Every Little Secret (Second Chances #2) (8 page)

“Enough!”

He sighs, the frustration lining his face. “Not again.”

“We’re done. This is over.”

His face flushes. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means,” I put my face inches from his, “I’m breaking up with you.”

He stands, shrugging me off. “You’ll regret this. You know where to find me.” Then he swaggers out, full of himself.

I sag into the chair, feeling a lightheadedness that comes with rash decisions, hoping I made the right one, thinking that I have. Just maybe a little too late.

Noah

I stand at the counter, not able to control the adrenaline skyrocketing through me. Curiosity burns me up, wanting to know why Carly was crying that night, why Chad left her stranded at that house without her clothes. Why would she stay with a guy like that?
 

A part of me clams up at the thought of talking about my past, the scandal. The memory of how most people reacted is branded in my mind, the looks of disgust, the rumors, the shame. I couldn’t stand to see Carly transform from a girl who trusts me to one who despises me.

At first, I keep my back to them, not wanting Chad to recognize me and connect the dots. Who knows how he would take that out on Carly later. I can’t be responsible for that.

He doesn’t deserve her. I order another coffee even though a second cup will give me the shakes. Then I weave through the tables to the exit. I shouldn’t look back but I can’t help it. The desire, the curiosity controls me and with my hand on the door, I glance back.

What I see starts everything I don’t want to feel swirling through my insides. Fear for her. Disgust at him. The itch to run away from our secret friendship. I can’t tear my eyes away.

She straddles him, his back to me. Thank God. Because I want to go over and punch his face. Rip her off him and tell him to leave her alone. His fingers are threaded through her hair, smashing her face against his. I can only imagine where his other hand is. He smothers her, eating up the attention drawn to them. He must be. This is a show, not an act of passion. It’s like a dog pissing against a tree, marking his territory for all to see.

She shifts in his lap but his hand moves to her back, not allowing her to pull away. His other hand moves up to the front and the back of his hand brushes against her boobs.
 

Disgust rolls through me. Jealousy burns. I look one last time and I can’t stand it anymore. Before I leave, her eyes pop open as if she senses my gaze or the fact that I’m about to leave.

Her eyes are sad and filled with regret. Fuck it. I slam open the door and leave, the memories sucking me into the deep dark hole of my past.

***

The party rocks around me, the music blasting, the loud bass vibrating through the floor and beating with my heart. I have to yell to my friends across the table for them to even hear me. The night is young. The party just starting. Every minute, more people stream through the door. If it continues like this it will turn out to be the biggest party of the year.

Glad it isn’t at my house. This place will be trashed by morning.

We’re laughing. Drinking. Joking around. Flirting. Though I haven’t touched a girl since I connected with Dalia. I don’t even know where we stand or the status of our relationship.

At some point through the night, I smell her perfume. The faint scent tickles my nose and goes straight to my body. The feel of her, the taste of her fills my senses and mind. Casually, I glance around.

Dalia stands within touching distance. All I have to do is reach out to skim my fingers across her fine-looking ass. Does she even know I’m here?

She laughs, high and delicate, the kind of laugh I could lose myself in. I still talk with my friends but I’m focused on her. I think about her. Wondering if we can be secret outside somewhere, hidden by the darkness. Some place where we can do what secret friends do. Or what we do.
 

Lots of people talk with her, and she floats around the room, talking and connecting with just about everyone. They’re attracted to her. She seems to hook them in with her voice, her words, just like she did with me.
 

This is new to me. Usually I’m on the other end. The girls tracking me, following me, hoping to brush into me at some point during the night. That is me now. Hoping for a chance to be with Dalia. Not wanting to talk to her and overstep our agreement.

Then Charlie Tucker walks through the door, the quarterback of the football team. His dark brown hair is buzzed. Every few seconds, he flexes his biceps, probably hoping someone will notice. He finds Dalia right away and cuts through the crowds. He pulls her into a hug. He catches her bottom lip in his and then moves into a kiss.
 

I sag. I feel the blood drain from my face. Secret friends? Is that because she has a boyfriend? Fuck. I don’t want to be the other guy. I get up from the table to fetch another drink.
 

She pushes him away, laughing. He tries to grab her again but she shakes her finger at him. It leaves me confused. Are they together or was that just a friendship kind of kiss? Is he a secret friend, too?
 

I rotate through the room, talking in half conversation, not paying attention to what people are saying to me. Charlie doesn’t leave her side.

By the end of the night, I feel sick and need the hell out of there. I tell my friends and leave for the door. I stand on the porch. The cool breeze does nothing to temper the emotions boiling underneath my skin.
 

“Hey there.”

Dalia?

She steps out of the shadows. A small almost imperceptible smile flashes across her features. She crooks her finger at me. A magnetic force that I can’t fight pulls me toward her.

***

The rest of the day was hell. That asshole sucking Carly’s mouth off burned in my mind and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t lose the grip of jealousy. I want her. And I didn’t realize how bad until Chad sank his hooks into her again.

I can’t wait to go home and get this day over with. I cross the brick walkways, pass the oak trees and shaded benches. I follow the same route every day, every week.

“Noah?” Carly steps from the shadows.

I startle, then struggle to gain composure. She steals my breath, everything about her pulling everything about me toward her. But this time is different. She’s different.
 

The awkward silence I felt over coffee returns. I have no idea how to approach this situation. I can shrug her off after her display with Chad. But a flicker of need, of something bigger tugs at me. We’re secret friends. An accidental date was in order.

“Want to get out of here?” I ask, taking the risk.

She nods. I head toward the lower parking lot, feeling her next to me. So many questions I want to ask, but I know I can’t until I’m ready to talk too. The last thing she needs are my lectures.

Outside of my car, she asks. “Where we going?”
 

“It’s a surprise.”
 

She reacts negatively to these words, her whole body tensing from her shoulders down to her fingertips. Like Chad pulls one too many surprises on her.

“Fine. I know this pretty cool restaurant along the beach.”
 

“Please. Not The Salty Dog.”
 

“Nope. Cleaner, nicer than that place. Haley worked there last year.”

She agrees and we pack into my car, enjoying the ride to the shore in a comfortable silence. It’s only a town over from the college, a relatively short drive. Thoughts weigh on my mind, balancing and fighting between wanting to give in to the attraction I feel for Carly and wanting to withdraw and protect myself.
 

We enter the friendly atmosphere of the Inn and find a corner booth. We both order grilled cheese and fries while our conversation skirts anything serious, sticking to what is safe. The weather. Her strong dislike for the ocean. Which then leads me to ask why the hell she jumped into it that night.
 

After our plates are cleaned and I pay the bill, I reach for her hand. Warmth rushes through my body. Tingles run up and down my arm. “Give me a chance to change your mind about the ocean.”
 

“I used to like it when I was younger.” She follows me across the street to the boardwalk. “I guess I outgrew it.”

A blue Frisbee sticks up out of the sand, reflecting the late afternoon sun. I leap down the cement stairs and sprint across the shifting sand. I pick it up and hold it out.

She points to her clothes. “I’m not really dressed for catch on the beach.” She rubs her hands up and down her arms. “And it’s kinda cold here.”

“Then a game of Frisbee will warm you up. Come on.” I don’t give her the chance but toss the Frisbee toward her.

Instinctively, she reaches out and almost catches it. “No fair. I wasn’t ready.” She picks it up and lets it fly, except the wind blows it back at her. She ducks and squeals.

She holds onto the Frisbee and I place my hand over hers while standing behind her. “Like this.” With a flick of our wrists, the disc cuts through the wind, low to the ground.

“Amazing. You learn something new every day.”
 

“Now try it on your own.”
 

She catches on quickly and we play Frisbee until our bodies heat up but our fingertips turn icy cold. She jogs over and plops down in the sand. I sit next to her. When she shivers from the chill of the breeze I wrap my arm around her and press her body into my warmth.

“Thanks,” she whispers.

“For what?”
 

She hesitates. “For spending time with me. Having fun.”
 

“That’s what secrets friends are for. Don’t you think?”
 

“Aren’t you all Dr. Phil.” She bites her lip, then says, “But I agree. Friends should have fun together.”

I’d like to do a lot more but she doesn’t need that from me. Not another boy pulling her into his bed. Just the thought of Carly in my bed, underneath me, causes a flush, not just desire but fear of the unknown. Of what happened last time and could happen again. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

“Chad and I used to have fun together before…”

I don’t ask her to fill in the blanks. Dalia and I used to have fun together too. But people aren’t just one color, one shade of a person. They’re complex with many different sides. Ones that crop up when we least expect it.

She threads her fingers through my hand hanging off her shoulder. Her touch is soft. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, knowing exactly what she means.

“For the coffee shop. And Chad.”

I put my finger to her lips. “Shh. You don’t owe me an apology. I don’t know why you stay with him when you deserve so much more, but I’m your friend.”

She puts her head on my shoulder and sighs. “I broke up with him.”

“Oh.” Inside, I’m doing the tango and whooping it up. Maybe I have a chance. Not right now. But maybe in the future. Because I want to be so much more than her friend.

Chapter 6

Carly

Two more days pass. Two days! I wake up, attend class, study, and sleep. I avoid The Watering Hole, terrified Noah will show up and terrified he won’t. I probably bored him to death playing Frisbee on the beach—even though it was his idea—and he’s hoping to miss me. On the third morning I’ve had enough. No more sulking or sitting around waiting for a secret friend to show up and take me out for a good time.
 

I dress in dark blue skinny jeans and a fitted top with a scarf I tie around my neck, the ends dangling around my waist. Fuck boys altogether. I’m not going to change my routine for them. With that thought and determination, I open the door, ready to go back to my safe space at The Watering Hole.

Noah stands, his fist ready to knock on my door. A grin reaches his ears. “Hey.”

I nod. “Hi.” Then I grab my backpack and push past him. My steps are quick, running from the emotion flooding through me. The warmth at being near him, the relief that he wants to see me, the anger when I realize I’ve been waiting, hoping for this, the hurt that so many days went past, the frustration that I feel like such an emotional screw up.

“Carly?” In a couple of strides, he’s by my side.

“Hi, Noah.” I cringe at the cold tones in my words.

“May I join you?” he asks.

“Whatever.”
 

We exit the building and head toward the coffee shop, our strides like we’re in a race. The first drops of rain splatter my cheeks and I notice for the first time the heavy black clouds rolling across the sky. I shiver and wish I’d thrown on a sweater.
 

Silence sits between us, heavy, just like the clouds casting their dark shadows, covering the campus. Noah rushes to open the door for me. I nod my thanks, order coffee and head to my table. He orders and a minute later follows uninvited. He stirs a creamer into his coffee, then chews on the straw. I risk taking a glance and notice that the lightness about him when I first saw him has faded, his eyes a darker shade than usual.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No.” I want to scream and rant and rave. Just my life! Just my fucked-up relationships and my screwed-up relationship with my dad. And the one person I want in my life, the one boy I feel safe with, I’m freezing out because he didn’t talk to me for a couple days.
Good one, Carly
.
 

I stare out the window, a light splatter of rain hits the glass. The sky continues to darken, the dark gray underside ominous. Why didn’t I grab my umbrella?

Noah runs his fingers over the rim of his to-go cup in a cute, nervous sort of way. My heart thaws just a little. “Want to go for a short walk before classes?”

I study his hopeful, honest expression, like a little boy asking for ice cream. In the time we’ve spent together, he knows me better than Chad. I want to touch my fingers to his cheek, his lips, gently play a melody across his skin and see what happens. I want to feel him next to me. I want to talk and laugh with him, but all I can do is sit here, frozen, plastic, unable to respond, too scared to say what I want. My eyes burn.