Hard to Resist (5 page)

I still can’t believe that happened.

The banging is louder this time and along with it is the sound of Harper’s voice. “Nat! Let me in! I lost my key!”

Perking myself up, I shield my eyes from the sun as I swing my legs around and drop them on the floor. My bare feet drag along the carpet before pressing against the hardwood floorboards that lead me to the door. I unlock it, swing it open, and my hangover subsides as my eyes broaden at the sight of Harper.

My mouth gapes, disbelieving how matted her hair is. A pair of dark, bug-eyed sunglasses are covering her eyes but I’m sure her makeup is ruined. She looks like she could pass for Lady Gaga. “What in the hell happened to you?” I ask as she steps past me.

A low, aggravated groan is her response. She tosses her clutch on the sofa then heads for the balcony window to shut the blinds. “There’s too much sun today. My fucking head hurts,” she growls.

“Someone’s grumpy.” I make my way to the sofa to slump down.

“Beyond it,” she mutters before sitting down with me. She snatches her sunglasses off and I was right. Her eye makeup is completely ruined.

“Want some coffee?”

“That would be amazing,” she breathes.

I nod, pressing my lips together before hopping from the couch to get to the kitchen. I’ll wait until later for her to spill the beans. Harper usually tells me when something is wrong with her without the need to ask. The only time that she won’t tell me something right away is if she’s ashamed of something she’s done. I figure she’s done something terrible. Harper is beyond a party animal and when she’s drunk, it’s worse.

“Nat, what do you say we go to the beach today? I need some sun,” she calls from the living room.

The beach?
I’m not really up for that today. “I haven’t unpacked, Harper.”

“Screw unpacking, Natalie.” Her voice sounds closer and it isn’t too long before she’s prancing her way into the kitchen. “You’re going to be with me for months—plus you don’t even have that much to unpack. Why are you making excuses for yourself?” Her eyes thin into slits as she folds her arm. “You should be more than ready to get out.”

I shake my head, forcing myself to keep my eyes from her as I start the coffee machine. I search through all of the cabinets to look for the ground coffee but she steps past me, reaching up to pull a can down. “Nat,” she says sternly. I hate when she gets serious. But I can’t say that I wasn’t expecting it. She told me before I’d even arrived that she would come up with a million ways to get me to stop thinking about Bryson. I guess taking me out is her strategy. “Talk to me,” she begs as her eyes soften but it’s hard to fall for it this time around because her smeared makeup makes her look like a night-demon.

I snort a laugh as I peel the top from the coffee can.

“What in the hell is so funny? I’m being serious.”

“No—it’s not that,” I say, still sneering. “It’s just . . . well . . . you look like shit, Harp.”

Her face depresses while she reaches to smooth her matted hair. “I know. Don’t remind me,” she groans.

“What happened to you?”

She thinks on it, her glass-blue eyes zoning out. “I won’t tell you unless you promise to go to the beach with me.”

“Oh, we’re bargaining now?” I raise an eyebrow, placing the lid down to cross my arms.

“If it will bring some life into you.” She studies my eyes as she presses her dry lips together. “Nat, I know you’re still hurt. I know that you want to forget about him but you never will if you’re stuck inside every day.” I look away from her, forcing myself to hold back on the tears that are threatening to spill. My throat lacks with moisture and my hands turn into fists beneath the pit of my arms before I turn away from her. “Natalie, please. I’ll beg you if I have to.” I take a peek at her and now her eyebrow is raised, letting me know that she will beg without holding back.

“Damn it. Fine,” I groan.

“Yes,” she breathes victoriously. “Trust me, I will get that fucker off of your mind one way or another.” Clutching my wrists, she turns to make her way out of the kitchen. “Come on. We have to freshen up. We can catch some Frappuccino’s from Starbucks on the way.”

“Oh—that reminds me, Harp.”

She continues to drag me along and doesn’t stop until she’s in her room. “What?”

“I don’t have a bathing suit.”

Her lips stretch to reveal all of her pearly white teeth. “Stay here,” she says before rushing away from me to get to her closet. She steps back out within a second with a teal and white two-piece bikini on a hanger. The tags are still on it and it seems a size too big for her. “It’s for you. Your favorite color!”

“What?
” I shake my head. “You bought me a bathing suit?”

“Hell yeah. I knew you weren’t going to bring one or buy one so I picked one out for you. Grace told me you weren’t planning on wearing one. I swear I love that girl,” she sighs. “I have to tell you, though, I’m glad that you’re still the same size.” She rolls her eyes slightly.

“Harper, that’s a bit too much.”

“That may be so,” she quips. “But at least I was thinking of you. Consider it a gift for your arrival.” She grins then steps toward me to hand me the bathing suit. “I’m sure it looks better on. Go try it.”

Groaning, I clutch the hanger in my hand as I turn to head for my bedroom. “Right after a shower,” I mutter while stomping away like an overgrown child.

***

“Harper, what in the hell is this?” I hiss as soon as our feet touch the sand. Loud music flows with the wind along with millions of colorful beach balls that are being tossed in the air.

She glances over her shoulder slightly, giving me her famous pleading eyes again. “I knew that if I said it was a beach
party
, you wouldn’t have come.”

“Harp—”

“Nat!” She turns to look at me, her pleading eyes now scolding. “You’re going to have fun with me. Screw Bryson and screw your self-wallowing. The old Natalie is still in there somewhere. All she needs is a few drinks and she’s as good as new.” I press my lips together, scowling at her with demented eyes. She shrugs. “Give me the devil eyes all you want but you know it’s true.”

She grabs my hand then leads the way towards the crowd. I guess Harper is right. I need fun. I need to forget. I still feel guilty about last night—about Nolan. I know he’ll never forgive me but my only hope is that I never see him again. I guess that’s why I’m so bothered about being at this beach party. Because I know that he may be around. He seemed like he would be the type to know about every party or event that was going down.

The music grows louder as we hit the edge of the crowd. Harper releases my hand and I step to her side as we stick together while pushing through to get to the center. I’ve been to a beach party once before and it was the best party ever. It was during spring break of my senior year. So many people were there, the bands were great, and the drinks were fantastic. Of course we were under age and the police came as soon as they heard the noise but it was amazing. But that’s one of the memories that I have to bury because when the police showed up, I was with Bryson and we ran away together. We made love that night, too.

The memory attacks my heart, wrapping around it and squeezing like the grip of an anaconda. I force myself to think of something else and luckily I can because we’ve stopped in the center of the whole crowd. Everyone rocks together heavily, jumping up and down, rocking side to side to the band that is on stage.

“We should get some drinks,” Harper shouts while standing on her toes to find the nearest bar. She spots one, points at it, and then grabs my hand again before pushing through the sea of bodies until we’re clear. The bar is small and set in a tiki hut theme. The bartender happens to be a beautiful guy with a firm, tanned chest, sandy-blonde hair, and a pair of blue swimming trunks on. He flashes a smile at us as we reach the counter of the bar.

“Hi,” Harper breathes as she studies him. She bats her eyelashes as his lips hint at a small smile.

“Hi, ladies. What can I help you with?” he asks, pulling the rag away from the counters that he has just wiped.

“We’d like a few shots, if possible,” Harper says.

With a flirtatious tone, he asks, “How many, exactly?”

Harper looks from him to me. I sigh, sitting on the stool as I hold up two fingers. “Two for me.”

“Two for me, too,” Harper mumbles.

“What kind of vodka?”

“Um . . . how about you choose for us,” Harper says, her eyes brightening against her newly applied makeup. She looks at me for reassurance.

I nod as the bartender reaches for four shot glasses from under the counter. He turns to grab a bottle of clear liquid, pours some into each glass, and then slides them towards us. “All yours, ladies.” He winks, screwing the cap on the bottle again. A few more customers step up to the counter, forcing him leave us for them.

“He’s hot, huh?” Harper turns to look at me as soon as he’s out of ear shot.

“Very,” I nod. The guy really is hot. His body is sculpted perfectly, his smile is dazzling. He has the charm that any girl would love—but who knows what his background story may be. He could be a player, a cheater, or even just a natural born heart breaker. I shake my head, reaching for a glass quickly. Ever since Bryson has cheated on me, I have a bad habit of believing that every guy on earth is a low-down dirty dick. I chuck my drink back and my face pinches as it burns the heart of my throat. I ignore the burning as I reach for my second one, knock it down, but this time it isn’t as rough.

“Natalie, slow down,” Harper complains, her eyes narrowing at me before she takes a look at my empty shot glasses.

“Why? Isn’t this what you wanted? The party Natalie?”

“Yes, but—” Her eyes widen as she looks over my shoulder. Her mouth gapes and her face turns pale, as if she’s just seen a ghost. Studying the horror in her eyes, I frown before turning around to see who she may be looking at.

At first I don’t see anyone, but when I spot the molded tan chest, the soft grey eyes, and his hair that is slick from what is most likely sea water, my heart fails to beat. He is talking to another girl (a girl that he most likely doesn’t know) but I’m honestly not paying attention to that. He looks un-fucking-believable. With a shirt, he was already hot, but without one . . . all I can think is the word
damn.
His abs are glistening, shining from tanning oils. His white swimming trunks hug against his hips and the bulge between his legs that I had a feel of last night seems extremely large. He flashes a sparkling smile at the girl he’s talking to and she grins, most likely melting to the core because I’m melting just by looking at him.

“It’s him,” Harper murmurs. She grabs for her shot glasses, chugs them down, and then heads for the crowd again. “Come on, Natalie!” I rush for Harper but her face is struck with horror again as she stares off to her left.

A guy with black swimming trunks on, long and wavy sandy-blonde hair, and a nipple piercing makes his way towards her. I stop in my tracks, taking in this familiar stranger. The ring on the bottom right corner of his lip gives depth to his full, pink lips. His eyes are hooded, soft as he stares at Harper. His lips are gracing with a sweet smile. What is Harper so afraid of? Why does she look like she’s watching someone being brutally murdered? She finally tears her gaze away from him to look at me, her eyes begging for help but I’m too confused to know what she needs help from.

“Harper,” the stranger finally says, craning his arm around her waist to pull her in. She forces a smile but I can tell that she’s enjoying his touch, his body, and everything else about him. Her eyes shut briefly before she opens them again and pulls away. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he says. I continue to stare at the familiar stranger but as he continues to chat with Harper, I realize who he is. He’s the one that Harper was dancing with—the one that was standing against the wall with Nolan last night.

Oh, shit.

I turn to my left slowly to see if Nolan is still around and it’s just my luck that he has disappeared. I sneak my way back towards the bar, turning slowly to retrieve my seat, but as I spin completely, someone catches me and holds me back by the upper arms before I can clash into them. Their hands are strong and their arms look somewhat too familiar. My eyes travel from the length of his arms, to his broad chest, until finally I reach sight of the lips that were pressed against mine last night.

“Natalie?” Nolan asks, as I finally look into the eyes that I’m not too pleased to see. He sounds surprised to see me.

“Nolan,” I breathe, pretending that I’m glad to see him.

He releases his hold from my upper arms to cross his along with a smirk. “Now I see why you rejected me last night.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a party girl.”

I shake my head. “I’m actually not. I just tend to get dragged to these kind of events.”

“No one forces you to go anywhere, Natalie. Just like I didn’t force you to come to my apartment last night.” He tilts his head, his glassy eyes gleaming. “Or to have sex with me.”

“Okay—please just stop,” I mutter, shaking my head swiftly. “If I hurt you, I’m sorry but I told you my reason.”