Taming Chloe Summers (Grover Beach Team #7) (27 page)

The windshield wipers hurriedly swish back and forth, keeping the view of the street ahead clear from the shower outside. I hope that their screechy sound and the blast of the air conceal my sobs from Brinna. But even with me keeping my jaw clamped shut and my sniffs to a minimum, she strokes my shoulder shortly later and asks softly, “Are you all right?”

With teary eyes, I turn away from the window. As she sees me, she bites her lip, then steers the car to the side of the road, puts it in park, and shifts to face me. The wipers keep clearing the windshield, the running engine giving the motionless car a gentle vibration. We look at each other for an endless moment. I swallow and sniff. Then I collapse forward into her embrace, a painful sob tearing from my throat. “He didn’t come to say goodbye.”

Chloe

“Goodbye, Dad!” I hug my father hard, breathing in the familiar scent of his aftershave. “Take good care of Mom.”

“Of course, darling. See you at Christmas.” After squeezing me tight, he releases me so I can say farewell to my mother, who’s waiting nearby with teary eyes.

“Call us as soon as you land and write emails every day. Promise,” she croaks, hugging me. Letting go of her is much harder than I expected. Suddenly an entire year away from my family, my hometown, my school in San Francisco, and my friends, with no chance to visit on weekends, seems like half an eternity too long. Tuesday has come much too fast.

With my luggage stored in the trunk and Lesley and Kirsten waiting in Brinna’s Camaro, I slip into the passenger seat, rolling down the window, and blow a thousand air kisses to my parents as we drive off.

When Grover Beach disappears in the rearview mirror, Lesley leans forward from the backseat and touches my shoulder. “Hey, why didn’t you answer your phone yesterday? I called you like fifty times.”

“Umm… I was picking up my driving license.” It’s not even a complete lie. I did get my license back on Monday and missed about three of her calls at that time. The other forty-seven, I simply ignored.

“That’s exactly why I called. We should have gone out to celebrate!”

“Sorry. I turned my phone on silent and forgot it in my purse when I spent the afternoon with Sam to say goodbye. I didn’t check it until this morning.” Fair enough, the first part was hundred percent a lie, because I did check my phone every other minute for the rest of the day, even with my cousin around. But the one call I was hoping for never came. “We can celebrate later.”

“Oh, we so will!” Kirsten coos from next to Lesley. “As soon as we get to the airport. Brinna, you’re in too, aren’t you?”

“Well…” She cuts me a glance, which I return briefly. Brin came to my place yesterday evening for a private farewell party for two. It wasn’t a very happy one, but it was nice and something we both dearly needed. “I actually promised Jace I’d meet him for lunch,” she tells the two girls in the back, “so there won’t be time for me to go into the airport with you.”

While Les and Kir whine their complaints about getting dumped for Brin’s boyfriend, I zone out and reach into my purse instead. There’s my brand new driver’s license. Pulling the small plastic card out, I stare at the smiling picture. My thumb brushes over the name next to it. Chloe Patricia Summers. Who the heck is that girl? I don’t seem to recognize her anymore. Heaving a sigh, I drop the license back into my purse.

With two bathroom breaks on the way and a cappuccino at a gas station, the drive to San Francisco goes by astoundingly fast. For a special farewell gift, Brinna lets me drive the second half of the way. It feels strange to be in the driver’s seat again after such a long time, but I appreciate it. In London, I’ll most likely take the bus anyway, because with that weird left-side-of-the-road rule, it’s not a safe place for me to drive a car.

Finding a parking spot at the airport’s drop-off zone, we all get out and the three of us say goodbye to Brinna in an endless round of hugs.

“See you next summer, sweetie,” she says, pushing the air out of my lungs with her tight grip. I nod, though I hope that, sometime during the next few months, I can convince her to spend her spring break with us in England. Jace is a welcome guest, too.

Easing back into traffic, she waves out of the open window until the car rounds a bend and she’s out of sight. For a second, my chest feels a little too heavy again, but that will go away. Soon. Hopefully.

The girls and I pick up our bags and head inside the airport, finding a nice bar to spend the next hour in before it’s time to check in for the long flight and drop off our luggage. As we slide into a booth by the window overlooking the runway, I pull my phone out of my purse and check for new messages. Only one pops up. It’s from Jace, wishing me a safe trip.

I put the phone in my pocket and lean back into the soft, green cushion. Kirsten beams at me from across the table. A layer of makeup covers her freckles to nonexistence today, her usually untamable red curls neatly stacked on top of her head. “Celebration time! Your first drink is on me,” she coos and cheerfully waves her fake ID in front of my face. “What do you want?”

I want to go to the camp dining hall, have godawful pizza with Julie, Justin, and Grey, and then meet my drama group to practice
Romeo and Juliet
some more. Forcing a weak smile, I snag the menu from the table and flip it open.

My gaze skims over the beautifully designed booklet, reading the lines next to the pictures of fancy cocktails. When I turn the page and spot my favorite red drink in a martini glass, a gut-wrenching feeling of sadness floods me. One that I should have left behind in my room in Grover Beach.

“Ladies, what can I get you?” The deep voice of our waiter makes me snap my head up.

“Gin and tonic, please,” Lesley orders, and Kirsten asks for a flute of sparkling wine.

When he looks at me with an expectant expression, I blink at him twice, wishing I could tell him to bring me a
J. Andrews Sour
. “Miss?” he prompts me seconds later.

“Umm… I’ll have a…a…” Les and Kir watch my stammering with the same curiosity as the waiter. I bite my lip and crumple my brows. “Could you bring me a Fanta, please?”

He gives me a friendly smile and disappears behind the bar.

As soon as we’re alone, Lesley brushes a loose wisp of hair behind her ear and leans forward, propping her folded arms on the table. “You’re drinking Fanta? What’s wrong with you today?”

“Yeah, is that the kiddie camp rubbing off on you?” Kir backs her up.

Giving both of them a helpless shrug, my lips stay sealed for the moment, since I really don’t know how to answer, and my gaze drops to the menu on the table in front of me. I shut the leather-bound booklet, shoving it away from me, pull my phone out once more, and check my inbox. Nothing.

When the waiter returns with our drinks, placing each glass on a small square napkin in front of us, he also lights the slim white candle in the center of the table. Even though mine is just Fanta, Lesley and Kirsten raise their glasses to me, and we drink to my reclaimed driving license. After I put my glass down, I check my phone again.

“Okay, this is really starting to get weird,” Lesley blurts. “You glanced at your phone like a million times on the drive here.” Snagging the device from of my hand, she pushes the off button until the light of the display dies and it shuts down. “Put that thing away already and get into party mood.” Her grin turns lopsided. “Heck, you’re finally coming to England with us. We’re going to have a killer time together! For over a year, we’ve been looking forward to this. So, for goodness’ sake, give us a smile and keep the home sickness for your bed at night.”

“Yeah,” Kirsten chirps, taking another sip of her sparkly wine, obviously savoring the taste on her tongue. “And what is it with your phone, anyway? Are you expecting an important call?”

I clear my throat and put the cell away in my purse. “No, not really.” Just a goodbye text from Justin, but that hope has died with Lesley turning it off. My heart sinks.

“Then stop acting like Melancholy Smurf and celebrate with us,” Lesley demands. To make her intent clear, she pushes her gin and tonic toward me, daring me with a raised eyebrow.

Expelling a breath through my nose, I pick up her glass and lift it to my lips. But the sharp, bitter smell of her drink makes me wrinkle my nose. Captivated in her impatient gaze for an endless moment, my thoughts start to carousel in my head. I really don’t want to drink this. Not only is my gut rebelling, but also my mind. “The journey of my life lies ahead of me. I don’t intend to take it drunk.” Jaw set, I put the glass back on the napkin and slide it across the table to Les. “Thanks, but I’m good with the Fanta.”

“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes then cuts a weird glance to Kirsten. “Guess we’ll have to start undoing the camp brainwash as soon as we’re back in London.”

“Duane is giving a welcome-back party for us tomorrow. Once there, she’ll come around pretty quickly.” Kir snickers as if I’m not with them and can’t hear them talking about me.

“Who’s Duane?” I aks with a sullen edge to my voice.

“He goes to Guildhall, too,” Kirsten explains. “Starts his third year in the fall. He’s totally into Les, but she kept him on the back burner all last spring. Anyway”—she waves a dismissive hand—“the dude knows how to throw parties, believe me.”

Lesley never mentioned this guy in any of our hundreds of Skype chats all through last year. Turning an inquisitive look on her, I ask, “You’re keeping him on the back burner? Why?”

“Well, he’s cute and all,” my friend tells me then, carving a pattern into the wax of the candle with her thumbnail, and shrugs. “But I’m not going out with someone called Duane.” A laugh escapes her as she grimaces.

“Wow. That’s your reason?” I wash my bafflement down with a sip of Fanta. “Too bad for the guy that his name isn’t Justin.”

In an instant, her features turn ice cold. She tilts her head at me and blinks. “What?”

Oh, hell! Did I really just say that? I scrunch my face, biting my tongue. This sure isn’t the way I planned on bringing up the topic and definitely not the right place and time. But since it’s out already, why not get done with it?

Wrapping my fingers around my glass, forearms on the table, I fix her with a stare that takes no prisoners. “You actually never told me back in high school why you picked Justin Andrews to bully for years.”

Looking like she was struck by a bus, she shakes her head, blowing out a cynical laugh. “My God, I don’t know. We teased a lot of nerds back then.”

Justin liked comic books, but that was all he had in common with the nerd squad. Also, the flash in Lesley’s eyes reveals how uncomfortable she is with lying to me right now. “You didn’t just wind him up, you hassled him. And you dragged me into it. I want to know why him in particular.”

“What’s wrong with you today? You’re clearly not yourself! Has two weeks of camp actually screwed with your mind that much?”

“Answer me, Les.”

“Oh, man, I really need to pee,” Kirsten blurts all of a sudden, rising and dashing out of the bar. Her escape doesn’t concern me. She’s not the one I want answers from right now.

My attention returns to Lesley. “So?”

“Well, I don’t remember.” Brows furrowing into a hard line, she leans back, scowling at me as if I’ve called the new red minidress she’s wearing today butt-ugly. “He might have done something to piss me off at some point, but what’s it to you? You had your own fights with him in high school. I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“You know exactly what started my fights with Justin,” I snap through gritted teeth. “Of course he would hate me after what I said and did.”

“Is this because you became best buddies at camp this summer? I don’t care what bullcrap he told you. He was just a stupid boy who didn’t deserve any better.”

“Why?” I ask sternly, trying not to sound too lethal. “What, in particular, could he have told me?” The bitterness in my voice appears to surprise her. For seconds on end, our gazes are locked in a silent battle. She swallows, and a muscle jumps in her clenched jaw.

“You know what, Les?” I finally say, after dragging in a deep breath. My anger is fading, replaced by exhaustion that might have come from the long journey—or the sadness of farewells, which still lingers in my chest. “In the end, it doesn’t really matter what you’re not telling me. I just want to know one thing.” Letting go of my drink, I fold my hands in front of my mouth and study her with curiosity. “Did you know I was in love with Justin?”

Her eyes become puzzled slits. “When?”

“That summer. At camp. When you and I first became friends.”

I’ve always found it hard to tell whether Lesley really means something or is just altering the truth a little in her favor. Except for those rare moments when she comes forward with pure honesty in her eyes. Like now. Her chin drops, her cheeks going ghostly pale.

I lick my bottom lip, holding her gaze. “We were dating. Secretly. Nobody knew.”

“I…I had no idea,” she whispers.

And I believe her.

After a couple of seconds, when she finds her voice again, she asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have accepted me as the new member of your group if you’d known?”

Though she clears her throat, no answer comes out.

“See? That’s why.” I take a long drink of my Fanta, happy when Kirsten reappears from her escape to the restrooms. The silence at the table was getting oppressive pretty fast.

“Is your argument over, or do I need to go for a cigarette break?”

My forehead creases into a frown. “You smoke?”

“Nah.” She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “But if you two keep it up, I just might start.”

That coaxes a tiny smile from both Lesley and me, and we exchange a furtive look. Even though it doesn’t change anything that happened, I’ve heard what I needed to know in order to eventually let go of the fury that’s chased me everywhere these past two days. Wanting to rip the head off a particular woman isn’t the best prospect when you’re about to take a ten-hour flight with her.