Distraction (Westbrook Series Book 1) (24 page)

It really irks me to see animals left out all day in this kind of heat.
I wonder how their owners would feel about spending an entire day outside, on a day like this, while wearing a heavy, fur-laden gorilla suit
. It's just so cruel. I peek over the fence around the yard, to see if there is a hose lying around anywhere. I don't see anything, but I do spot a blue, plastic sand bucket turned over on its side, near the patio.

After carefully surveying the area to be sure nobody sees me, I hop over the fence. Puddles can barely muster up enough energy to jump up onto my legs. His body is so big that it nearly topples me over. I scoop up the bucket, and turn the knob on the metal hose faucet, which is on the side of the house. A burst of hot water gushes out, nearly burning my hands. Once the temperature turns warm, I fill up the bucket.
Waiting for the water to turn cold would be a lost cause in this heat
.

When I dump the bucket over his head, his tail starts wagging happily. Puddles even nuzzles his wet snout against the empty bucket, as if to say, "More please." I repeat the process again and again, until his entire body is sopping wet, and his panting slows down.

I walk with him over to the patio, to make sure he has water. Sure enough, his water bowl is empty, next to an over-flowing bowl of dog food. Shaking my head with disgust, I fill up his bowl along with the little blue bucket, and set them next to each other in the shade, under the overhang.

Puddles saunters over to a shaded area on the patio, and lies down in a big ball, leaving a wet ring all around him. I contemplate dog napping him, but quickly dismiss the idea when I remember how big and scary his owner is. It's not like I could easily hide Puddles anyway. He is more than half my size.
Even if I were to successfully get him out of here without anyone noticing, where would I go with him?
My mother has a serious allergy to dogs, cats, or really any kind of pet that has fur.

I glance over at him one more time to be sure he is okay. His breathing has slowed, and it appears that he may have even fallen asleep. I unlatch the gate to let myself out the proper way, not wanting to add any more dirt or scratches to my already covered legs and arms. Between that and the fact that I now smell like a perfect mix of wet dog and sweat, I will need another shower when I get home.

When I open the back door, Kyle is perched on one of the barstools in the kitchen. He notices all of the dirt and scratches on my body, and shakes his head. "What happened to
you?
" Kyle shoots me a snarky glare, as I flip my thongs off my feet, and make my way over to the kitchen sink to clean up.

"Out saving another animal, lil sis?" Sam asks casually, as he rounds the corner, and plops down next to Kyle. The corners of his lips turn up into a flirty smile, which of course makes me smile. I douse my hands and arms with the new foamy, strawberry-scented Bath and Body Works soap that Mom bought.

"Poor Puddles. Can you believe those
jerks
would leave their dog outside all day in this kind of heat? The big guy has a seriously thick coat of long hair. It's just
cruel
. They shouldn't be
allowed
to own pets. It's so aggravating," I complain, while lathering up the sweet scented soap into big white, foamy, clouds.

"We should steal their dog," Kyle suggests.

I laugh, because Kyle has the same soft spot for animals that I have. We've always wanted to have our own dog or cat, but if Mom is even in the same room with one, her eyes swell up to be the size of golf balls, and nine times out of ten, a really bad rash will break out all over her body. My dad had to begrudgingly give up his own dog, Murray, when they got married. He wasn't upset with her, though. After all, it's not her fault she is allergic. It was really hard for him, though. He loved that dog like it was his own child. He still tells us old stories about Murray, and all the trouble he used to get into.

"I thought about that, but then I didn't have any idea where to take him to live," I reply.

"Too bad my family doesn't still live here. My mother is a sucker for rescues," Sam adds.

"Yeah, but what about a stolen dog? I somehow
doubt
she would be keen on the idea of being a safe house for an illegally obtained dog," I point out.

"It would be a rescue from an abusive owner," he argues. After a moment, he sighs. "You’re probably right, though. She is not really a rule breaker."

"You mean
law breaker,
" I correct him, with a teasing smile on my face. Sam shrugs, as if stealing Puddles would be worth it.

"We should bring him back to the frat house, Kyle. He could be our new mascot," Sam suggests with a half smile on his face.

"Yeah, but then
we'd
be the abusive owners, letting a bunch of drunken asses torment him all day. They'd probably fill his water bowl up with beer. I don't think so.
Not
a good idea," Kyle says, while shaking his head vehemently. I can see a smile forming on his face as he says it.

"Let me know if you guys think of a good home for him. I'd be happy to launch my career as a criminal, if it means I get to save Puddles," I offer, while drying my hands. Sam has such a ridiculous grin on his face, it makes me want to go over there, and kiss it right off. Instead, I throw the towel down on the counter, and head on upstairs to jump in the shower.

Chapter Nineteen:
Man, Does He Look Good in White
 

The day seems to drag on, primarily because the three of us are all here in the house, coexisting as best as we can. Actually, Kyle is doing just fine. It's Sam and me who are having trouble being together, without actually
being together
. I have been desperately searching for ways to preoccupy myself.

After another long shower, I decide to take the time and effort to blow out my hair and flat iron it. This is always a big process, given just how bull-headed my curls can be. When my hair is done, I apply a fresh coat of a mango-colored nail polish on my nails. I also reorganize my closet, dresser, and desk. I put fresh sheets on my bed, and take all my laundry downstairs. I even dust and vacuum my room. My mom probably would be suspicious if she were home to witness this unusual behavior. Normally, she has to nag me over and over just to get me to make my bed.

There doesn't seem to be anything left to do. I glance at my clock on the wall above my desk. It's still only quarter till two in the afternoon. I sigh. Boredom is not something I handle very well. I tend to eat, which is stupid and pointless if you aren't actually hungry.

When I wander into the kitchen, I notice Sam and Kyle playing water volleyball in the pool. I could easily slip on my swimsuit and join them, but I don't want to be tempted. Seeing Sam's bare chest right now is hard enough, and we have about thirty feet between us. I grab a yogurt out of the refrigerator and peel the foil off the top.

I'm not sure what else I can do. Avery is helping her mother today with another charity event. She promised to call me when she’s done, but that won't be until later this evening. I could call Allie or Kylie, but for some reason, I'm not in the mood to hear about yesterday's kegger at Bombay Waters. I don't have the best memories of that place. It's this campsite where they have a creek with huge boulders, waterfalls, and all of these small swimming holes. Everyone likes to hang out there when it's hot, because you can climb the rocks and jump into the water. The last time I went there with Avery, I fell on one of the rocks, and nearly broke my ankle.

I decide to sift through some new Instagram alerts while I eat my yogurt. After glancing out the window again, I decide to take my snack upstairs, where I don't have to see my hot boyfriend in nothing but swim trunks. Of course, Allie has posted a bunch of new pictures from the bonfire last night. Everyone is blissfully posing with glassy eyes while clutching red plastic cups. Usually, the parties are really big when they bring in a keg.

I flip through the images quickly, until I find one of Devon with another girl. Becky Swenson,
really?
She is only about the sluttiest girl in our school. I guess my instincts were right, and he really is only interested in one thing. Well, he shouldn't have to wait long with her. I'm so relieved that he has moved on, and that I didn't get myself involved with him in the first place.

Avery posted a new picture of her, Trevor, and myself. It was after our popcorn fight last night. I smile, thinking about how much fun that was. I fight back the urge to call Trevor and see how he is doing. I really need to keep my distance right now, at least while he sorts out his feelings. I want us to be friends, but I know that won't be possible until after he moves on. I am surprised to see that Trevor has already commented on the photo.

Best popcorn fight ever! Ok, it may have been the only popcorn fight I've ever had, but it seriously rocked!

There were comments from other guys, too.

Trevor, you the man! So jealous . . .

I would love to be in a popcorn fight with those two any day. And no, Trevor, I am not talking about you!

Yo! Hot popcorn, hot chicks, on a hot night. What's not to love? Sounds like you had some hot fun, dawg!

I am flattered to be lumped in with all of the obnoxious comments that these guys posted, but I am pretty sure they were mostly directed at Avery. She usually gets these kinds of responses from guys, which is
exactly
why she doesn't date high school boys.
That is until now.
I can't imagine Trevor ever posting a comment like that.

I am just about to turn my iPad off, when an IM pops up on my screen. My heart sinks when I see Trevor’s name flashing.

TMaddox16: Hey, saw you online. Just wanted to be sure you and I are ok after everything last night?

LaysP2016: Hey. Yes. No worries; it's all-good. Friends, right?

TMaddox16: Yeah, something like that . . .

LaysP2016: What is that supposed to mean?

I can feel my face starting to heat up. Trevor has this way of getting me all worked up, just when I think everything is going to be okay between us. It's maddening how easily he pushes my buttons.

TMaddox16: I mean EXACTLY what I said.

LaysP2016: We don't have to be friends, you know . . . .

TMaddox16: Trust me. I KNOW!!!

Then why are you making sure we’re okay?
He pisses me off so much that I don't even want to respond.
Is he trying to get a rise out of me?

LaysP2016: Ok, so why are you checking on me, if you don't want to be friends?

I sit there, staring at the blinking curser, waiting for him to respond. Finally, after about five minutes and no response, his IM light flicks off.
What an ass
. He just quits talking to me because he doesn't like what I have to say,
really?

"Fine by me," I mutter to myself, as I slam my iPad down onto my bed.

"Who pissed
you
off?" His smooth voice sends calming waves through my tense body. I look up to see Sam's sparkling blue eyes. He has a mischievous grin is on his face, even though he is trying to hold it back.

"Nobody important."

Man, does he look good in white.
I pop up from my bed, and tug at Sam's damp shirt to pull him closer to me. Water is still dripping down his face. His button-down is open, exposing his glistening chest. He looks around, as if Kyle might be standing right outside my bedroom. At this point, I just need his lips on mine, and I really don't care who sees us. Thankfully, Sam has enough sense to close and lock the door behind him before doing anything.

He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me up. Unsure exactly what to do, I awkwardly wrap my legs around his waist, but they keep sliding down because he is still wearing his wet board shorts. His hands move to cup my bottom, to hold me close against him. My clothes are getting wet, but I don't care. As always with Sam, my body is pulsing with the need to be closer to him.

His lips are not gentle this time. He presses his mouth hard against mine, as he let's out a low, smooth groan that sends tingles down to my toes. My fingers are buried in his dripping-wet sandy waves, as I match his moves with my lips and tongue. He stumbles back toward my bed and spins us both around. He drops me so I am lying on my back.

We are both breathing heavily, and looking at each other with hungry, greedy eyes. I grab my television remote and hit the power button. I have no idea what channel it is on right now. I just want the sound to cover up whatever noises we are making. Sam laughs softly as his eyebrows pop up.

"Do you
really
think Kyle is going to believe you are voluntarily watching Paula Dean?" he whispers, in between laughs.

I roll my eyes and pick the remote back up. I flip through the channels until I get to one featuring a reality show that I've never heard of. I turn the volume up, and drop the remote again.

"Shut up and kiss me, would you?" I fire back at him in a bossy, teasing whisper.

He crawls onto the bed with me. He holds himself above me, playfully taunting me by keeping just enough distance between us, to drive me crazy. I grab his shirt again, and ball it up into my fist so hard that he falls forward. His chest smashes against mine. I can tell he is worried he has hurt me, but the concern dissolves when I lightly bite his neck.

"I
like
this feisty side of you, Lis. You are really turning me on," he groans into my ear, as he presses his body into mine.

"That is the second time you've called me that."

"What? Lis?" He pulls back, and looks at me with a glint in his eyes.

"Yeah. Where did that come from?"

"I don't know. I guess it just seems strange to keep calling you
lil sis
now that we are together."

I smile, as I get all warm and fuzzy inside. I really like my new nickname. It's reassuring to know that he no longer sees me as Kyle's little sister. He flips onto his back, and pulls me up so I am straddling him again.

I can feel a gush of warm liquid down below, and it's not from Sam's swimsuit. My underwear is suddenly so drenched through that I'm worried about them soaking through to my shorts, and even worse, onto him. This thought makes me pull away and roll over, out of sheer embarrassment.
Why my body insists on torturing me like this is beyond me
.
I doubt other girls have this problem
. My face must look like a jar of hot sauce right now, because that is exactly what it feels like.

"Where did you go, my little hot one?" he whispers in my ears, trying to pull me back against him.

"Just catching my breath." I bite my lip and close my eyes. I sit up, tucking my knees under my chin. "We are kind of moving a little fast. That's all."

Sam's face quickly transforms to concern. He sits up and places his hand lightly on my back.

"
Shit
, Laila. I'm sorry. I keep forgetting how much . . . younger you are. I'm probably scaring the crap out of you. I just get so caught up. You're so much sexier than you should be at your age.
Damn
, girl. I really need to keep it in check, but you are making it very difficult. I'm
really
,
really
sorry."

He scoots down next to me on the edge of my bed. I can see his swim trunks are pulled tightly across his lap, revealing just how worked up he is, too. I try to pretend not to notice, but it's too late. Even worse, I'm pretty sure he caught me looking, too. I look away and close my eyes tightly.
Could this get any more embarrassing?
I blink hard, as if the extra force will somehow make my shame disappear.

"
Ohmygod."
I mutter to myself, while burying my face into my hands.

"Don't be embarrassed, Laila. It's
okay
. This is all very natural. The way our bodies respond to each other? There is no reason to hide it, or feel weird about it." He gently peels my hand away from my face, and holds it in his. He wants me to look at him, but I can't pry my eyelids open.

He scoops me up, draping me across his lap, with his arm gently tucked under my thighs, just above my knees. His other hand is stroking my hair affectionately. My eyes are still closed, but I feel much calmer. He has a way of soothing and comforting me, in just the way he holds me. He makes me feel safe, even though I know that I am anything but safe in his arms.

He is drawing tiny circles on my legs over and over again. "Laila, will you
please
talk to me? Will you tell me what you are thinking right now?" he asks softly, his tone almost desperate.

"I'm just
embarrassed
. I don't really know what I'm doing. I mean, you've probably been with so many girls that are more experienced, and I haven't even had a boyfriend before you," I say quietly.

"You've
never
had a boyfriend?" Sam looks truly shocked.

I just shake my head, and shrug my shoulders, once again, wanting to crawl into a hole. Now, we can add that lovely fact to my long laundry list of embarrassing realizations for Sam, thanks to my big mouth.

"I had no idea. So, you've
never
. . . I mean I didn't think you had, but I guess I just assumed you've at least . . . I don't know, made out before?" He just keeps looking at me, and shaking his head in disbelief, which only fuels the pot of humiliation that is burning inside of me.
Why did I just admit that?

"Was I your
first
kiss, Laila?" he asks with that same stunned look on his face.

"
No
. I mean you were my first
good
kiss, but not my very first kiss."

His eyes light up. The corners of his lips twitch happily, but he forces back his smile. "I'm your first
good
kiss, though?" he asks teasingly. He places small, soft kisses on each of my cheeks, and wraps his arms around my waist. "We'll slow it down a bit, okay? We can go at
your
pace. I don't want you to do anything you aren't ready to do, okay?"