Full Share (Shore House Book 1) (15 page)

The bodice floated on top of my skin. It was wearing me instead of the other way around. “A little tighter.”

Jack groaned and tightened the corset. His cold fingers grazed the minute areas of skin still exposed by the ties. My thoughts were grounded exactly where his fingers touched. The sensation terrified me. I couldn’t let my body respond to him this way. He’d be touching someone else’s body in a few hours.

“Thank you,” I said when he finished.

Jack ran his fingertips from the tops of my shoulders down my arms, sending heat through me as they traveled. A sudden resentment filled me. He could have anyone. He came and went as he pleased, leaving me trapped here alone. I blamed him for something he’d never done, and I’d punish him with the things I’d never do. I stepped away at the exact moment Tank popped his head into our porch.

“We’re taking the Jolly Trolley into Rehoboth to get an early dinner.” Jack and I only stared at him. “You’re both coming.”

“I just ate,” I said and increased the distance between Jack and me. I caught the rejected look in his eyes. Something had changed between us the night before.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re coming.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You can watch us eat.”

Tank left Jack and me alone. I glanced at my car out the window. It was pulled in so far that four other people would have to move their cars for me to escape this place.

“Come.” Just one word from Jack sent a tingle down my spine.

“Who else is going?”

“Me.”

He was all that mattered.

I rummaged through my bag for my ID and bank card. I had two dollars left from the night before. At this rate, I’d spend my rent if I were here the entire weekend. Just one more night, I told myself. I left all my jewelry in my bag. The dress didn’t need a thing to draw attention to it.

“Let’s go,” Mila yelled into the porch. She came out and shooed me into the front of the house.

There we were joined by Tank and Stone. We waited in the front yard until Jack came out of the house, and then we walked to Dickinson Street to catch the trolley to Rehoboth.

The trolley was open air, and to Jack’s and my delight, there was some wind. I held my skirt down and let the breeze blow through my hair, not caring if it looked crazy by the time we got to the restaurant.

I knew we were going to Dogfish Brewery before the trolley even entered Rehoboth. I’d heard it mentioned enough to know it was only a matter of time before they went. The only surprise was that I was with them.

We filed into our seats at the restaurant. Mine was between Tank and Mila, directly across from Stone.

“Nice dress,” Stone said.

I tried to decipher if it was sarcasm or serious. I couldn’t tell. “Thanks.”

“Why do you seem like you hate me?”

I was shocked. I tried so hard not to seem like anything. “I don’t hate you.”

“You sure?” Stone took a sip of his water, and Tank began to laugh.

“Yeah. I mean, you seem wound a little tight.” I saw Jack out of the corner of my eye. He was reading his menu and listening to every word. “Like, maybe you should smoke some pot, or not drink . . . or try some yoga.”

“Yeah, try some yoga,” Mila added and winked at Stone.

“See? You sound like you don’t enjoy my company.”

“It’s fine. Just maybe not as relaxing as it could be.”

Stone sneered and focused his attention on his own menu. I inhaled deeply and avoided the sight of Jack.

“It sounded like
you
were doing some yoga outside last night,” Tank said, and we all turned to him, but he was looking directly at Mila.

“You’re one to talk,” she quipped back.

“I’m just saying, taking advantage of these poor beach boys with your downward facing dog moves. Doesn’t seem fair.”

“What the fuck?” Stone put down his menu. “Is everyone getting laid around here but me?”

“Maybe that would help,” I said, and he turned his anger on me. “Or yoga . . .”

I ordered the seventy-five minute IPA and the crab-and-corn chowder before escaping to the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror. Stone didn’t bother me. As long as he wasn’t starting a fight next to me in a bar, he didn’t bother me at all. Jack looking at me from the other side of a packed table was what bothered me. I straightened my dress. Stone wasn’t the only person who needed to get laid.

“Hey,” Mila said as she opened the door to the ladies’ room. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” I said and meant it.

“The guys were just having a huge argument about whether you’re a lesbian or not.”

“What?” flew out of mouth before I could contain it.

“It’s okay.” She stood next to me looking in the mirror. Her deeply tanned skin was visible from her sleeveless dress. Lean muscles, fitting her career as a yoga instructor, defined her body. “Either way, it’s okay. Stone thinks you are. Jack swears you’re not.”

Change the subject. Change the subject. Change the subject.
I laughed a little. It was still awkward. “Hey, Mila, what was your major at Penn?”

“Mathematical Economics.”

I nodded, seeming completely unsurprised.

“I know. I know. Yoga helps me think, and I need to take some time and really consider what I want to do with my life, you know?”

I stared at her in the mirror. “Why is Stone so angry all the time?”

“He’s the youngest of four brothers and the only one to not graduate from West Point. Stone went to the University of Vermont.”

I stood in shock. Assigning any reason to Stone’s anger seemed impossible, but now the deep-rooted nature of it began to make sense.

“He felt some relief for the first thirty seconds after he decided he wasn’t joining the army, but he’s been trying to make it up to his father ever since.” Mila reapplied her perfect pale-pink lip gloss. “He should be brewing his own beer somewhere but instead he’s atoning for the one decision he made on his own five years ago.”

“Like, stop being sorry for something that wasn’t wrong.”

“Exactly, but back to you, I just want to make sure you know that if you are a lesbian, or anything else, that’s totally cool with me. In fact, in that dress it’s more than cool.” She kissed me on the cheek and walked out of the bathroom.

I wanted to leave. I needed to leave.

I forced myself to walk back to my table and ate in pleasant silence. I wouldn’t let them bother me, and I wouldn’t engage with Stone again. Nothing good would come from it, and now that I understood a little more of how deep his anger was buried, there was no point to it. I wasn’t looking to fix anyone.

“How’s your soup?” Jack asked.

“Good,” I said instead of fine, just to mix things up a bit. In the pause where a normal person would return the question, I checked my phone, which said absolutely nothing but five fifteen.

Two rounds of shots were ordered as dessert. I did mine and placed the glass on the wooden table next to the other empty ones. There was no turning back. My last night of the holiday weekend had begun.

The shots diminished my discomfort with my roommates, but left me feeling less than sober. I was still bopping my head and singing along to the vocalist from the Dogfish when I was standing on the curb out front.

He touched my arm first. Before he said a word, he wrapped his hand around my elbow to steady me. His grasp pulled me from my tipsy song and landed me square in front of him.

“I was hoping I’d see you tonight.”

It was the politician from the night before. Derrick was his name. “Hey.” His recognition threw me. I was so used to seeking anonymity, and yet, I kind of liked Derrick knowing me. He was less corporate-looking today in a T-shirt and camo shorts. I liked them better on him since I could easily see his fit body defined under his slightly tight tee.

Having realized I wasn’t with them when they reached the corner, Jack yelled, “Nora.” My entire group stared at Derrick and me. All of them except Mila appeared concerned. She was grinning wildly and winking at me, hoping Derrick and I were going to have sex right there on the street.

“Want a ride?” he asked me. “We’re headed back to Dewey.”

I peered past Derrick at the shining Chevy Tahoe behind him. Four guys were opening the doors and getting in.

I turned back to my housemates. Their questions, their sharing, their debates about my sexuality were exhausting me. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Derrick helped me climb into the Tahoe and closed the door. We pulled out and passed my housemates as Mila waved excitedly to the tinted windows of the car and Jack stared, disturbed by my departure. I inhaled and enjoyed the space.

Derrick’s housemates were eerily similar to my own. There was the angry girl, who seemed like she might have fucked him the night before, and the happiest guy alive, who was passing a bowl. Derrick declined, and I followed his lead.

Derrick kept a beer in my hand at all times in his house and at the Rudder. He was attentive and trying to get me drunk, neither of which I was opposed to. He was also intelligent and funny. Two things rarer than a twenty-three-year-old virgin at a beach bar on the Fourth of July.

We danced along with the music, and even that he did well. In the seven hours we’d spent together, I became certain I could spend the rest of my life with him. I hadn’t fallen head over heels. My feelings were nowhere close to love at first sight. Our connection was a glorious compatibility that could endure the next five decades.

The drunker Derrick got, the more he liked me . . . and my dress. It was a crowd pleaser. As I walked through the hoards to the bathroom, several people commented on it. Some were even girls. I searched each face for one of my housemates, knowing there were only a few choices in bars. Where were they? More importantly, why did I care so much? Derrick’s house was a much safer group for me to be with. I was still new, and besides Derrick, none of them cared who I was.

We lingered too long and I was exhausted. Derrick was unsteady on his feet. The Rudder was throwing us out. The lines for pizza had already formed, and half the town had properly passed out on their couches, floors, and back lawns. The time had come to go home.

We turned on New Orleans Street and left the stragglers of the main road behind. Next to a restored Volkswagen bus parked outside his house, Derrick stopped walking. My mind raced. Was I spending the night? Was I walking home tomorrow morning in this dress?

Were Derrick and I about to have sex?

He kissed me. He held my head in his hands. He was gentle and kind. Even as he forced my head back and leaned down on me, he made me believe I was the most cared-for girl in the world.

My arms hung at my sides. I liked the taste of him. His hands on me left me wanting more, and I told him with my tongue matching the force of his own. I reached up and pulled him down to me. I pressed myself against the front of him, my heart pounded against his chest.

Derrick released me. “Come inside with me.”

I forced myself to stop thinking, to stop wondering if it was a good idea. I was just going to enjoy the moment. My phone dinged with a text as I followed Derrick. I pulled it from my purse and saw it was from Jack. He must have been bringing someone home, or found one of the half shares in our house who appealed to him.

The text read
,
I know it’s none of my business, but I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been gone a long time.

To me, it felt as if I’d been gone forever. The time was a peaceful break from the never-ending drama the house created. Or was it the people in the house?

I texted back,
I’m fine. Don’t wait up.

I didn’t linger on the message. Jack had his life, and I had mine. The phone went back in my purse as I followed Derrick to an empty bedroom on the third floor of the house. I scanned through my memories of the night for messages or signals he might have given his roommates requesting privacy.

Derrick kissed me again, reminding me of why we were here. In his bedroom. He was far less gentle than he’d been in the street. His hands slipped under the straps of my dress and pushed them off my shoulders. The front fell to the portion held up by the corset. He paused and gazed at my breasts as my nipples hardened from the exposure.

“You’re so hot.” He reached for one, taking it in his hand and caressing my hard nipple as he kissed my neck, and something shut down inside me. There was a moment, and I was no longer a part of it. I inhaled deeply trying to go back, but it was lost to me. Somewhere between the driveway and his bed, I’d run away.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I said.

Derrick stood straight and faced me. He was pleased, probably thinking I was going to insert some type of birth control or complete some other pre-coital preparation.

I grabbed my purse on the way out, which only added to Derrick’s anticipation. I didn’t need it. I didn’t know why I’d brought it, except when I was safely locked in the bathroom I took out my phone and read Jack’s text again. He was worried about me. His tongue might have been down some idiot’s throat at the time, but he was worried about me, and that mattered.

I used the bathroom and washed my hands with the urgency of a person driving to the dentist to have a root canal. I took one last look in the mirror and solidified that I was going home.

“I’m going to need you to listen to me and not say anything,” I said to Derrick, who was now lying on the bed, facing me. “I was just going to leave, but I thought I owed you this conversation—these words.” I pointed to Derrick. “I’m just not sure if this . . .” He was still comfortable, not yet realizing my ramblings were our eulogy. “Is a good idea. It might be. It probably is.” I shook my head in self-doubt. “You’re a great kisser, so the potential is surely there, but I’d rather be sure.” I was rambling. “Like, certain.” The smile drained from his face. He was catching up. “So I’m going to go.” I exhaled, thankful those statements were over and certain I’d meant every word now that they’d been said.

Derrick sat up in bed and pulled me to him with both hands on my waist. He kissed my stomach and peeked up at me. “I’ve got a ball gag in my duffel if that’s what you’re into.”