The Nature of Cruelty (12 page)

My eyes bug out when I hear a low whistle and then some chuckling. When I turn around I see that it was either Victor or Jacob who whistled, because the both of them appear utterly amused.

The girls are grinning too, but subtly. Their facial expressions are difficult to make out behind the massive sunglasses they’re all wearing.

I absentmindedly ponder how tiny bikinis and massive sunglasses seem to be all the rage these days.

I don’t really understand their amusement, but it probably has something to do with how modest my swimsuit is, despite showing quite a bit of cleavage at the front.

When I glance to the side I find Robert’s hot eyes on me, and I cough to give myself a chance to gather my wits. I think I hear him swearing “fuck” under his breath, but I can’t be certain.

 There are some more quiet mutterings from the two brothers before Sasha shouts over to them, “You can both shut your mouths before I shut them for you.”

The two instantly pale at her threat and quieten down.

Red colours my cheeks, because it’s obvious I was the topic of their conversation.

“What were they saying?” I whisper to Sasha.

Squeezing the lotion onto her legs now, she answers, “Stupid shit, nothing to worry about.”

Okay, now I know it was something bad. “Come on, just tell me,” I urge her, a tiny shake in my voice. There’s this awful, self-destructive part of my psyche that makes me want to know things, even when I’m one hundred percent certain it’s going to hurt my feelings.

I can still feel Robert staring at me. He’s so caught up in looking at my chest that I don’t think he heard what Victor and Jacob said, either. That fact alone is almost enough to make me forget the current issue – almost.

“Lana, chicken, they’re a pair of arseholes when they want to be. Don’t pay any attention to them,” she tells me, her eyes soft.

I look to the brothers now, not understanding their meanness. They were nothing but mannerly and polite the last two times I met them. Victor catches me studying him and at least has the decency to look a small bit shamefaced. Sometimes people say mean things because they’re insecure, I try to remind myself. Sasha’s right; I shouldn’t care.

Giving up, I sigh and answer quietly, “Okay, then.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” Robert asks me suddenly, at long last broken from his distraction of staring at my body. “You’ve gone all pale.”

Sasha glares at him, shaking her head as an indication for him not to push the matter. Unfortunately, Robert doesn’t take her silent warning.

“What? What did I miss?” he asks loudly.

“Nothing,” says Sasha as I turn to him, facing away from everyone else.

“Victor and Jacob said something rude about me, but Sasha won’t tell me what it was.” I keep my voice as low as possible so that nobody can hear but him.

Robert’s brown eyes study me for a long moment before he cocks his head to the guys and shouts, “Oi, fuckheads, if you’ve got something to say to Lana, you pass it by me first. Are we clear?”

The brothers seem confused by Robert’s sudden aggression, but they don’t talk back to him. Instead, they nod and return to their previous conversation. Robert dusts his hands. A feeling of heat sweeps through me. Robert defending me is not something I’m used to. Normally he’d be the person I need to be defended against.

“All taken care of. Now you can enjoy the beach,” he says, running a warm palm down my arm. Despite his heat, I shiver a little. I hope he doesn’t notice.

He’s laid out his towel, but he hasn’t yet taken off his jeans and T-shirt. Given this, I feel decidedly naked. I’m sitting down and he’s kneeling by me, which means I have to look up to meet his eyes. This close I can smell him, and the scent burns into my memory. He smells like clean skin with a hint of aftershave. I have the sudden desire to discover what brand he wears.

I also want to run my hands down the corded muscles of his neck just to see what it feels like. I’ve never felt that kind of an urge before. For a moment we float in a bubble of our own locked gazes, and it’s strangely erotic. When we were younger I was always aware of how attractive he was, but now there’s something extra there, something primal. Every tiny hair on my arm where he’s touching me stands on end. I might be mistaken, but I think he notices this, too.

My throat suddenly goes very dry, and I swallow hard. “Yeah, um, thanks.”

He pulls his hand away and I miss the touch, the connection. Then he draws his T-shirt off over his head, and although I saw him shirtless that first night in the bathroom, his chest is even more glorious out here in all this golden sunlight. When he starts on his belt buckle, I turn away completely.

The next time I look at Robert, he’s wearing a pair of black swimming shorts and little else. God, I feel a blush creep over my cheeks, and I have to try hard not to stare. His body is just so…perfect. For me, anyway. It’s sad to think that he’s the only person I’ve ever really had a crush on. I’ve found other guys attractive, of course, but none of them made my stomach clench with a mixture of butterflies and anxious fear the way Robert does. It’s not exactly a pleasant feeling, but it is an addictive one.

It’s always been him. Even when I hated him, there was love buried deep beneath it. Now that he seems to genuinely want to be my friend, the love is rising to the surface. I need to figure out a way to keep it buried.

“Hey, Sasha, come play some Frisbee with me,” Alistair calls. “None of these lazy wankers want to play.”

Sasha jumps to her feet. “Sure, Al.”

They find a stretch of sand to play in and begin flinging the thing back and forth to one another. Robert pulls an expensive-looking digital SLR camera from his bag and starts taking snaps of everyone. I think he might be doing it to piss Kara off, because he has the flash on even though we’re outdoors, and there’s a really loud clicky noise when he takes a shot.

A minute later he falls down beside me and throws his arm around my shoulder.

“Say cheese,” he tells me, a big smile on his face as he holds the camera up and takes a picture of us together.

“Um,” I say, not knowing how to react. I probably have a dumb, confused look on my face in the photo now.

In a passive-aggressive move to drown out the noise of Robert taking pictures, Kara picks up her phone and puts on some really loud dance music before returning to her sunbathing.

“God, I never noticed how shit her taste is,” Robert mutters to me quietly, pulling a bottle of sun cream from his bag and rubbing it into his bare chest. I stare at his fingers before pulling my eyes up to his face.

With a small smile I reply, “Yeah, but you think everybody’s taste is shit other than your own.”

He grins. “Not true.”

“Very true. You trashed my entire collection when you looked through my iPod.”

“I was only trying to get a rise out of you. I don’t think your taste is shit. It’s actually admirably original.”

“Are you being sarcastic now?”

His grin widens. “Nope. Sometimes I like to run a bubble bath and throw on some Tori Amos circa the early ’90s, especially when it’s my time of the month.”

I smirk and shove him in the shoulder. “Piss off.”

“What? I’m serious!”

“Sure.”

He watches me, smiling, while he finishes rubbing the last of the cream into his chest. Then he starts making a big show of acting like he can’t reach around to get to his shoulders.

I ignore him.

A couple of seconds pass before he asks, “Oh, Lana, you wouldn’t mind doing my back for me, would you?”

“I would mind, actually.”

“Come on, I don’t want to burn.”

“Put a T-shirt on, then.”

“I think we both know you don’t want me to do that,” he says slyly.

I squint my eyes at him. “What?”

“I saw you looking.”

“And?”

“And if I cover up, you won’t be able to look anymore.”

I let out a long sigh. “You’re so annoying.”

“Annoyingly sexy,” he counters.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, give me the cream,” I say, at the end of my tether.

He hands the bottle to me smugly before turning around to present his shoulders. I squirt a little into the palm of my hand and begin rubbing it into one shoulder lightly.

“Ah, that feels good,” says Robert, with an exaggeratedly orgasmic groan.

I immediately pull my hands away.

“Hey! Why’d you stop?”

“Don’t make any more noises like that,” I tell him flatly.

He turns his head to me a little. “Why? Does it give you a tingle?”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a second. “No, just – just stop talking, okay?”

He gives me a funny look. “Okay, then.”

Finally I build up the nerve to finish his back. His skin feels amazing, his shoulders so hard and defined.

I’m almost done when he suddenly grabs my hand, pulls it over his shoulder and holds it to his chest, right over his heart. I’m stunned silent when he whispers, “I like it when you look.”

The two of us breathe heavily for a handful of seconds, and then he releases my hand and I busy myself by rummaging for a bottle of juice in Sasha’s cooler box.

“Do you need me to do your back?” Robert offers a few minutes later.

“No, I put sun cream on this morning before we left,” I answer quietly.

“Well,” he says, “let me know if you need a top-up.”

All I can do is nod. Me putting my hands on Robert is one thing, but him putting his hands on me is another entirely. Who knows where his fingers might wander.

Gulping down my juice, I focus my attention on Sasha and Alistair playing Frisbee in the distance, and try to forget about Robert’s lean body stretched out beside me.

Seven

“
D
on’t you dare splash me again,” I shout as Sasha comes diving towards me in the salty seawater. A tangle of dark seaweed brushes against my leg. It feels soft and feathery, rather than slimy and wet like you’d imagine. We’re the only ones who wanted to go for a swim, but to be honest, the water is so jam-packed with people that there’s no hope of actual swimming anyway. Instead, we paddle around up to our waists, messing and splashing one another, dunking each other’s heads under the water, generally acting like a pair of five-year-olds. It makes me nostalgic for the good old days when we’d go swimming on the beach at home.

I can tell she’s building up for a big splash because she thrusts her arms under the water and lowers her body. I resign myself to the inevitable, squeezing my eyes shut, when she suddenly springs up, her arms splayed wide, the spray of droplets smacking me in the face.

“Ah!” I squeal, wading away from her in case she does it again.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” She grins and falls back into the water to float on the foam surfboard she borrowed from Sandra. I join her, enjoying how the sun beats down on us. When I first walked into the sea it felt only lukewarm, but now that I’m used to the temperature, it feels like a heated swimming pool.

“Why don’t you tell me what Victor and Jacob said? I promise I won’t get mad,” I suggest casually. Yep, I still want to know. Sometimes I think my own brain might be a bitch whose sole purpose is to make me feel shitty. To quote Malcolm from
Malcolm in the Middle
, “Why won’t my brain let me be happy?”

Sasha paddles her feet, pushing us through the water. A kid throws a massive blow-up beach ball over our heads. She raises one dark eyebrow, a colour that oddly complements her dyed blonde hair. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes!” I exclaim. “I know it’s bad, but I’d rather know.”

She blows air out through her mouth. “Fine. Victor joked that you must have borrowed your swimsuit from your granny, and then Jacob said you probably wore it to hide your…ugh, God, don’t make me say it.”

“Say it,” I demand, while on the inside my heart is burning.

“To hide your big hairy red bush.”

“Those fuckers!”

“Yep. That they are,” Sasha agrees, her face hard, still paddling us through the water.

“And I did
not
borrow this from my granny. It’s vintage. God, why don’t people ever get vintage?” I say, half sad, half sarcastic.

“They’re just being arseholes. Ever hear of the saying ‘high school never ends’?”

“Yeah. And it’s the truth. Why are you even friends with those two anyway? Alistair is cool, but the others I could take or leave.”

She shrugs. “Habit. You do realise what every single person who came here with us today has in common, don’t you?”

I scrunch up my brow. “Um, no. What do they have in common?”

“Rich parents. More specifically, rich parents who are all friends with one another. People in my dad’s social circle don’t ever stray too far from their own. Therefore, we’ve all been friends since we were kids. Rob and I both got a bit of a break from it when our mum moved us to Ireland. But basically, you can put it down to a mix of snobbery, elitism, and a fear of the commoners trying to steal our money.” She puts on the posh voice of the Royals on the last bit.

I laugh out loud. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly. And what’s worse is the insecurity and backbiting that goes on within our circle. Everyone wants to be slightly better than everyone else. Own more second homes and holiday villas. Have a better designer handbag, or more expensive designer shoes. That’s why I just wear jeans and T-shirts so they know I’m not involving myself in the competition.”

“Yeah, but your jeans and T-shirts are all designer,” I counter in amusement.

She grins. “Well, I have to make some concessions.”

I smirk at her.

“What? I like quality stuff, okay?”

“Okay,” I reply, glancing up at the group sunbathing on the beach. It looks like Robert and Kara are having another argument, and I’m glad I’m not up there in the thick of it. They’re both sitting with their heads facing one another, while Gary looks like he’s on the verge of jumping from his seat to punch Robert in the gut.

“Who’s the blonde girl?” I ask Sasha. “The one sitting next to Sandra.”

“That’s Michelle.” She takes a moment to look up at her in the distance, considering what to tell me. “Don’t be fooled by the shy and quiet act. She’s a total bitch. She’s Kara’s best friend. What Kara doesn’t know is that she came onto Rob at Alistair’s birthday party last year.”