”
I shake my head, “Mom... you are a goddamn wacko.”
“What have I told you about taking the Lord’s name in vain, young lady? Do I need to get a bar of soap out like I did when you were five?”
She thumps the rolled-up newspaper on her thigh. Standing in her nightgown and threadbare slippers, my mom looks every day of her fifty-one years. Deep frown lines crease her forehead and in her eyes a look that I’ve seen a thousand times before—disappointment.
My shoulders slump and I brace myself for what’s to come.
“Don’t think your father and I haven’t been paying attention to what time you’ve been coming home. Two in the morning is unacceptable. You’re living under my roof this summer, and I expect you to be home at a reasonable hour.”
“Come on, I just graduated from college and I’m twenty-two. You can’t be serious?”
“I am and I want you home every night by ten—at the latest…ten.”
“Ten?” I roll my eyes at her. “That’s not going to happen.”
“It will. Or I’ll start charging you rent. Because Vanessa, it’s my house and my rules.”
She digs in and I know better than to fight with her. Appeasing her like a child usually works better. Distracting her also helps. I decide to try the latter.
“I was only out late last night because of Eva. It’s her first week working for Charles Foster and she was filling me in.”
“She got a job at Foster Sailing? Oh, my word,” Mom pauses dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Did she see Blake?” She pauses expectantly, holding in her breath with excitement. Her eyes are as round as saucers. She’s transformed into a five-year-old on Christmas morning.
“She sure did. Eva said he’s everything we thought he would be—and then some. I’ll tell you about it later. I’ve got to go, or I’ll be late for work.”
“Sure honey, go, go—” she waves her hand dismissing me and steps aside to let me pass.
Phew, that was close.
Using the magic, the fantasy, and the enigma of the Foster family works on her every time. My batty mother is obsessed with them. Their family is like royalty in our small town. We never see Blake or his father, Charles, in person since they keep themselves hidden behind gated driveways and inside private yacht clubs. The only glimpse into their world is what’s printed in the society pages of our local newspaper or the Coast and County magazine. Mom is going to eat up every crumb that I give her, courtesy of Eva and it just might save my ass this summer.
I had forgotten what it was like to live with her 24/7— pure hell. Especially since I got accustomed to living on my own at school. My parents didn’t know what I was up to, whose bed I slept in the night before, or what time I actually did make it back home. They’ve always been overprotective of me, but I expected that things would change as I got older.
It hasn’t.
***
Cruising in my MINI through the empty streets of downtown Mystic reminds me why I wanted to come home so badly. The windows of the shops that line either side of Main Street sparkle in the early morning sun. Planters full of bright blooms hang from lamp posts. Sailboats and motor yachts line the docks on either side of the Mystic River, which is deserted except for a few fishermen trying their luck. Crossing over the drawbridge still feels magical even though I’ve lived here my whole life.
I haven’t traveled much outside of Connecticut, but even tourists remark how special my New England hometown is. One even commented that this place resembles a mini Amsterdam. But it reminds me more of a Norman Rockwell or Thomas Kincaid painting. I get the same feeling inside my heart when I see paintings done by those men as I do every time I come back here. The Wharf Inn where I’m working at is just up ahead. The expansive white stucco building has large hunter green shutters framing every window. The hotel dominates what would be an entire city corner.
I’ve worked at the front desk for the past four summers, but this year I’m coming back as the new assistant manager. Just for a few months though— until my marketing job in Manhattan begins. When my hiring manager in the city phoned a few weeks ago asking if I could start in September instead of July…something about fourth quarter budgeting— I was relieved.
I eagerly informed him that it was no problem. Truthfully, I’m stalling. I’m intimidated by New York City and how different it is from my coastal New England town, which is totally ironic, since I’ve always dreamed of the day I would graduate from college and get the heck away from my stifling mother. I wish I could be more like my best friend Eva.
She fears nothing.
Pulling into the back lot of the hotel, I can’t help but grin as I park in the spot reserved for management. With my new purse in hand, and with a bounce in my step, I glide through the back doors to the lobby.
I’ve stolen one last summer and I’m determined to make it count—no matter how nuts my mother might be.
***
It’s barely noon and I want to crawl back home.
The slow ache behind my eyes has built to a pounding pain courtesy of the two PITA’s (pain in the asses) standing in front of me.
“I’m truly sorry your stay here so far has been less than satisfactory.”
They just stare at me blankly from the other side of the counter.
I’m grateful the woman has finally shut her mouth. She just laid into me for a good ten minutes. First, it was about the horrid traffic they got stuck in.
Traffic?
On a two-lane highway during peak season—who would’ve thought that would happen?
Then she started complaining about the ice machine being ‘a mile away in the lobby’, but when she found out that we don’t have twenty-four-hour room service—she totally freaked. To top it off, the old air conditioning system for the third floor burned out. I’m sure their room is sweltering but I’m doing my best to make them happy.
“The electrician is on his way to repair the faulty wiring. In the meantime, enjoy the view from Red 36 and have a fabulous lunch! When you get back… everything should be fixed,” I tell them brightly.
I’ve mastered the art of disguising my inner dialogues with pretty smiles when handling the tourists.
“It better be. Or I’ll want to speak to the manager.”
“I am the assistant manager on duty and I can assure you the problem is being taken care of.”
The man looks at me in disbelief. He clearly doubts someone my age can handle anything. I’m so tired of other adults looking at me, but still seeing a child.
They walk out angrily, slamming the lobby door behind them.
I pull up their reservation in our computer and type PITA in the notes. This code phrase will warn my co-workers on the next shift about them.
I look up from the screen as Lori, the head housekeeper, greets me. Tiny beads of sweat dot across her temples and a few wisps of hair have escaped from her bun, sticking to the side of her neck. She had just come down the stairs from the third floor. There’s no elevator here either. It’s another thing the tourists like to complain about.
She hands me the clipboard marking off the rooms that have been cleaned so I can enter the information into the computer in case we have any early check-ins.
“How’s the staff doing? I don’t want anyone to pass out washing laundry in the basement.”
She shrugs her shoulders and accepts what the wealthy couple who just left can’t.
Sometimes shit just happens.
“Here,” I tell her taking out a few bills from the petty cash box. “Go treat yourself and the rest of the housekeeping staff to some iced coffees.”
She smiles warmly at me, “Thanks Vanessa. You are the sweetest.”
I smile back.
Sometimes, it’s the small things that can make a difference in a person’s day.
Grabbing my purse, I dash out to the coffee shop that’s a block up. I’m not worried about leaving my post behind the counter for a few minutes since Anna, the new girl just punched in. I might as well let her answer the reservation lines that have been ringing non-stop. My phone buzzes in my hand. Unlocking it, I read a chain of texts from Eva and TJ.
Esker tonight! It’s finally here, TJ wrote.
I’m bringing the boxed wine, Eva replied.
Summer kick-off party starts in 5 hours baby! TJ responded.
I need a drink now! Major PITAS at the Inn!..., I type.
I’ve got you covered girlie :) Eva responds.
Smiling, I place my phone back in my bag and decide to walk down to the docks for some fresh air while I enjoy my iced coffee.
***
“I’ve waited all year for this.”
Sighing, I dig my toes into the warm sand as the scent of salt water and sunscreen hits me. My eyes track the movement of colorful sailboats bobbing up and down to the cadence of the waves.
“Nothing beats Esker Point Beach on a Thursday night,” Eva agrees, pouring more wine into my cup.
A car pulls into the lot behind us blaring Natural Mystic. Bob Marley’s classic song is a staple around here.
“Thanks—I needed this. It’s been a long day.”
“The tourists or you mother?”
“Take your pick,” I reply, downing the wine.
“She hates me.”
“Vanessa, your mother doesn’t hate you. She’s just jealous. When do you start your job in the city?”
“September.”
“You’ll survive. You just need thicker skin.” She slides her sunglasses on and scans the beach.
I’ve been dismissed.
Sitting back in my chair, I’m disappointed at how she always brushes off my feelings. I love her, but sometimes her frankness stings. I know Eva’s never been the warm and fuzzy type, but a little empathy every now and then wouldn’t hurt. Staring back out into The Long Island Sound, I sip my wine. My stress level decreases, with every cup she pours me.
***
I glance over to the swelling crowd and shake my head at the strange mix of people gathering. Families juggling children and beach chairs cross in the road. Biker gangs sporting leather and bandanas double-fist draft beer by the concession stand. Then there’s the preppy yacht club types wearing pressed plaid shirts and oxford loafers. They hang back afraid to be seen with the rest of us. Although, we are all different— we all share in the excitement that the first beach concert of the season brings. Thankfully, there are no tourists here since we’re a ten-minute drive out of town. This tiny sliver of sand tucked away behind a residential community is our sanctuary.
“We need to move soon,” Eva announces packing up our things.
I look over to the stage where the bass player strums out a few chords, finalizing his sound check. We always leave the families behind to find a spot by the band, where every Thursday at sunset, millennials like us invade the beach and turn it into an outdoor nightclub.
“Vanessa!”
“TJ!” My eyes light up seeing my oldest friend crossing the sand towards us. His real name is Tim, but he prefers the nickname that I gave him when we were kids. I’ve known TJ since before I was potty-trained. Our parents love telling us how we used to practice “going together.” Thank God neither of us remembers those days, but my mother won’t let them go. She takes out Polaroid pictures every Thanksgiving when we host him and his mom for dinner. I think our parents secretly still hope more develops from our friendship, but I’ll always see TJ as the brother that I never had.
He finally reaches us after winding through the sea of beach blankets, and sets a small cooler down in the sand and takes out the promised bottle of tequila.
“To our last summer together in Mystic—it’s going to be epic,” he says pouring the shots. I toss my head back and down mine in one swallow. I’ve never been much of a drinker but between Mom and the tourists—I’ve been on edge. Just for one night—I want to live in the moment and let loose like everyone else my age. I’m sure Mom is at home already preparing her next lecture anyway.
“Whoa—the two of you kicked an entire box of wine in thirty minutes?”
“Yep.” Eva answers him without looking up from her cooler. She grabs three Coronas and hands them out, “Are you guys ready?” Eva might be all business, but she’s fiercely loyal to me and TJ. When she moved to town in junior high school, she saved me from Wendy Smith and her posse. They picked on me relentlessly and I was reduced to hiding in the girl’s bathroom during lunch. But that all ended the day Eva found me.
I was huddled on the floor against the back wall of the bathroom, pathetically eating my sandwich. Eva took one look at me and muttered something in Spanish. She grabbed my arm, jammed a quarter into the feminine dispenser, and ordered me to follow her. And I did without question. She always was a natural leader. Eva marched right into the cafeteria holding the maxi pad high and yelled that she had a special delivery for Wendy. It took weeks before the boys stopped making fun of Wendy and I won’t lie—to this day it still makes me smile. Eva Cruz saved me from years of high school hell and she’s been my hero ever since.
She and TJ became friends shortly after, and the three of us have been inseparable ever since. Heck— we even went to Eastern Connecticut College where we just graduated together. There was no way a higher education was going to separate the three of us.
And just like I was when I was thirteen—I still follow her. As Eva leads us through the crowd, I try search for familiar faces but they are all blurry—I can’t focus.
I shouldn’t have accepted that last shot of tequila.
My sandal snags on the corner of a beach blanket causing me to stumble. Ice-cold beer spills from my bottle. The frothy foam lands on a boy playing in the sand. “Sorry!” I shriek, grabbing a towel from his blanket. I attempt to wipe him off but the mother yanks the towel from my hand. “Watch it!” She yells at me. I mumble another apology and keep going—fighting to keep my balance as we weave through the crowd. I don’t remember ever feeling this buzzed before. I was always the safe and careful one at school. My mom scared the shit out of me when she made me watch a Lifetime Movie Special about a girl that went missing on Spring Break. It’s only because I’m with Eva and TJ in our hometown that I didn’t even think twice about how much I was drinking.
“You made it,” TJ laughs when sluggishly I catch up, but Eva’s still going. She passes the volleyball courts, just stopping short of the breaking waves.
I take a deep breath and try to regain control. Finally, I reach her and lean on TJ to slip off my sandals while praying cold water on my feet will help sober me up. There’s something about the ocean that brings me peace. The ebb and flow of the waves and the sound of them crashing on the shore is in my blood. I don’t know how I’m going to leave this behind for the concrete streets of Manhattan. But I don’t want to think about that right now, because right here in this moment— my world is perfect. Well, it would be if I wasn’t so drunk. Turning around, I face the beach and sigh in contentment at the scene playing out in front of me. The concert’s in full swing and the stage area is packed with couples dancing. Behind them, cliques are scattered across the sand. I gaze to the right where families sit on beach blankets and candles from a few tables glow like fireflies.
“Vanessa! Watch out!”
“Jesus!” I scream. My heart’s pounding out of my chest as TJ grabs my elbow; barely hauling me out of the way as a Zodiac slams up on the beach next to us. The compact boat resembles the type of military craft that you’d expect a Navy Seal to use on a covert mission. But the four guys are lounging inside drinking bottles of Red Stripe are no Navy Seals— they are the stereotypical playboys of summer.
Of course, it’s him.
Seeing my reflection in the aviator lenses of Mystic’s golden boy is surreal. I’m finally face to face with the legend and Mom is going to flip out when I tell her how he almost killed me.
“What the heck was that, Blake?” Eva asks, reaching into his boat for a beer.
“Sorry Eva. I just got the new Yamaha 8 horsepower fitted on my Zodiac today. I haven’t quite gotten used to the power this baby has,” he laughingly replies.
I haven’t moved. I’m still planted in the sand next to TJ— staring in shock at the local celebrity who almost ran me over and realizing that he couldn’t care less.
“Hey TJ— I didn’t know you knew my girl Eva,” he says stepping out of the rugged watercraft.
“I didn’t know you even knew my name.”
“My father and I know every employee who works at the yacht club,” Blake answers helping his friends move the rugged boat ashore.
I raise my eyebrows at Eva. She finally takes the hint and introduces me. Blake takes my hand and kisses it, “Pleasure to meet you…Vanessa.”
“Thanks for the apology,” I mutter.
He winks at me and just walks by— as if I’m no one important.
I guess I’m not.
My eyes follow him and it’s impossible not to miss how the crowd parts— almost as if recognizing their king has arrived.
My mouth drops open in surprise at Eva and TJ, blindly following Blake. I didn’t realize my two best friends subscribed to his fan club and after the stunt that he just pulled— I don’t want to be a member. I can’t watch this anymore; with my eyes downcast, I turn away.
All I see are feet.
I stare at them incredulously for a good fifteen seconds. They are encased in a pair of Adidas flip-flops, and look to be a size twelve with perfectly shaped toes. As the buzz from the alcohol hums through me; my eyes move up his legs and past loose khaki shorts, up to his white button-down shirt and linger on wide shoulders. When my eyes finally reach his face— a pair of dark eyes smirk down at me. While I’m tall at five feet and seven inches, the top of my head barely reaches his chest.
“If you have a thing for feet— I’ll let you rub them for a beer.”
His dark brown hair is wet from the sea spray and it curls on his neck. My God. I’m in love. I pinch myself to make sure that I’m not hallucinating. I’ve never seen anyone like him before. He’s straight out of a dream.
He raises an eyebrow at me.
I’m busted.
I’m too drunk to even attempt trying to hide what’s clearly written on my face.
“Sure. I’ll be sure to hit all the right spots for an extra tip.”
What did I just say? My God, I sound like a hooker.
Dammit, never again!
I am never drinking boxed wine and tequila again. I’ve never had such an instant and visceral attraction to a man before. It’s intense and overwhelming. For a second, I forget where I am; who I am because all I want to do is jump him right here in the sand.
I’ve lost my mind. No correction, he stole it from me and I have a bad feeling that he’s about to steal much more.
“I think I’ll pass,” he says, smiling and shaking his head. Small flecks of salt water fly off and land on my bare shoulders.
I’m mesmerized.
The man of my dreams is real. He’s right in front of me and I’m too drunk to do anything but stare dumbly at him with my mouth hanging open.
He smooths his hair back with one hand and finally tells me his name.
“Ryan Stone.”
He reaches into the Zodiac and grabs two beers. “So…I know you have a foot fetish but I don’t know your name.”
“Vanessa Lyman and I hate feet. But yours…are pretty special.” I’ve found my voice.
He looks down at them before meeting my gaze, “Well you know what they say about a man’s feet...”
As we clink bottles, I hear the music from the Grease Live with Vanessa Hudgens playing in my head. Oh yes, those…summer nights.
We both sip our beers in silence and it begins to feel awkward. I know I’m coming off like a complete ditz—so I try to think of something cool to say.
“I’ve never had this kind of beer before—it’s a bit heavy.”
“I just got back from a business trip to Jamaica,” he replies taking a swig. I stare at his lips touching the cool glass.
“What does Jamaica have to do with anything?”
“Red Stripe is a Jamaican beer, little one.”
“Jamaica? What type of business did you have there?”
“I’m an investment banker for a small firm in Boston. This week we had a meeting for our Caribbean investors at Rose Hall.”
“Where’s Rose Hall? I thought you said you were in Jamaica?”
He stares at me for a minute and then replies, “Rose Hall is an exclusive part of Montego Bay.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip and bow my head. My toes dig into the wet sand and I know that I’m way out of my league here.
“It’s alright, Vanessa. Your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell anyone you failed geography class.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I just graduated at the top of my class and I’m sure no one but wealthy playboys knows where Rose Hall is.”
“Point taken,” he smirks at me some more and I realize that he’s never stopped smirking at me since the moment I looked up and saw him ten minutes ago.
This guy isn’t from around here and he clearly knows it. Not only that, but he and Blake aren’t college kids. They are self-assured men. There’s an unmistakable difference between them and the rest of the local boys on the beach behind me.
“What are you doing here at Esker with Blake?”
“Blake and I met at HSB. He’s been trying to convince me for years to take a Thursday off for one of these beach concerts. I finally take him up on it and find you. So, tell me…are all the girls in this town weird?”
I cringe knowing that tonight he’s got me pegged. “I’m not weird…maybe just a little buzzed? What’s HSB?”
“Harvard School of Business.”
“Oh.”
My face is greasy and I feel dejected.
Why did I have to meet him on a muggy summer night when I’m drunk at a beach concert?
“Tell me Vanessa… what do you do for fun when you’re not shit-faced on the beach?”
I take a few steps out of the water to stand closer to him. Nervously, I fidget with my grandfather’s signet ring, twisting it round and round on my index finger. His death hit me hard and wearing his ring gives me comfort.
I take my time answering his question. Obviously, an older sophisticated guy like him could never be interested in me. This won’t go anywhere, so I don’t see the point of being anything but real.
“I enjoy a good book. I wanted to major in English Lit, but my parents freaked and made me choose a business major instead.”
“Why? English Literature is classic. It’s a prep school curriculum must. Chaucer is one of my favorite authors. Who are you reading now?”
“Uh— I just re-read the Twilight series.”
He looks at me like I am the biggest idiot he’s ever met.
“What?”
“You know—Edward Cullen, the sexy vampire? The series was made into movies—”
He shakes his head, “I’ve never heard of it. I’m too busy making multi-million-dollar business deals to watch teen shit,” he finishes snobbishly. He breaks eye contact with me and searches the crowd, probably looking around for his friends and planning an exit strategy.
Crap, did I just say Edward Cullen to a man like Ryan Stone?
I’ve been in deep water trying to tread with him and sinking like a stone.
How am I supposed to keep up with him? I just graduated from a small state college with a degree in marketing, while he is Mr. Harvard and must be close to a decade older than me. Even sober it would be a challenge.
God—he must think that I’m a great conversationalist.
I sigh in relief, seeing Blake’s tall blonde head emerge from the crowd. I guess the king has finished his meet and greet with us peasants but at least him coming back will save me from making more of an ass out of myself.
I hope.
“Take this Vanessa.” TJ hands me a bottle of water.
“Thanks. I was wondering where you went.”
He winks and starts talking with one of Blake’s friends about yachting. I take this opportunity to disengage and let Ryan join in on TJ’s conversation. But I can’t help but hear that they are making plans to go over to Fisher’s Island. Fisher’s is considered part of New York State and the bars close later than they do in Connecticut. I guess that must be the appeal. It’s a few nautical miles off the coast of Esker and only accessible by boat making it rich man’s playground.
“Are you in, TJ?”
My head snaps up in disbelief by the unexpected invite, issued by the king himself.
“What about Vanessa and me? Surely you boys won’t mind finding room for us in your boat?” Eva asks.
“Sorry. It’s guys’ night out. See you at work tomorrow,” Blake tells her flippantly. “Are you coming?” he asks TJ while chucking his empty bottle in the trash.
“Next time. I have plans with my girls here,” TJ answers putting both arms around me and Eva.
“I can’t believe you’re going three miles offshore, half-cocked in a rubber boat. It’ll be dark soon. Safety first! Don’t forget your life vests,” I yell, trying to be cute.
“Vanessa. My Zodiac is just the tender to shore from my new Viking 95,” Blake responds gesturing with a fresh beer in hand behind us.
We all turn to stare, and I’m speechless at the sleek white yacht that sits in the harbor. The sun’s setting rays bounce off the glistening body of the vessel, almost blinding me, “HER MAJESTY” is scripted in gold across the stern—bold and unapologetic.
“Holy shit! The new Viking! I hear that baby can reach up to forty knots depending on sea conditions.”
I glance at TJ. He clearly knows what he’s talking about since he’s worked the past five summers at MYC, short for The Mystic Yacht Club.
“Forget it. I’m in.”
TJ’s arms drop from me and he steps away. “I would go anywhere on that beauty. Sorry ladies... I’m going to upgrade.” He turns to Blake, “Will you let me drive her?”
“No way, man. Not tonight. No one who’s had a drop of alcohol besides me, goes near my custom-designed baby and her twin MAN V12 engines.” All eyes are still on Blake Foster’s flashy sports yacht but the spell’s broken when his buddies start lugging the Zodiac back down the beach. Eva and I follow alongside, and I’m still in disbelief that TJ will get in and leave us
My feet are submerged in six inches of water again and I’m hurt. I just wish for one night to be aboard a million-dollar yacht; whisked away like a princess in a fairy tale. But that’s never been my life or my luck. I might resemble Cinderella in looks but I’m too rough around the edges to ever pass as her. I’ll just go back to reading about Blake’s life in the society pages with Mom on Sunday mornings. Sometimes I wonder if he just likes to be seen and put on Instagram. Last time I checked, he had six-thousand followers—portraying an image of non-stop jet-setting to them. Our worlds couldn’t be more different. My dad’s an electrician and my mom’s a nurse. They could only afford to send me to a state college. While I consider myself educated—yacht clubs, Harvard boys, ‘Her Highness’ motor boat…all that blue blood crap has never been part of my world and I never missed it.
Why try to fit into it now? Deciding to cut my losses early, I say goodbye.
“Have fun on Fisher’s. It was nice meeting all of you!”
They all look at me and Eva mouths, “What the fuck are you doing?”
Lost in my own thoughts— I didn’t realize that my sudden outburst stopped conversation. Embarrassed, I turn to walk away but trip over the stern of the Zodiac, falling head first. I scream in pain as my forehead cracks on the powerful engine. My sundress flies up and I feel the cool sea breeze blow across my bare-ass cheeks. I desperately try to recall what panties I put on that morning, but my pounding head won’t let me.
Ryan’s voice carries over the hysterical laughter, “Let me help you up sweet cheeks.” He leans down to pull my dress back into place. But his hand briefly palms one cheek and I feel his soft breath near my ear as he pushes back my honey-blonde strands and whispers, “You know I would’ve asked you for your number without all the gymnastics, but it’s good to know that you have a great ass before I take you out.”
What? I gingerly feel my forehead, relieved there’s no blood and my head isn’t the only thing on fire now.
He lifts me out of the boat and I put my arms around his neck. Our lips are close enough to kiss. I start to trail my fingers down the side of his cheek when he puts me down.
“Thanks for rescuing me,” I whisper, trying not to cry. I already feel a significant bump swelling on my forehead.
Carefully, I turn around. Everyone is staring and laughing at the hot mess that I’ve become tonight. I blindly fight my way through the crowd— just wanting to get away. But he doesn’t chase after me and I have no chariot waiting to whisk me away.
I finally meet someone who is smart, successful, and physically my dream man. And what do I do? I screw it up by drinking too much and mooning him.
I mooned the man of my dreams!
What moron does that?
I smack my forehead. Shit! Why did I just hit my already injured head?
“Idiot.” I mutter, finally reaching the top of the beach not far from where my evening began.
“Shit. I’m stuck,” I mumble, remembering that Eva drove me here. I grab my phone from my wristlet. It’s miraculously still dry after my free fall. “Daddy…it’s me. I’m at the beach concert. Can you come pick me up?”
“Vanessa? Are you alright? Have you been crying?”
“I’m fine. I just drank more than I thought and I want to come home.” I hang up and text Eva.
Made an ass of myself, literally. Going home...., I type.
Alright, Chica, be safe, she responds.
Walking toward the road to wait for my dad, I look up and see my ex directing traffic in the crosswalk.
Crap. I don’t need a run-in with him tonight.
Quickly pivoting, I huddle behind a dune and hope that the thick clumps of beach grass will conceal me.
“Vanessa? I thought that was you. What’s up?”
I don’t look at him. I can’t.
Pulling my knees into my chest, I bow my head. Even though I squeeze my eyes shut; the tears still find a way to slip out.
Please, God, this can’t be happening. After the night I’ve had already—he’s the last person that I want to see.
“Are you sick?”
“I need a minute alone. Is that alright, Officer O’Neill?”
Hopefully, he’ll get the hint and leave.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he bends down in the sand next to me. I take a deep breath, trying to find the strength to face him. Quickly dabbing my eyes— I look up into the face of the man who stole my heart last summer and tore it to shreds come the fall.
His shifty gaze scans my tear-streaked face then dips lower. His cloudy blue eyes look longingly at my cleavage.
I feel nauseous.
As I remember the details of how he betrayed me—I can’t help it. Every cup of wine that I drank comes up; all over his pant legs and shoes.
“Shit! Nessa! Are you drunk?”
I can’t answer. My head is on fire from the fall into Blake’s boat and now it pounds from the memories of Sean cheating on me with a forty-year-old woman.
I’m shaking—I can’t stop shaking.
The back of my throat fills with stomach acid. I fight it desperately and cling to the hope that Dad will be here any minute. Even with my eyes closed— I feel the force of Sean's gaze crushing me into the sand as he looms over me.
“I’m not drunk. It’s just… the sound and sight of you makes me gag. Sorry.”
“Don’t be like this. I know you’re shit-faced. I deal with drunks constantly. You know being intoxicated in public is against the law.” He taps the metal sign next to me with his nightstick. “This sign, right here... clearly states alcohol on the beach is prohibited. If you don’t watch that smart mouth of yours— I’ll have to arrest you.”
A total joke since he’s usually here drinking when off-duty.
“Keep dreaming about handcuffing me.”
“Why are you so uptight? Just meet me later on River Road and I won’t have to book you,” he tries to sexily whisper in my ear.
He’s such a pig. I just puked on him and he’s coming on to me?
“Sean. Are you dense? What’s wrong with you? Did you forget the moment when you got caught cheating on me in your cruiser, on River Road?
Because I haven’t.
It wrecked me—you wrecked me. Just go.”
“That’s all in the past. Tonight’s the start of a new summer— I think we should try again. I still love you.”
He moves closer and before I realize what he’s doing—the tip of his tongue touches in my ear, as he half kisses and half stabs me with it.
He’s disgusting. What’s gotten in to him?
I vomit again and this time, it hits him full on. He screams, jumping back.
Feeling weak and with my head pounding; I sink in the sand and listen to him radio for backup.
I think this just might be— the beginning of the summer from hell.
***
Ryan
“What in the hell was that all about?”
“I needed to get her away from him. Do you think that I should’ve gone after her?”
I had texted Blake when we were at the beach to invite that guy, TJ, to come with us to Fisher’s island. I wanted to get him away from Vanessa since he was the one whose arms she fell into when Blake almost took her out. They seem like just friends, but I’m not taking any chances. I wanted to make sure she would be going home alone tonight and getting plenty of rest. She doesn’t know it yet, but her cute friend gave me her number and I plan on using it to ask her out tomorrow night.
“Nah, I’m sure she’s fine. If she was really hurt, her friend Eva would’ve gone with her.”
“I hope you’re right, Blake.”
Vanessa must have been drunker than I thought. When she fell and hit her head on the Zodiac’s engine, I was the first one to rush to her rescue. The moment I scooped her up and cradled her in my arms—it felt so right. For a split-second, I had an urge to climb into the boat and take off with her; kidnap her like a goddamn pirate. She is all the treasure that a man could ever want.
When I inhaled the sweet smell of her hair, it travelled through my body and settled in my soul.
She marked me by just existing.
I didn’t want to let her go, but I had to put her down when I noticed all the attention she was getting. The whole beach practically saw her half-naked.
When she fell, her dress flipped up and damn…I’m going to dream about that ass for days...weeks even.
Fuck.
I’m getting hard just remembering how round and smooth she was and where the tan lines stopped and the curve of her cheeks began. I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to calm down.
I don’t want to be here.
I want to stalk her like a lovesick fool.
I want to find out where she lives and climb a tree up to her window.
I want to get rid of anything and everything that might get in my way.
I don’t want to talk, or hold hands. I want her in my bed—for at least two days. Then maybe we could get around to dinner and a movie. Hell, I’d even cuddle with her.
Who am I kidding? I want my arms to be a cage and her body: my prisoner.
I sigh, and take another sip of my beer. Waiting until tomorrow to see her, feels like an eternity. It’s dark and my eyes strain on the bridge for any buoys in the water. It doesn’t help that I’ve had more than a few beers. “She was so goddamn cute. Shit Blake, I haven’t been this excited over a girl, in forever.”
“Or at all, you just stood there like an idiot— barely speaking to her.”
“I know. I kept saying stupid shit when I did, so I just shut the hell up. All I wanted to do was haul her drunk-ass up over my shoulder and slam her down on my bed. I’ve never been into kinky shit, but damn, that was a girl that I could tie up—for days.”
“Jesus, you’re gone. I’ve never seen you like this. I’m happy for you Ry. Finally, someone has gotten to you. But I don’t know what makes her so different. Sure she was good looking, but you’ve had more beautiful woman. She was piss drunk too— she could barely stand up straight.”
“Please Blake, it’s lust, not love brother. Don’t worry, I won’t let her slow me down. Besides, I liked that she was slightly messy. She won’t care when I kiss her lipstick off, or run my hands through her hair. There’s no expensive blow-out that will get ruined. I’m so sick of girls like Blaire, all glossed and glammed to the nines. They are so stiff; so afraid to let me see who they are underneath all that crap. This girl, this girl—shows you everything, with no pretenses and no shame. It turned me the fuck on.”
“Well, her ass was stellar, a grade A—ten!”
“Watch it Blake, you’re not going to get near it.”
His hand presses down on the gear, slowing the engines and we glide into the cove where we will drop anchor and take the Zodiac in to Fisher’s Island. Blake swears that on Thursday nights, every nanny will be out drinking. And after watching spoiled kids all day, they will want to relax. But my thoughts are back on shore, with the girl whose smile was full of sunshine and a heart that gleamed like pure gold. I don’t care that she was tipsy and a klutz. There was something special about her, and I can’t touch it. It’s intangible. But it’s there. I smile, knowing that tomorrow she won’t say no. I could tell that she felt the pull as strongly as I did. Maybe she’s what I needed: something fresh and clean, sunshine and smiles in the light, instead of drunk fucks in the dark.
It’s been a while since I actually asked a nice girl to dinner, but I hope that she’ll be up for some dessert after, because I’m already starving— to taste her lips and trace my tongue down those tan lines, the ones that I couldn’t see.
***
“Ry! Ry! I did it! I got into Colby!”
“I knew that you would Abbs!” I pick her up and swing her around. She’ll only be a few hours north of me now, in Maine. Close enough for me to go up there and kick some frat boy’s ass if I need to. I still look out for her, just like I did when we were kids. She’s more than just my kid sister; in a lot of ways she’s grown up to be my best friend.
She laughs, pounding on my back. “Put me down, you’re making me dizzy!” She falls in the grass and the sunlight shines through her hair. Her smile is guileless and full of pure joy. Abby is so goddamn sweet and innocent. Sometimes, when I look at her I still see the little girl who hid in my room when she was afraid of the dark. I hold out my hand to help her up, but something comes between us; an imaginary force field of sorts. She starts to disappear, her body almost becoming transparent. “Abby! Abby!” I scream, desperately trying to fight whatever is preventing me from getting to her.
“It’s okay, Ryan. Let it go. Let me go...,” her voice fades as she disappears entirely, right into thin air. “Abby!” I scream, waking up finding my face wet.
I’m shaken.
I haven’t dreamed of her, not once since she died.
Not because I don’t want to, but because she never comes to visit me. Sometimes, I feel like that gives me a license to not give a shit, because if heaven was real: Abby would be there and she’d find a way to tell me.
But she’s been silent.
Absent.
Until now.
Until the night I met her—Vanessa. Maybe it’s just coincidence, but either way I’m not going to be myself today, because that dream was just as fresh as the memory of the day when Abby received that acceptance letter.
“Bro? Are you alright in there?” Blake raps on the door to my cabin.
“Yeah, give me a second.”
I yawn, stretching my arms wide before dropping my feet on the floor to unlock the door.
I swing it open, finding Blake holding a steaming mug of black coffee. “I thought that you might need this. After all, you have a hot date tonight with the woman of your dreams.”
I smile and take the mug, “Shit. It’s only seven in the morning. I have to wait a few more hours before I can ask her.”
“As if you are really worried that she might say no?”
“No. I saw the way she was staring at me when she thought I wasn’t looking. Did you tell that guy TJ, to keep his mouth shut?”
“No. Well shit, why did you kiss those two girls at the bar right in front of him?”
“Old habits die hard, Blake. And they were twins. From Iceland—I think?”
“From what I hear, she’s a nice girl. Way too good for a dirty slut like you, Ry. She’s young too, I’m not sure that you should go for her.”
“What the fuck Blake? Since when are you the moral police?”
He shrugs, reaching up to stretch his arms over the door jamb. “Since Vanessa’s best fiend just started working at my father’s company. I don’t want to be hearing about this shit all summer.”
“The only thing that you are going to be hearing…is how many times I make her scream in that bed.” I point my finger behind me, “while you sleep in the next room, listening like a jealous bastard.”
“My god, you’ve got it bad. I hope for once she doesn’t come easy. Just so I can watch you burn for a change.”
“That’s never going to happen, Blake. Not to me. You forget who you are talking to.”
“I know exactly who I’m talking to.”
He heads back up to the bridge and I walk into the large stateroom bathroom. Turning on the shower, I can’t help but think about her as I grab the shower gel and lather up. I should probably take the edge off anyway before our date later. My eyes squeeze shut and I see nothing but her face, her fit legs, and those goddamn tan lines as I rub one out, coming hard.
Jesus, I almost faint from the force of my release and it was just a fantasy not the real thing. She’s going to rock my world and I can’t fucking wait.
***
I fucking blew it.
She looked so damn beautiful when she climbed up the stairs and entered the room. Although she still had an aura of freshness about her—she glowed with a fresh tan and her skin smelled like coconuts in the Caribbean. Thank god I was wearing my loose khaki shorts, because I was hard for her the instant she greeted me with a peck on the cheek. From my height, I could see straight down into her cleavage while sniffing her freshly washed hair. She left it down again; teasing me. I have a thing for girls with long blonde hair; long enough to wrap around my wrists, at least three times.
I was so enraptured that I was a complete idiot. I didn’t know what the hell I was thinking, coming on to her so hard like that. Slapping some bills down on the table, I hastily descend the stairs and exit the restaurant. I’m fucking pissed at myself and my hormones are raging. You’d think that I’d have it under control, with the amount of ass that I get. But my libido is on fire for her and being sober is bringing it to a whole new level. My sandal snags on a rock, so I kick it clear across the street.
I just cock-blocked myself by being a total asshole.
She’s never going to agree to see me again.
I take out my phone and call Blake since it’s only nine o’clock on Friday night.
“How was the big date?”
“She walked out on me.”
“What?” He barks into the phone.
“I just made the mistake of treating her like the randoms that we usually pick up at two in the morning.”
“Jesus Ry—you are so out of practice.”
“I know. I was nervous as hell. I don’t know what to say to a girl I actually like. So, I spewed the same shit that works like a charm for me.”
“Only this time it didn’t.”
“Nope. Ah, fuck, she’s never going to see me after this.”
“Nah, you just need to do some damage control.”
“How do I do that?”
“Relax, I’ll handle it. I’m at the yacht club having some drinks. There’s a decent crowd here.”
“I’ll be over in five.”
I hang up and text Vanessa, hoping that I can play it off like I was just acting; pretending to be a prick when all I want to do is be her prince—no, I want to be her king. I pray that she gives me another chance to let me. For the first time in three years, I feel hope stir. I let it spread; I want to get out of the dark and into the light again.
WHERE THIS BOOK ENDS…THE LAST SUMMER Girl’s Story BEGINS!