Sweet Girl (20 page)

A man’s foot.

Taylor’s foot!

My eyes fly open, but I don’t move a muscle. Behind me Taylor is still, so I guess he must be sleeping. Memories of the night before come back to me in a flash. Taylor is sleeping with me in his arms, wrapped up tight the same way we fell asleep last night! Like this is the most natural thing in the world, which is totally overwhelming, because some weird part of me
does
think this feels natural. His arms are around me, I am wearing his pajamas and sleeping in his bed, and I’ve been tangling my feet with his.

And then it is another morning from another time, and I am reminded of the mistakes I let myself make, just like this one.

Suddenly I can’t breathe.

I have to get out of here.

I slip out of bed as quickly as possible and thank every god I know when Taylor doesn’t wake up. Holden lifts his head up from his bed in the corner to throw me a reproachful look I try to ignore.

I find last night’s clothes and hurry out of the room. I change quickly, grab my bag and my phone, and hurry out to my car. I know it is a coward’s way out, but I can’t handle anything else right now.

If playing footsie is enough to send me over the edge, how in the hell did I think I might have handled anything more? It is a glaring reminder that I am too far gone to actually be with anybody. I finger the bracelet on my wrist, pinching the little gold disk with the percent etched into it until my fingertips turn white.

I will not forget again.

Chapter Fifteen

“You’re awfully quiet this afternoon.” Landon turns to look at me from the passenger seat.

Her hair is as buoyant as ever, and her outfit is yuppie personified: a chambray button-down tucked into navy-blue shorts with little anchors on them. She is also wearing wedge sandals in coordinating colors. It is the kind of ensemble you’d only find at J. Crew or the Kennedy Compound. I, on the other hand, barely found the energy to shower and am dressed in cutoffs, flip-flops, and an old tank top with bleach stains lining the seam.

Beside Landon, Brody pulls his eyes from the road to look at me in the rearview mirror. He raises an eyebrow in question.

I shrug in response and look away from the golden picture they make in the front seats.

Landon and Brody intertwined their fingers as soon as we got in his car, and I’m not sure they’ve broken physical contact since we left Hollywood. They aren’t overly affectionate, probably because they know it would wig me out, but their constant touches and whispered conversation are nearly impossible to be around, especially today.

“You are kind of sedate, Max,” Brody calls back to me.

“No more so than usual,” I answer.

My voice sounds weird and monotone. Miko looks up from the book she is reading in defiance of every carsickness law I know.

“You cool?” she whispers.

I nod quickly and look back out the window to avoid seeing Taylor’s name flash on my phone for the umpteenth time. He’s sent a thousand texts and keeps calling. I turned my phone on silent after the first ring this morning, unable to answer the calls but not willing to ignore them either. I don’t want to have to explain to him why I freaked out and ran away. I don’t want to tell him that I am too broken to be fixed. I just keep the phone clutched in my hand and watch the Pacific fly by as we drive up the 101.

“We’re almost there,” Brody announces a short while later. “House first, or store?” he asks the three of us.

“What do you think?” Landon asks me with more than a little concern in her eyes.

That look is all the warning I need. I had better suck it up, or I am going to have to deal with an inquisition of mammoth proportions. I clear my throat.

“Let’s go to the house. Mom spent days stocking up, and she can’t really play hostess properly if we walk in with our own food.”

Brody nods in agreement. “You’re right. Besides, Malin should be there by now, right?”

He smiles and I join in with him, feeling the tiniest bit lighter. There is nothing like my little sister’s vibrancy to help me shake off a dark mood.

As if to spite me, my phone lights up again, making my stomach churn. I just need to stop thinking about it.

I am good at not thinking about things.

I am going to have to force myself to have fun this weekend and to ignore what is happening with Taylor. Even if that means that I will lose him as a friend. In fact, there is no way I won’t lose him as a friend. Because even if we could go back from this morning, how could he ever forget about last night?

Brody turns his Rover off the main road and winds higher and higher up the hills towards our destination.

“Holy—” Landon yelps, and then covers her mouth either because she realizes she sounds naive or because she is about to curse.

“—crap balls!” Miko finishes for her.

They both stare in wonder at the home at the end of the long driveway.

My parents have owned the beach house almost as long as they’ve been married, so I guess I’ve never really thought about how it must look to someone who’s never seen it before.

“It’s not that dramatic, you guys,” I say, feeling sort of embarrassed.

My parents live in a mansion in Beverly Hills, but it is tasteful and almost modest by LA standards. The beach house isn’t modest at all. Even though they purchased it in bad shape and had it refurbished, it still stands as a stark display of their net worth, which is, well, a hell of a lot of money.

The house sits perched on three acres on the side of a mountain that is the kind of lush green you only find next to the ocean. It has a panoramic view of the Pacific stretching out in every direction and Santa Barbara below. It is done in a Cape Cod style with white walls, a gray roof, and a wraparound porch, complete with a long line of rocking chairs. It is also massive, with ten bedrooms, a guesthouse, and an infinity pool out back. I guess if you were seeing it for the first time, it might be a lot to take in; but it is easy to forget the grandeur, because to our family it is just home.

Brody parks the car in the driveway. Landon and Miko jump out and openly gawk at the view before I can even unfold myself from the backseat. Landon turns in a full circle, taking in the setting with wide-eyed wonder.

“This looks like a Nancy Meyers movie!” she says, clapping her hands.

“Well, that’s fitting, because Jack Nicholson lives next door!” someone calls from the porch.

I turn, feeling my first bit of happiness all day, just as a blonde ball of energy throws herself into my arms.

“Mali.” I smile at my little sister.

She looks like the poster child for a California girl, even though she’s been back in the state for less than twenty-four hours. She is almost as tall as I am, with long legs and the same golden hair as our mother. She has always been stunning, but at twenty-two she’s finally matured enough that she’s stopped being so vain about it. I have a sneaking suspicion that one too many failed relationships have made her question the value of those looks and whether they attract only the wrong kind of man. She kisses my cheek and then hugs Brody with the same kind of enthusiasm.

He releases her from a bear hug and tries to introduce Landon, but Malin cuts him off.

“You must be Landon!” she says, giving Landon a big hug.

Landon, I’m sure, senses a kindred spirit in another bubbly blonde who isn’t aware of personal-space issues and enthusiastically hugs her back.

“I am,” Landon says. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Malin.”

“And you’re Miko.” Malin turns and repeats the process with the final member of our entourage.

Next she hooks arms with them both and hustles them into the house before they can protest.

“We’ve just opened the crispest bottle of sauvignon blanc, and Liam and I have decided to use it for wine pong,” she tells them as Brody and I follow them up the steps. “You
have
to play with us; it’s tradition.”

“Wine pong?” Landon asks.

“Same rules as you’d expect, but we guzzle wine instead of beer,” Malin explains. “Oh, and we use clear plastic tumblers because Mommy won’t allow red Solo cups into the house.”

“A woman after my own heart.” Landon giggles.

“There you are!” my mom calls from the other side of the house. I can’t see her yet, but she can always be identified by the racket her shoes make hurrying across the hardwood. And if you listen carefully, you can probably make out the sound of the ice bouncing around in her wine glass as she walks.

“We’re so glad you all could come!” she squeals when she rounds the corner and sees us in the entryway.

She hugs everyone in turn, being careful to hold her wine glass out to the side, and then launches into hostess mode like a commanding general.

“Now, we’ve just opened the most
divine
bottle of white, and there’s some Dubliner on the cheese board that will make your toes curl—it’s so good! Brody, take their bags up. And Kenzie, will you show the girls to their rooms?”

I nod and pull my backpack higher up on my shoulder. Against my volition my eyes dart to the screen of my phone long enough to see that another text has come in. I shove it into my back pocket before I am tempted to read it.

After I show Landon and Miko their rooms and drop my stuff off in my own, I have to fight the urge to crawl under the covers on my bed and hide from everyone. But I know there is no way I’d make it half an hour before my mom would check me for fever, and her behavior makes everyone else worry, so I take a deep breath and leave the room. I find everyone in the backyard, where an intense game of wine pong is already underway. Landon and Malin have teamed up against Brody and Liam, and the girls’ team sinks a ball and celebrates while Liam pounds a tumbler of wine that probably costs more than my phone.

Daddy, as usual, is working his way through the cheese board and ignoring the gross abuse of his wine cellar. I hug him before taking a bottle of water from the fridge and making myself a little plate. I sit down at the long wooden table beside my parents and force myself to take some bites. Every time I think about my phone, I think I might be sick, but skipping meals isn’t an option for me. I pop some prosciutto into my mouth and force myself to chew. As if my thoughts are conjured into life, my mom looks in my direction and asks, “What time does your friend Taylor arrive, Kenzie?”

I fight the urge to choke on the food in my mouth.

“Yeah, when is he getting here?” Miko asks. “I thought he was riding up with us.”

“He . . .” I clear my throat. “He couldn’t—”

“Couldn’t give her a definitive time, because I thought I had some work to finish up,” a very familiar voice says from the doorway behind me. “But it turns out I wrapped up early. I must have left not too long after you guys did.”

For a second I think I might actually be sick. I sit frozen, unable to peel my eyes from the table in front of me while everyone jumps up to shake Taylor’s hand, and he thanks our housekeeper for showing him outside.

A sharp pain rushes through my shin, pulling me out of my daze. My eyes fly to Miko, who has just purposely kicked me under the table. She gives me a look that reminds me, once again, how perceptive she is. I need to pull myself together, because I am about to go full-on Marie Osmond and pass out in front of everyone. If Miko notices, then everyone else will clue in here soon.

“Kenzie,” my mom calls to me, “will you show Bennett to a room?”

I stand and turn around, and I try to act casual—I really do. But there is Taylor in those jeans he wears low on his hips and that faded blue T-shirt that is secretly my favorite and those stupid flip-flops that are way too beat up but that he refuses to trade in. And no matter what is going on in my head, right then I am so happy to see him that I nearly cry.

“I’ll help her!” Miko jumps up cheerfully to shuffle both Taylor and me into the house before anyone can question it. Thank God for her interference, because otherwise I might have just stood on the patio like a deer in headlights for several long minutes. As soon as she closes the patio door behind her, she hisses at us both.

“What’s going on with you two?” she demands.

“Nothing,” I say, looking away.

“Everything,” he says, looking right at me.

“What happened?” I can hear the accusation in her voice.

I don’t answer this time.

“She spent the night,” he tells her.

My eyes snap up in surprise.

“Why don’t you make an announcement?” I growl petulantly. “Maybe go tell my parents or my brothers? I’m sure they’d love to hear!”

They both ignore my ire.

“Just to sleep,” Taylor continues. “But it freaked her out, and she ran away this morning before I woke up.”

I expect Miko to give me grief in response to this information, but she lets out a very Landon-like gasp in outrage.

“You realize this makes two of my friends you’ve run out of your bed, Taylor?” she demands.

“Now that’s not fair,” he says, fighting a smile. “You know that time with Landon was alcohol related and nothing happened.” He runs a hand along his jaw. “This was the only instance where I was actively trying to get one of you three into bed with me.”

“Yeah, well,” she grumbles, “the buck stops here. Try hosting a slumber party that doesn’t send her careening in the opposite direction next time.”

“Yes ma’am,” he tells her seriously.

This is ridiculous! I am not going to stand here and listen to them discuss me like I am a problem to be fixed. Or worse, have them compare what happened last night to that time Landon got drunk and passed out in Taylor’s bed like a hobo. That pisses me off most of all.

“Come on,” I say briskly as I pass by him to head upstairs. I sound rude, and I know I am walking way too fast; but I have to, or else I’ll scream at them both and admit to being pissed off for all the wrong reasons.

“Godspeed,” I hear Miko whisper to Taylor.

I am up the stairs and opening a guest room door before I turn to see if he is behind me. Taylor walks right by me, and when I follow him into the room, he reaches over my head and slams the door, shutting both of us into the room.

“What are you doing here?” I demand.

Anger is good. Anger I know how to do. This thing with him, that’s where I am completely in the dark.

“You invited me.” He smiles, but for the first time since I met him, his smile seems forced.

“Don’t be obtuse,” I say, stepping away from the door—away from the close proximity to him.

“Don’t be a coward,” he counters vehemently.

I am momentarily stunned. I look away, at a loss for words for the first time in as long as I can remember.