“Aah! Shit,” he groaned when I felt my class ring collide with some part of his face.
“Serves you right,” I muttered.
“For what?”
I paused for a second, then rolled onto my back. It wasn’t the creepy dude at all.
“Nathan? What the hell were you doing?”
“Trying to wake you up,” he said, clutching his cheek. “You fell asleep. You’ve been out here for, like, two hours, and you were getting sunburned.”
“What?”
I twisted my head around to look at the back of my shoulders. Red. Very red. I pressed a finger to my skin and watched as it turned white under the pressure. Ouch. I was seriously scorched, and only on my back, so I wasn’t even icky red all the way around. Sunburns are bad, but uneven sunburns are the worst.
“Goddamn it.”
“Come on. We have some aloe vera inside. It looks like you’ll need it. You’re a lobster.”
“Shut up,” I snapped. I jerked out my earbuds and stomped toward the back door with Nathan trailing behind me. He was laughing under his breath, and I thought about backhanding him again.
“Follow me,” he instructed, moving in front of me and leading the way down the hall. Bailey was sitting on the couch watching the Disney Channel. Wasn’t thirteen, like, way too old for that? She switched it off quickly when she heard us coming, and then turned around on the couch to look at me, her eyes widening. But before I could say anything, Nathan grinned at her. “Whit took a little nap outside. Isn’t red her color?”
“Whitley!” I shouted.
Bailey tried to hide her giggles but failed. “Are you okay?” she asked me.
“No,” I grunted. “Not at all.”
I followed Nathan into the bathroom and waited as he pulled open the bottom cabinet. “I think Mom put it in here.” After a second he found the bottle of green gel. “Here you go,” he said, holding it out to me.
“Can you put it on my back?” I turned, pulling my hair over my shoulder.
“Uh…”
I glanced over my shoulder at him. He was eyeing me uneasily, his cheeks turning just the slightest bit pink. “Oh, please, Mr. Cool and Collected. Don’t pick now to go all awkward on me. I’m not trying to seduce you or anything; I just can’t reach it myself, and it’s not like it’s anything you haven’t touched before.”
He gave me a warning look.
“Right,” I said. “I forgot. That never happened. Whatever.”
Nathan sighed and flicked open the bottle. I turned my head and heard him squirt the gel into his hand. An instant shiver ran up my spine when his aloe-covered fingers hit my shoulder.
“Christ, that’s cold,” I gasped.
“Sorry.”
My whole body tensed as his palm moved down the back of my arm. The chill started on the surface, but it seemed to move deeper. Invading my entire body.
It only got worse when he rubbed the gel between my shoulder blades and down my back. Nathan’s hands were calloused, but not too rough. His skin passing over mine left a strange tingly sensation. Like an ice-cold fire spreading across my back and seeping into my veins. Even my fingers trembled a little, and I clenched my fists together to stop them.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” I murmured, but I was on the edge of convulsing.
Every second Nathan’s hands were on me, another moment from graduation night flooded back into my memory. The way his fingertips had pressed into my hips. The way I’d practically thrown him on the bed. The way he’d kissed me, more passionately than anyone else ever had. I remembered the half-crazed feeling when he took his time kissing me, touching me, whispering things in my ear.
Most boys take advantage of drunk girls. They make the sex all about them and their own pleasure. But that night with Nathan had been different. It had been slow and sweet. All about me. It had been amazing.
Suddenly, I realized the chills going through me weren’t just from the aloe vera. Worse, I was the one blushing.
I felt the sudden urge to relive those almost-forgotten memories as his palms moved down my back. Part of me wanted him to untie the top of my bikini. His thumb slid slowly down my spine in a way that made my breath catch in my chest and my heartbeat speed up. Pounding faster and faster and faster. I was caught somewhere between wanting him and wanting to hide, feeling suddenly embarrassed and a little shy.
Nathan stopped. His hands were just above my waist. I held my breath, not wanting to move, to break the spell. Waiting to see what he’d do.
“You can reach the rest,” he said, pulling his hands away from my skin so fast you might have thought I’d burned him. I know I heard his voice crack a little when he spoke. “You’ll be able to get to your legs, right?”
“Um, ye-yeah,” I stammered, not making eye contact as he handed me the bottle of aloe.
Nathan didn’t say another word. He just slipped out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
It had been fun pushing him this morning in the kitchen, but having the tables turned sucked. This whole stepsibling thing had just gotten infinitely worse.
8
“Oh, honey,” Sylvia said, putting a hand on my arm when I came down for dinner that night. “Your shoulders are so burned. Are you okay? Let me take a look.”
I jerked away as she reached up to push my hair aside so she could see the back of my neck and shoulders. “Ouch. Don’t touch. It’s fine,” I said, moving toward my chair.
Once I’d sat down, I looked back at her. Our eyes met for a long moment before Sylvia shook her head, sighing. “Okay. Well, I’m sure Nathan showed you the aloe vera we keep in the bathroom.”
I nodded, forcing myself not to look at Nathan, who was sitting across the table from me. I was sure I could feel heat, unrelated to my sunburn, creeping up my neck.
“If you need anything else, let me know and I’ll pick it up on my way home from work.”
“Sure.”
Bailey walked into the dining room just then, blond ponytail swinging like a pendulum behind her. She took her usual seat between Sylvia and me. “Is your sunburn feeling any better?” she asked.
I gritted my teeth. “It’s fine.”
When Dad entered the dining room I half expected him to comment on my fried arms and shoulders, which were totally exposed in my tank top. But he didn’t say anything. He just sat down on the other side of me, barely glancing my way, and asked, “How did your first day of work go, sweetheart?”
“Really well,” Sylvia said, scooping chili into a bowl and passing it to Bailey. “I really feel like I fit in there. Don’t get me wrong—I liked the people at the other firm. But this one is smaller and more… friendly? I feel more comfortable there in one day than I ever felt at my old job.”
“Do you get your own office now?” Bailey asked.
“Yep. I’ll take you to work with me so you can see it if you want.”
Bailey blushed. “Mom, you take your little kids to work—not your teenagers.”
“I can take anyone I want.” She handed me a bowl of chili, smiling. “You can come too, Whitley.”
“Maybe,” I muttered. Or not.
“What about you kids?” Dad asked, taking a sip of his tea. “Are you guys getting to know each other pretty well? I’m sure it’s a little bit awkward at first.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’d say we’re getting to know each other really well. Wouldn’t you, Nathan?”
He kicked me under the table and mouthed, Not funny.
Oblivious, Bailey added, “Whitley and I watched a movie today and hung out. We like the same kind of music—it was fun.”
I nodded, even though I knew Bailey had only pretended to know the songs I’d listed for her when she quizzed me that afternoon. Not that many thirteen-year-olds were familiar with bands from the nineties. But she’d smiled and nodded and acted like she knew them all.
“That’s great,” Sylvia said. “What movie did you all watch?”
&nbs
p; “Bring It On.”
“Again?” Sylvia laughed. “It’s a miracle you haven’t worn that DVD out from watching it so much.”
Bailey ducked her head. “I can’t help it.”
“Speaking of movies.” I turned and looked at Dad. “There’s this new sci-fi film in theaters now. I saw the trailer on TV today. Do you want to go see it this weekend?”
“Sorry, munchkin. I can’t this weekend,” Dad said. “I have to give the commencement speech at a local university on Saturday. And I’m filling in for the evening news on Sunday—Tommy’s got to catch a flight to Colorado for his sister’s wedding and can’t do the show. But I’m sure Nathan will drive you to the theater. Won’t you, Nate?”
“Um, yeah. Of course.”
“Great,” Dad said. “You’ll have to tell me how it is.” He stood, picking up his unfinished plate. “I hate to leave so soon, but I have to get back to writing this speech.” He kissed Sylvia on the top of her head before leaving the room.
When the chili was eaten and the table cleared, Nathan and I headed upstairs to our rooms.
“When do you want to go see the movie?” he asked when we reached the landing. “Lucky for you, I’m a big fan of sci-fi.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “So is Dad. He’s made me watch every Star Wars and Star Trek movie ever made at least once. Sometimes we’d stay up late having marathons—one right after the other.”
“That sounds fun.”
“I hate sci-fi.”
“Wait—what?”
“I hate science fiction. I just watch it because Dad loves it.” I let out a breath. “Don’t worry about the movie Saturday. I’m not interested, so you’re off the hook and we can go back to counting the days until we’re away from each other.”
I’d just pushed open the door to the guest room when Nathan asked, “Whitley, are you okay?”
I looked over my shoulder at him. “Do you care?”
“Yeah—of course.”
“Why?”
Nathan raised an eyebrow at me.
I shook my head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’m fine.” Before he could say anything else, I walked into the guest room and shut the door.
“Yeah, I’m having a great time,” I lied when Mom called on Wednesday.
“Are you and your dad spending much time together?” she asked.
She wasn’t asking for my sake; I knew that. She wanted me to complain. She wanted an open invitation to bitch about him.
I didn’t want to hear it.
“Um, yeah,” I said. “He, um, wants to go mini-golfing this weekend.” I forced a laugh. “How lame is that, right?”
“It sounds nice…. I was worried about you, you know.”
No you weren’t.
“Well, things have gotten better,” I maintained. “I overreacted the other night. It’s not so bad, really. We’ve all been hanging out and watching movies. It’s the same as always, just with a few more people in the house. It’s great.”
“Don’t get used to it, sweetie,” Mom warned. “Things are happy now, but your dad will mess it up. He always does.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m serious,” she said. “I don’t want you to be surprised or upset when it happens. It’s bound to go downhill.”
“Uh-huh.” I took a swig from the Margaritaville Gold while she went on and on, the whole time insisting that telling me this was for my own good.
She didn’t know what was good for me.
I wasn’t sure anyone did.
9
Sylvia came home from work early on Friday afternoon.
“Are you girls ready to go?” she asked Bailey and me. We were watching American Pie on one of the movie channels in the living room. Or, at least, we had been. Bailey had switched off the TV as soon as Sylvia opened the front door. She must not be allowed to watch R-rated movies. Oops.
“Go where?” I asked.
“You didn’t tell her, Bailey?”
Bailey looked sheepish. “I forgot. Sorry.”
Sylvia shook her head, laughing a little. “It’s okay. Well, Whitley, it looks like you’re in for a fun surprise today. Come on. Let’s go.”
I had to be a bridesmaid.
That was the “fun surprise” that Sylvia sprang on me twenty minutes later, when we pulled up in front of the bridal shop in Oak Hill, a city in the next county over from Hamilton. My summer was just full of awesome surprises.
“Oh, something like this would look great on you,” said Sherri, Sylvia’s just-as-blond, just-as-perky older sister.
She’d met Sylvia, Bailey, and me at Gwyneth’s Bridal Boutique that afternoon, wearing a bright red blouse and sipping Starbucks coffee. She wasted no time in giving me a hug, telling me I was beautiful, and informing me that I was free to call her Aunt Sherri whenever I wanted.
I couldn’t tell if she was a total phony or if she was just clueless.
I already disliked Sherri. Probably because she was so much like Sylvia. But right now she was making matters worse by holding up a sickening baby-blue dress, complete with puffy sleeves and a high neckline, saying how it was just right for me.
“Yeah,” Sherri agreed with herself. “This would be excellent with your figure. And this shade is definitely a good color for you.”
I couldn’t help but think of what Harrison would say to this woman if he saw the horrible dress she was showing me. He’d flip his shit. Have an aneurysm. The sight of this thing might have even killed him. I know I wanted to die at that moment.
“Oh, Sherri, put that away!” Sylvia laughed from the other side of the small parlor. “You know Bailey and I already have the dress picked out. We just need to get Whitley’s measurements.”
“Fine.” Sherri sighed. “But Whitley might still want to try on some of these, just for fun.”
“No, I’m good,” I said. “Really.”
“Whitley, come look at the dress we’ve picked,” Bailey said, waving me over. Given a choice between Bailey and Sherri, I chose Bailey immediately. I skirted around the racks of colorful gowns until I was standing next to the little blond and her mother. “Sorry about her,” Bailey murmured. “Aunt Sherri gets excited easily.” She cleared her throat. “So, this is it. This is the dress.” She pointed to the one Sylvia was examining.
It was bubblegum pink—an instant reason to hate it—and floor-length. The sleeves came to mid-forearm and the bodice was decorated with a spray of tiny yellow fabric-and-bead flowers going up the middle and over one half of the sweetheart neckline. Exactly what you’d expect Sylvia to pick out for bridesmaids’ dresses.
And exactly what I wouldn’t be caught dead in.
“It still needs to be altered,” Sylvia said, as if reading my mind. “I’m going to have the sleeves taken off and the hem shortened just a little. The wedding is in early September, so it will still practically be summer. I think that will look much better.”
“What do you think?” Bailey asked.
“Gorgeous,” I grumbled.
“Did someone need measurements?” called a woman from the front desk just as a redheaded customer exited the boutique carrying a large frilly dress wrapped in plastic.
“Over here.” Sylvia stepped out from behind the wall of hanging dresses. “One of my bridesmaids needs to be measured for her dress.” She beamed before ushering me toward the desk, where the clerk waited. “This is Whitley. She’s a bridesmaid for the Johnson-Caulfield wedding. You should have me on file.”
“I do,” the clerk said after a few seconds. “The pink gown with the flowered bodice, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“Great.” She turned to me then. “All right, Whitley. I’m Lexie. Follow me back into the fitting room and we’ll get your measurements done.”
Lexie was one of those overwhelmingly pretty people. Not beautiful, but pretty. Stick thin. Black hair cut just below her chin. And she walked like a Victoria’s Secret model, strutting down the runway. I couldn’t he
lp admiring her as she led me to the back room of the shop. This chick had it going on.
“Step in here,” she said, gesturing to a dressing room hidden behind a white curtain.
“Why?” I asked. “I thought we were just doing measurements.”
“We are,” Lexie replied, picking up a strip of measuring tape from a nearby table. “But this is a form-fitting dress, and to get an accurate measurement, I’ll need you to strip down to your underwear. Unless you’re cool with everyone seeing,” she added, gesturing to the door as Sherri, Sylvia, and Bailey entered behind us.
I groaned and walked into the dressing room, Lexie on my heels.
Not that I had a problem with my body—for the most part, I didn’t—but these were the last people I would want to see me in my purple bra and thong. They’d probably be scandalized by all that (currently sunburned) skin.
Though I really didn’t want Sexy Lexie to see me practically naked, either. I could feel her eyes on my flat butt, my less-flat stomach. The smug expression on her face when I pulled off my T-shirt told me exactly what she was thinking:
I’m hotter than this chick.
Or maybe she was inwardly laughing at the blistering sunburn that covered the back side of my body. That was possible, too.
“Arms up,” she said, unwinding the measuring tape.
I raised my arms above my head and winced as she wrapped the measuring tape around my chest, the edge of the strip cutting painfully into my inflamed skin.
“Might try a higher SPF next time,” Lexie commented, moving the strip down to my midsection, not bothering to be any gentler, despite having noticed the burn.
“Yeah, thanks,” I muttered. “I appreciate the advice. Because I had no idea what had gone wrong.”
Outside the curtain, I could hear Sherri saying, “You know, Sylvia, you didn’t have to take off work today. I could have brought the girls here on my own.”
“I know,” Sylvia replied. “But I wanted to spend a little time with Whitley. We barely know each other, and moments like this are a good way to bond.” Even though she lowered her voice to a near whisper, I could still hear her add, “I just don’t want her to hate me like I hated Alice, you know? I remember what it’s like to have a crappy stepmom. I don’t want her to go through that.”