Every Little Secret (Second Chances #2) (5 page)

“I’m sorry. That was my lame attempt at flirting. I just want company. You can sit with me and we can say nothing at all. Just eat if you want. We can be friends.”

She glances in the direction of the dorms and then back at me. The decision-making process flickers across her face. I don’t know what weighs in my favor but she finally agrees.

“Fine. Let’s go. I don’t feel like being in my room anyway.”
 

I gesture toward my car and soon we’re heading toward the local bakery. “Sure you don’t want to go to The Salty Dog for a drink?”

“God no. And remember? No talking.”

“Right.” I didn’t think she’d take me seriously, but if this is what she needs, some time to herself, then I’ll play along.

We drive over in silence. Questions lay on the tip of my tongue, wanting to be asked, but I respect her wishes. Instead I spend the time fighting off the vivid memories of Dalia that want to break through. The warning bells going off in my mind remind me that the situation with Carly is too similar. But Dalia was an isolated incident. Had to be. Something like that couldn’t be planned and happen twice.

I buy two caramel apples then we head to an outside picnic table. Cooler night air moves in, dusk about to settle. With every second that passes, every evening chill, every rustle of squirrel in the branches of the tree, Carly calms down. The tightness around her eyes fades and finally she takes a deep breath then lets it out slowly.

“Okay,” she says between bites. “We can be friends. Secret friends. I don’t want to answer any questions about us to anyone just yet. Those are my terms.”
 

“Sounds good.”

We spend the next hour catching up on our lives since high school. I learn about her classes, her desire to transfer, her dreams to travel. I admit my humiliation at not graduating from college and how hard it is to relate to other students. She challenged that maybe it was me, not them. I agree she had a point. Overall, it was amazing how easy it was to talk with her.
 

On the way back to campus, I can’t help but remember Dalia. This time the memory pushes through with vibrant colors and sounds, tripping up my heart.

***

After weeks of seeking Dalia out to accidentally bump into her just to say hello and then continue on my way, suddenly she was everywhere. She’d throw me the casual hello. One time, I ran out to the store for Mom, and Dalia was there too. In yoga pants and a T-shirt. I hid behind the stack of chips and watched. Damn, the girl was hot no matter what she wore.

Today, I enter a school assembly late. I slip into the back row, right next to her. I don’t notice at first until fingers tickle my arm. She winks and then stares ahead. Two can play at that game.
 

Keeping my gaze on the principal booming on about bullying and respect, I drape my hand over the arm of the chair. My fingertips skim the top of her leg. She’s wearing a black skirt with a fitted white top. Hot! I don’t do anything else but trace lines across her skin.
 

Goosebumps rise under my fingers.
 

I lean over and whisper in her ear, letting my lips graze her lobe. “How many times have we heard this speech?”
 

“No kidding,” she says, her voice breathy.
 

I pull back, shaken myself, at the desire surging through me.
 

“Meet me in the hall.” Then she brushes past me, all legs.
 

Man, I struggle. Does she want me to go? If I go will it ruin the game we have going? This game seems much more effective and way more fun than any I’ve had in forever. As much as I want to follow her, I stay in my seat. I let the principal’s voice fade into the background as I lean my head back on the seat, close my eyes, and fantasize about her. This game is in her hands. Her decision. Her choice.

Last period of the day, she stops outside my World Views class and waves me out. I ask for a bathroom pass, wondering if she’s furious after I ignored her invitation.
 

Her face shows no emotion. Her soft lips press together. Her light skin holds a reddish tint. She must be on the rampage. She grabs my hand and drags me down the hall, down the steps into the basement level. With a quick turn of the knob, the janitor closet opens and the darkness swallows us.
 

She closes the door with a soft click.

“Is this a game of hide and seek?” I joke.

Her only reply is to slam me against the wall. Her lips crash against mine and her body presses against me. In three seconds our relationship goes from calm and flirty to completely on fire.
 

I can’t get enough of her. The minty taste of her mouth, the light trace of perfume on her skin, and the scent of her hair. It all drowns out the layers of dust floating around us.
 

My hands find her waist and tease the skin under her shirt, playing, touching. She lets out a whimper. I lift up her shirt and trace a line up to the edge of her bra. Teasing.

She slams her hips up against mine. Our kiss deepens and frantically we touch each other in places that are definitely against school rules.
 

Finally, we break apart. Gasping. Shaking. Trying to figure out what happened. We stand inches apart, not touching, breathing heavy. Soaking in the lust pulsing between us.

Her words catapult our relationship to the next level.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”
 

“Nope. Do you have a boyfriend?”

She rakes in another breath. “Ditto. But I don’t want to become the cliché couple. I want the game to continue. It turns me on. Let’s be a secret. You and me.”

***

“Noah?”
 

The sound of Carly’s voice rips through the memory, bringing me back to this moment. Somehow I managed to drive onto campus. She directs me to her dorm. It’s a miracle we’re alive.

“You’re different.”
 

I laugh. “Is that a compliment?”

For a brief moment, her eyes sparkle. “I don’t know yet.”
 

“Great.”

She studies me and reaches out to let her fingers touch my lips. Not in a seductive way, more in a curious way, or that’s what it seems like. Instinctively, I pull away. It’s a small movement, barely perceptible, but she notices. Instead, she rests her hand on mine. “This secret friendship is just what I need.”

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Me too.” I don’t mention that I’m curious about parts of her life too. But her vow to not pry is a message. Telling me not to ask questions either. I lighten the mood. “So, how exactly does a secret friendship work? I’m not that familiar with it.” The lie comes easily enough. I’ve had a lot of practice.

She lifts her shoulder in an innocent gesture. “I don’t know. I guess it should start with accidental meet-ups, secretly planned the day before. Outings that no one knows about where we disappear off campus for an afternoon or a morning.”
 

“Sounds like a plan. When do we start?” Anything to be with her. Somehow, I find myself falling faster than I’ve fallen before.

“How about an early breakfast tomorrow at The Watering Hole? Back table.”
 

“No prob. I’ll be there.”
 

“Remember. It’s a secret.” She places a finger over her lips. “Shh.”
 

“Do we need a secret handshake? Code words? Cryptic texts?”

She shakes her head. “Too complicated. Let’s surprise each other.”
 

Then she leaves my car, stealing the breath of energy and life with her. A secret friendship? It’s exciting. I’ve been here before. But a part of me that has kept me safe and protected for years is sounding the alarm.

Chapter 4

Carly

Lately, Chad has been pouring on the charm. He’s been taking me out, leaving me sweet texts and old-fashioned notes under my door. He’s everything I saw in him when we first met, before the storms would roll across his eyes and take over his body as if he had no control over his rage and paranoia. But most of all? He’s been giving me space without questioning my activities.

What have I done with that sweet trust?

Ground it into the dust under my heel. Every time I meet with my secret friend—accidental meet-ups, of course—I feel a twinge of guilt, but our moments of time together of no commitments and just friendship, are addicting. I feel something with Noah I’ve never felt. Not sure I can even name it, but it’s something I don’t have with Chad.

“Hey, where are you?” Chad nudges my arm as he drives to The Salty Dog for us to meet Jimmy and his friends.

I shake off my reveries. “Sorry. Late nights studying, I guess.”
 

His eyes narrow. “You usually don’t study that much. What’s changed?”

“I fell behind.” I sense his underlying doubt. I guess he’s scared his hand imprint on my ass has faded. “I’m glad you care but why don’t you keep your eyes on the road.” I’ve been wary of cars and drivers paying attention ever since Brin and Kama died. A community doesn’t heal from that.

“Why?” He turns and looks at me and not at the road. “I just can’t keep my eyes off of you.”

“Chad!” I screech and punch him in the arm.

He laughs and swerves back on the road. “Don’t worry, baby. I’d never let anything happen to you. In fact I’ve got an idea.” He slows and turns in the opposite direction of The Salty Dog.

Now I’m suspicious. I have no desire to go some place private and screw despite what Chad thinks I enjoy about our relationship. “Don’t ever do that again. It’s not funny. I told you about those girls in high school,” I remind him.

“Right. Sorry about that.”

I do a double-take and study him. What’s going on? Who is this guy next to me who’s changing every day?

“What?” he asks.

I shrug. “You surprise me. That’s all.”
 

He squeezes my knee and then trails his finger up my leg. “I’m full of surprises.”
 

Ten minutes later we pull into someone’s house. A split-level with shingles missing from the roof and a sagging porch. This isn’t uncommon for houses near the ocean. The taxes suck so much money, there’s nothing left to put into the house.
 

“Who lives here?”

He shuts off the engine and reaches for my hand. His touch is gentle and loving. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

I follow him into the house. It must be a summerhouse because the beach decor is everywhere. Paintings of ocean scenes are on the walls. Big, medium, small shells line the windowsills and mantles. Wicker furniture fills the rooms, made for the rough and tough that comes with tracking the ocean into a house every day.

“Come on!” Chad grabs my hand like an excited schoolboy.
 

He leads me out to the back porch, through the screen door that doesn’t sit quite right on its hinges. I step outside onto the patio with cracked tiles.
 

In this place of beauty he’s created, I lose my self-consciousness. The way I always present myself to Chad and the world falls off piece by piece. I step into the glow of what feels like a hundred candles lining the patio. The soft, shimmering light creates a movie feel in the small backyard. I twirl, my arms out to the side and let my head fall back. The stars twinkle like tiny dots of glitter, like some little girl threw her art project into the heavens and all the tiny pieces of glitter got left behind. Just for me.

“Chad?” I’m left breathless at the time and energy he put into our date. “You never planned on The Salty Dog, did you?”

He shrugs. “You like it?”
 

“Love it.” I just wish our relationship could be like this all the time, romantic and carefree, where he steals my heart and I’m not feeling trapped by the fact we’ve been together so long. Have I been with him just to prove someone loves me?
 

The music starts, soft strains of old jazz music. Chad’s arms wrap around me, his fingers spreading across my belly. He sways behind me, pressing against my back, gently. “All for you.”
 

Desire stirs in my lower stomach, and I think just maybe I’ve been doing Chad an injustice. Maybe he’s truly changing after our fight at The Salty Dog. Maybe that was a wakeup call for him and that part of our relationship is behind us.
 

He kisses my neck and slides his hands down to the side of my legs. I turn in his arms and kiss him. Before I can pull away, he grabs the back of my head and presses my mouth back to his, hungry, determined. The soft sweet atmosphere changes, now charged with hormones and desire. His hands wander, claiming their territory.

A small part of me inside knows I should enjoy this but I can’t stop the disappointment flooding through me. So much time put into the romance just to get right down to it. What happened to anticipation and drawing it out? What happened to champagne and chocolate? Or don’t guys believe in that stuff anymore?

He finds the bottom of my shirt and lifts it off my head. He trails kisses down my neck and lower. I moan because I know he likes that, but inside I feel terrible. Slowly, he leads me down onto the blanket. I fall into our normal routine, of touching and letting my hands roam, adding in the appropriate murmurs and sexy noises that if I leave out he gets annoyed.

Inside I’m screaming. I wanted romance! I wanted seduction!

My clothes are off and the cool air nips at my skin. He goes about his business of ravaging my body. I stare up at the stars, lost in the beauty, the patterns sprinkled across the sky. The darkness swirls on the ocean breeze. He pauses to slip on a condom then gets right back to it. As he climaxes, I close my eyes and wonder what the hell is my problem? Will I never feel anything again? Am I really that cold-hearted bitch everyone thinks I am? Maybe that’s my problem. Deep down I’m not capable of loving or accepting love.
 

He pulls away and kisses the tip of my nose. “You’re fantastic, baby.”