In Every Way (7 page)

It’s truly remarkable how pathetic I can be. I was pelted with a football and here I am reeling with excitement over getting five minutes of attention from one of the hottest guys I’ve ever met. Of course I would have to get injured to receive attention from a guy. Of course.

But it all makes sense now. His parents own a store, the place directly in front of where he hit me with a ball. At first I couldn’t believe he was being so caring and attentive, acting like he truly felt bad that I’d been hit. It was only an accident, so what’s the big deal?

But now I get it. He’s probably terrified I’ll try to sue his family’s store because I was injured.

That’s the only explanation.

I don’t know why I’m even letting myself get disappointed by this. Obviously a hot guy wouldn’t care about me unless there was something bad that could happen to him. Still, I grip my car keys as I walk across the boardwalk. Even though it was all an act so he wouldn’t get in trouble, I can pretend he was a friend, a real friend. That the shiver I got when his fingertips grazed my skin meant something more.

I sigh. I don’t even remember the last time a guy touched me. A girl could really get used to having a guy take care of her cuts and bruises with such precision and tenderness.

“Hey, Bess?”

I stop. Turn around slowly.

Josh is jogging up to me in the parking lot. He still doesn’t have a shirt on, and it’s the hottest thing ever.

“Yeah?” I say, wondering why he bothered running out here after me. Our business together was finished. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly as his footsteps slow to a walk. Then he’s right here in front of me again, all gorgeous and grinning in a way that makes my toes tingle. “I was just thinking, uh, you should come by the shop sometime.”

“Why?”

Damn, that sounded rude, and I didn’t mean for it to be rude, but—uh, what exactly am I supposed to say to that? “I’m not going to sue you or anything,” I say with a snort. “I’m barely hurt. It’s not a big deal.”

“No, um, I was just thinking,” he says, stopping to shove his hands in the pockets of his board shorts. “Since you’re friends with Maddie and I’m friends with Colby, and they’re both out of the country . . .”

“Yeah?” I say just to urge him along. He’s taking entirely too long to spit out whatever he’s going to say. Maybe he doesn’t believe I’m actually friends with Maddie.

“You should just come by the shop and hang out. I’m bored without my best friend. Maybe we can hang out until they’re back?”

My heart does a backflip and then immediately races so fast I’m afraid I might pass out. What exactly does that mean?

I swallow. “Well, uh, I work on the strip, so I’m kind of busy a lot.”

OMG, Bess, why did you say that?

I should say YES I WOULD LOVE TO. But I can’t. It’s a trick, it has to be. Years of being ignored by attractive guys doesn’t just go away overnight. I mean, yeah, my new clothes are cute, but still. It doesn’t make sense.

Josh nods. “Yeah, cool. It was just an idea. I mean, you seem cool, so. Ya know. Whenever you’re bored, come on by. I’m always at the Flying Mermaid.”

I nod slowly. He doesn’t really seem like he’s pulling a prank on me. He kind of seems . . . sincere. But that can’t be. There’s no way.

I try to look like I don’t care. “Yeah, maybe.”

There’s a few seconds of silence where we’re both staring at each other in this way that’s polite and awkward. At first, he was glorious eye candy that I enjoyed looking at, but now it’s just weird. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to burst out laughing and for some hidden cameraman to step out and say I’m on a reality show where hot guys pretend to be friends with girls like me.

When none of that happens, I look down at my car keys. “I gotta go.”

“Okay,” Josh says, rocking back on his heels. “Sorry again for the football. I’ll see you around?”

“Sure,” I say, but it’s not exactly true. I’d bet my entire paycheck that the next time I run into Josh Graham, he’ll pretend I don’t exist.

It’s probably just my imagination, but Colby sounds far away when we talk on the phone. It’s like being on another continent has made his voice all well-traveled and mature, while I’m still just the guy from Texas who hasn’t done anything worthwhile.

“I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you think it is,” Colby says after I’ve told him nearly every embarrassing detail about my exchange with Bess yesterday.

“Dude. If anything, it was worse than I’m making it out to be. I
chased
after her when she was trying to leave. I made her stop and talk to me again.” I groan as heat rises into my cheeks. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since the football incident and I can’t stop replaying it all in my mind, reliving every stupid detail. There I was trying to flirt, and she wanted nothing to do with me. Why did I keep talking to her? Why couldn’t I have just left her alone the first time she tried to leave?

This phone call was supposed to cheer me up. I’m sitting on the couch in my living room, waiting for the coffee to brew so I can take a thermos to work. Mom left early to go to her sister’s house for the day, and Dad is already at the shop waiting for an early delivery of more bathing suits.

Colby assures me once more than I’m okay, but I’m not buying it. There’s some shuffling on the phone and then Maddie picks up.

“Josh?”

“Hey, Maddie. What’s up?”

“I only heard Josh’s half of your conversation just now, so tell me what’s going on. I can give you a girl’s opinion.”

An idea hits me now; Maddie is friends with Bess. “I uh, well,” I stutter into the phone as I try to decide what exactly I should tell Bess’s friend. On one hand, since they’re friends, I could ask Maddie to do some recon and find out if I even have a chance with Bess. On the other hand . . . if I spill my guts to Maddie and she tells Bess exactly how hard I’m crushing on her after only knowing her a few minutes, it might scare her away. I’d kind of rather assume she doesn’t like me than have Maddie ask and confirm it for good.

Girls are sneaky, and even if I made Maddie promise not to tell Bess, she probably would. Girl code and all of that.

I take a deep breath and make my choice. “I met this cute girl at the beach yesterday,” I tell her. She won’t find out this girl’s name, at least not now. I can’t trust her not to tell Bess, but I can trust her advice in general.

After I explain the whole humiliating story to yet another person, Maddie mulls it over, making this long “hmm” sound into the phone.

“Maybe she has a boyfriend,” she says.

I groan. “So it’s that bad? She reacted like someone who’s already taken?”

“Maybe not. But it is weird that this girl wasn’t all over you, like just about every other girl would be. I mean, you’re not as cute as Colby,” she says and Colby whoops in the background, “But you’re cute. If you’re being nice and friendly, it should attract any normal girl to you.”

“Maybe she’s not normal,” I say, desperate to get the blame off me. I can’t stand the idea that I’m not good enough for her. If she has a boyfriend, then I can wait until she’s single again.

But if she just doesn’t like me . . . I can’t do much about that.

“I think you should give it one last shot,” Maddie says after discussing it with Colby as if I’m not here on the phone able to hear everything they say. “If she truly isn’t interested in you, you’ll know by the second try. If she is, then you’ll also know.”

“Okay, thanks,” I say, glancing up when my sister walks into the room. “That’s good advice.”

“Of course it is,” Maddie says, a smile in her voice. “See ya later.”

“Bye.”

I’m smiling when I hang up the phone. This whole thing had felt hopeless a few minutes ago, but now I’m a little inspired. I shouldn’t let Bess go so easily. I should at least give it one more shot, and if she so clearly blows me off again, then I’ll know. I’ll suck it up and admit that the beautiful girl on the beach wants nothing to do with me.

“You look weird,” Abigail says, reminding me she’s still in the room.

“Who let you out of your cage?” I say, in a pathetic attempt at an insult. I’m really off my game today because I can’t stop thinking about the girl in the hot pink shirt.

“Are you going to work?” she asks, ignoring my jab as if she were the older sibling and not me. Now that I actually look over at her, I see that she’s dressed in shorts and a Flying Mermaid shirt instead of her pajamas. Her purse is slung over her shoulder.

“Yeah, in a minute. Why?”

“I wanna come.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine, get in the truck.”

She lets out a little squeal of excitement and rushes past me, through the kitchen, and out to the garage.

I roll my eyes. Abigail is thirteen, which means sometimes she’s a raging brat that I want to strangle, and other times she’s just a normal person I don’t mind being around. Today looks like it’ll be a normal day. That calls for a celebration I think, as I pour my coffee into a thermos. I reach into the fridge and grab a can of spray whipped cream, tilting it over the thermos and spraying some inside on top of my coffee. I usually drink it black, not because I like the taste, but because I’m too lazy to bother. But whipped cream definitely makes it better.

I screw the cap on and head out to my truck, where Abigail has already started the engine and is rocking out to some pop song from the passenger seat.

“Not happening,” I say as I climb into the driver’s seat. Immediately, I shut off that crap she’s listening to and put it on a rock station. “Passenger doesn’t pick the music.”

“But I love Selena Gomez.”

“Not in a million years,” I say. She crosses her arms and slumps into her seat, the angry little sister scowl she’s so great at appearing on her face.

We’re halfway to the beach when my sister stops playing on her phone and looks over at me. “So who’s the girl?”

“What girl?”

“The one you were telling Colby about.”

I stiffen, my eyes on the road. “How much of that did you hear, you little snooper?”

“I wasn’t snooping,” she says, making this annoyed eye roll. “And I only heard a little bit. So who is it?”

“None of your business.”

“What’s her name?”

“Not telling you.”

She groans. “Well, I hope she’s not a bitch like Elise.”

“Watch your mouth. And she’s not.”

Abigail’s expression softens just a little. “Well she must be a bitch if she doesn’t like you. You’re a great guy.”

I look over at her and smile. “Thanks, Ab.”

***

The beach is calling to me more than ever. It’s a beautiful summer day, the kind that’s hot and sunny but not
too
hot and sunny. Normally I can feel the call to go surf from deep in my bones, but today that’s not what’s making me want time to hurry up so I can get off work.

Today I want to see Bess.

And Abigail must know it because she keeps giving me these little knowing grins and side eye glances. It’s annoying, my little sister knowing that I’m freaking out over a girl. I’m supposed to be the tough big brother. Nothing is supposed to mess with my head.

Something Bryce told me yesterday has been bothering me as well. He’d said that I’m probably just upset because Bess didn’t seem to like me back. It’s hard to admit, but yeah, girls do often like me. I hang with Colby and Bryce and the popular crowd at high school.

And although high school is officially over, that kind of popularity stuff sticks with you, at least in a small town like Louetta. Although I’ve had my heart crushed by the three serious girlfriends I’ve had over the years, I can’t remember a single time I’ve been rejected by a girl when I first met her. I’m not trying to sound arrogant, but it is what it is.

Bryce thinks the only reason I’m practically obsessing over Bess is because she rejected me. To Bryce, dating is a game and girls are trophies to be won and then set aside on a shelf.

I hate that idea. I
hate
the mere thought of thinking that my fascination with Bess is just because she rejected me. That can’t possibly be it. I’m not some asshole who wants to add a ton of notches to my metaphorical headboard. (My real headboard is metal, and plus, my parents would straight up murder me if I carved a notch into any piece of furniture to keep track of how many girls I’ve slept with.)

I’m a good guy. I know I am. Abigail thinks so, too. I just want a real girl, a sweet girl, one to fall madly in love with and have forever.

I don’t just want Bess because she rejected me. I want to get to know her, see if she fits more items on my list. I want to feel her silky blond hair through my fingers and press my lips to hers.

I need to smell her floral perfume again, need to see her smile so bad it makes my stomach ache.

Although Abigail is legally too young to officially work at the shop, she pretty much runs the place when she’s there. She knows the register better than I do, and she can upsell every teenage girl on a pair of sunglasses and flip flops just by talking to them.

So when it’s half an hour until my shift is over, I find Dad near the wetsuits and ask if I can leave early.

“Sure, we’re pretty slow,” Dad says, organizing the wetsuits by size. “You have somewhere important to be?”

“Kind of,” I say, not wanting to give away the real reason I’m leaving. “I need to talk to one of the shop owners before they close.”

“Well get on out of here,” Dad says, waving me away with his hand. “Make sure you clock out early, though, punk.  I’m not paying for that extra half hour.”

I thank him and dash into the back room, clock out, and grab my phone off the charger. A lot of shops on the strip close at six p.m. on weekdays, and I want to make sure I have time to find her.

I can’t just assume she’ll be walking on the beach today like she was yesterday. After being hit with a football, she might even be traumatized from the beach for a while.

My heart speeds up as I step outside, using the customer door that faces the strip.

Bess hadn’t said where she works, just that it’s here. I’m going to find her by starting with the first shop and working my way down. In the logical part of my brain, I know I should come up with a reason for walking into her store, pretend like I’m there for something else and it’s just a coincidence that I happened to run into her.

But the lovesick part of my brain doesn’t have the time to come up with excuses.

I just want to see her.