I was supposed to wear this for Steven.
I dry my hands, tossing the paper towel into the trashcan as I exit the bathroom.
I nearly walk right into Cole.
“Oh!” I start, then back up. I go to move past him, but he touches my arm, and I go still.
“It’s not real.”
“What?”
“Your smile. When you look at him. It’s nothing like the one you had for Steven.”
I look up at him, the breath gone from my lungs. “You’re just saying that because it’s not you.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like I’m the only one who felt something.”
I cross my arms. “I’m with Erik, and you’re with Nikki.”
“I’m friends with Nikki.”
I hate the surge of relief I feel at his words. “It doesn’t matter.”
Cole leans in closer. “Why? Why doesn’t it matter? It’s the only thing that does matter.”
I scowl. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“And that pretty well sums up the problem, doesn’t it?”
Anger sparks inside me. “Why do you keep doing this?”
“Because I’ve wanted to be with you for three years, okay? That’s why.”
I feel as if he’s punched me in the stomach. “But that’s—”
“The day I met you. At Sienna’s house. Steven and I were playing Ping-Pong and you and Sienna walked in off the beach. You were twisting your wet hair up into a ponytail, and then you saw us, and you smiled. . . .”
“Then why didn’t you—”
“Because you were smiling for him. And I would have had to have been an idiot to get in between that. And that’s why I know whatever you feel for Erik, it’s nothing like what you had for Steven. And nothing like what I feel for you.”
I look away, blinking rapidly. “If you liked me for so long, why did you wait until now?”
Cole gives me a bitter smile. “Because even when he was dead, I couldn’t compete with Steven.”
I step away from him. “I need to go back to the table.” I don’t wait for him to respond.
After we’re all stuffed full of eggs, bacon, and pancakes, we pile back into the limo to go home. Erik’s house is the first stop, barely ten minutes away. The limo doesn’t fit in the small driveway, so it stops half in the street.
Before Erik climbs out, he turns to me. “Come over in the morning? For breakfast, part two?”
I nod, blushing as he leans in and kisses me in front of everyone. I can’t help but feel Cole’s eyes on me, watching as Erik steps out of the limo. I don’t have to look at him to know what his expression is.
The limo stays silent for the ride to my house, which thankfully only takes moments. I all but spring out, mumbling, “Thank you” and “I had a great time.” As quickly as I can, I slam the door so I won’t see Cole’s face behind the dark tint of the glass.
They all think I’m going to bed. Instead, I creep into the house, standing outside of my Gram’s door for a long moment, listening to the heavy snoring through her door.
Then I change my clothes, and minutes later I’m starting my car.
It’s time to swim.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next morning, I leave a note for Gram and dash off to Erik’s house, my hair still wet with lake water.
When he answers the door, I swear smoke pours out. “Uh, I’m not much of a cook,” he says, with an adorable sheepish grin. “I make no claims that the food you are about to eat is edible in any way.”
I laugh. He’s wearing gray track pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, his hair sticking up slightly in the back.
I smile and inhale the aroma. The smell sweeps in memories of my mother, a terrible cook, whose only mastery in the kitchen was chicken-noodle. “I’ll cut you a little slack.”
He smiles. “How very generous of you. The first batch of pancakes isn’t bad, actually. And the bacon is only two levels past crispy.”
He pulls a covered plate from the microwave and reveals a stack of slightly misshapen flapjacks. “I bought the breakfast stuff before I knew we were also having breakfast for dinner. So, uh, sorry for the, uh, redundancy there.”
“No worries. I could eat my weight in pancakes and still want more.”
He smiles. “I thought we could eat on the porch. I brought some juice and utensils out already. Grab some pancakes.”
I take a clean plate off the stack and serve up the top three pancakes. He leads me out to the back porch, picking up a small fleece blanket along the way. As soon as the door opens, the whooshing sound of the ocean greets my ears. I sit down beside him, pulling the throw blanket over my lap.
From behind the house, the sun basks the beach in a warm glow. But we’re all alone, despite the intense beauty of the vista. The sand is empty of any people or birds. It’s like this little beach house is on an island, not the edge of town.
I lean slightly on him, and take my first bite of pancakes. “They taste better than they look,” I say, between bites.
“Thanks. I think.”
Ten quiet minutes later, he takes my empty plate and stacks it up on his. Then he sets it on the small table beside the rocker. I pull my feet up underneath me. He keeps his on the ground, rocking us as he wraps an arm around me. I sigh, staring out at the beach as I lean back against the porch swing and wrap the blanket tighter around the two of us.
The morning seems extraordinarily quiet. Beyond the rustling of the reed grass and the breath of the ocean, there’s nothing.
“Did you have fun last night?” I ask, leaning my head against his chest.
“I did,” he says. “I could spend every night seeing you in a dress that short.”
I laugh. “It’s nice, though, doing . . . normal stuff.”
“Yeah, definitely,” he says.
We go quiet again, and I stare out at the ocean. Moments tick past. Waves come in and out. Birds swoop down and fly away.
And I can’t think of anything to say. It’s weird, how if we’re not talking about our curses, we don’t really have that much to say. I guess I never noticed that before.
Far in the distance, white clouds appear, but for now, most of the sky is blue.
“Beautiful,” he finally says.
“Definitely,” I agree.
“I meant you.”
I look down at my hands, feeling silly. “Oh.”
He pulls me even closer, rests his lips against the spot where the curve of my neck meets my shoulder. “I love you,” he says.
The ocean goes as silent as my heart. I swallow. It’s everything I’ve always desperately wanted to hear. Someone loves me.
But I feel strangely trapped by the words. Like the best thing I could do right now is leave.
These last few weeks, that was what this was all about. That was why we were spending time together—so we could fall in love. His birthday is days away, now. So why does it surprise me so much to hear it? How did I manage to forget that being with Erik wasn’t just about having a normal teen experience . . . but about falling in love with him?
I can feel his breath on my skin. “This is the part where you say—”
“Why?”
He lifts his head, tries to look me in the eyes, but I don’t turn away from the beach. “That wasn’t where I was going with that.”
I sigh but still don’t meet his eyes. “I know. But why do you love me?”
“What do you mean? I love everything. You’re amazing.”
It’s hard not to frown. “No, I mean, what do you love best about me?”
God, how pathetic do I sound? It’s like I’m fishing for compliments. But for some reason it seems inordinately important. I have to know why he loves me.
He goes so silent. I wouldn’t even think he was beside me if his arms weren’t wrapped around me. “You’re beautiful. And smart.”