No Regrets (Second Chance Romance)
Author: Angel Lawson
Date: 2017-06-18 00:00:00+00:00
Description: No Regrets is a STAND ALONE New Adult novel Henry broke Zadie’s heart once, is she fool enough to let it happen again? It’s not like she has a history of making good choices. In fact, she has a history of making terrible choices. Her biggest regret? Henry. He’s sexy, sweet and willing to do what it takes to get another chance, but does he deserve it? Hot summer days and warm, tension-fueled nights set the backdrop for Zadie and Henry as they navigate the landmines of their past, present and future.

No Regrets

Chapter One

Mint chocolate chip is the bane of my existence. Tiny spoons are the devil, and contrary to popular belief, ice cream doesn’t make everything better.

“This sucks,” I mutter under my breath.

“Excuse me?”

I glance up at the woman standing on the other side of the glass case. “Nothing,” I say, flashing a half-hearted smile.

It’s the best I can do since it’s Friday night and I’m wearing a pink and brown outfit. I’ve spent the last six hours shilling ice cream treats to a line snaking out the door and around the corner of the shopping complex.  With the back of my hand, I brush my bangs out of my eyes and peek at the clock. We’ve got four minutes until closing. I nod at my coworker and she pushes past the people to lock the door, cutting the line.

“Sorry,” she says, locking the door with a click.

We get through the string of customers, when again, I’m reminded that mint chocolate chip was created by demons, because Josh and Tricia are the final customers, and I already know that’s what he wants. Free, of course. A milkshake, too, which is like five scoops and makes my wrist ache like a ninety-year-old woman. I turn to my co-worker, Colleen, and offer, “I’ll give you a dollar if you’ll take the next order.”

She looks over the counter at Josh. He gives her a friendly smile and a cheesy wink. “Hi, Colleen,” he says.

She steps back from the glass case. “No way. He’s your boyfriend; you break your own wrist.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say. Josh is handsome and funny. He’s a good friend. He’s also very, very gay.  Realizing Colleen is a lost cause, I face him and pout. “Come on! Please don’t make me,” I beg. The mint chocolate chip is the hardest of all the ice creams, and after a full Friday night, one more scoop just may break me.

“If you make it for me I’ll tell you something exciting.”

“You buying new jeans doesn’t qualify as exciting.”

He twists so I can see the back. He does look good in those jeans. And the tight sweater. “They do look great, right? But that’s not what I’m talking about. Promise.”

Holding a silver scoop, I rest my hand on the top of the case. “Fine. What is it?”

“Milkshake first.”

I glare at him. “I hate you.”

“You wish.”

I exaggerate the pain and work that goes into making his milkshake, leaving Colleen to help Tricia. I’m not supposed to give out free stuff and if my jerk boss, Mark, comes in, I’m screwed. He already warned me once. I mean, what’s the point of working in an ice cream parlor for minimum wage if you can’t give your friends free treats?

“Here,” I say, handing the cup over. “Tell me now and then leave. Mark will be back any minute.”

Josh sips his milkshake and leaned towards me and whispers, “I think I have a job opportunity for you.”

“You’re kidding,” I say, a little loud. I don’t care. I need out of this place immediately and have desperately been searching for something else for weeks. I hate it here. I only took the job because I was new in town and happened to hear about the position from a classmate.

“Nope.”

“I’ll take it.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet,” he laughs.

“I don’t care. I hate this place. And the people that work here.” Colleen shoots me a dirty look but I don’t care. “And my boss and how he makes us practice forming the perfect ice cream scoop and weighing it on the stupid scale. And the mint chocolate chip hurts my arm and at night I have nightmares about the endless lines of customers where the scooping just never stops.”

Tricia licks her ice cream cone and shakes her head at me. Whatever. Her parents give her spending money. Mine don’t. I have no choice but to work. Josh hands me a slip of paper out of his pocket with the name Cindy across the top and a phone number. “Call her tomorrow. “

I fight the urge to squeal jump up and down, mostly because I’m not one of those girls that squeals and jumps up and down. “Thank you, Josh, I’ll owe you forever.”

He’s not impressed because I already owe him by giving me a place to stay when I transferred schools. He and Tricia have both been an awesome support system, which was critical, because moving sophomore year could have been disastrous.

He takes a slurp of his milkshake and nods. “I know. Forever.”

Before they leave the shop, he winks at Colleen again, whose face turns purple. Tricia and I laugh at her embarrassment over our too-hot for himself roommate but I stop short.  My boss stands in the doorway. My tiny, trollish, hates me, boss.

Mark sees the milkshake and Josh bolts out the door. He knows the shit is going to hit the fan.

“Did he pay for that?” he asks.

“Um,” I look to Colleen for help but she’s busy washing dishes in the sink.  “It was extra from someone who just ordered one. I made too much, by accident.”

“Zadie, I’ve talked to you about this. No freebies for friends—or boyfriends.”

I stare at him hard and think about kicking him in his tiny shins. “It won’t happen again,” I mutter.

“No, it won’t. That’s your final warning.” His beady eyes glimmer from the stainless steel ice cream case. “For punishment, you’ll have to come in early tomorrow and clean out the soda machine.”

“What?”

“Nine AM.”

I untie my ice cream-splattered, vomit-pink apron and toss it on the counter. “Forget it. I’m done with you being such an overbearing ass.”

“What did you say?” Mark is twenty-five and thinks he’s king of the world. Because he manages an ice cream parlor. That’s what I’m dealing with here.

“I quit, and,” I dig in my pocket and pull out three dollars. My last three dollars. “This is for the milkshake.”

“You can’t quit. You’re on tomorrow!”

“Sorry. Not anymore.” I walk past him to the front door—refusing to go out the back like he prefers.

One glance back and I see the dumbfounded look on Mark’s face as he tries to figure out what just happened. Colleen just looks sad to be left alone with him, so I give her a thumbs up and walk out the door, pretending there’s not only twenty-seven dollars and eighteen cents in my checking account.

Whatever Josh has lined up for me it better happen. Otherwise, I’m screwed.

*

After washing the ice cream off my hands and badgering Josh for more information, I call Cindy. She asks me to come in for an interview at the local community center. Apparently Josh’s ‘in’ was with the manager of the indoor pool. Year-round work lifeguarding. He knows I’m certified from last summer when I worked as a camp counselor. The pool pays way more than my barely-minimum wage at the ice cream shop.

I hand Cindy my credentials and fill out an application. I leave the ice cream parlor and Mark off my references. No need to open that can of worms.

“So basically, you’ll need to sign up for twenty-five hours a week in shifts. It’s first come, first served on the sign-ups. Which means if you aren’t proactive, you’ll end up with the 5 AM shift.”

“Ouch.”

“Exactly. We have a pool manager, Henry, that will oversee you and the other three guards. He gets first dibs on the shifts since he’s in charge of scheduling.”

“Okay, sure,” I say, looking around. We’re in a tiny office off the pool deck.  Basically it’s a warm, humid warehouse with a pool inside. A skinny guy about my age lounges in the guard chair, looking bored.

“This summer there will be some more opportunities to add hours. We have summer camp, which requires several guards at once. We also send you guys out on occasion to other events, plus we open our outdoor facility.”

“Sounds great. I’ll be here all summer.” Some students go home over the break, but I already had plans on staying. My parents don’t care as long as I chip in on the room and board.

“Here’s the current week’s schedule. I went ahead and signed you up to work with Tate for the first two days so he can train you.” She pushed the sheet toward me. “You can fill in the dates and times you want. Just make sure it adds up to 25 hours, okay?”

Since I’m new, I obviously got a couple of terrible shifts except for the two 4-9 slots I’m working with Henry. I notice he manages to have weekends off and none of the 5 AM positions. Lucky bastard.

“Thanks for the opportunity,” I tell Cindy on my way out. I don’t know how Josh found this job, but word of mouth is the only way to find work in a college town, so I’m not looking a gift-friend in the mouth or anything.

“Seems like it will be a good fit,” she says. “Oh, here’s your uniform.” She hands me a T-shirt with “Lifeguard” across the chest, a pair of red shorts and a sporty bathing suit. “There’s a book of rules and instructions on the desk. Feel free to look it over when you come in. Henry’s a great guy. He’ll make sure you’re prepared.”

“Can’t wait to meet him.”

Yep. No way those words would come back to bite me.

*

I recognize him the instant I step on the pool deck, even though I haven’t seen him since he graduated from our high school three years before. Dark brown hair arranged in messy curls. A thin layer of stubble catches my eye, highlighting his sharp, masculine jaw. We wear matching red shorts and white T-shirts, but he looks good in his and I look like…well, like a dork.

Henry Fletcher went to my high school. He’s a year older than me and was one of those guys that was always been too pretty for his own good, too popular, and had that air of invincibility around him at all times.  We were on the swim team together and were sort of friends. Our social circles crossed on occasion and I had a deadly crush on him. Deadly for me because I only had eyes for him during the three years we were in school together.

In John Hughes terms, he was Andrew McCarthy to my Molly Ringwald.

Much to my distress, he and his friends called me ‘Pip’ because I’m short and they treated me like a kid. The nickname made me furious, just like my size, and I spent most of my school years acting bigger than life to make up for it. Most of the time I failed, but when I decided to make myself known it tended to go off like Hiroshima.

Kaboom.

Most of my time back then was spent with Tricia and Josh. One a geeky techno-nerd and the other a gay guy with a penchant for hats. But during Henry’s senior year, I decided to take a shot at getting his attention. My efforts ultimately led to complete heartbreak and embarrassment and I promised myself I’d never do it again. I’d never let an unattainable guy consume me like that.

Ever.

Seeing him now in all his ridiculous hotness brought back a rush of emotions. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still harbor a three-year-old crush and a touch of festering rage. Josh must have known I’d flip out if I knew Henry would be my boss.

He’s correct.

“Hey,” he said, from the edge of the pool. He’s grown, of course, over the last three years, in that obnoxious way boys have of turning into men before your very eyes. Broad chest, lean biceps. Damn.

I try to meet his eyes but I’m waiting for that awkward moment where he recognizes me. I wait, letting a beat pass, but then I realize with further annoyance he has no freaking idea who I am. I lower my eyes and just stare at his feet. Why are they already tan?

“I’m Henry.”

“I’m—“

“Zadie Parker,” he says, spinning a whistle around his finger. Oh God, he does remember me. I’m not sure if this is better or worse, because now I’m wondering how he feels about the whole thing that went down between us. You know, that whole ‘breaking my heart’ thing.

“You remembered.”

He checks me out again, head to toe and my cheeks burn under the scrutiny. What I would have given for him to look at me like that three years ago. “Of course,” he says nonchalantly, as though this is not an epic moment between us. Okay, maybe just for me.

“So, this is kind of weird, huh? Josh didn’t tell me you worked here,” trying to keep my face neutral but not bitchy. I’ve been told I have resting bitch-face. Photos confirm this.

“Josh?” he says, his eyes narrowing in confusion. “You mean from upstairs?”

Upstairs? Henry Fletcher lives beneath me and I never knew?  Increasingly, the annoyance with Henry shifts to my roommates. Sneaky bastards.

“You were always such a tiny chick,” he laughs, eyes still surveying me. Then he goes for the kill. “We used to call you—“

“Don’t say it,” I beg. Too late.

“Pip, for pipsqueak.”

My cheeks flame red and embarrassment creeps down my neck. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a for-real bitch face on now. “Yeah.”

Henry smiles gleefully. That stupid, adorable smile. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good. I just got a new job and everything.”

“Right,” he laughs, checking me out head to toe like he’s trying to put together a puzzle. I look different than I had in high school. The purple-tinted hair and heavy black eye makeup a thing of the past. I’ve grown my thick hair out to its natural dark brown. It’s long and I have swoopy bangs that I brush to the side. Oh, and now I have boobs. They just appeared one day before freshman year of college. A late bloomer, my mother called it. I cross my arms over my chest and he says, “Let me show you around.”

I follow him through the pool and he explains the duties to me. Opening and closing. Chemicals. Locker room procedures. The whole time I’m trying not to freak out about the situation. Henry Fletcher. The boy that stepped on my heart.

“It’s the same people in and out of here all day,” he says. “You’ll start to recognize them. During the summer things get sort of crazy with camp and stuff, but it’s a nice change of pace.”

“Awesome,” I say, just happy it’s not the monotony of ice cream. Although it’s not perfect. I fan myself trying to get some air.

“Yeah, it gets hot in here. No AC. Make sure you stay hydrated and step into the office occasionally.” He breaks into a grin. “I’d hate to come in and have to revive you.”

“Ha ha,” I laugh while dying inside. My reaction to him is strictly based on my emotionally-stunted sixteen-year-old self. He was such a jerk back then. I’m ashamed of myself for falling for a guy like that. Today? It’d never happen.

Henry wraps the tour up and tells me to take the chair while he does some paperwork in the office. By paperwork he must mean ‘talk on the phone’, because that’s what he spends the next couple of hours doing. At closing, I clean up the locker rooms and struggle with the lane ropes while he chats up the pretty girl from the front desk who keeps coming back to deliver ‘messages’.

We walk to the front door and he bolts, leaving me to find my car alone in the dark parking lot.

Ah, right. That’s the Henry Fletcher I remember. Self-absorbed and douche. What a charmer.

*

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me Henry Fletcher would be my boss!” I shout the minute I enter the apartment.

“Shhh! Yeti!” Josh shouts from his spot on the futon. He’s snuggled up to Davey, his sort-of-boyfriend. Tricia’s on the chair next to them and they have on their favorite show. The one where they track down Yetis or Bigfoot or something. The nonsense I live with.

I head to the refrigerator and grab some yogurt and pour a handful of chocolate chips into it. By the time I get back to the living room, the Yeti show is on commercial break. “How was your first day, dear?” Josh asks, looking the picture of innocence. “Did you say something about Henry Fletcher?”

“My day was epic,” I say. “You know, other than that Henry Fletcher thing. What the hell? Don’t even pretend like you didn’t know.”

“Wait. Henry works there?” His mouth hangs open in shock.

“You knew, right?”

“No! I found out from Tate Christensen. We have bio together he told me a position was opening up. I’ve got class all summer so I passed it along.”

“Tate? He and Henry were best friends in school,” I say like they don’t already know this.

“They probably still are,” Tricia says. “I’ve seen him downstairs a couple of times.”

“About that,” I say. “Did either of you have any plans on telling me Henry lives in the same apartment building?”

“Uh, yeah.” Josh rolls his eyes. “Henry lives with the stoners downstairs.”

“Thanks.” I give them both the stink-eye. Un-freaking-believable. “Is there a reason you never told me he lived in the same building?”

“Pretty much because we knew you would lose it,” Tricia says. She glances at Josh. “We were right.”

Betrayal.

“He’s hot, isn’t he,” Tricia says, cutting to the chase.

I sigh. “Hotter than before.”

“Stupid guys. They never get unhot. Always hotter.”

I glare at my friend. She squirms, knowing she’s in for a world of pain when I get her alone. The torch I carried for Henry is legendary, including the heavy dose of embarrassment. She knows what I’m going to deal with. How I’m going to turn into a mushy school-girl around him even though I don’t want to.

“Tate’s grown into something fierce also. He turned all that football weight into a lean, mean, fuck-hot machine. I kept hoping maybe he was going to join my team, but no, he seems into the ladies still,” Josh says sadly. Davey’s been quiet this whole time but he nods in agreement.

“So what’s the big deal with this Henry guy?” Davey asks. He’s new to our group since Josh met him at the not-totally-gay-gay-club. Whatever that means.

Tricia and I give each other a look. Josh sighs and asks, “Do you want to tell him or do you want me to?”

I slump in my chair. “Do we have to do this?”

“Yes. Talking about it will make it better.” Josh has taken two psych classes and fancies himself a therapist. He shifts and faces Davey. “In high school, Zadie had the biggest crush on Henry. Beyond a crush. It was completely obsessive.”

“Josh,” I threaten, but it’s useless. He’s right.

“They were on the swim team together which meant they got to hang out a lot even though they weren’t in the same class. Everyone  was pretty friendly and Henry’s senior year, he started flirting with her a little.” Josh makes a sympathetic face. “Even though it’s all pretty friendly, it was obvious to everyone that there was something going on between them. We all thought he’d ask her out.”

Tricia cuts in. A little too eagerly, I may add. “Around this time, the date for senior prom was announced and all the upperclassmen began asking girls to go. A lot of the seniors ask juniors, so many of the girls in our class already had dates. Brian Merchant, a good friend of Henry’s, asked me to go with him. During all this, Henry remains suspiciously dateless except for the fact he’s hanging out more and more with our group and continuing to flirt shamelessly with Zadie.”

“So did he ask you to go with him?” Davey asks.

“Worse,” Josh says dramatically. “He doesn’t ask Zadie but goes around and tells everyone he is going to ask her, then ultimately doesn’t. In fact, he didn’t even go. He had a family wedding or something out of town.”

“Ouch,” Davey says. My friends nod in agreement.

“That’s not even the worst part,” Tricia says. They both look at me and I study my nails. “No one would ask her because he told everyone he was going to take her,” Tricia adds.

“Wow,” Davey says, eyes wide. “So he marked his territory, not wanting anyone else to ask you, but then didn’t even go.”

“That’s how I see it,” Josh says. “But it doesn’t end there.”

“I think Davey’s heard enough,” I say.

Josh rolls his eyes. “Hurt and furious, Zadie called a friend of her family who went to the all-boys catholic school and asked him to be her date.”

Davey nods approvingly. “Smart move. Is he cute?”

“Carter is drop dead gorgeous,” Tricia says. “She showed up looking like she fell out of the pages of a fashion magazine.”

“Whatever,” I say, but it’s true. I looked hot.

“Then she and Carter made out on the dance floor, left together and disappeared into my bedroom at the post prom party at my house,” Josh continues. “From the hallway we heard the bed rocking and creaking. Zadie entered the room a girl and came out a woman.”

“Oh my God. Shut up,” I say, but we all start to laugh. “He’s full of shit. That never happened.”

“But everyone thought it did,” Tricia says. “The plan was to make Henry jealous for ditching her.”

Davey looks incredulous. “Did it work?”

I shrug, ignoring the pain in my chest. “I don’t know. We never spoke to one another again. Until today.”

“Wow,” Davey says.

“Zadie changed her entire social standing that day. She no longer needed Henry Fletcher and he was graduating anyway. She lost her V card, at least the school thought so, and she ended up pretty popular.”

“Too popular. That’s why I went to Elton. To get away from everyone. I wanted a clean break.”

“But you ended up back here anyway?” Davey asks.

“Yep.” I try not to show my defeat.

Josh senses my discomfort and shifts the conversation. “Forget the past. Let’s talk about the present. Did you get to see him in a Speedo?”

“No.” I gulp at the thought. He looked pretty good in one back in high school. I could only imagine it got better.

“This is going to be awesome,” Tricia says evilly. “Watching you freak out all summer.”

“I’m not freaking out,” I say, crossing my arms in an attempt to look non-freaking. I mutter, “Traitor.” under my breath.

“Whatever,” Josh says. Tricia gives me a not-nice grin. They know me too well. The only one remotely sympathetic is Davey and I suspect that will change soon enough.

“You know hot guys are sort of my kryptonite, especially Henry.”

“That’s the dumbest thing ever,” Josh laughs. “I mean, we’re friends and I’m like the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“Shut up.” I stick my tongue out at both of them. “Henry was really mean to me.”

Tricia’s face softens. “I’m sure he and Tate have both grown up. Maybe it will be fun.”

“Douchey? Clueless? Self-absorbed?” I ask. “I’m not sensing a lot of change happened, other than getting better looking.”

“Ouch,” Tricia cringes.

“And called me ‘pipsqueak’.”

Her hand clasps over her mouth. “No.”

“What?” Davey asks, but I cut them off by pointing at the TV.

“Oh look, Yetis,” I say, and make my escape. I leave my roommates to their nonsense. In my room, I peel off my red lifeguard suit and crawl into pajamas, done with this day.

Chapter Two

The last four weeks of spring semester take on a rhythm. School, work, home. Exams are brutal but I manage to get through them. Since I’m a transfer, I have to catch up on some final core classes. At my old, tiny school my classes were small and the professors knew me. There was no way to blow off a class. Here? A small class has two hundred students. The teacher is more likely to be a TA and doesn’t care if you pass or fail. It’s weird but I like the invisibility. Even if it means I have to work harder.

Home is never a problem. Tricia and Josh make everything fun. I can’t believe I left them to go away last year. Thank God, they gave me a place to stay and support when I needed it. No questions asked. It’s so weird. What I thought would be good for me, a small school with a close campus community, ended up being a noose around my neck.

Work? Well work has turned me into a basket case. Henry keeps scheduling me to work with Tate, which is okay, I guess. Other than the fact he’s lazy and flirts non-stop. With everyone. Well, anyone with a D-cup and blonde hair.

Unfortunately, or fortunately (not sure which) for me, my hair is reddish-brown and my boobs are solidly in the B+ range. Tate still hits on me though, but it’s pretty obvious he’s not serious about it. I’m not sure he can stop himself. It’s like it’s programmed in his DNA.

“So Pip,” he says one afternoon. “You got a boyfriend?”

“Huh?” He looks at me expectantly. I wasn’t ever sure if he even knew I was there or not. Not between the rotating sorority girls that tended to ‘drop by’ during his shifts.

“Boyfriend. Do you have one?”

I shake my head. I had one but I don’t mention it. That ship has sailed. “No.”

He’s only making conversation though, because he simply shrugs, going back to his book.

After a week of working, I’d secretly hoped to snag a shift with Henry or at least see him in passing, but nothing.  How he lives in my apartment baffles me. I haven’t seen him once since moving in.

“Pip,” Tate calls. He’s got an armful of lane rope. “Come help me put these in.”

I walk over and make a face. “That means I have to get in the water.”

“You’re a lifeguard. Getting in the water is part of the job description,” he says.

I pull off my shirt and shorts, piling them on a bench against the wall. Tate’s eyes are all over me. I’m not an idiot. I know he wants to check me out in my bathing suit. Sadly, it’s the required red guard suit that reveals nothing but he’s a pervert so I’ve probably made his day.

I hop in the water, yelping at the cold. “Damn,” I say, turning around. To my surprise Tate’s taken off his shirt and has jumped in the water next to me. Holy Jesus, his chest. Josh wasn’t lying about him looking better than ever.

“It’s easier if we’re both in the water,” he explains, swimming past me.

I eye him warily but he stays on one end of the pool and we adjust the lane ropes. Once we finish, I hoist myself out of the pool, shrieking in surprise when I stand up.

“Holy crap!” I yell in Henry’s face. I wobble on the edge of the pool and he grabs my arm, stopping me from falling backwards.

“You okay?” he asks, still clinging to my arm even though I’m upright.

“Yeah, thanks.” My towel hangs from the back of the guard chair and I quickly wrap it around my body. I finally get a chance to see Henry again and this is how I look. Dripping wet like a drowned rat in a lame one-piece suit. Perfect.

By perfect, I mean he’s perfect. Longish brown hair. Ice blue eyes. Warm tan skin even though it’s not summer yet. Every emotion from every minute I spent crushing on him in school comes bubbles to the surface. Including the defeat and sadness.

“Hey dude, got your check?” Tate says, drying off with a towel.

“Yeah, heading to the bank before it closes.”

They stand close and talk about something. Parties or friends. Maybe math class? I have no idea. They don’t seem to notice me and I feel like an eavesdropper so I grab my towel and clothes and head to the office to change.

When I come out, Henry’s gone, but a stick-straight-haired blonde Tri-Delt has taken his place. Tate gives me a wink when I walk past to finish cleaning up the pool before closing.

Another day, another girl. Guess things haven’t changed much after all.

*

“You saw him having sex in the locker room?” Tricia asked. She held a piece of pizza in her hand, but her mouth hung open in shock over my idiotic co-worker.

“Yes. It was…how do I describe it?” I consider. “Equal parts gross and hot.”

I’m explaining to Tricia about how I walked in on Tate and his girl of the week banging in the locker room a couple of days before. He had her pressed against the metal doors, pants around his hips. I could see the two dimples over his ass and wow. I bolted before I got caught being a creeping creeper.

“I can see that,” Tricia says.

“Once was enough. Now I clean up everything and leave the men’s changing room to him. As long as I don’t have to see it, I guess I don’t care.”

If I thought getting caught would change his behavior I was wrong. Each shift was the same. Another girl. Another duck into a quiet corner. He never mentioned it to me, but I knew that when I didn’t tattle on him the first time I’d sealed my fate as his perverse sort of wing-woman.

“I’m not even pissed about the sex thing. I mean, it’s gross and what’s wrong with those girls for degrading themselves like that, but it’s like he doesn’t even consider the fact I’m there or that this could be weird for me.”

“To be fair he’s never noticed you—or anyone without a record of slutty behavior—much. Why should it be any different now than it was in high school? You’ll probably always be ‘Pip’ to him and Henry.”

“Thanks.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I thought I’d come out of my shell, you know? I moved away for a year. I had a boyfriend. I don’t dress in all black, head to toe. That whole episode with Carter and prom  changed me a lot.”

“You have changed, but guys like Tate Christensen aren’t going to notice unless you fit into a certain mold. And why do you care? You’re never been into him.”

“I know,” I grumble, picking at the goat cheese on my pizza.

“But Henry is a different situation.” She pushes her glasses up her nose. She’s transformed, too. Nerdy hot. Geeks are in, and I’m not surprised she’s adapted so well. She’s always been cute, and when she figured out how to tame   her bushy red hair and freckles, she turned into a knockout. “Do you still like him?”

I push my plate away. “I don’t know. Seriously,” I say when she gives me a disbelieving look. “I feel like he doesn’t get how much he hurt me, you know? I want an apology, but he just acts like nothing happened.”

Tricia frowns. “Tell him to fuck off.”

“He’s sort of my boss, I can’t tell him to fuck off.”

“Tell on him—he has a boss right?”

I cross my hands over my chest. “I’m not a rat.”

She picks up her pizza and takes a huge bite. She chews slowly and lifts her shoulders at me. “I guess you’re screwed,” she says. “Unless you figure some way to get him by the balls.”

“I don’t want to touch his balls,” I say, but my mind wanders to Henry and what he looks like with his shirt off and what his body would feel like under mine. Fine. His balls, too.

“Okay so you can’t tell him to f-off. Make a move.  Take control of the situation this time. Show him you’re a hot, desirable, independent woman. Make him want you the way you’ve always wanted him. It worked before.”

“It didn’t work at all. We never spoke again.”

“Well, then what do you want?” she asks. “For serious.”

“Seriously?” I ask. “I want him to admit that he hurt me and that he knew what he was doing. I want him give me the respect I deserve. And sure, I want him to want me. All of that is easier said than done. I can tell he either doesn’t remember what happened back then or he doesn’t care. And trust me, he doesn’t want me any more now than he did then.”

“How do you know?”

I laugh bitterly. “I know, okay?”

“Oh well,” Tricia says, shrugging her shoulders. “I guess you’re not really the bad ass you thought you were.

“What does that mean?”

“If you were, you wouldn’t stop until Henry Fletcher was begging you to go out with him.”

I throw a napkin at her, wishing it was something harder, but she’s right. I command my life. I am master of my destiny. Why do I let other people control my choices? I’m young and attractive. There’s no reason I can’t spend the summer ruining these guys’ lives the way they’ve managed to ruin mine.

“If I wanted to make Henry Fletcher beg me to go out with him, how do you think I would go about that?” I ask.

“Are you for real?” The crease between her eyebrows deepens as she tries to figure me out.

“Totally.”

“Then we need a plan,” she says.  “Because if you don’t have one, you and your big mouth will fuck this up.”

We both know it’s true. This is what happened with me and Carter. Sure, Henry was a jerk for leaving me dateless but my method of revenge only sealed the fate of our relationship. Once the rumors came out about me and Carter he backed off completely.

“Okay,” I say. “I can stick to a plan.” Anxiety surges in my veins, because once I go down this path there’s no turning back, but for once I just want to rush forward. No matter where it takes me.

*

I walk into the meeting room with my chin held high. After my talk with Tricia and a large yogurt with Gummi bears, I decide she’s right. I’m better than this. I’m better than Tate’s lackey at work. I’m hotter than any of the girls Henry dated in school. I’m their equal. No, I’m better, and I want him to admit it.

I decide to prove it when Cindy calls all the guards into her office for a meeting to discuss the summer schedule. I dress a little nicer than our normal work uniform. Tight green T-shirt. Cut-off shorts. Sandals with a wedged heel. It’s not much, but it’s noticeable. Am I cheapening myself to get a guy’s interest and make him regret his choices? Yep.

I call it Operation Payback.

“Hey,” I say sitting next to Henry. I try not to let his pretty blue eyes that contrast off of his dark, shaggy, just-got-out-of-bed hair, sway me.

“I’m worth it,” I mumble under my breath.

“What?”

“Oh, um,” I falter. “I hope this meeting’s worth it. I have a ton of work to do.”

“Yeah, I’m ready for this semester to be done,” he replies.

I notice he’s got paint under his nails.

“Do you still take art?” I ask, leaning over the desk causally and pointing to his fingers.

His eyes flick to my chest and then to his hands. “I’m an art major. How did you remember that?”

“I remember almost everything about high school.”

He snorts. “I remember enough, but that’s the good thing about weed. You don’t have to worry about shit getting you down for long, right?”

Henry was always the different one out of the group, a little more artsy and creative. I smoked up with him and the other boys in Brian Merchant’s crappy garage in high school a couple of times. Tricia had a crush on Brian and dragged me over there. We’d sit in the hot, greasy garage passing joints, getting high and talking about nonsense. Unlike Tate, Henry did give me the time of day. Joking around and teasing me. I thought it meant he liked me. This should have been sign number one that my instincts about guys were shoddy.

“I hate these meetings,” he says.

“The shine hasn’t worn off this job for me yet. My last one was a nightmare.”

“I’m not sure this one will be any better but it’s pretty easy.” He crosses his legs, bouncing his flip flop off his toes.

Tate walks in the room and it’s like the sky parts, dropping an angel from heaven. I hear a gasp behind me from a girl and two others murmur to one another. He props himself on the edge of the desk and starts flirting with one of the girls.

“He’s such a wanker,” Henry says.

I laugh. “What? You guys are friends, right?”

“Since the fifth grade, but it’s true. Look, I’ll say it to his face,” he says. “Dude, stop being such a wanker.”

Tate flips him off and Cindy walks in and shoots him a disapproving look.

“Alright guys, let’s get started,” Cindy says from the front of the room. “Starting in two weeks, everyone will split into different jobs. Three of you will run the outdoor pool while the others will stay on a rotating schedule indoors. I need a couple of you on camp duty—which is an over-night twice a month job.”

“Where are you working?” Henry asks.

“I’m not sure,” I say but I’ve got a plan. I’m not up to a whole summer of Tate and his locker room booty calls. I’m going to wait and see where he signs up and pick elsewhere.

“I’ve got seniority and plan on taking an outdoor position,” Henry says. “It’s fun, you should work with us.”

Three years ago I would have died if Henry Fletcher asked me to work with him for the summer. The opportunity to see him day in and day out shirtless and tan? Sold. But not now. Operation Payback involves me playing aloof and hard to get. When the paper comes by two of the three outdoor guard positions are already taken. Henry and Tate.

I take a deep breath and go against every instinct I possess and sign up for the indoor pool.

The ink isn’t even dry when Shelly, a Tri-Delt (according to her T-shirt), snatches the paper from my hand and scribbles her name next to Tate’s. I’m sure they’ll be very happy working together. Or humping in the pump room. Whichever, I see it as a win-win situation. Maybe not for Henry, but he can just smoke a joint and chill out. See? Win-win-win.

I’m on my way to the car when I hear Henry call my name.  “Zadie, wait up,” he says, running in my direction.

I clutch my keys in my hand and stop. “Yeah?”

“I saw you signed up for indoor pool. Why didn’t you sign up with me and Tate at the outside location?”

I cough and clear my throat. “Um, why would you want to work with me?”

“We get along okay, right? I thought it would be cool.” He fixes his pretty blue eyes on mine. I look away.

“Yeah, I’m just…” I search for a lame lie. “I’m not really into the sun and being hot and stuff.”

“Oh.” His shoulders slump a little. “Too bad.”

“Shelly seems cool. You guys will make a good team.”

He scratches the back of his neck and wrinkles his nose. “Sure, she’s okay. Tate’s going to be all over her.”

“Sucks for you.” I open my door, tossing my bag in the passenger seat. “I’ve already had the pleasure of walking in on him once. I’m not really keen on doing that again.”

“Is that why you won’t work? Because I won’t let that happen. Promise.”

“That’s one of the things,” I confess. I bite my lip and can’t help but notice Henry’s eyes glued to my mouth.  “I’m sure it won’t be that bad. Have fun, Henry.”

I hop in my car. He’s still in the parking lot, hands in his pockets when I pull out of the driveway.  Phase One? Complete.

Chapter Three

“Wait here,” I say to Josh and Tricia. I hop off my bike while they wait on theirs. Yes, bikes. It’s how we get around, especially when we’re going out.  We’ve made a stop on campus. Grades are out and the only one I’m worried about is Geography. It’s not the kind with maps. It’s some sort of devil class about rock formations and weather patterns. I’m hoping to scrape by with a D.

After finding my name and ID I walk back to the grassy area where my roommates are waiting.

“So?” Tricia says from the backseat.

“I passed,” I say with a grin. “I got a C.  I’ll take it.”

“Woohoo!” Josh yells. He turns to me with a grin. “Let’s celebrate.”

We ride across town and camp out at a skanky bar called Motorhead. It’s situated on the edge of downtown, near the thrift stores and random storefront churches. The bar is dark and a little smelly but they don’t check IDs at the door, and Josh is 21 so he just buys us drinks at the bar.

“To passing sophomore year,” I say and we raise our glasses.

“And to Zadie coming home,” Josh adds. We clink again and take huge gulps of our drinks. It’s dollar fishbowl margarita night. These things are delicious. And deadly.

“I’m so glad you came home,” Tricia says. “I’m losing Josh to the gay world and going to clubs with him alone makes me a fag hag, and I’m just not ready for that title yet.”

“Aw guys.” I sniff and wipe my eyes. “Me, too. Elton sucked.”

“Why was it so bad?” Josh asks.

I hadn’t told them much about why I transferred. I used my major as most of my excuse. Elton didn’t have a creative writing program but the University did. But that wasn’t the only reason. I take another gulp. “It was too small. Everyone knew everything about everyone. Worse than high school.”

“Like how everyone knew Angela Markham and Charles Primrose had sex in the equipment shed,” Josh asks.

Tricia shudders at the thought. “Yes, like that.”

“Like when Henry Fletcher made a clay pipe in art class and then got caught smoking in the back of the kiln room?” Josh continues.

I laugh at the memory. What a dork. “Exactly. It was just a pressure cooker. I didn’t want to go Greek and all of my friends were and I just wasn’t happy.”

“But this is better?” Josh asks.

“So much. The other day, I sat at the student center with fifty other people and no one knew me or what I did the night before.” I place my hand over my heart. It’s calm.

“You didn’t do anything the night before,” he points out. “You’re in bed by nine every night.”

“Well no, but I could have. No one would have known otherwise. It’s awesome.”

We spend the rest of the night talking about the summer. Josh has to take a full load of classes since he messed around the year before.  Tricia has an internship at the courthouse. Her dad’s determined she follow in his footsteps so he pulled some strings. It isn’t a paid position but her parents agreed to fund her summer if she took it.

“When do you start?” I ask when Josh goes to get another round.

“Monday.”

“We’ll probably never see each other. I’ve got these stupid 5 AM shifts.”

“I hope  these early shifts work out for you,” Josh says placing the huge glasses in front of us. “I know you’re playing hard to get or whatever but that seems like it would be more enjoyable doing while watching two hot boys go around shirtless all summer.”

My mind drifts at the thought of Tate waist deep in the pool. He’s permanently tan and has the most inviting trail of hair on his lower belly that darkens when he’s wet. There’s not an ounce of fat on him which I’m not sure how he pulls off partying all the time. Muscley isn’t my type, though. I’m more into the long and lean look. Wide shoulders at the top.

Like Henry.

I shake my head, trying to wipe the vision of him from my mind. “It’s not worth it. Being ignored all summer so Tate can sex it up with sorority girls and Jedi mind trick me into cleaning all the bathrooms? No, thank you. And I’m just not going to fall into that same pattern with Henry again.”

“Jedi mind whaat?” Tricia asks, slurring the last part of the sentence.

“Nothing,” I say. “Plus, the plan is to see if Henry even notices me once the season starts. If not, it’s better for me to not have to be around him all the time.”

“Wouldn’t this be easier if you just had a fling with him or something?” he asks. Josh isn’t 100% behind Operation Payback.

“You know I’m not into causal sex. I’m not just going to do some hot stoner because I have an unrequited crush on him.”

“Girl, you don’t ’do’ anyone. Maybe you shouldn’t be so picky,” he says, leaning over the table, yell-whispering. We’re walking home tonight for sure.

“Why do I have to ’do’ anyone? Can’t I be happy alone?”

“No,” they say in unison and crack up. The jukebox changes to a heavy metal song from the 80’s.

“I declare we meet every dollar margarita night to drink to the summer and catch up.” This is ridiculous since we live together, but my head swims from tequila. I lean over to give my friends a drunken hug.

“Deal!” Tricia shouts in my ear.

*

The only people at the pool at 5 AM are the lap swimmers. The same people day in and day out come to the pool and swim back and forth. There’s the cricket lady, who moves her arms in a strange way that makes me think of cricket legs. I’ve discovered she comes to the pool three times a day. I don’t even know what that’s about. Then there’s the old man and woman who swim excruciatingly slow. I have no idea how they swim so slowly. The best (worst) part is how at the end of each lap the woman spits across the pool deck. Yes, spits.

Disgusting.

It’s quiet enough, and as long as it’s not too busy, we’re allowed to read. Anything not to fall asleep.

It’s week two of summer break and I’m thirty minutes into my work day. I hate this job. Not as much as the ice cream parlor but the inside pool is sort of miserable. Okay, it’s totally miserable. I’m contemplating all this when I see someone moving around the office and I get up to check it out. I’m surprised to find Henry rummaging through the desk.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. He’s never come in this early before. The outdoor pool opens at ten. His skin has already turned a warm, cinnamon brown.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

I glance out at the pool. Mrs. Old Lady just hocked another loogie onto the pool deck, otherwise things are calm. “What for?”

“Cindy needs two people to work at the summer camp on Friday afternoon at the camp for their big end of the week party. I told her I’d do one of them. You interested?”

“This Friday?”

“Yeah, it’s at Dalton Lake, which is like an hour drive from here. We can ride together if you want.”

“I’m supposed to work a morning shift that day. I’m not sure I can handle both,” I admit. I’m also looking for a way out because I don’t know if I can pull off an hour long drive in a car with Henry Fletcher without freaking out.

“Cindy will cover for you. I already asked. Tate and Shelly are taking the outdoor pool hours.”

I raise an eyebrow at that one. They’ll probably spend every adult swim sexing it up in the staff room, but whatever. Their issue, not mine. I finally nod and say, “Okay, Friday. What time?”

The corners of his mouth tug into a grin. “I’ll meet you at my car around ten?”

“Sounds good,” I say, watching him leave with one hand already on my phone. He’s barely out the doors when I send a text to Tricia.

Operation Payback, Phase Two Begins Now. Help!!

*

Friday morning I roll over and hear a crinkle under my face. I sit up and reach for the paper. It’s an explicit To-Do list from Tricia for the day. She’s titled it: Operation Payback or, How to Woo Henry Fletcher One Step at a Time.

We spent the night before having a marathon of all the “Nice Girls Turned Slutty to Get the Guy who Really Just Wanted the Nice Girl All Along” movies from the past twenty years. Starting with Just One of the Guys and Sixteen Candles before ending with Easy A, we figured the best way to get back at Henry was to accentuate the positive. In this case it was my boobs, my skinny legs, and my hair.

Oh and keeping me from saying something hostile that would blow this whole thing.

“These movies are sort of ridiculous but they focus on one thing. Getting the guy’s attention. If you can do that, you’re in. It’s almost like an exact science. Now, I wouldn’t suggest it if Henry hadn’t already expressed some interest in you, but he has. We just need to get him to stop wavering and commit,” Tricia said after the last movie. Emma Stone rocks. I wish I had Olive’s balls.

“Henry hasn’t ever committed to anyone,” I replied warily. “He was notoriously single in high school.”

“Because he’s chicken. You need to drive him crazy,” Tricia continues. “Make him want you so bad that he has no problem admitting it.”

I pack my bag for the day, guard suit, shorts and a towel. I wear something different. A tight yellow tank with buttons down the front. The list says to unbutton three. I manage two. Short shorts and flip flops. There’s a notation that says, “Change in the car if you have to. Sexy.”

Gulp.

Henry’s at the car when I come down, freshly showered and smelling like heaven. My senses are assaulted by his deliciousness when the car doors close and I fight the urge to lean over and inhale.

Focus, I tell myself, studying the interior of the car in an attempt to avoid a complete panic attack. Paper wrist bands around the gear shift. Some with fraternity letters and party names. Others from bars in town. A broken pair of sunglasses hangs from the rearview mirror and a beaded necklace that looks familiar.

I fight the self-doubt creeping over me and run my finger down the beads. I swallow back my nerves and ask, “Do you remember that day we all skipped school and went to Lullwater Park?”

His eyes are on the road but I see the hint of recognition on his face. “Sure. With Brian and Peter?”

“Yeah, Tricia was there and we smoked up under the magnolia trees and played Frisbee all afternoon.”

“Peter made us have races rolling sideways down the big hill,” he laughs, glancing my way. “That was a good afternoon.”

I bite my tongue and just nod, because to me it had been a glorious afternoon. Bright and sunny. The sun warmed our skin even though it wasn’t summer yet. Brian asked Tricia to prom and Henry gave me a piggy-back ride. We were stoned and silly. More than once Henry looked at me like I meant something to him. I had such hopes.

We avoid the past the rest of the drive, talking more about classes and majors. The standard things college students talk about. The car ride gives me an opportunity to bolster my courage. We’re on even ground. He either doesn’t remember how things were between us or is willing to forget it. Either way, I plan on using it against him.

*

Six hours later I stand by the car, sunburned and exhausted. Lifeguarding a pool packed with kids is way different than supervising lap swimmers. Less spitting, more horse play. For the first time I got to use my whistle. I have to admit it carries a level of power and exhilaration I never expected.

Another bonus was the non-stop Henry ogling. Damn he’s hot. Really hot. I tried to act aloof while he peeled off his shirt and covered himself with sunscreen but I failed. Epically.

On the flip side, I know he peeked when I masterfully put on my bathing suit in the backseat of the car, expertly flashing just enough skin to raise his interest. Sucker.

“You ready?” Henry asks, throwing his stuff into the back of the car.

I toss my bag in behind his and sit in the passenger seat. He cranks the air conditioning and the radio, blasting our senses with something other than heat and sweat. I lean back in my seat and say, “Okay, I admit it. I thought working the indoor pool was tiring. That was killer.”

“The indoor pool is just boring. At least this way the day goes by faster.” He reaches over and presses his finger against my nose. “You got a lot of sun.”

“Too much,” I tell him, looking down at my chest. It’s turning a purplish red.

“I told you to wear more sunscreen.”

He’d chided me more than once for not applying enough. “I was tired of being inside so much I’d wanted a tan. Looks like I got fried instead.”

Henry doesn’t reply but I see him twisting his hands on the steering wheel. I keep my eyes on the window because his fidgeting makes me nervous. The car ride home is mostly silent, other than the radio. We’re both beat and I catch myself dozing off more than once. I feel the car slow when we get off the highway and force myself awake. When we’re near the apartment Henry surprises me by saying, “I want you to change your mind about this summer.”

“What?”

“Today was fun, right? Come work at the pool with us.”

“It was fun,” I say slowly, trying to catch his angle “But my argument about Tate still stands.”

He turns into the apartment complex and finds a parking space. He shifts into gear and pulls up the parking break. Looking directly at me with those lethal blue eyes he says, “Are you sure Tate’s the real reason you won’t work with us?”

And there it is. I turn away from his gaze. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“The last interaction between us was when you wrote that poem about me in the school newspaper.”

My heart jumps to my throat and I cough. “Why do you think that was about you?”

“Zadie.”

“Henry.”

“When added together, the first letter of each line spelled out Fuck You Henry Fletcher.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that.”

Right before prom, when he’d made it clear he wasn’t going to take me but no one else could either I took my vengeance out with my pen. It’s not just my mouth that gets me in trouble but my hands, too. Unfortunately for Henry, the newspaper supervisor, Mrs. Chance, didn’t realize the secret message in my writing.

I don’t have a lot to defend myself with, so I shift the blame back to Tate. “That has nothing to do with it. I just don’t want to deal with Tate and his womanizing all summer.”

He tenses his jaw. After an awkward pause he seems to let the topic drop. “I can’t either. There is no way I can work with them all summer. I caught them in the back seat of Tate’s car the other day during adult swim. The flirting is nauseating. I’m afraid I’ll walk into them all the time.”

I wrinkle my nose in disgust. “Yeah, no thanks.”

He drops his head against the car seat. “Please, Zadie. You’re my only hope. Don’t leave me with them alone all summer.”

“What makes you think I won’t fall prey to Tate Christensen myself?”

“I’m sure you will,” he chuckles darkly. “But at least I can call you on it if you do.”

I twist in my seat so I’m facing him. “First of all, I won’t fall for him. I’ve known him for years and even if I was interested, trust me, he’s not in return. I have a brain and my boobs are too small. Second, I already told you no. I got stuck working with him already. He sucks.”

He studies me with an impressed grin and says, “What if I can get him to promise not to bring any girls to the pool?”

I give him a suspicious look. “You know that won’t work.”

“I think it will. He wants Shelly gone anyway.”

I narrow my eyes. “Wait, what? Why?”

“I guess he’s done with her.”

“You’re kidding, right?” I’m incredulous. “He’s such a pig.”

“I think he prefers the one night stand and it’s all too close. Look, I don’t care, but if I can get him to agree, will you come? I need some sort of rational person there. Also, together we can gang up on him.”

“Hmm…” I consider. “I do like that idea. Can we make him clean the bathrooms?”

A wider smile crosses his face. “I think I can arrange that.”

I look out the car window. I really don’t want to spend the summer trapped inside. And spending time with Henry at work is the best way to get his full attention. “I’ll do it,” I say. “But only if he agrees. I have some other rules, too.”

“Like what?” He frowns.

“No weed at work. I’m not dealing with a pothead.”

He lifts an eyebrow but nods. “Okay.”

“And no sexist jokes. Or rude behavior from either of you.”

“Obviously,” he rolls his eyes.

It may be that I’m lightheaded from the sun and heat or I’m just simply exhausted, but I rub my eyes with my hands and say, “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Excellent,” he says, with a huge, adorable grin. He offers me his hand over the center console and I brace myself not to sway from the feeling of his hand in mine. This is going to be a disaster.

“When do I start?” I ask once we’re out of the car.

“Tomorrow. I’ll drive.” He starts up the steps but pauses. “I have one condition, too.”

“What?”

“I’m serious about you not falling for that puppy dog face thing he does to chicks. I’ll call you on it.”

“What face?” I ask. Henry rolls his eyes and then stuns me making his own sexy pout. My knees give out from under me and I grab the railing. Where the hell did that come from? I gather myself and declare, “I’m immune to Tate Christensen and I’m damn sure he’s immune to me.”

“Good.”

I may be immune to Tate, but Henry Fletcher is another situation all together.

*

Chapter Four

I sleep until nine, relishing the fact I didn’t have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn.

“Look at you,” Josh says, glimpsing over his laptop at the kitchen table. “Two days in a row. I thought you’d turned into a vampire.”

“You wish.” I point to my red blistered skin. “No sparkles though.”

“Ha ha.” He gives me a stink eye. Josh had a notorious crush on Edward Cullen our senior year in high school. He pushed hard for a Twilight-themed prom. Sadly (for him) he lost out to Gatsby and the roaring 20’s. He’s still bitter.

I reach for a bottle of OJ and take a swig. Josh slips a pencil behind his ear and says, “So have you made your move on Henry yet?”

“No. But he asked me to work with him at the outdoor pool. And we spent the day together yesterday. I’m working my way in.”

“Good job,” he says, looking impressed. “What’s the next step in Operation Payback?”

“Luring him with my feminine wiles.”

Josh clamps a hand over his mouth to keep the coffee from spraying everywhere. “You’re kidding.”

“Hey!” I protest. “I have some tricks up my sleeve. Henry will never know what hit him.”

“If you say so.”

I leave Josh in the kitchen and start downstairs. I want to argue with him but I know he’s right. Contrary to Austin High rumor, I’m not really that adept at seducing guys. All I’ve managed to prove time and time again is that I know how to cause a scene. Now, in a new setting, I’m determined to see where things really stand with Henry. Can we go back to the starting place? Can I forget the bumpy path I’ve taken since our relationship changed?

*

The warm sun hits my face and I take a deep breath. Then another. Thank God for fresh air and sunshine and being outdoors. I want to grab Henry and Tate in hugs of appreciation, but I don’t. Mostly because my skin is still tender from the sun yesterday.  Also, I’m not convinced Tate will hold to our deal and I’m trying not to be offended by the idea Henry thinks I’m so unappealing Tate won’t even try to make a move on me.

The pool itself is pretty nice. Three sides consist of rows of lounge chairs and tables set up with umbrellas. There’s a fenced-off baby pool, and near the entrance, a grassy field with a playground. We’re standing just outside of a stone shelter that has a big sitting area and also houses the changing rooms and a guard office.

“So what happened to Shelly?” I ask, considering for the first time someone had to switch positions for me to move to the outdoor pool.

“It took some finagling but I moved her to a camp position and switched Jeff to the indoor pool,” Tate says.

I think of nerdy, skinny, paler-than-a-ghost Jeff. “Poor Jeff.”

“Eh, he actually volunteered. Something about sunstroke and bugs. I don’t know.”

Henry shows me the basics of the pool, how we’ll rotate chairs every hour.  Two in the seats and one walking around the deck.

“Which chair do you want first?” he asks.

Despite my red skin I pick the one in the blazing sun. “That one.”

We move to our separate positions. I pull off my shirt but keep my shorts on over my red suit. Tate has been shirtless since I got here and I’ve made every attempt not to perv out on his chest. It’s really, really hard not to look.

“Don’t forget sunscreen,” Henry says, holding me a bottle.

Ignoring him, I climb up the ladder and into the chair by the deep end and settle in. Henry takes the other while Tate strolls around the deck.

The pool fills up with moms and young kids in the morning and it shifts to teens around lunch. Lifeguarding seems boring but when the pool is crowded, like today, things are pretty active. I do have to force my mind not to wander over to Henry and check him out, or think about the way his abs would feel under my fingers or what his pouty lips taste like.

Around noon, I realize with delight, how much my deal with Tate will torture him. The pool moms have caught his attention. And vice versa.

“Our deal includes them,” I warn during a break. We’re under the shelter cooling off.

“Who?”

“Those cougars eyeing you from across the pool.”

He doesn’t look up from the sheet where he’s recording the chemical data, but his eyebrow quirks just enough that I know he’s aware of who I’m taking about.

As if on cue, one of the moms comes over, swaying her tiny hips to ask Tate about reserving a private party. Her bathing suit is un-ironically leopard print and she wears huge sunglasses. A tidy pony-tail holds back her long flowing hair. She stumbles over the word private and rests her hand on her shoulder, toying with her bikini strap.

“Oh man,” I mutter, walking over to Henry. “There’s no way he can go the whole summer without hitting that.”

“Probably not, but as long as he keeps it off pool property it’s cool, right?”

I glance over at Mrs. Robinson t leaning as close to Tate as possible. He leans against the building, arms crossed over his tan, rock solid chest. An irrational wave of jealousy rolls over me. “Not really. She has kids and a wedding ring on.”

“I think you’re getting burned,” Henry says, interrupting my judging.. I look down and see how red my chest has turned. “Your neck is bad, too. You want me to spray some lotion on?”

“No,” I say, walking back to the shelter to grab my shirt.

“Oh, honey,” the woman says, leaning across him to touch my arm. “Make sure you watch that.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” reaching for my t-shirt to cover up. Great. Mrs. Robinson-Sassy Vixen can prance around in her bikini but I have to cover myself up because I’m a ghost. Or an over-boiled lobster. Ugh.

“You don’t think she really wants to schedule a party do you?” I ask once she walks away. I tie my shirt into a knot at my waist.

“Who cares?” he said, eyes glued to her backside. “I’m game for whatever she wants.”

I don’t care. I don’t. But I catch myself staring at his back and curse myself.

“She’s hot,” Henry says, joining our conversation.

“You too?” I say. I study her as she walks away. She’s not even that pretty. Long, basic brown hair. Her body’s killer but her face is sort of meh. Oh my God, I need to stop judging other women that I am not jealous of. Not.

He shrugs. “I’ve got no problem with older women.”

He and Tate bump fists and I throw my hands up in exasperation. “Whatever. You two suck.”

I leave them in a fit of laughter, blowing my whistle to drown them out.

*

That night, alone in my apartment, I gingerly lift my shirt off my back and wince at the pain. My skin has puckered like a lobster. I feel like one, too. I need lotion. I need soothing. I need something and someone to make it better, but Josh and Tricia left me to suffer alone.

Ouch.

I wrap myself in a hot pink cover-up, the kind you wear at the pool with no straps. I lie face down on the couch with the remote control and a Diet Coke. I realize too late that I’ve forgotten the candy.

I’d planned to write tonight since I’d been busy and tired lately. Finding time usually wasn’t a problem for me, not since transferring schools. I’d lost that creative part of myself at Elton, opting for boyfriends and keggers.  Part of the reason for coming to the University was to settle back into my writing ways. But this sunburn hurts like a fucker and there’s no way I can focus.

I’m watching a food show when someone knocks. “Who is it?” I yell, still stomach down and not planning on moving anytime soon.

“It’s Henry.”

“What do you want?”

“Um, to come in? You left your bag in my car.”

“Fine, okay, come in.” At least he can’t tell I’m embarrassed.

Henry walks in, brown and glowing from his day in the sun. He’s got my bag over his shoulder and has on a T-shirt with Bob Marley on the front. When he finally looks up, his eyes pop wide open. He fights a laughs and says, “Oh hell.”

“It’s not funny.” My cheek presses against the couch, making the words come out weird. “It hurts, Henry,” I whine.

“It looks like it.” He drops the bag on the coffee table. “I told you to wear sunscreen.”

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Yes!” I struggle to my elbows. “There’s chocolate by the microwave. Will you bring me some?”

“Sure.” He disappears into the kitchen. I’m sure his apartment has the same layout. “How many pieces do you want?”

“Just bring all of it.” Why even lie?

Henry sets the candy dish on the couch in front of me. I’m surprised when he takes a seat in the armchair.  Sure, we work together now, but we aren’t exactly friends.  “So what’s this show?”

“Man vs. Food, haven’t you seen it?”

“Nah, we don’t have cable downstairs.”

“Really?” Who doesn’t have cable?

“My roommate is a film major. All he watches is movies. Like four or five a day. He’s completely obsessed.”

“Well, this guy that travels around and eats crazy food. Like monster hamburgers or the hottest wings in the world.”

We sit together in silence for a while, me eating candy, him watching cable and occasionally glancing in my direction. I’ve noticed that whenever someone doesn’t have cable they act like they don’t care until they get around it. Then they turn into zombies. Their brains try to absorb all the pop culture at once.

“Want one?” I ask through a mouthful of chocolate and caramel.

He takes one. “I bet Sid could do that,” he says, referring to the host of the show eating a pizza the size of a dining room table.

“Who’s Sid?”

“One of my roommates. The one with the shaved head. The other is Charlie.”

I shake my head. No clue. “I haven’t really noticed them. I just moved in,” I say in defense.

“Oh right. I forgot,” he says. His eyes flick in my direction and back at the TV. “Where were you before?”

“A small school in Tennessee. Elton.”

“I know it.”

“You do?” No one ever recognizes the name.

“Sure. I’ve heard of it.” He chews his candy and I can’t help but stare at his perfect jaw. Or jaw of perfection. Whichever he’s so freaking hot. “Why did you transfer?”

I shrug. “Just wasn’t happy I guess.”

“Being away from home can be hard, especially that far.”

“It wasn’t homesickness,” I say. “It was too small, like way too small. It was giving me—“

I stop short, but he seems genuinely interested. “Giving you what?”

“I started having anxiety attacks,” I admit for the first time. I have no idea why I’m telling Henry but I keep talking anyway. “I felt too exposed in such a small environment, like I couldn’t breathe.”

“So you picked one of the biggest universities in the south instead?”

“Yep.”

“So the small school made you a little neurotic but the big school makes you feel safe. I guess it’s pretty easy to get lost here.”

“Exactly. That’s how I want it. To get lost.”

His blue eyes bore into mine. I shove another piece of candy in my mouth and glance away. When I look back again, Henry’s not looking at my face but lower. I glance down. My top has slipped down and my boobs are half out. Good grief. I tug the fabric up. No wonder he wanted to stay. Damn.

Busted, he blinks and meets my eye quickly. The tips of his ears turn red and he shifts in his seat. It feels like an eternity before he focuses back on the TV.

It’s not long before man conquers food, the host managing to eat the giant pizza. Henry rubs the back of his neck and says, “The guys probably wonder where I went. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks for bringing my bag.” I grimace, lifting myself off my stomach to a sitting position, making sure to keep the goods covered this time. I want to drive him wild, not scar him for life. “And getting that candy. I was kind of obsessing over it.”

Henry smiles and I see how it makes crinkly lines around his eyes and how he still has that one crooked tooth. “Night, Zadie.”

“Night.”

Chapter Five

My sunburn fades and my back and neck turn into a peeling mess. I’m like a snake shedding its skin.

“Dude, how can you do that?” Tate watches us with a clear look of disgust on his face.

“It’s addictive,” Henry says.

Heavy, rain-filled clouds threaten to dump on us any minute. The pool is pretty quiet other than a couple of moms and kids near the baby area. Mrs. Robinson has spent the day trying to get Tate’s attention by roaming around the pool deck in her bikini, making jokes with him and being a general nuisance. Right now she’s spread eagle on a lounge chair. Desperate much?

Since everything is so calm, I’m sitting on a stool in front of Henry while he peels my back skin off in long strips. His fingers are gentle and every once in a while he grazes just below my ear.

“Oh my God,” Henry says. “This one is huge.”

I fight another ticklish shudder as his fingers touch my back.

“Gross,” Tate says and disappears into the office. Although in general we all are getting along okay, Henry and I have become friendly pretty fast. Tate seems at a loss when we hang out, confused by our conversations and connections.

“Okay,” Henry says in my ear. “Buffy.”

“Season six.”

“Really? Season six is sort of dirty with the Spike stuff.”

I shrug, I like Spuffy, I won’t deny it. “How about Angel?”

“Season five,” he says.

I smile. “Me too.”

We’re playing what’s your favorite season of various classic television shows. This started after we got into a discussion of the awesome that is Joss Whedon. “Angel or Spike,” he asks.

“Apples and oranges,” I tell him. His fingers brush across my back looking for a loose piece of peeling skin. “Drucilla or Harmony?”

“Drucilla.”

We continue playing for a while until Tate comes over and says, “Listen, Henry why don’t you knock off. There are not enough people to justify all three of us being here and Zadie already has tomorrow off.”

“Yeah, okay.” Henry looks at me. “You need me to come back and pick you up?”

“Uh,” I start. We’d been riding to work every day in his car since I just have my bike. “I can call Josh.”

“I can give you a ride,” Tate says and adds, “if you want.”

“Sure. Sounds good.” I’m a little bummed Henry’s leaving early since we have a good time together, but Tate’s not so bad. A little boring and definitely douche, but he’s still major eye candy.

Henry grabs his things and leaves with a wave. I settle back in my chair watching the three little boys in the baby pool splashing around. Another pair of girls play mermaid in the shallow end.

“So you like all that geek stuff?” Tate asks, dropping in the chair Henry just vacated.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Last year I dressed like Thor for my frat’s summer party.”

I can’t help but smile. The idea of Tate dressed like Thor is sort of adorable. And smoking hot. “Did you carry a big hammer?”

He lifts an eyebrow. “I’m always carrying a big hammer.”

“Nasty,” I say, but I’m laughing and so is he. “Sounds like a cool party idea.”

“It’s a rager. They have it to coincide with the blockbuster movie stuff since there are so many action movies in the summer,” he explains. “You should come this year. You’d make a killer Black Widow.”

I duck my head. Black Widow is the sexiest of all the female superheroes. Tight black jumpsuit. Kick-ass boots. Scarlett Johansson hips and chest. No way I could pull it off. And no thanks on the frat thing.

Been there-done that.

A crack of thunder stops me from answering and Tate blows his whistle, making all the kids get out of the water. Fat drops of rain start to fall and the moms scurry to get the kids out of the water and their belongings to the car before the storm hits. Mrs. Robinson is the last to leave, swishing her hips by Tate. He offers to carry her stuff to the car.

Again, I note, that there’s no way he gets through the summer without hitting on her. Or banging her.

Tate and I huddle under the shelter, unable to leave until Cindy calls. “This sucks,” I say, wiping the rain off my face with a towel and sit at a picnic table.

“Totally.” Tate sits on the bench next to me. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I have no idea where this is going but what comes out of his mouth is a total surprise.

“What’s this Buffy thing?”

“Buffy? The Vampire Slayer?”

“Yeah, I heard you and Henry talking about it.”

I frown. “Just a TV show. It’s not on anymore.”

“Oh,” he says, a little defeated.

“I have it on DVD if you want to watch it.”

His face lights up and it’s like the parting of the Red Sea. Beauty in the middle of a raging storm. “Really?”

“Sure.”

“That would be awesome.”

“How about tonight?” he asks. “I could come to your house, you know, since I live with a bunch of cavemen.”

“Tonight?”

“Sure, I don’t have anything else to do. Do you?”

I shake my head and flinch at another huge crack of thunder. No. I don’t have anything planned except now Tate Christensen is coming to my apartment and how did that even happen?

*

“What’s he doing here?” Tricia whispers in the kitchen.

“Honestly? I have no freaking clue, but who am I to deprive anyone of the glory of Joss Whedon and Buffy?”

“Maybe you accidentally seduced him instead of Henry.”

“Doubtful.” But to be honest, other than the disgusting skin peeling thing, which seems to turn Henry on a little bit, I’ve been looking pretty good lately.

“I’ve got this political dinner thing I have to go to or I’d stay.”

“Eh, it’s okay. We work together all the time. It’s not that awkward.”

That is a total lie. Everything about this is awkward. From Tate being in my apartment to him stretched out on Josh’s ratty couch he inherited from his older brother. It smells like cheese and dog.

“Have fun,” Tricia says, passing us on the way out the door. She winks at me. Ugh.

“Later,” Tate says.

“You ready? Episode one?”

“Yep.” He reaches for one of the beers on the table in front of him and offers me one. I take it because obviously I need to curb some of the edginess.

Hours later I can hardly stifle my yawn. I’m curled up on the couch, my toes pressing into Tate’s leg.  We’ve watched six episodes and Tate’s hooked, pausing the show to ask questions but digging the mythology. It’s weird. All of this is weird, but I’m tired and he’s gonna have to leave.

“You want to take the rest with you?” I ask once the last episode is over.

“Oh,” he says. “Don’t you want to watch them together?”

There are eight seasons of Buffy. It will take us weeks to watch all of them. He looks so hopeful though I’m not sure how to tell him no. “Well, we can watch some of them. Why don’t you take the rest of this season home and we’ll get together in a couple of days.”

“Awesome.” Tate takes his empty bottles to the kitchen and throws them in the recycling bin. “Thanks for letting me come over.”

“No problem,” I say, stretching my arms over my head. Tate’s eyes flick to my exposed belly and I tug down my shirt. “Surprised you didn’t have a date tonight.”

“Eh, I’m kind of taking a break from all that,” he says like it’s no big deal at all.

For the record, it’s totally a big deal.

“Wow, really?”

“Yep,” he says. “You and Henry kind of encouraged me to cut the manwhore stuff out a little. I mean, I’m still getting some here and there, but it had gotten a little out of control.”

“How mature of you,” I say, nudging him toward the door.

“I guess you gotta start somewhere, right? It’s like you and Henry.”

“Like me and Henry what?”

“Like how you’ve put all that drama from the past behind you and are friends again.”

I’m not sure about all that, but I’m proud of Tate in a weird way. Maybe I’m not as invisible in his eyes as I thought. I may not be sex worthy to him but at least he listens to my advice, which is better. I guess.

We step out my front door and onto the balcony area. The parking lot below is quiet. “Well, thanks and I guess I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

“Right, day off tomorrow,” I say.

Surprisingly he pulls me into a bear hug and I squeak from the wind being knocked out of me.  “Night.”

I watch him tuck the DVD under his arm and disappear down the stairs. Once he hits the parking lot I hear his voice and lean over the railing. Henry. Tate jerks a thumb upward and Henry looks up—our eyes meeting briefly.

I step backwards, pressing myself against the wall overwhelmed by feelings glee and guilt. My plan involved making Henry crazy—crazy enough to regret treating me so poorly, but as things shift between us, Operation Payback seems harder than expected.

*

Somehow I let Josh talk me into going to the pool to hang out even though it’s my day off. So yeah, I’m voluntarily at work even though I’m not getting paid.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” I say to him.

“It’s only fair since I got you that job and I can’t get free ice cream anymore.”

Josh climbs out of the driver’s seat and slings a towel over his neck. I get my bag, filled with a variety of sunscreen, magazines and snacks. Great. Now I want ice cream.

“So this date you had the other night?”

“It wasn’t a date and shhhh.” I jerk my head toward the entrance. The last thing I need is for Tate to think I have a thing for him. Well, more than any other hetero girl. I push the gate open and Henry waves from his perch over the deep end chair. I smile and wave back.

“Five hours of Buffy sounds like a date to me.” I elbow him in the ribs and point to a couple of deck chairs in the sun. Josh shakes his head.  “Oh, look, Davey’s here.”

Sure enough, Davey sits over on a lounge chair in the grassy area alone. He gives us a wide smile and I roll my eyes behind my sunglasses. “So this is why you made me come today?”

“Yes, and I don’t have to pay a guest fee.”

I lead the way and drop my stuff onto a chair, leaving one chair empty so Josh can sit next to his crush.  Davey may be the only guy that can compete with Tate in the looks department. Tall and broad. Creamy brown skin, dark eyes and hair.  His chest looks like it’s molded from the same marble Tate’s came from.

“Hey Zadie, what’s up?” he asks.

“Nothing much, just hanging out at work on my day off,” I jab, but they are already absorbed in one another.

Josh makes a production of laying his towel out and taking off his shirt. He’s fit too but not like these guys. I’m starting to feel like a third wheel. Geez.

While the boys enter the first stages of flirting I pull out my sunscreen and lotion up my arms and legs. “Here,” I say to Josh handing him the tube. “Lather up.”

He squeezes some into his hand and covers his chest. He hands the bottle to Davey and says, “Can you get my back?”

“Oh man,” I mumble, yanking my cover up over my head. I’ve decided to attempt to manage my life guard tan, wearing a different suit with different tan lines. This one is a two piece, bluish-green with a tie around the neck. It’s something I’m not accustomed to but Tricia and I decide it has the desired effect. Plus, everyone else around here flashes some skin. So can me.

I settle in my seat and narrow my eyes at the pattern on Josh’s shorts. “What is that?”

“Oh, these are amazing. Dry they look like a normal pattern but look,” he runs to the edge of the pool and jumps in. A second later he jumps out and rushes back over dripping wet. “See?”

“Are those naked ladies?” I ask, incredulous.

“Yes! My mom bought them for me!”

Davey touches the hem and they marvel at the cheesiness of the shorts. They shift into the bubble that follows them around lately. I’m happy for them, but it’s boring being the third wheel. I open up my magazine, pretending to read, but predictably, I find myself staring at Henry.

Henry flipping his whistle over his finger.

Henry scratching his chest.

Henry adjusting himself in his chair.

Henry glancing at me.

He perches his whistle between his lips and lets it hang there while he watches some kids closely. After a couple of seconds he blows it, waving them over to his chair. He falls into a deep argument with the ten-year-old over the diving board rules. He’s so freaking adorable.

“Just go talk to him,” Josh says, interrupting my Henry fest.

“I’m getting a soda,” I say in response. “Want one?”

“Sure.”

I leave the love birds, hopping out of my chair to go get it. I pass Tate waist-deep in the pool scrubbing tiles, (I’d give him credit for doing some actual work but I know he lost a bet with Henry for the job) and he winks as I pass by. I force myself not to tug and pull at the suit. That is not sexy at all.

We have a refrigerator in the office and I lean in to get a Coke off the bottom shelf. The cool air feels nice against my hot skin and I stand there for a minute.

“Wasting energy, huh?”

I spin quickly, holding the can to my chest and find Henry standing in the door. “How long have you been standing there?” I ask.

“Long enough,” he replies with a smirk.

“Want one?” He nods and I hand him mine before leaning in for another.

“So Tate came over last night?”

I open the can with a loud click and hiss and sway from hip to hip. “He wanted to watch Buffy.”

“He did?” His eyes watch my hips like a metronome. “Interesting.”

“I know, I thought it was weird too, but whatever.”

“Hmm,” he says, flashing his eyes at me. Or on me. His eyes are all over me and this bikini that suddenly seems too small and too tight.

“I guess I’ll go back out with Josh and Davey, not that they’ve noticed I’ve gone or anything.”

“Okay,” he says, not moving out of the doorway. I edge past him, bumping my hip into his lower stomach. His very toned lower stomach, covered in the finest hair that I crave to touch. I keep my hands to myself and once I’m out of the hot spot, I swear I feel the heat of his hand on my lower back.

For a minute I can’t decide who’s seducing who.

Back at my seat I tune out Josh and Davey and keep one sun-glassed eye on Tate as he makes his way around the pool. His back muscles tense with every movement, only stopping occasionally to mess with one of the kids.  The kids love the lifeguards, all of us, but mostly Henry and Tate. These particular children belong to Mrs. Robinson. They beg and splash, trying to get Tate to horse around. This makes an excellent opportunity to ogle, watching both guys as they use all their strength wrestling with the kids.

“Hey Pip,” I hear over my day dream of Henry and Tate water wrestling one another.

“Hey.”

“Come talk to me.”

“Why would I do that?” I laugh.

He drapes his arms over the side of the pool and smiles. “Come on, I’m bored and doing this so you don’t have to tomorrow. Come entertain me.”

I look over at Josh who hasn’t paid me any attention in the last fifteen minutes and shake my head.  I walk over to the edge of the pool and sit, dangling my feet into the cool water.

“This is how you chose to spend your day off?” His eyes flick toward my chest.

“Not really but these two seemed to have ulterior motives.”

“I watched the rest of season one,” he says, dipping his brush back into the water and resuming his cleaning. He’s cleaning the area to the left of where I’m sitting, slowly making his way in my direction.

“And?”

He smiles. “Buffy kicks ass. You’re right.”

“Obviously.”

The water sloshes against my legs as he moves closer. I look up and catch Henry staring in our direction. Or at least I think he is. It’s hard to tell behind his sunglasses. I smile but he turns away before seeing me.

Tate approaches my legs, picking them up and to clean the tile beneath them. “Hey!” I shout, trying to keep my balance, but laughing anyway. He drops my legs but grabs my ankles under water and says, “So, what do you think? Want to go to the superhero bash with me?”

“What?”

“The party at my frat? Want to come? It’s next weekend. I’m trying to decide between Thor again or Captain America.”

“You want me to go with you?” Like a date, I want to ask, but don’t. No way. Never.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun to bring a girl who knows all the characters.”

“I’m not that big of a nerd,” I laugh. He leans in and his chest is deliriously close and I clasp my fingers around the edge of the pool deck so I don’t just reach out and touch him.

“How about it?” His eyes struggle between my chest and my face and for once I just don’t care. I think I may be turning him on and it’s exhilarating.

“I don’t know,” I tell him, warily. “I’m not big on crowds.”

“It’s summer. It’s like half the normal-sized party.” His hands are still wrapped around my ankles but his fingers feel soft under the water and what the hell is going on here? Is he really flirting with me? I glance up at Henry but all I can see is the muscle in his jaw working overtime. “Just come, it will be fun. Everyone goes—Henry will be there.”

“He will?” I look across the pool.

“Yo, H! You’re going to the Superhero bash, right?” Henry gives Tate a quick nod and a double thumbs up.

Tate flashes his mega-watt smile and my heart flips erratically. Part out of anticipating of a night out with Henry, if he’s aware of it or not, and partially because I’m on the edge of an anxiety attack, knowing historically what happens when I decide to go out and have a good time. I close my eyes and say, “Yes.”

*

“I can’t believe you said yes to this,” Tricia says. We’re in the bathroom. I’m sitting on the top of the toilet, both eyes shut, while she works on my makeup.

“I know.”

“I can’t believe you’re wearing this outfit.”

I open one eye. “Is it too much? Too tight? Too slutty?”

She closes my lid with her finger and swipes across it with a brush. “Nope. You look stunning. It’s perfect.”

“I’m nervous.”

“You’ll be fine. I wish I could go. I can’t believe I have to go to another political function. I think my dad was more concerned with ruining my social life than getting me job experience,” she says. “You can look now.”

I open my eyes and stand up. I went with the Avengers theme, dressing as Black Widow. She’s not super slutty which is good but she wears a skin-tight outfit that has my boobs squeezed together so tight they may actually tear the fabric. Tricia managed to curl my reddish-brown hair into wavy ringlets.

“My ass looks huge,” I say, twisting to look in the mirror.

“No it doesn’t, and have you seen Scarlett Johansson’s butt? It’s curvalicious. You’re fine.”

In my room I pull on my knee-high black boots. This outfit’s going to be hot as hell tonight but Tricia’s right. I look pretty good. The only problem is my nerves, which run ice cold in my veins. Checking my clock, I see that I have thirty minutes before Tate will arrive. I decide to go outside for some fresh air first.

“Good luck,” Tricia says. “I suspect Henry will be jealous as heck he didn’t ask you out first.”  I close the door and step outside. The night air is humid and not much of a relief but I couldn’t sit around my apartment any longer. I make my way downstairs and realize my suit is sticking to my skin and I can’t stay out here.

I can’t go anywhere. What am I doing, dressing up like superhero Barbie? Going to a party with a crowd of people I don’t know. The anonymity doesn’t bother me. It’s the minute they figure out who I am. That I don’t belong. What do I do then?

“Zadie?”

I glance up and realize I’m standing in front of Henry’s apartment door on the first floor. He has on a white T-shirt and baggy plaid shorts. He’s barefoot and has a plastic grocery bag in his hand. “Huh?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” I give him a weak smile.

“You look…” he says, trailing off. His face is riddled with confusion—as he should be—I’m dressed like Black Widow and it’s not Halloween.

“Lame, I know.” I cross my arms over my chest in an effort to hide myself but all it does is squish my boobs even bigger.

“No, you look great.” He eyes me head to toe and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “Really great.”

We stare at one another for a minute because I feel stupid and he’s looking at me with the dumbest expression.  Definitely not helping my nerves settle.

“What are you doing out here?” he finally asks.

I take a deep breath and exhale. I admit, “Freaking out.”

“Why?”

“Because I agreed to go to this stupid fraternity party with Tate and I’m wearing this outfit and, well,” I meet his eyes with my own. “I’m nervous about all the people and stuff. It’s the kind of thing that triggers my anxiety. Hey!” I notice he’s not dressed up. “You said you were going!”

“Yeah, we’re going to later, when Charlie gets off work. So you’re going with Tate?” he asks, quietly.

“Yeah, he asked me the other day. He swore to that he would be nice and not leave me stranded in a sea of sorority girls. I don’t trust him. Hence the nerves.”

Henry bites his lip but says nothing. A light bulb goes off in my head and I realize what’s going on. Why he’s being so strange. “Look, I know I told you I’m not falling for his puppy dog thing. I’m not. I just—I want to break out of my shell a little and Tate and this party are about as far out of my shell as I’m ever going to get. I’m nervous as hell but I promise you this has nothing to do with me liking him or the risk of you finding us making out in the utility room at work, okay?”

He rubs the back of his neck with his hand and eyes me warily. Finally he says, “You’re that nervous?”

“Petrified.”

Henry lifts an eyebrow and says, “I think I can help.”

“Really? How?” I ask, but he’s already opened his apartment door and stepped inside.

“Follow me.”

On unsteady heels, I enter the apartment after him.

*

I watch Henry as he packs the small clay bowl. This is his solution. Getting high. I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not surprised. If anything, I’m grateful.

“Why don’t you live with Tate? You two have been friends forever.”

“He lives in the fraternity house,” he says. His pink tongue darts out and licks his finger.

“And you didn’t join?”

“Uh, yeah I joined, but things didn’t work out so well.”

“What do you mean?”

He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m not really great with rules and stuff. Or being told what to do.” He offers me the pipe end. “Ladies first.”

I shake my head. “No, you.”

He shrugs like any stoner happy to get first the first shot. Henry licks his lips and thumbs the lighter. The bright orange flame bursts from the tip. He inhales deep, like a pro.  When he’s finished, he hands me the lighter and bowl.

I’m less adept and fumble with the lighter. Henry exhales, coating the room in a haze of smoke and takes the lighter from me. “Here,” he says.

The paper is damp between my lips and I inhale, the smoke burning my throat. I hold it in as long as possible, which isn’t long at all. Smoke and air burst from my lungs in a loud cough and my eyes burn. “Sorry,” I bark between gasps of air.

He doesn’t reply but takes the pipe back and hits it again. Back and forth we go, my lungs slowly acclimating to the stinging heat. Henry and I sit across from one another and I hazily look around the room. Typical college furniture fills the room and posters line the walls. A huge canvas hangs over Henry’s head. It has a graphic, comic-y feel to it. I see the initials H. F. in the bottom corner.

Henry glances upward and says, “I painted that for class. It’s lopsided though and drives me crazy.”

Tilting my head, I try to figure out what he means, but everything seems sort of wavy right now.  I look down and see Henry lean back on a black futon, his legs stretched under the coffee table. He has small fuzzy hair on his knees that I want to touch.

I’m sitting in a strange gold corduroy chair. I run my thumb down the fabric. We’re oddly matched and I start to giggle looking at my skin tight pants.

Henry smiles lazily. “What?”

“This.” I point to my outfit. “You’re dressed all normal and I’m in this ridiculous get up.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t look ridiculous. You look hot.”

Despite the numbness of the weed, I feel my cheeks heat. My tongue is loose and my body feels out of my control. I cross my legs slowly revealing the heeled boots. “Superhero fetish?”

His eyes travel from the boots to my boobs up to my eyes. “Something like that.”

Henry’s an enigma. Funny and nice. Sort of a hipster and obviously a bit of rebel, but more than once we’ve had this energy pulse through us that I can’t put my finger on. Attraction? Friends? Maybe Josh is right and I’m just chicken.

“Do you still write?” he asks.

“I try. But I’ve been a little blocked lately.” Lately is an understatement. Ever since the crap hit the fan at Elton I’ve floundered.

“I always liked your stuff in the school paper.”

“My emo, high school bullshit? I was so full of pretention.”

“Nah, it was good. I liked the short stories the best. My favorite one was about the dog. You know that could talk?”

“Really? That was my favorite one, too.” I say. “Other than ‘Fuck You, Henry Fletcher’, of course.”

“Of course.”

My phone buzzes on the couch next to me and I pick it up. Tate’s on his way. “I should go out front. Tate should be here in a minute.”

Henry nods and we both stand. I’m clumsy on my feet and he grabs my arm, steadying me. We’re standing close and I can feel the heat of his skin through my tight shirt.  “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, definitely calmer,” I stare at his chin, at the heavy stubble, afraid to look in his eyes. His fingers linger on my elbow but then he takes my phone and starts pressing buttons. “What are you doing?”

“I added my number. Call me if you need anything.”

“You’re coming, right?” I ask.

“Probably,” is the most he’ll answer. “Be careful, okay?”

I’m at the door and can see Tate getting out of his car. I don’t want him to come up here. “I will.” I pause and give Henry a hug. “I really appreciate it. Maybe now I won’t make an ass out of myself.”

He laughs and lets me go, shutting the door behind me. The summer air hits my skin and I’m immediately sweating.  Tate sees me on the steps and whistles. I whistle back because he’s dressed in some sort of armor, his biceps bulging and his abs peeking out under a breast plate. Holy cow.

“Ready?” he asks, offering me his hand.

I stifle a giggle at the whole scene, mostly because I’m a little baked. “Yep, let’s go kick some ass.”

Chapter Six

I’ve been to fraternity parties before. The last one at Elton turned into a life-changing disaster. That’s my trend. Turning normal events into a crisis-worthy disaster. The solution? Running like hell.

Elton was such a small school that everyone was invited. We drank crappy beer and suspicious red punch, and once my roommates and I consumed way too many mushrooms in some guy’s bedroom before puking them up under a giant magnolia tree on campus.  It was still cliquey but again, everyone mingled. Everyone knew everyone. This party is different. The Kappa Sigs have a huge house near the edge of campus. Brick with huge white columns. It looks like a plantation home from the outside. Huge Greek letters sit in the yard announcing the fraternity’s affiliation and people mill around everywhere dressed in tights and capes. Most of the girls chose Wonder Woman or Cat Woman (obviously the patent leather Halle Berry one). I wait for someone to stop me on the way up the massive stairs and ask who I am and what I’m doing here but it’s silly. Everyone knows Tate. And everyone can tell I’m with Tate by the way his hand never leaves mine.

It’s all so...weird.

The weed made me calm and I follow Tate through the house, past the questioning looks and stares. “Why is everyone looking at me?” I whisper as he hands me a drink I’m not planning to consume. I fake taking a sip. Weed and booze are not a good mix for me. Trust.

“Because you’re new,” Tate says. “And you’re with me.”

Something I’m learning about Tate is that he’s absolutely adorable. The egotistical swagger that made me dislike him in high school is still in force here, but I’ve got a different view and I realize I may have been a little harsh in my assessment. The attitude isn’t ego, it’s confidence. Dimples and a wide, easy smile make him impossible not to love. He charms the room, but never leaves my side. No one here knows me, not a soul, but they all treat me nicely because of him. He’s a God in this room and for this very strange night I’m sort of his Goddess. Tate is perfect, but even so, he’s almost too perfect for me. The more time we spent together, the more I realized I liked him; I just didn't like, like him.

His hand links with mine, introducing me to people. I fight him a little at first but then remind myself that I’m breaking out of my shell. And no one knows me here. No one cares. The warmth of his skin against mine lacks a spark but that’s okay. In fact it’s more than okay.

“Go in the photo booth with me,” he asks. We pose like superheroes. Tate with his huge hammer and I pull out my toy gun. For the third photo he picks me up like I’m light as a feather. On the fourth photo I’m blinded by the flash and the feeling of his lips on my cheek.

“What was that?” I ask, with narrowed eyes. Several girls nod and whisper from nearby.

“Just having fun,” he promises. Probably true, but there’s something else going on here, for sure.

We walk through the kitchen to the back deck. Tate fills our cups and he leans against the wooden railing and takes a long swallow. I watch, surprised, as he places his cup on top of the rail and lights a cigarette. He watches me back.

"What?" I ask. My tongue is still bold from the weed and the few sips of punch.

"You're alright, Pip."

"I don't even know what that means?" I say, shaking my head.

"It means I like you and I'm not sure why we weren't friends before."

I choke on my drink. "Because I’m younger and back in high school you didn't notice me." I eye him warily. "Or now you think you can get in my pants. Oh wait, and you were a douche."

I don't know what reaction I expect to get, but all Tate has for me is a smile. "That's where you're wrong. I've noticed you for a long time."

"Oh, really?" No chance.

"Yes, really. Pretty girls are usually on my radar and Austin High was in short supply."

My cheeks burn. He called me pretty. Now I’m sure he’s trying to get in my pants. I have to admit his methods are pretty solid. "You don't seem like the type to hold back from asking a girl out. Our age difference wasn’t that much."

"True," he said, pressing the cigarette between his lips and inhaling. "But, I had my reasons."

"Care to share?"

"Nope.”

I can’t even begin to imagine how my life would have been altered if Tate had been into me in high school. No idea if it would have been better or worse but it sure as hell would have been different.

“And now? What is this now?”

“I know things got weird for us at the end of senior year. We were stupid, and Henry...”

“Henry what?” I ask, heart drumming.

A freshman walks by in an apron carrying a tray of Dixie cups.  “Hold up,” Tate says to the kid, scooping a handful. He gives me a couple and I peer inside.

“Jell-o shots?”

He raises his to mine in a toast and says, “Here’s to summer, Pip. Growing up and taking risks.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about but he looks pretty as hell when he says it. I squeeze the paper cup into my mouth and say through a mouthful of Jell-o, “To summer!”

Chapter Seven

Things I remember from that night:

Lime green Jell-o shots that match Tate’s eyes.

Arguing with a guy dressed like Superman that he sucks because he isn’t an Avenger.

Snuggling with Tate on the porch.

I remember him smelling good. Like laundry and man-boy. I remember relaxing because his arms felt safe around me, until the swaying and swinging make my head spin and my stomach hurt.

When I look for Tate for help, he’s gone. He gets a series of texts and wanders off, leaving me alone with a bunch of strangers including more than one girl giving me the stink-eye.

“Bathroom?” I ask the crowd around me. It comes out a slurry mess. One girl points toward the house but I run in the opposite direction to the edge of the deck. Even tripping over my heel, I manage to make it in time, puking over the railing. The definitive splatter of liquefied Jell-o echoes off the concrete below.

Oh no.

*

Things I don't remember from that night (but were relayed to me the next morning by Tricia):

Being unable to find Tate at the party.

Calling Henry to come pick me up.

Threatening to kick a sorority girl dressed as Wonder Woman in the ass.

Attempting to kick Wonder Woman in the ass and missing and face planting in the front yard of the party.

Henry carrying me to the car.

Henry pulling the car over so I could puke again and falling out of the still-moving car on my face.

Asking Henry if he knew his eyes were as blue as raspberry Jell-O. (No, apparently he did not know this.)

“You’re kidding,” I say to Tricia the next day. She’s sitting on my bed fighting to appear sympathetic.

“Nope, I wish I was honey, but no.”

“He dragged me home?” Poor Henry.

“Carried.” She hands me two aspirin and a bottle of water.

I lie back on my bed and cover my face with a pillow and moan, long and throaty. I want to scream but my throat hurts from puking. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing huge,” she says. “You just can’t handle your liquor.”

I sigh. “It was the weed and the liquor. Deadly combination. Like last time.”

Tricia frowns. “What last time?”

I stare at my friend and roommate and realize I have to come clean. Like really come clean. “Is Josh here?”

“He’s in his room.”

Tricia hops up and bangs on his door. He comes out, hair sticking in a dozen directions, rubbing his eyes. “What?”

She waves him into my room and he crawls in under the covers. His nose twitches and he makes a repulsed face. “What the hell is that smell?”

“I got kind of sick last night. Sorry.” I shift over.

“And your face!” He narrows his eyes. “Please don’t tell me that’s rug burn or something.”

“She fell out of Henry’s car,” Tricia says. Traitor.

“Henry? What about Tate?”

I cut in. “Listen, I haven’t been completely honest with you guys.”

They glance at one another and Josh slips his fingers through mine. “I didn’t leave school for the reasons I told you. I mean the size and classes mattered. The university does have the major-related courses I need and Elton didn’t. But there was this thing and…” I trail off, already embarrassed.

“What happened?” Tricia asks.

I pick at my bedspread and fight a wave of nausea that I’m not sure is from the night before or from spilling this story. Probably both.

“Basically I made a raging fool of myself in front of the whole school,” I confess. “Tyler and I were at this frat party and I did the same thing. Weed plus alcohol and it fucks with my head. I hardly remember anything but someone caught me on video.”

Josh squeezes my hand. “Doing what?”

“Well, first I got on the top of the fraternity house bar and did my best Coyote Ugly impression. After that I sang Sweet Child of Mine, including an air guitar solo with some girl I don’t know. Tyler tried to get me down and I flipped him off a couple of times. The grand finale was when I slipped and fell, landing on my face, ass up.”

They both stare at me, mouths hanging.

“Oh and I had on a dress and nothing on underneath.”

Tricia slaps a hand over her still gaping mouth. “No.”

“Yep, I flashed my ass and vag for everyone on campus to see. It was what the kids call, ‘Epic’.” I use my fingers to make air quotes.

Josh shakes his head. “And this was on video?”

I nod, feeling the tightness in my chest. “Some asshat loaded it on Youtube and sent it around campus. I got called into my advisor’s office and referred to an addiction program. The frat was put on probation for serving alcohol to a minor. My small school community became microscopic. Everyone knew me and recognized me.”

“Oh no. Did you just play it off? Like no big deal?” Josh asks. He could totally do this. He’s confident and adorable and men and women would pay to see him in his underpants.

“I started having panic attacks. Everything seemed so close. I couldn’t handle walking across campus and everyone knowing who I was and laughing at me, even if it was just in fun. My life was a mess. The professors knew about it. My parents were called out of concern. The frat was pissed at me for getting them in trouble,” I explain. “Tyler and I broke up. I wouldn’t go out and he got pissed that I got so freaking depressed about it. The whole thing was a disaster and I just moved back here.”

“Oh honey.” Tricia wraps me in a hug. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because I didn’t want anyone else to know. I just wanted one place where I felt safe. The school did get the video pulled, thank god, but only because it made them look bad.”  Tears well in my eyes and I wipe them away with the back of my hand “Now I’ve done it again. Embarrassed the crap out of myself, this time at a bigger school.” I drop my hands into my face. “This is why I didn’t want to push the thing with Henry or break out of my shell. Look what happens when I do!”

“Look,” Josh says, sitting up. “This school is way bigger and no one will care about a puking girl in an Avengers suit. You’re going to have to suck this one up because you can’t hide forever.  Also, no more weed and drinks. Pick one or the other.”

“Seriously,” I agree. “I’ve learned my lesson. And stupid Tate. Bailing on me like that. I have the worst judgment with guys.”

“To be fair he called here about fifteen times last night. He feels really bad,” Tricia says.

“Ugh,” I groan, slumping into Josh’s side. “I’m pretty pissed he bailed on me. He swore he wouldn’t and then it sounds like I embarrassed the crap out of myself with Henry.”

Josh pulls me into a tight hug but recoils after a couple seconds. “Honey, I love you and we’ll get through this but you have got to take a shower because oh my god you’re nasty.”

I open an eye and glare at Josh. “The only way I’ll get out of bed and clean up is if we can go get waffles.”

“Done.”

*

That afternoon, I slide a piece of paper under Henry’s door.

I’m barely up the first level of steps when he opens the door with the paper between two slim fingers. "What's this?"

I press my head against the railing. "Just read it."

"Why?"

"Oh my god. Just. Read. It." He looks skeptical. Maybe he suspects I puked on it. I grind my teeth and said, "Please."

Because he has to make me feel worse he reads it out loud. I stare at the wall.

Dear Henry,

I apologize for calling you drunk.

And for puking on your car.

And for all other unfortunate moments last night.

Zadie

I hear the crinkle of the paper as he refolds it and wait, terrified to look up.

"Zadie."

"What?" My words are muffled because I’m hiding behind my hands.

"I accept your apology."

I open an eye and look at him. His doesn’t seem pissed. In fact, he’s smiling a little. "Really?"

"Yes."

I sigh in relief. "Good."

He laughs and I give him the stink-eye. He seems awfully amused by my humiliation, but I let it slide due to the circumstances. When he rubs his face I see his knuckles are red and scraped. Ugh, probably my fault, too.

"I'm sorry you got so sick."

"Ugh, me too. It’s half your fault with that weed.”

He reaches a finger out to touch my cheek. "Ouch."

I roll my eyes. At myself, of course, because of the flutter rolling around in my stomach from his finger on my skin. "Apparently, I fell out of the car."

"I tried to stop. You opened the door before I pulled all the way over."

"I heard. I don't really remember much."

“That’s probably for the best.”

I make a face. “Did you really carry me in?”

He smiles and I notice a tiny dimple by his eye. Maybe a scar. One of his roommates walks up and says hi, disappearing through the open door.

“I should go,” I say, watching the guy, Syd, I think go inside.

“Tomorrow? Pick you up at 9:30?”

I nod, happy he’s not going to let this get any weirder. Happy that I’m at this big school where I don’t have to face a thousand Facebook friends laughing at my antics. Just this guy.  This really great guy. “It’s going to be awkward with Tate.”

“Why?”

“I embarrassed myself and him. He ditched me. I don’t know. It’s just unfortunate, you know?”

“Zadie, you are not the first person to puke at a frat party.”

I sigh and take the first step toward my apartment. “Thanks, Henry.”

He frowns, just a little, but it vanishes fast. “Anytime.”

*

I meet Henry at his car the next morning. He’s half asleep, hair a total mess, and a fine, red line run down his cheek from his bed sheets.

“Over sleep?” I ask, getting into the car. He tosses his towel and pool bag into the backseat.

He grunts in reply and rubs his hand over his face. “You’re awful chipper for someone so hung-over yesterday.”

“I have a sure-fire hang-over remedy.”

Henry pulls the car out of the parking lot and heads toward the pool. “Enlighten me.”

“Stage one is waffles, bacon and hash browns. Stage two; French fries and a cheeseburger. Additional necessities include several large sodas and a big piece of chocolate cake.”

His eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Works every time. I also crashed at about 8 PM even though my downstairs neighbors were yelling all night while they played Grand Theft Auto.”

He glances over and I can see his eye wrinkles. “Sorry about that.”

I shrug. “We’re pretty used to it.”

Henry pulls into the convenience store and we go in to get snacks. It’s become a daily ritual. Sodas, lemonade, candy. We hop back in the car and make it to the pool just in time. To our surprise, Tate’s here. It should be his day off.

“You going to be okay?” Henry asks before we get out of the car.

“Sure, why?”

“With Tate being here and everything. You were pretty pissed at him the other night.” I try to remember and vaguely recall being dragged away from the party and yelling something about ‘kicking ass’.

“He called yesterday. I think he feels pretty bad about stranding me, which is stupid because I’m the one that made an ass out of myself.”

“No,” Henry says, his eyes dark. “He should feel sorry.”

Tate meets me at the gate with an apologetic smile. He’s not in his trunks but regular shorts and a T-shirt. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” I say, feeling stupid.

“She powered through it on junk food and sugar,” Henry says, walking past us to the office.

“Why are you here?”

Tate grabs my hand.  “I’m a douche.”

“Obviously.”

“And a jerk.”

“Yes,” I agree. “You came in on your day off to tell me that? I got your messages. We’re good. Besides I’m the one that embarrassed myself.”

“Are you kidding? You’re a legend.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yep, all anyone can talk about is the kick-ass chick dressed up like Black Widow. I know five guys that want your number.”

Everything starts to spin. “Oh man.”

Tate wears a huge grin and clearly thinks this is hilarious. It’s not hilarious, it’s a disaster. He rubs his chin and the smile vanishes into a grimace. I notice a purple bruise by his lip.

I reach up and touch his jaw. “What happened?”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “You’re not the only one that made a scene on at the party.”

I point to my own rash. “We’re twins. Except you like the attention.”

When I explain how I got the burn, Tate doesn’t even try not to laugh. “I just feel bad because I know you were nervous about going and then I ditched you. I’m just glad Henry came and got you.”

I glance across the pool where Henry has his back to us, skimming the pool for leaves and debris with a large net. My eyes linger over the way his muscles tense and how broad his shoulders seem. “Yeah, he’s the real hero of the night. Costume or not.”

Tate chuckles and says, “Figures,” under his breath. “I put all this work into my Herculean body and he gets the accolades.”

“Go home, Hercules,” I say, stashing my bag in the office and climbing into my chair.

A group of kids walk through the gate including Mrs. Robinson’s kids. A teenage girl holds the hand of the youngest and I assume she’s the babysitter. I focus on the pool but I see Tate corner Henry. I can’t help but wonder what they’re saying and more than once they glance in my direction. Anxiety fills my chest. Tate’s playing some kind of game, and Henry? Even though I don’t want to admit it, I’m attracted to him big time.

A kid, a teenager really, bounces on the diving board, flying high with his arms stretched wide, before slicing through the water in a perfect dive. He emerges, shaking his hair out of his eyes, comfortable and confident. I glance back at the boys. If only I could navigate these two with the precision of that diver.

Chapter Eight

That night I get a text from Henry. It’s late and the apartment is quiet. I’ve got a writing journal next to me on the bed, opened to a blank, wordless page. I pick up the phone and slide my thumb over the screen.

What are you doing?

Nothing—can’t sleep.

Me either. Come see me.

Now?

On the steps.

That’s so far away.

You’re so lazy. Do you want me to carry you?

Give me five minutes.

I close the journal with a snap and kick off my quilt. It only takes me three minutes to get downstairs.

*

Tricia’s margarita sits half empty on the table in front of her. Josh is at the bar looking for a refill and I sip a soda and try not to puke when I get a whiff of the tequila.

Motorhead is pretty packed for a summer week night. People get excited about dollar fishbowls, I guess. We’ve staked out the back corner, which makes me nervous because it’s so dark that I can’t see how dirty everything really is.

“So, okay, time for the round-up. Me first,” Josh says, joining us at the table. “Davey and I went out three times last week. Once to the movies where he held my hand. Then to play mini-golf where we had our first kiss by the windmill, and then finally he met me for lunch this afternoon between my classes.”

“So does that count in the three date rule?” Tricia asks, between sips on her straw and checking her phone screen.

“Maybe. Depends on the next one I think,” Josh says. His eyes have a dreamy look. He’s smitten alright.

“What about you?” I ask Tricia.

“Work, work, work. I have met this hot intern down at the courthouse though. I may try stalking him a bit.” She brushes her long bangs out of her face. “How are your boys? You hook up with one of them yet?”

I choke on my drink. “Boys?”

“Please, we’ve seen you and Henry coming and going for the last couple of weeks. You guys look chummy.”

“We’re friends,” I admit. Friends who work together, carpool together and sit up half the night talking together. “Just friends.”

“And Tate?” Josh asks. Tricia checks her phone again.

“Tate is good and is super flirty but just a friend.” They both look doubtful. I fiddle with the strap on my sundress. “Seriously. I don’t know what he has going on but something’s up. He may have a girlfriend or something. Maybe he’s taking a break like he said. Whatever it is, there’s no spark between us.”

“You’re hopeless,” Josh says. “Two total hotties and you can’t work it up to make a move on either of them.”

I bite the inside of my cheek because although he’s right, he may not be for long. Henry and I have been getting closer lately. Our past is holding me back and I’m not sure how to deal with it.

“Oh I do have some news to share. Next week, Henry and I are going up to the overnight camp to lifeguard for the weekend. Double the pay and Tate pulled rank on us.

“Overnighter?” Josh raises his eyebrows hopefully. “So Operation Payback is still in effect?”

“No,” I shake my head. “I’m done with that. Henry is a good friend and I’m trying to move past all that hurt and anger. It’s time.”

We leave the bar and hop on our bikes. Even at this time of night it’s hot as hell, but the breeze from riding feels good on my face and my hair blows back, cooling my neck. Tricia and Josh weave their bikes back and forth, laughing like maniacs and I worry one of them will break their neck, but somehow they manage to get back to our neighborhood in one piece.

I lock up my bike and follow my roommates up the stairs.

“Hey,” I hear from the bottom stoop. Henry leans over the railing overlooking the parking lot. The overhead light is out but I can see his outline clearly from the lamps in the parking lot. Loud bass music throbs from inside his apartment.

The smell of smoke wafts over to me and I see the glowing red tipped joint between his fingers. I watch as he inhales and then exhales slowly. A small grin tugs at his mouth. “I’ve never seen you in a dress before.”

“Technically you’ve seen me in a lot less,” I laugh, escaping his gaze and glancing down at the blue dress I’m wearing. I smooth the fabric nervously with my hands until I feel one of his fingers tangle with mine.

“Have you been drinking?” he asks, his tone serious.

“No. Designated biker.”

I reach for the joint and lift it to my lips, taking a hit. My nerves are all over the place sitting out here with him like this. The warmth spreads through my limbs and I know I’ve got to come clean.

He watches my movement in the dark, eyes on my mouth and down to my legs. I’ve managed to get his attention like I’ve always wanted, I know this. But it feels off to me. He means too much. I don’t want to taint this with manipulation.

“Remember that day at the park we were talking about?” I ask. “Back in high school?”

“I do. You wore a black shirt with a tiny skull and cross-bone on the chest.”

I turn to face him. “So you do remember that day.”

“Explicitly.”

“Then you know what you did to me,” I whisper, afraid this may be the final moment we have together. Airing our dirty laundry.

He stubs the joint on the step and rubs his face with his hands. “I know and I’m sorry. I acted like a dick.”

I scoff. “You broke my heart.”

“Don’t say that,” he begs, lifting his eyes to mine.

“You did.”

“I liked you so much. You were different and fun. I wanted to go with you to prom. I’d planned on it and then I had to go to this family wedding and everything went to hell.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I was eighteen and stupid. I didn’t want you to go with anyone else. I was petrified some other guy would ask you.”

“You made sure no one else did,” I say, barely containing the bitterness.

“Look, I was a dick—hands down. I thought I’d make it up to you when it was all over, but you were pissed and I came back to all the Carter shit.”

“Don’t blame this on me,” I say, knowing full well some of the blame lands squarely on my shoulders.

“I’m not. I chickened out.”

I look away, unable to meet his eyes. His stupid, amazing, blue eyes. “I had a crush on you for forever,” I confess. “Like forever. I don’t want it to sound like you doing this thing to me was the end of my life. It wasn’t. It just changed me. I questioned my judgment with guys. My intuition. I thought if you could treat me so badly, others could too.”

“Taking this job this summer was a big risk for me. I thought I was ready to handle this—to handle you, but I was wrong.”

“You handle me just fine.”

“It’s all an act—a dare by Tricia and Josh, who want me to break out of my shell and get over my dramas. I thought maybe I could show you what you missed out on, but that’s just not really me. I’ve liked you for so long, Henry. It feels good to be your friend again. I don’t want to mess anything else up.”

“You’re not messing anything up,” he says, grabbing my arm. “I fucked up. We fucked up. But I’m really ready to get past it.”

He licks his lips and he’s got that look, the decisive one where I know he’s going to kiss me. It’s all I’ve wanted him to do for weeks—for years—but my stomach and head hurt too much.

“Don’t,” I say quietly. “Not now. Not like this.” If this were a cartoon, the girl would have reached inside the boy’s heart and ripped his heart out with her bare hands. That’s what happens when I tell him not to kiss me.

Henry’s crushed. Visibly. His eyes cast downward and his fingers go in his hair. I feel like my heart’s breaking over him for a second time, but I’m not running away this time. “I’m not angry anymore,” I tell him. “I just need some time to figure out how I want to deal with this. I can’t do the wishy-washy, ‘What does Henry want?’ game anymore. When you’re ready, let me know.”

I turn and race up the steps to my apartment, afraid to linger even a moment longer.

Chapter Nine

I drive myself to work the next day, unable to handle the fallout between Henry and myself. Well, more like, I’m unable to handle the brutal honesty and declaration of love I professed for him the night before.

“You’re here early,” Tate says, looking behind me and running a hand through disheveled hair. “Where’s Henry?”

“We didn’t ride together. I had some errands to run.” I hear laughter across the pool deck and see Mrs. Robinson’s kids chasing each other in the grass. “Why are they here so early?”

“Oh, I told her she could drop them a couple minutes early today. She had an appointment or something.”

“So you’re babysitting them now?”

“Just doing her a favor. Single mom and all that.”

I give him a hard look. “Are you screwing her?” He shakes his head but I see the way his jaw clenches. He may not be but he wants to. Badly.  “She has kids. Don’t turn this into some kind of desperate housewives situation.”

“Chicks in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, Pip.”

I frown trying to follow his logic. “What the hell does that mean?”

He crosses his arms which make his biceps as big as his head. “It means I’ve been following your no messing around at work rule but I’m not so sure about you and Henry.”

“There’s nothing going on with me and Henry.”

He laughs. “Maybe not yet, but you two are getting awful chummy. Seems to me like if you guys plan on getting it on at work, then so can I.”

“You’re ridiculous. No one is ‘getting it on’ anywhere. In fact, you’re the one inviting me to parties and hanging out at my house watching TV all night, not Henry,” I argue.

“Not Henry what?”

I spin and find Henry behind me jaw tight and eyes angry. I spot the wadded up note I left on his car saying I’d see him later in his hand and feel a pang of guilt. “Nothing,” I say, tossing my bag into the office and walking away from the guys.

Half way up the ladder to my guard chair, I feel a hand on my ankle. I look down and see Henry below. “Are you angry at me?” he asks.

I slip my sunglasses over my eyes and say, “No. I just thought we could use some space.”

“We had space, three years. Don’t make this worse than it needs to be.”

Tate climbs the other chair and blows the whistle, letting the kids know it’s okay to get in. He stares at me pointedly and holds his hands up in annoyance.

“What’s that all about?” Henry asks.

“Tate was all over me this morning about us being too close to one another and how we’re breaking the deal about not hooking up with people at work.”

“What? We aren’t hooking up.” But he looks guilty because we both know he wanted to kiss me last night and if our world wasn’t imploding, we would have.

“I know but he’s pissy anyway, most likely because he has a hard-on for Mrs. Robinson and he can’t do anything about it.”

“Probably,” he snorts, looking away. His voice turns serious again and he says, “Will you talk to me about this later, because I have some things to say.”

I swallow and keep my eyes on the pool. “If you want.”

“Tonight,” he says, reaching for the safety buoy off the wall. “No bailing.”

“No bailing,” I promise, even though I want to. I’m not sure I’m ready for an apology and I’m not sure I can handle it if he doesn’t offer one.

*

I’ve just gotten into bed when my phone buzzes.  The screen lights up my room and I know who it is. I know what he wants.

Home?

Yeah.

Can we talk?

I guess.

Do I need to come get you?

No. I’ll be there.

He’s waiting on the step, no weed this time, thank god, because I need us both to be levelheaded. I move across from him and lean against the railing, in an attempt to keep my distance. Henry has his hair pulled back in a stocking cap even though it’s hot as hell out here. His black T-shirt accentuates his tan and his bare feet tap nervously on the bottom step.

“This is messed up,” he says, breaking the silence. “What did you mean yesterday when you said Josh and Tricia put you up to this?”

“I had this grand plan to seduce you and show you what you missed all those years ago by ditching me at prom,” I confess.

“You think I don’t know what I missed out on?” he asks. He stands and closes the distance between us. “I knew I messed up the Monday after the dance. I knew I lost my chance with you and I regretted it every day since, but then Josh and Tricia moved in upstairs. I kept my distance, but then you moved in and it was like some kind of cosmic fate. I knew I had to play my cards right. I saw you coming in and out in that stupid ice cream uniform and I convinced Tate to tell Josh about the job, so that we could work together.”

“You set this whole thing up?”

“Yeah, most of it. I thought you’d work with us at the outdoor pool and that took some convincing.”

“To be fair,” I say. “That was Tate’s fault. Him and his hyper-libido.”

Henry smiles and takes a step closer. His hand hovers in the air near my hip but he balls it into a fist. “Can we go back to yesterday? When we were friends?”

“Is that all you want?” I ask, my chest aching. “Just friends?”

“Can I want us to be friends and something more?”

“You want your cake and to eat it too, huh?” I ask with little humor.

“That’s a weird saying. Is it so wrong to want to eat your cake? That’s what you do with cake, you eat it,” he declares. “And yeah, I want you to be my friend and I want you to be more than that, but not at the expense of one another.”

“I don’t know how we do that,” I admit. “I like you, Henry. I always have, but I don’t know if I trust you. Our relationship feels lopsided like we’ll always know I’m more invested and that can’t be healthy.”

He unclenches his fist and tentatively rests his hand on my hip. I don’t fight him. “You never had to seduce me, Zadie. That’s what you’re missing here. You had me from the beginning. Way back—before senior year. There’s nothing lopsided about any of this, other than the fact we’ve waited so long to explore it further.”

He’s so close I could rub a thumb over the stubble on his chin if I wanted. If I let myself. His stomach brushes against mine and my insides fill with butterflies and he cups my chin with his hand. “I want to explore this further if you do,” he whispers.

I’m overwhelmed by his confession and the closeness of his mouth. He smells clean, like he just got out of the shower and I say, “Don’t make me regret this,” but I’m already on my toes, my free hand wound in his shirt.

The first kiss is unbelievably soft. Almost like air. His lips barely touching mine. The second comes faster and I feel his stubbly chin. I take his lower lip between mine, afraid to lose contact.

We break apart and his eyes stay closed for a second longer than my own and when he opens them he says, “I just really, really, really wanted to do that.”

“Same,” I breathe.

A dozen questions run through my mind and I want to ask them all. Henry stops them with another kiss, one that I feel straight to my toes and to every other part of my body, like a wire live with electricity.

“No regrets,” he promises, pushing my back against the wall. I sink into his kiss, tasting his mouth and tongue.

No regrets.

*

He doesn’t kiss me when I get in his car the next morning. Or even when we’re at the convenience store and our hips bump into one another by the candy aisle. He sings an Aerosmith song in my ear and that wire between us coils live and dangerous. Or at least on my end. We play it cool the whole time, but I’m giddy and wracked with nerves. I’m about to burst into tears of remorseful panic. I don’t have the balls to pursue this. I’m too emotionally bound. I’ll never have the upper hand between us. When we reach the parking lot of the pool he leans over and gives me another gentle sweet kiss.

“Oh thank god,” I say under my breath.

“What?”

“I just didn’t want it to get weird, but I’ve been thinking about your mouth since last night and that’s already weird so…right,” I fade off.

“I’ve been thinking of your mouth, too,” he says with a smile, rubbing his hand over mine.

A vehicle pulls up next to ours. It’s Tate in his big blue truck and we both move away from one another on instinct. Tate made it clear the day before he’d be furious if we hooked up on the job while we’d made it so clear he had to stay hands off.

It’s nearing July and the pool is packed. I barely have time to think about Henry over the screaming kids.  Just after lunch, a toddler wandered off from his mother and stepped into the shallow end. Thankfully Tate saw it happen and fished him out before anyone, including the mother noticed.

“You okay?” I ask him during a break. He looks a little pale under his tan. Henry stands nearby with an equally concerned expression on his face.

“I’m just glad I was standing there, you know?”

“I didn’t even see him,” Henry confesses. He was across the pool watching the deep end.

“Me either,” I agree. “Not until I saw you jump in.”

“Why don’t you take the afternoon off man,” Henry suggests. I nod in agreement. Tate looks freaked.

“You sure? It’s crowded.”

“It’s thinning out. You know how the families with little kids go home in the late afternoon.”

Tate agrees and packs up his stuff but still seems visibly shaken. “Want to hang tonight? We can watch Buffy,” I offer. Henry shoots me a desperate look. “Henry can come, too.”

He perks up at the idea and well, the fact Mrs. Robinson just walked by on her way to the parking lot. His eyes are glued to her body. “Awesome. I’ll swing by around eight.”

Tate leaves and I shake my head. “I sort of feel bad depriving him of that.”

“No you don’t. You’d be super pissed if you walked in on them in the showers.”

I cover my hand over my eyes. “Stop. I’ll have to bleach my brain.”

Henry moves closer but just enough so I can hear him say quietly, “I thought for a minute I was going to be deprived of you tonight.”

“You’ll just have to share,” I suggest, pretending not to be horrified at sounding so slutty.

I glance at the clock and see it’s time to blow the whistle for kids’ swim. I pass Henry, letting my fingers brush against his. His fingers tug at the waist of my shorts, slipping them next to my skin. “I’m not good at sharing,” he says before walking back into the sun, whistle perched between his lips.

*

“Thanks for sticking around,” I say to Tricia that night. “I know you’ve been working a lot.” I feel like other than Thursday nights at Motorhead I barely see her lately. She’s agreed to stay for the gathering with Tate and Henry to keep the awkward at a minimum. Thank God Josh has other plans or I’m sure he’d manage to get awkward at an all-time high.

“I’m here for you, babe,” she says, eyeing my frantic pacing around the room with amusement.

We’re in my bedroom, trying on the eighth shirt/short/skirt/dress combo of the night. I toss a T-shirt on the bed.  “Aggh. Nothing’s right.”

“Okay, calm down,” she says, taking me by the shoulders. “What is it you want to convey here. Casual? Sexy? Stepping out of the friend-zone? Toss you on the bed?”

I stand in front of the closet and flip through the hangers. “It’s not a date but I want to look good. I want to drive Henry crazy. I don’t want to give Tate any ideas. We’re watching TV so it needs to be a little causal. So casual-sexy?”

I watch helpless as she digs through the pile of clothes. “Things were a lot easier with Tyler at Elton. We just hooked up at a party and started dating.”

“You and Henry have a history, a weird one, and it makes things more complicated.” She hands me a purple V-neck top and a pair of shorts.  “Here. These will maximize your boobs and your legs. Wear your hair up so he can see your neck. Full coverage but just enough skin to drive an interested guy mad.”

I start to change but stop when I notice Tricia shaking her head. “Change into a better bra. Push those suckers up.”

Thirty minutes later I’m squished between Henry and Tate on the couch and we’re watching Season Six, which I’ve managed to forget is the hyper-sexualized season of Buffy. This is oddly appropriate because things between Henry and I seem to have shifted from zero to 90 in the last 24 hours and I wouldn’t be surprised if we’d burned a hole in the futon cushion between us.

The third time Henry “accidentally” grazes his fingers across the side of my bare thigh, I fight a tremor.

“You feeling better?” I ask Tate.

“Yeah, that whole thing was pretty horrible. I keep thinking about what would have happened if I wasn’t there.”

“But you were,” Tricia says.

“You were on it, man,” Henry agrees. “Lifeguarding in action. Did you fill out a report?”

“I turned it in to Cindy when I left the pool this afternoon. She thinks everything will be okay.” Whenever there is an accident at the pool we have to fill out a series of paperwork and reports and turn them into the main office. Liability and stuff.

Henry props his elbow behind my head and discretely brushes the skin under my ear. Damn him.

“Anyone need a drink?” I ask, jumping to my feet.

“Beer,” Tricia says.

Tate calls out, “Same.”

“I’ll help,” Henry says, following me out of the room.

I’m barely out of the living room when he has me pressed against the refrigerator. Magnets and photos drop around my feet. “Do you feel that?” he asks between kisses and I wonder if he’s talking about the magnetic bottle cap opener digging into my back or something else that I definitely feel pushing against my lower stomach.

“Umm?” I hum into his mouth.

“There’s like a vibration between us. I don’t know if I can go back out there.”

“We have to,” I say twisting away from him even though I don’t want to. “They’ll come for us eventually. Tricia knows but obviously Tate is clueless and he has to stay that way.”

He opens the refrigerator and pulls out four beers, holding two in each hand. I take two away from him. “I’m giving him another hour, then he has to leave.”

“What are you going to do?” I whisper. “Kick him out?”

“Why don’t I just tell him I want to make out with you. He’ll leave, right?”

I shake my head. “We can’t tell him. We explicitly told him he couldn’t date or see or sleep with anyone at work. No way he lets us get away with the same thing.”

A thin line forms on the bridge of his nose as he considers this. God I want to kiss it. Him.

“He’ll punish us and not let us go on the overnight trip and then he’ll probably start screwing Mrs. Robinson and it will be terrible, awful, horribleness.”

“So you want to keep this a secret from Tate?” he asks.

“Don’t you think we should?”

He nods slowly, settling his fingers on my waist. “Whatever you want to do. You’re right, we’ve cockblocked him for weeks. No way he takes that well.”

“I say we keep this between the two of us and see where it goes, okay?”

Henry frowns, his eyebrows furrowing together like he wants to argue or something but instead says, “Okay.” He gives me one last kiss, a deep one, leaving me breathless, picking up photos on the kitchen floor.

*

His hands move against my back, stroking the hot, sweaty skin. We’re drenched and disgusting. I taste the sunscreen on his face and neck, mingled with sweat and I should be repulsed. He should be repelled. From this position, with Henry leaning over me while I’m perched on the office desk, I can tell he isn’t repulsed. He’s turned on, visibly.

“He’ll catch us,” I say.. A couple of kids shriek and scream from the pool deck jarring me into reality. Still, I make zero effort to leave.

“We’ve got to stop anyway,” he agrees, actually pulling away. He turns and adjusts himself, a pained expression on his face.

“Later?”

His eyes bore into mine, “Definitely.”

I watch him leave, shirtless and brown skinned. Two magnificent dimples mark the lower part of his back, just above his shorts, and I can’t wait to feel them, taste them. Ever since this started, my body has been in overdrive, which is bound to steer this straight into a disaster. I don’t want this to be a disaster but now that Henry and I have our chance, I can’t seem to care or place any sort of limitations on our relationship.

“You almost done?” Tate asks from the door. He looks clueless so I guess the pheromones between Henry and I aren’t noticeable. Yet.

I hold up my still full lunch bag but pretend it’s empty. “Yep.”

We take our lunches in shifts, Henry sneaking in during mine to ‘check’ something. Tate’s starts after mine and I notice he’s only got a drink from the refrigerator. He usually eats like a horse.

“No lunch?”

“Oh, yeah, Lisa brought something and said I could have some.”

Lisa AKA Mrs. Robinson. I lift a hypocritical eyebrow.

“You know I can’t say no to home cooked food.”

I give him a pass for that and since I feel a little guilty lying to him about me and Henry. I walk out of the office and through the covered shelter area where Tate has settled into a feast of sorts with Mrs. Robinson and her kids. It’s an odd scene but not entirely out of line. We’ve all made relationships with the families at the pool this summer and if Tate is keeping his hands to himself, then everything should be fine.

If.

I take the long way around the pool, making sure to walk by Henry twice. He keeps his head forward but I know he’s got his eyes on me behind his tinted glasses.

Summer just got so much more interesting.

*

“I had an idea,” Henry says that night. We walked to the diner for dinner and he’s got a huge milkshake he’s sucking down. I’m afraid to even mention my job at the ice cream parlor out of fear he’ll be upset I quit.

“What’s that?”

“I think we should get tattoos.”

I jerk to a stop, forcing him along with me since our hands are connected. “Um, what?”

“Tattoos. Pain and Wonder is just down there and I think it would be sort of cool.” He points to the lights on the tattoo parlor down the strip of bars and shops.

I question for a minute whether or not Henry may be insane or something. “Where is this coming from?” I ask, because I’m fairly certain I never mentioned getting a tattoo.

“Well,” he says, turning to face me. He brushes my hair behind my ear. “I was thinking about your no regrets thing and it’s kind of an awesome idea. Especially since we had all that baggage.”

“No regrets.”

“I mean, we don’t know where this is going to end but we both want to give it a shot. I say we mark it—“

“Literally,” I cut in.

“Yes, literally. Because if we work or not, in a way this signifies a whole new phase in our lives. Dropping the past and moving toward the future,” his smile is adorable and he’s adorable. Even though this is incredibly stupid, I feel the edges of my mouth lifting in a smile.

“No regrets,” I repeat, letting the words and meaning roll over my tongue.

His hand squeezes mine. “Exactly.”

I think that when we get there we will turn around.  Surely, we’ll chicken out but I see the determination in Henry’s eyes and I get what he’s doing. He’s committing. After the damage we’ve done to one another we need to prove we’re both in this for real. No more games or childish behavior.

The guys at the tattoo parlor fit us in that night. I keep my eyes on Henry as the needle injects in my skin. It hurts. Like a mother, but it also feels so good. The buzzing needle vibrates against my skin and it heightens all my senses. “This is so stupid,” I tell him.

“Idiotic.”

I’m flat on my back and he leans over to kiss me. I feel his tongue in my mouth and the piercing needle against my skin and in the midst of sensory overload, I let go.

*

“Your boyfriend is watching us,” Josh says over the loud jukebox music. It’s Thursday night at Motorhead and we’re all finishing our first fishbowls.

“I didn’t tell him to come,” I say. “Swear.”

“You didn’t tell him not to come either,” Tricia clarified.

I feel the sly smile on my face and glance over at the bar. Henry’s hair is curly and wild and seeing him in a tight-fitting T-shirt and cotton plaid shorts makes me a little crazy. We’re half naked near each other so much that when we’re covered it seems to up the tension.

He’s not paying me any attention, drowning his own drink with his roommates, but he wanted to be close. I wanted him to be close.

“So have you guys done it yet?” Josh asks.

“Uh, it’s been like, three days.”

“Yeah, but you’ve waited years,” he says. “I thought you’d be humping like bunnies by now.”

Tricia nods in agreement. “I thought they were having sex in the kitchen the other night when Tate came over. Alas, just getting beer.”

“We’re taking it slow,” I sort of lie. We’ve been making out whenever possible. In the pump room at the pool. Outside his apartment. In the car. It’s frantic and sex-starved, but everything has been over the clothes and we seem to be waiting for something, I’m just not sure what.

“He agreed to that?” Josh frowns.

“No, not exactly. I don’t know how long it will last, but like you said, we’ve been waiting a long time. It’s like this strange friend-to-more bridge we’ve got to get across. Also we’ve got this mutual cockblocking thing going on with Tate.”

“It’s going to be delicious when you do,” Tricia says and Josh smiles wickedly in agreement. “What about this weekend?”

The overnight camp weekend.

“Definitely possible, but I guess it depends on what kind of sleeping arrangements we’re given.”

“If you do it in the woods watch out for snakes,” Josh declares and then shudders.

Tricia and I look at one another and burst out laughing. Henry hears us and turns, smiling in my direction. “Go see if he’ll buy us a round of drinks,” Josh prompts.

I side out of the booth. I’m wearing another dress, on purpose, this time with thin straps that falls just above the knees. I’ve just started toward Henry when I see that he notices me and my skin starts to heat.

“Hey,” I say, meeting him at the end of the bar. I smile at Syd and Charlie, his other roommate.  They wave back.

“Hi.”

“Josh wants you to buy him a drink,” I laugh over the loud music.

“He’s not really my type.” His hand reaches for my hip and rubs the spot only he and I know holds a secret. “But, I’d be willing to spend the two dollars if they’ll let you leave early with me.”

Henry’s blue eyes bore into mine and I lose all my senses. Like pull off my clothes in the middle of the bar, senses. I lick my bottom lip. “I’m pretty sure you can buy them off.”

“Done.”

I wait at the bar while Henry orders and delivers the drinks. Tricia sends me an encouraging wink while taking her first sip. I guess they forgive me for bailing. I feel a tug on my arm and look over. “So you’re the girl,” Syd says.

“Excuse me?”

“The girl that has our boy Henry all wound up,” Charlie clarifies. “We finally officially meet.”

“I don’t know about that,” I say, feeling awkward with their teasing. “But nice to meet you, too.”

Syd’s cute enough, with a lean face and pointy nose. He’s got on a fedora and a shaggy beard. The hipster thing totally works on him. Charlie’s sort of a hyper mess, bouncing in his seat with a wide grin on his face. No wonder they smoke up all the time, trying to calm him down.

“We call Henry ‘The Saint’ because he’s been pining for you for so long,” Charlie says, his smile growing bigger.

“What?”

Henry slides between me and Charlie, cutting off any answer. “You ready?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

With our fingers linked we leave the bar, ignoring the cat calls from our friends. “This seems like a big deal to our friends,” I say, once we’re outside away from the bar smells and sounds. I rode my bike but we ditch it to walk home.

“They want us to be happy.”

We pass the edge of the business district, cutting through campus on the way back to our apartments. “I guess.”

“Josh gave me one of those, ‘don’t mess with my girl’ talks. It was weird.”

I laugh. “Josh is weird. But loyal to the very end.”

We walk down the street like a cheesy newly-dating couple, tangled limbs and goofy smiles. Henry leans in to kiss me often and I taste the beer on his tongue. Every touch between us sparks the fire running just under our skin. “Your roommates like to tease me,” I say, trying to cut the sexual tension.

“I don’t think that was teasing.”

His jaw tenses but he doesn’t seem angry. Something else boils under the surface and I wonder about his ‘Saint’ status. How much truth there is in that nickname. I’ve been accused of many things but being a saint isn’t one of them.

“They’re nice, though. Part of your post-fraternity thing?” A car speeds past us and Henry shifts our positions, putting himself closer to the street. He never loses contact, though, hands shifting fluidly from my hand to my back to my neck to around my waist. Mouth against mine. A trail of heat follows and my stomach burns and twists.

“Yeah, we all played ultimate Frisbee freshman year and got along well. We got the apartment second year.” We’re passing by a cluster of park benches and picnic tables beneath massive magnolia trees on the upper quad. It’s dark and quiet. Henry pulls me to a stone picnic table. He sits down, kissing me the whole time. I climb onto his lap, straddling his legs.

“I love you in dresses,” he says.

The dress leaves me sensitive and exposed against him, only the thin layer of my panties between me and his cotton shorts. I kiss his mouth, face, jaw and throat, licking and biting every inch. His hands tense in tight balls by his side, resisting. We’re in public and I’ve never been much of an exhibitionist but I’ve lost my sense of appropriateness. I reach for his left hand and search for the tattoo positioned on the inside of his wrist. I kiss the words gently.

“I love your skin.” He kisses me on the chest, down the dip between my breasts.  I feel him beneath me hard and ready and I rock my hips against his, seeking friction.

Henry rocks back and pushes my hair over my shoulder. “I love your neck and your ears and this spot, right here,” he says, licking then kissing the inside of my elbow.

“You’re very affectionate,” I say, grinding a little harder. His thumbs graze the underside of my breasts, taunting and teasing.

“I am,” he agreed. “I’m also horny as hell, Zadie Parker and I think you are, too.”

“I can’t have sex with you under a tree on campus.” I’m lying, though. I could and would, but thank god he doesn’t force it. Instead we just keep up the rocking and pace already established. Clothes on.

“We can do this though, right?” he asks.

I kiss him hard, stopping all his talking, and we get busy pressing and pushing into one another. I feel his hands twist in the dress fabric on my back and the slight wave of air on my upper thighs. Back and forth, like two desperate, virgin high-schoolers. It was enough though, and suddenly Henry’s exhaling in my mouth while I’m making the most embarrassing whimpery noises. I clamp my eyes shut and grip his thick hair between my fingers, tugging with each wave. Henry takes advantage of my movements and remains still, steadying himself with his fingers pressed into my hips.

I opened my eyes and find his blue ones staring back at me, tiny wrinkles visible at the edge of his eyes. We both burst out laughing at the shameless act of sexual desperation that just occurred between us.

“That was—,” I search for the right words, between giggles.

“Fucking hot,” Henry finished.

“And awkwardly appropriate?” I say, considering the strange path our relationship had taken over the years. “That’s probably exactly what would have happened to us on prom night three years ago if you hadn’t douched out on me.”

That’s right. In my post-dry-humping glow I’m ready to joke about it.

“Probably,” he laughs, standing up and making a face at his pants. “Damn, that’s all kinds of nasty. Wait here.”

He disappears behind a tree in the dark and comes back tugging his shorts up. “What did you do?” I ask.

“Eh, I ditched my boxers behind that tree. Just a little gift for mother nature.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder and directs me away from the offending tree.

“You’re crazy,” I tell him, pretending to be disgusted, but it’s all fake. The tension between us is already building again. He must feel it, too, because his hands are on me again.

“You’ve barely scratched the surface,” he jokes, leading me past the dorms, finally on our way home. One thing’s for sure, this weekend trip to camp will be a test of our self-control… or lack thereof.

Chapter Ten

“Shit,” I say, digging in my back pack. “I left my shirt and shorts at the pool yesterday.”

“No problem,” Henry says, turning away from the highway. “Just run in and get them.” It’s only 9:00, so I’m surprised to see Tate’s truck in the parking lot. Henry hands me the key to the front gate. “He may have it locked since it’s early.”

Sure enough the gate’s locked and Tate’s not around, so I use the key to let myself in. I head to the office and push open the door. That’s when all hell breaks loose.

“Oh my God!” I shout, covering my eyes, but it’s too late. I’ve seen too much. Way too much.

“Zadie! Shit!” Tate yells. I turn my back and walk out of the office. He whispers something and then mutters, “Ouch,” under his breath. I’m at the gate, willing to let my shirt and shorts go for the weekend, when he grabs me by the arm. “Wait up.”

“Tate,” I whisper yell. “Are you kidding me? We had a deal. And you’re breaking it big time.”

He has the good sense to look panicked. I rub my hands over my eyes. I need bleach. Stat. “I know,” he says. “I fucked up but you know she’s been driving me crazy and it’s not what you think.”

“How, exactly, is that not what I think?”  Lisa. Yes, Lisa, takes that opportunity to come out of the office, tying the strings on her bikini behind her neck. She gives me a blank look and walks into the ladies’ changing room.

“I love her.”

I stare at him, unblinking.

“I do,” he says, when it’s obvious I’m not going to say anything.

We face off until I finally say, “Henry’s waiting for me in the car.”

“Okay, I know you need to go, but I’m serious. I love her and there’s more going on than you know.”

“Of course there is.” I roll my eyes. “I need to go or he’s going to come up here and I don’t think you want that.”

“Can you do me a favor? Can you to keep it quiet until you and I can talk when you get back?”

“You want me to lie to Henry?”

“Just give me a day or two, okay?” he pleads with his stupid green eyes and that pouty mouth. Crap.

“Just a couple of days, but we’re talking when I get back. You can’t keep this up, Tate. She has a family.” I toss my hands in the air and walk back into the office, grabbing my bag that hangs behind the door.

I leave without saying more, uncomfortable with this situation. Seeing Lisa half-naked on the desk didn’t make things any easier. Especially since she had a rocking body for a woman with two kids.

The cool air from the air conditioner blasts against my hot skin when I get back in the SUV. Henry shifts quickly into gear and says, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just talking to Tate for a minute.” The lie feels like lead on my tongue. Why am I even lying about this?  But I promised, and I don’t really want to spend the weekend talking about Tate and his cougar anyway.

Soon, we’ve merged off the highway and we’re taking back roads to the mountains. It’s amazing to think the last time we took this ride up to the lake, I was trying to decide how to deal with Henry Fletcher. It was then that I decided to manipulate and win him over with my discarded Operation Payback. We’d cleared the air and he’d apologized.  I smile at him from the passenger seat, fingers latched with his.

“So what all are we required to do this weekend?” I ask.

“They have this huge annual Greek party up here. The regular counselors and guards get the weekend off if they want, which is why they send us up.”

“No kids?”

“Nope. All adults, or immature, college-aged, drunken adults.” he says. “It’s the Kappa Sigs and Tri-Delts. Total douchefest. I worked it last summer with Tate. Things get a little crazy. Everyone’s drinking and smoking. Tate hooked up with Shelly for the first time up here.”

“I wish he’d stick to co-eds.” I try to appear aloof. “I don’t even want to know the psychological reasoning of why he’s so hung up on Lisa.”

“Nope,” he laughs. “He’s got some kind of cougar fetish. I think it’s the experience thing. I’m sure once summer is over he’ll go back to college girls.”

In light of this information I feel fairly childish about our dry-humping in the park last night and it makes me curious. “What about you? Did you find some lonely sorority girl to hook up with?” He keeps his eyes on the road, swallowing deliberately and I realize I don’t want to know the answer to that question. “Never mind. Seriously.”

We let it drop, which doesn’t exactly feel better, but that’s my own problem. I’m not voluntarily sharing my sexual past with him either. Plus, I’m not thinking about sex with other guys. I can hardly keep my mind and hands off of the guy next to me.

“I worked as a counselor last year at another camp,” I tell Henry. “It was pretty tame, though—a day camp and mostly elementary school-aged kids. We had to get our lifeguard certification, which is why I had it for this job.”

“I knew that—well not that about the certification, but I knew you were a camp counselor.”

I frown. “How?”

“You don’t have the best privacy settings on your Facebook,” he confesses with a sheepish grin.

“You were stalking me?” I ask, feeling a slight thrill in my stomach.

“Not stalking, more like curious.”

His confession equally excites and makes me nervous, wondering how long he kept track of me. Did he see the drama on my wall during the Elton fiasco? Had he trolled photos of me and Tyler? Admittedly, I’d checked his page once or twice but there was never anything damming. I’m lost in my thoughts when we near the camp. The big wooden sign at the entrance is visible and a block or so away, but Henry slows the car and pulls over into a small, empty church parking lot on the side of the road.

“What are you doing?” I ask, as he shifts the car into park. He answers me by leaning over the center console and giving me a kiss. A deep kiss. The kind of kiss you dream about when you’re conjugating verbs in Spanish or taking a shower. The kind I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to do in a church parking lot.

“We have, like, five minutes until we’re supposed to be there,” he says. The idea of a five minute makeout session energizes me and I push back into him, halfway climbing into his lap. I push his sunglasses into his hair. Intense, blue eyes stare back at me and l lean in and lick his bottom lip.

“Damn,” he says, moving his mouth down my neck and pressing his thumbs into my hips. My own hands slip up the front of his shirt. His hard stomach muscles tense and I run my fingers through the fine hair beneath his belly button. He hums with pleasure. Excited by his reaction, I lick my lips and push his shirt up.

“Wait,” he gasps. “Don’t do that. Not here.”

I look around. “What? The church parking lot?”

“Well, that and I’m so fired up about you I don’t want to,” he looks down to his crotch, which is noticeably very, very aroused, “you know, here. And it’s going to happen if you touch me again, because you’re so freaking sexy and everything you do feels so good.”

I kiss him again because he just called me sexy, but I move off his lap so he can regain some composure. While he takes care of that with what seems like some advanced yoga-style deep breathing, I flip down the rearview mirror and smooth my hair back into a tidy ponytail. Red rash spots my throat from Henry’s stubbly chin.

“Sorry about that,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive skin.

“Don’t be,” I say, seeing that he’s calmed down.  I’m buzzing with a sort of irrational delight that I was the cause of his excitement. I gave Henry Fletcher a raging boner on the side of a country road. It feels like a milestone.

*

The camp office is located in a small stone building about a half mile away from the main road. Being in the mountains has the awesome effect of being cooler and less humid than at home. We’re met by the same frazzled-looking woman with short, curly hair and glasses perched on her nose. Her name is Stacy and she looks impossibly more frazzled than before.

“Thanks for coming up,” she says. “This weekend is going to be crazy. I hope you’re ready.”

Henry nods. “Where should we put our things? The lodge like last year?”

“Unfortunately, we have so many attendees for the party this year that we’ve put all the staff into the camper cabins near the lake. There’s plenty of room and not that many of you guys. Take your pick.”

“Great, thanks,” he says, taking the master key she offers. It opens all the cabins in the row.

“Also,” she says, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I had to keep one of the weekday lifeguards for the weekend. You’ve probably met. Shelly?”

We both nod. Henry and I leave the office and get back in his car. We drive down the secluded camp road until we find the cabins. “Think Shelly will be cool? Why isn’t she going to the party?” I ask, removing my bags out of the car.

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine why she would want to be working with us.”

The cabin has a small screened porch and thankfully is air conditioned. The bathroom is connected and there are six sets of bunk beds. Shelly is lying on one, reading a book. She’s got on tiny red shorts and her legs are long and tan. I notice her toes are painted a bright blue.

“Hey guys,” she says, sitting up. Her long blonde hair is in two braids, a look she manages to pull off completely. Her eyes land on me and her disappointment is clear. “Take a bunk.”

Henry and I don’t move right away. We’ve both just had the realization that three people in a cabin has dashed any hopes of us sleeping together. Or anything else. Resigned, I take a step forward and claim one of the lower bunks. When I turn around I see he picked the bed opposite of mine. As if the sexual tension wasn’t high enough already.

“You guys should go ahead and change,” Shelly suggests, her tone sour. She’s pissed about something—maybe about Tate not coming? “We can head down to the pool. I think the first activities start in a couple hours, but Stacy wanted us to go ahead and get ready.”

I take my bathing suit and clothes into the bathroom and shut the door. I hear them talking and laughing outside which is good. She probably hoped it would be the two boys. Once again, Tate managed to throw us under the bus.

Henry changed quickly and we take the path down to the pool. Shelly tells us a lot about her summer—it sounds like she’s had fun. I fight the urge to rat on Tate since it will only cause more drama.

“Remember last year when you guys found that snake in the pool?” Shelly asks.

Henry shudders. “I don’t want to remember it.” He looks at me. “Snakes freak me out. Shelly had to take care of it.”

She laughs and swats him in the arm. “Both the boys were completely useless. It was just a garter snake, nothing poisonous.”

“So this is your sorority bash, right? Why didn’t you take the weekend off?”

“I figured I may as well get paid,” she says, her eyes narrowed. “I love being up here anyway. That’s why I didn’t mind switching jobs.” she says.

We reach the pool and start getting it ready. Henry pulls out all the chairs while I use the net to skim leaves and bugs off the top of the water. Shelly checks the chemicals.

“I think I’m going to jump in before everyone comes down here,” she says, removing her shirt and shorts. We’ve all worked up a sweat in the hot sun.

“Good idea,” Henry says, removing his own shirt. I follow suit, taking off my clothes and leaving them on a chair near the shallow end. I ease into the water, colder than I’m used to since we’re in a cooler environment. Henry submerges, his hair dipping under the water. When he stands the water rolls down his chest, trickling over his well-formed muscles and down his toned belly. I clench my fingers into a fist.

“Is the party going to be as crazy as Henry says?” I ask Shelly, trying to distract myself. I’m wondering if he’s having the same problem since he swims off to the deep end.

“Pure debauchery,” she laughs. “It’s pretty intense. I’m sure you’ll get laid by the end of the night. Jackson Stevens will be all over you.”

I cough. “Uh, yeah, we’ll see.”

Her eyes flick across the pool to where Henry’s getting out of the water. His back muscles tense and strain as he lifts himself to the deck. “I promise you’ll have fun,” she says with a wicked grin.

Twenty minutes later, the first wave of people arrive at the pool. There’s a cookout at a pavilion near the lake and the pool is open all afternoon and evening, so we’re working a regular eight hour shift. Two guys transport a keg down the path in a wagon. Several girls carry stacks of party cups. Oh man.

Everything starts out okay. Shelly and I are in the guard chairs, perched above the pool. Henry walks around the pool making sure everyone is safe. Since they’re adults most people are just chill, talking in clusters or sitting on the pool’s edge.

“Hi,” Henry says during a break a couple hours later. I waved to Shelly to let her know I was going to the restroom since we don’t have adult swim. To my surprise, Henry follows me into the changing room and locks the door.

“Hey,” he says, cornering me for a kiss and wrapping his arms around my waist. “How’s it going?”

“It’s not so bad right now.”

“Wait until the alcohol kicks in,” he grimaces. “You let me know if you have any problems, okay?”

“Problems?”

“These any of these guys get handsy.”

I give him the side-eye. “I doubt that will be a problem.”

“Drunken frat boys and a hot 20-year old that has no idea how hot she is? I may go six kinds of caveman before the day’s over,” he says, kissing me under the ear, eliciting a shiver.

Someone, a girl from the sounds of her giggle, bangs on the door and we pull apart. Henry opens the door to a pair of girls in barely-there bikinis and jerks his thumb in my direction. “Someone got sick in here, we’re just cleaning up.”

“Ew, gross,” she says. Turning to her friend she says, “Let’s just go pee in the woods.”

Henry goes back out to the pool and I ‘clean up’ the mess.  Even in the short time I’ve been away from my guard chair things have gotten more rowdy. The guys are hauling in their second keg and several couples are playing chicken in the shallow end. We’re supposed to keep the pool open until dark, but I’m not sure these kids are going to make it.

Just before dinner, a guy swaggers up to my chair. He has shaggy blond hair with mirrored sunglasses pushed into the curls. “Hey,” he says, leaning his elbow on the base of the stand.

“Hi.” I glance down quickly but refocus on the pool. The three of us are on pretty high alert. Two girls already got sick near the deep end.

“Are you a friend of Shelly’s?” he asks.

“Uh, no. Not really. We just work together sometimes.”

“You look familiar,” he says. His eyes are a grayish blue, pretty enough but not deadly like Henry’s. I search the pool deck and find him standing on the edge of the pool talking to a couple of girls who are waist deep in the water.

I glance down and don’t recognize him. Shrugging, I say, “I don’t think we’ve met.”

He takes a sip of his drink, his expression thoughtful. “You go to the university?”

“I do.” I push my whistle between my lips and blow. “Hey guys, don’t do that,” I say to a pair of knuckleheads shoving two other guys’ heads under water and holding them there. The both lift up their hands in submission before fist bumping. The two guys emerge from the water gasping for breath. I sigh and say out loud, “They’re worse than the kids.”

“Freshmen,” the guy next to me says. “We let some of them come up for pre-rush every summer. It’s always a mistake. A hilarious mistake, but still. By the way, I’m Jackson.”

Of course he is.

I look over at Shelly and sure enough she has a big grin on her face and she mouths, “Told you.”  I shake my head but say to him, “I’m Zadie.”

“Well, Zadie,” he says with admittedly the loveliest southern drawl. “I’ll let you get back to work, but hopefully we’ll meet up again sometime. Under less distracting circumstances.”

“Sure,” I say noncommittally. Henry’s finally checked in on my situation and he’s got a hard look on his face. His jaw tenses and eyes narrow, and it makes his already handsome face strong and angular.  If this is the caveman thing he was talking about, I like it. Rawr.

Jackson must have realized I’ve finished talking to him because he saunters away, linking arms with a bikini-clad Tri-Delt. I glance back up and lock eyes with Henry. Over the pool, filled with two dozen drunk, obnoxious people, I can feel the spark between us.

A loud shriek breaks our connection and I check my watch. We only have an hour left, I think, sitting up a bit straighter. Feels like an eternity.

We spend that last hour trying to keep everyone in and around the pool safe. It’s harder and harder to do with everyone so drunk. The guys bring down a third beer and another cooler of margarita. Half the party is standing on the tables and chairs dancing and I’m having flashbacks to my own ill-fated drunken exploits.

We’re all relieved when Stacy finally comes down and announces dinner for the partiers. Once the pool is clear she walks over to us and says, “How are things going?”

“They’re heading toward a lawsuit,” Henry replies, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I think we should close up the pool. Everyone is too drunk and I’m worried about someone getting hurt.”

She eyes us like we’re trying to get out of something but Shelly and I chime in our concerns as well. Stacy fusses with her glasses and hems a bit, but finally concedes. “Okay, but at least two of you need to stick around here so no one will climb the fence and drown.”

A loud shout and screech tears through the woods and we all turn in the direction of the cookout. She unhooks another key from around her neck. “Lock up the pool and get some dinner. Come back after an hour or so and just keep watch. You guys figure out who’s working. Let me try to contain this.”

“I’ll stay,” I blurt the second her back’s turned. “Shelly, you should just go to the party. They’re all your friends.”

Henry’s face lights up. “Good idea.”

“I don’t know,” she says, giving Henry a long look. “I’m thinking Henry and I should take one for the team since we’re the most experienced.”

“Experienced at what,” I argue. “Watching an empty pool?”

Henry grabs my arm gently and says, “Let’s get cleaned up and then go eat. We’ll figure it out.”

Shelly claims the shower first back at the cabin. “What’s she doing?” I ask. “Why does she keep trying to work more?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “Once she gets a couple drinks in her and hanging with her friends, she’ll forget about it.”

I rummage through my clothes. I didn’t really bring anything nice to wear. Just a couple of T-shirts and an extra bathing suit. I lay it all out on my bed, trying to decide. Henry picks up the top of the strappy, black and white striped, two-piece. “I haven’t seen this before,” he says.

I pluck it from his hands. “That’s because you tend to see me strictly in red athletic bathing suits.”

“I’ve seen you in a bikini,” he says. “When you came to the pool with Josh that time. The tight number. It was hot.”

“Did you just say number?” I shake my head at his dorkiness. God love him.

Shelly cracks the door to the shower and sticks her head out wrapped in a towel. She holds another one to her chest. “I’m finished if you want to come in,” she says before disappearing back into the bathroom.

I reach for my towel and clothes but Henry stops me. He slips his hands around my waist, tugging me closer. “Do me a favor.”

“What?”

“Wear that bikini under your clothes. We’ll make the most of the night shift.”

I gulp and uselessly feel my face color at the ideas circulating in my head, adding the bathing suit to my pile of clothes.

*

We grab a couple platefuls of food and try to slip back to the pool unnoticed. I say ‘try’ because Shelly presses a cup of beer into Henry’s hand before we can make our escape and Jackson follows me through the food line asking me a gazmillion questions.

“Are you in a sorority? Did you rush? Where are you from? What’s your major? Can I get you a drink?” he asks, while suggesting different items of food. I’m about to tell him to buzz off when he offers up the following pearl, “I’m not drunk, you know, I’m just intoxicated by your presence.”

“Wow, really?” I ask, completely flabbergasted.

His eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Too much?”

“Just a little.” Henry catches my eye, having bolted from Shelly and we manage to get back to the pool without any clingers. We eat dinner on our towels, laid across two lounge chairs pushed together. As the night sky darkens, the party in the pavilion rages on, the sounds and vibrations bouncing off the forest trees.

Henry’s freshly showered scent is intoxicating, perfuming the night. We’ve found our own quiet oasis. After we eat, he decides to go for a swim. Well, that we should both go for a swim. I eye his body greedily as he strips off his shirt, revealing those taut, tan muscles and the two delicious dimples at the bottom of his back.

He jumps in the pool and waves me over.

“Come in the water,” he says, ducking his head underneath. I scoot to the edge of the pool and his head pops up near my feet. Water drips down my legs as he reaches for them and tugs me toward him. “Scared?”

“Of the water? No. Of you? A little.”

He finds my tattoo, inked over my hip. His thumb rubs over it sensuously and my stomach flutters from his gentle touch. I ease into the pool and he pulls me close, the strings of my bikini floating around us. “You don’t have to be scared of me,” he promises. My hands touch his chest, feeling the hard muscles and smooth skin. I’ve wanted time to explore his body for weeks now—years—and now I’ve got my opportunity.

The water breaks down our barriers and I feel his hand and fingers everywhere. On the small of my back. On my stomach and hips. Just beneath my breasts. I tip my mouth up and I’m met with a powerful kiss. I’ll never get used to the way he tastes and feels, the way it’s as perfect as I’d always hoped.

We move through the dark, Henry directing us to the shallow end until I’m sitting on a submerged step. He kneels before me, never losing contact, his hands or mouth always connected with some part of my body. He stops suddenly, pushing my hair out of my face with a wet hand. “I remember the first time I wanted to kiss you,” he says.

“Last week, outside your apartment?”

He shakes his head. “No, senior year after the regional championship. We were celebrating at Justin Malone’s house and you had on that tie-dye T-shirt, knotted at the waist. Your hair was long and wavy from showering after the meet and you looked so happy, and I felt so happy because we’d won. My relay came in first place and I felt on top of the world.”

“So why didn’t you?” I ask, amazed that he’s revealing this.

“I chickened out. You were so out of my league.”

I snort which leads to a coughing fit. “Me? Yeah right. You were the popular one with all the friends and parties and stuff. I was a clinger who occasionally got invited to smoke up with you guys.”

He runs his hands over my legs beneath the water. “Friends and parties are easy. You and your friends didn’t care about all that. You floated in and out of all the groups.”

“We were nerds.”

“Hot and nerdy,” he says, kissing my forehead and then nose and then mouth. His confession turns me on and I pull him closer by the waistband of his trunks until he’s settled between my legs. “It’s another regret that I have when it comes to you. Not taking that chance. Because I was scared.”

He’s got a serious look on his face. “What are you scared of now?” I ask.

“Blowing everything with you again.”

“How? Why?”

“Pushing you too fast. Or too slow. Coming off as a horny punk, which I am, by the way. A complete and utter horny punk, looking to steal your virtue and feeling guilty about it.”

I reach for his face, turning it so he’s looking at me. “I hate to tell you but my virtue is long gone.”

Henry lifts an eyebrow. “I didn’t mean to imply that I thought you were a virgin.”

“Good, because I’m not and I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed for you too,” I say. “Why are we talking about this?” I take his arm and touch his own ink. “No regrets. That’s where we are. Not back then. Here. Now.”

He nods and distracts himself by plucking at the strings around my neck. “These strings are killing me.”

“Yeah, so are these pants,” I shoot back, attempting to shimmy them down his hips to no avail.

“Babe, we take our clothes off and there’s no going back,” he says. “And we’re at the pool with Kappa Sigs nearby.”

As if to prove his point, music filters through the woods from the pavilion. I straighten up, which only places my chest right in front of his face. Struggling to look in his eyes, I toy with the tiny bow in between my breasts. “If I was one of those sorority girls this weekend, would we be having this conversation?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, would you worry about being caught or taking things slow or would you just be thinking about screwing around?”

His intense eyes widen and fill with understanding. “If everyone was in agreement I’d be thinking of screwing around.”

“I’m not the kind of girl that needs satin sheets and roses, Henry. I want you, too. I’ve wanted you for a really long time. I’m not going to regret this.”

Henry lifts me out of the water and I wrap my legs around his waist. Wet and slippery, he clumsily carries me over to a lounge chair, lowering my body down to the mesh seat. I scoot back, giving him space to join me and with a quick grin he climbs over me, going straight for my chest. My top is gone in a blink.

“You’re kind of unreal,” he says with one hand on my chest while gliding the other up my leg. He eagerly tugs at the knotted strings at my hips. My nerve endings explode at his touch and my body reacts with pure desire. I dig my nails into his back.

When he looks at me again his face is serious. Lustful. I reach down to untie one of the strings but he’s impatient and pulls them off all together. The cool air hits my warm skin and I’m exposed. He removes his own shorts, covering my body with his.

He enters me quickly. Sure of himself. The chair creaks under our weight and I laugh into his mouth.

“What?” he says, moving inside me. His eyes never leave my chest.

“I’m afraid we’re going to break this chair,” I whisper. My body doesn’t care though, the rickety chair and muffled noises from the pavilion adding to the intoxicating feel of the moment. It’s not much longer before my legs shake and quiver, while the chair squeaks obscenely, rocked by my euphoria.

Henry’s body is coated with sweat and he closes his eyes and finishes, bliss taking over his features. His full weight presses against me and the seat groans.

“Wow,” I say, pushing his damp hair out of his eyes.

He opens his mouth to say something but the chair makes one final crack and one leg tumbles us both to the ground. Laughing, Henry rolls me on top of him and I’m straddling him naked on the gritty pool deck.

“Only us,” he says. I frown in confusion.

“Only us what?”

“This could only happen to us,” he clarifies, running his fingers between my breasts down to my bare stomach. “It’s sort of perfect, for us at least. We’ll never have that cheesy romantic thing—like you said. Satin sheets and roses. Good grief, we just did it on a broken lounge chair while a party rages on a hundred yards away. I’m not sure I’ll ever get anything right with you.”

I lean down to kiss him. “You’re right. It was sort of perfect. One thing’s for sure, I’ll never forget our first time,” I say. “And everything about it was right, even if it was terribly wrong.”

He stands, pulling me with him and we both jump in the water, washing off the dirt and sweat from the night.

Chapter Eleven

“Well, well, well,” Shelly says the next morning from the doorway of the cabin. Henry and I are wrapped around one another, sleeping under a thin sheet. We’ve got our clothes on, well I’m in a tank and pajama shorts. Henry’s shirtless in a pair of cotton shorts. “That explains a lot.”

I blink, trying to open my eyes in the bright sunlight, while Henry rubs his face and hides his eyes behind my back. Guess he’s not embarrassed. Frankly, I’m not either. Maybe I would be if she’d known what we’d done by the pool or much later in this very bed, but she doesn’t. That’s between me and Henry.

“Explains what?” I ask, shielding my eyes. Shelly flops on her bed and it creaks under her weight. She looks rough and worn out from the night before.

“Why you two volunteered to come up here and why Tate ditched. Plus you two volunteering to work last night,” she says with a knowing smirk. “Like you were doing me some kind of favor.”

“Tate pulled rank and made us come up here.” Of course, I now know he sent us up here to get us out of his hair with Lisa, but again, she doesn’t know that. “Plus, he doesn’t even know about me and Henry.”

“Well, it definitely explains why you turned down Jackson Stevens.  And why—, “ she narrows her eyes behind me, at Henry’s sleeping form. “Never mind.”

Dealing with Shelly’s vague comments isn’t how I want to spend my morning. My first morning after sleeping with Henry.  He’s ignoring Shelly completely, pressing his body (and parts of his body) against my back.  She must decide we’re not worth the time, because without another word, she gathers her stuff and heads to the shower.

Once I hear the water start, I roll over and face Henry. His eyes are closed but his tiny smile lets me know he’s awake. “Care to share what that’s about?” I ask.

His smile turns to a grimace and he slowly opens his eyes. Henry Fletcher’s blue eyes first thing in the morning. Swoon. “She had plans to hook up with Tate this weekend.”

“Obviously.”

He rolls over to his back and looks at the underneath of the top bunk. “I think she thought she could switch that over to me when she realized he wasn’t coming.”

“Why would she think that?”

“We may have hooked up—not slept together,” he clarifies, “but hooked up once or twice.”

“Ew—after Tate?”

“Before Tate,” he says.

“Gross.”

“I’ve known her since freshman year. She even has this on and off again thing with Charlie.” He burrows his face in my neck and his lips start to roam over the sensitive skin. “Can we stop talking about her now?”

“I guess,” I say. I’ve already moved my hands to his waist. I’m not jealous of Shelly. I can tell—no feel—how much Henry wants me. “What should we do about Tate?” I ask. “Everyone else knows.”

“I say we play it cool and see how it goes. Nothing obvious. He’ll be pissed when he finds out.”

“I guess if he can’t make out at work we can’t either,” I say. “Stupid rules.”

Henry laughs. “It’s your own fault, you know, you made them.”

“How was I supposed to know this would happen?” I ask, but the way he looks at me makes me think I was a fool to not consider it. Henry and I are a done deal.

Keeping our hands off one another becomes a challenge when we get back home and to work. Having sex only lit the fire between us, and two days later we’re avoiding contact while working our positions at the pool. By avoiding, I mean obsessively watching one another and sneaking touches whenever Tate isn’t looking. I’m starting to think we should all just come clean.

“No,” Tate says when I suggest he tell Henry what’s going on between him and Lisa. “No one can know.”

“Well, I know.”

“Yeah and it’s not good.”

“What’s the big deal? You’re fucking an older woman.” He appears started at my language, but I shrug, refusing to think of it as anything else. “No one cares.”

“I care,” he says, looking a little upset. “You can’t tell.”

“I’m not a blabbermouth,” I tell him, walking back to my chair. I pass Lisa on the way, her sitting with her back to the pool so she can chat with her other mom friends.  Unbelievably, for a woman with two kids, she has tight, washboard abs and the obnoxious smirk she wears when I walk by is enough to make my blood boil. Why does she have to be such a jerk about it? Does she think I’m jealous?

“What’s wrong,” Henry asks when he sees my still-frustrated expression during the next adult swim.

“That Lisa chick rubs me wrong,” I tell him.

He glances over to where she’s begun setting out dinner on one of the patio tables. Tate’s and I have the closing shift, but he’ll most likely eat dinner with her, like every other night lately. “She’s pretty comfortable,” he agrees. “Maybe Tate’s sleeping with her anyway.”

I bite my lip to keep from saying anything. Henry doesn’t press it, though. “I’ll see you tonight?” he asks. “Syd and Charlie invited some friends over, want to hang?”

What I want is hours of naked time with him, but we’re in no rush. “Yeah, I clean up and come down around nine.”

Lisa spreads her dinner out on the table and to my surprise a tall, handsome man walks into the pool. He’s wearing comfortable clothes but no bathing suit and his face lights up when he sees Lisa.

“Who’s that,” I ask Tate.  Tate’s face turns pale and I whisper, “Holy shit,” under my breath.

Lisa stands and gives the man a kiss on the cheek and the kids scramble to hug him. Yep. Daddy’s here.

“I thought she was divorced?”

“Yeah, about that,” he says. “She’s not exactly divorced. Not yet.” This whole situation is just getting worse and worse. The obvious guilt on Tate’s face confirms that fact he knew about the husband. I’m weighing my options when he says, “You’ve got to help me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“I’m serious Pip, her husband is on to us and he can’t find out.”

“Well then, stop fucking his wife,” I say. “This is why you took me to that party right? And hung out at my house? You weren’t taking a break at all. You just needed a buffer from the sorority girls.”

Tate runs his hands over his face. “I wasn’t using you if that’s what you’re implying.”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying and I have the feeling you’re about to do it again.” Same old narcissistic, self-absorbed, douchey Tate. I feel like an idiot.

“Zadie, I’m serious when I say I love her. Honestly, I’ve been in love with her since the beginning of the summer. It’s why I started hanging out with you and not at the frat house. It’s one of the reasons I took you to the superhero party. I didn’t want other girls hitting on me.”

Wow.

“Things are complicated though and she needs time to figure things out,” he continues. “If you’ll just do one thing for me it will all be okay and he’ll stop digging around.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“He’ll take her kids. The money, the house. She’ll have nothing.”

I want to argue that her husband has every right to do those things but Tate turns those green eyes on me and pouts his lips and he looks so desperate I find myself caving. Stupid Tate and his damn Jedi Mind Trick. “Tate…” I’ve got nothing else to say.

“Look, all you have to do is just pretend to be my girlfriend? Maybe that way he’ll back off a little.”

Tate Christensen wants to be my fake boyfriend and Henry Fletcher wants to be my real boyfriend. What alternate universe have I stumbled into? “Just this once?”

He can’t even fight the smile of victory. “Yes, just tonight. We’ll go over. I’ll introduce you. Maybe a kiss on the cheek and done.”

I sigh and look at the happy family across the pool, eating pasta salad and fruit. “Once, but you’ve got to knock it off, okay?”

He looks relived for the first time since Lisa’s husband arrives and gives me a big bear hug, lifting me off the ground. “Thank you,” he says into my ear. “You won’t regret it.”

There’s that word again and I’m starting to wonder how great a philosophy it is. Regardless, I follow Tate to the shelter and plaster a smile on my face. His fingers slip between mine and I can’t help but notice the missing spark that I have with Henry.

“Tate,” Lisa says with a forced grin. “You’ve met my husband, Eric, right?”

“Sure, you came by a couple weeks ago and we met then.” Tate offers his hand.

“Nice to see you,” Eric says cordially.

“Have you met my girlfriend, Zadie?” Tate says. Lisa doesn’t even flinch. “She works here also.”

“No,” Eric says, giving me a bit warmer smile. If he’s suspicious he doesn’t show it. “Must be fun working with each other.”

“Zadie’s a lucky girl,” Lisa says. She’s so disgusting. Out of spite, I place a possessive hand on Tate’s chest.

“The luckiest,” I say.

Tate worms his arm around my waist and pulls me tight. I pinch his back but he’s made of muscles and he doesn’t loosen his grip. Jerk.

I make a big show of checking the time and say, “Oh look, break is over. I better get back to work.” I smile nicely at everyone and attempt to make a break. Tate has other ideas and bends down and kisses me. I’m stunned into some sort of hazy submission. He tries to slip me the tongue and I push back on his chest, using my utter embarrassment to the benefit of this charade.

“Not at work, babe,” I say, narrowing my eyes and managing to wiggle out of his arms. I feel the scrutiny of everyone at the table and make my escape, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.  Just this once, I remind myself. It better be, because I can’t imagine Henry being okay with another one of those kisses.

*

Consumed by the stress of too many secrets, I willingly join in the circle at Henry’s that night. It’s the first time I’ve smoked with his roommates, but they’re laid back and easy to get along with. To my surprise, Shelly was huddled close to Charlie on the couch when I walked in. When I lifted an eyebrow in question Henry just shrugged and kissed me on the mouth.

“You taste like candy,” he says, kissing me again. Out of guilt and disgust I’d come home from work and brushed my teeth twice. Then I sucked on several pieces of hard candy.

His tongue lingers in my mouth and the pit of my stomach flip flops.

“How was closing?” he asks, pulling me down into his lap. The television is on a black and white movie. I notice subtitles at the bottom. Apparently Charlie is the film major who watches anything and everything he can get his hands on. No genre is off limits. I can’t figure out what this one is about, but at least it’s not porn.

“Uneventful,” I lie. “Same old, same old.”

The boys talk some and I try to remain neutral to Shelly, even though she seems to watch our every move. Her interest makes me uncomfortable, but I realize I need to get over it. According to Henry she’s harmless, so I decide to play nice.

“How’s camp?” I ask.

“Pretty good. I had a couple of days off so I came home.”

“You live in the sorority house?”

“Nah, I have an apartment with some other girls.” She reaches in her pocket and pulls out her phone.

“Smile,” she says, holding up her camera. I’ve loosened up enough to pose with Henry. I laugh while he nibbles on my ear, the sensation flaring up and down my body. She photographs everyone else, including a dozen of herself making various poses.

“I like your necklace,” she says, while Henry repacks the bowl on the table next to us. “See how cool it looks with this filter?”

I take her camera and flip through the photos. She does have a neat filter, making everything vivid and bright. “So no one cares if you hang who you hang with? Like Greeks or non-Greeks?” I ask, handing it back to her.

“Eh, not really. We have required events and stuff but otherwise no one cares much.” Charlie lays his arm around her neck. She responds by nuzzling into his side. I get the desire for closeness because the weed is making my skin sensitive and every time Henry brushes against me I have to fight the urge to pounce on him.

My battle stops the third time the pipe comes around, Henry turns me around, positioning me so that I’m straddling his lap, legs bent in the chair. “What?” I ask, laughing at the determined set of his jaw.

He kisses me, wetting my lips before takes a hit from the bowl. When he leans forward, I welcome it, pressing my mouth to his. He shotguns the smoke directly into my lungs and I feel the vague burn in my chest. I hold it, or I think I do, because once his mouth connects with mine, my mind and body give into hazy desire.

Henry doesn’t stop kissing me when the smoke is gone, leaning us both over to hand the pipe to someone else. I lift up, trying to reach him better, and I feel the pressure of his fingers digging into my lower back.

“Dude,” Syd’s voice carries through the fog and we separate. I look over my shoulder at the two smirking guys and a wide-eyed Shelly playing with her phone.

“Get a room or knock it off,” he says with his head lazily on the couch.

I pull away, embarrassed. Henry shrugs and stands, lifting me in the air with his arms. He almost drops me, because I’m not ready for his quick movement. I manage to fling my arms around his neck and wrap my legs around his hips, instead of tumbling to the floor.

“Bedroom?” he asks, already walking in that direction.

“Yes, please,” I whisper back, uncaring of how desperately needy and horny I look to his roommates. When I do glance back, I see they’re fully engrossed with the movie.

Henry tosses me on his bed and I land on a smooth comforter. I tug at my shirt. “Why are we wearing so many clothes?” I ask.

“No fucking clue.” He yanks his shirt over his head and does the same to mine. They both land on his desk, knocking stuff to the floor. He attacks my shorts next and soon they’re in the pile along with his and I’m lying in my bra and panties while he stands over me buck naked, erection bobbing into his stomach.

I get to my knees and he does the same. My hands wrap around him, hard and ready while he struggles with the clasp on my bra. “Jesus, do I need a code for this thing?”

“Let me do it,” I laugh, batting away his hands.

“No way, I can do it.” He sets his jaw in determination. This only motivates me to lean forward and lick the hard lines of his chin. I push him to his back and straddle my legs over his hips. “Fuck it,” he says, now that my breasts hover over him. There’s a greedy gleam in this eyes and he yanks the cups down in frustration, so my nipples are visible. Palming my breasts he brings his mouth to one.

“You’re ridiculous,” I laugh or more rightly, squeal. That quickly turns into a moan because he’s skilled with his mouth and even more so with his hands, which have found their way into my panties.

“Ridiculously awesome,” he says, trying to keep a straight face.  It’s impossible, though, and we giggle our way through, still high and definitely giddy. My mind relaxes while every nerve on my body feels heightened.

I’m ready for him and I want him. I express this by tugging and pulling at his body—reaching for his dick. His blue, heated eyes stop me cold and his head disappears between my legs, his mouth and tongue working lazily against my body. I thread my fingers in his hair, rolling my hips to the rhythm we’ve set. He brings me to the very edge before lifting his head. His fingers grab my hips and he slides me down the bed, pushing inside. The pressure and speed of his move elicits a gasp.

I only last moments more and he follows behind me, resting his exhausted, sweaty, slippery body on mine.

“You’re right,” I say once I catch my breath.

“About what?” He’s resting his chin on my boobs and looks up with glazed-over eyes.

I run my finger along face. “You are pretty awesome.”

Chapter Twelve

Our lust makes us careless, or at least uncaring about our prior rules for sex at work.  Heated kisses in the pump room. A hand job behind the locked office door. Tate’s distracted by Lisa and we can’t get enough of one another.

“Summer romance suits you,” Josh says, from the lounge chair next to mine. It’s Tuesday, my day off, and I’m up here because I’m obsessed. My roommate lowers his glasses and checks me out. “Or at least sex does.”

“I’d call you a pervert or something, but it’s true. Sex with Henry is pretty great.”

“I’ve heard,” he says with a knowing smile. His bedroom is next to mine. “I don’t blame you, though. He’s got a killer body. Once I got my hands on that I’d have a hard time leaving it alone.”

“Davey’s not enough for you?”

“He’s enough but he’s gone home for the holiday.”

“Too bad.”  I close my book and tuck it under my seat. “I’ve been meaning to ask what’s going on with Tricia lately? She’s never around.”

“Funny, she asked the same thing about you.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ve just been pretty focused on Henry lately.” He holds up his hands. “I’m not judging. Just stating the facts.”

“Well, she’s not around either,” I say. “At least I have a reason.”

“She has a reason, but maybe you should ask her what it is.”

“You’re not going to tell me.”

“No way. I learned my lesson about getting in between the two of you in the ninth grade when you both had a crush on Ricky Richardson and got in that slap fight in front of the front hall trophy case.”

“I apologized for that.”

He sighs. “Just talk to her, okay? Make an effort.”

“Fine. I can do that.”

“So,” Josh says, shifting gears. “I saw some photos of you and Henry getting quite close on Instagram the other day.”

“What photos?” I rack my brain and come up empty.

He picks up the phone and taps the screen. “Here.”

“Ugh,” I say, scrolling through the photos. Picture after picture of me and Henry making out. I’m straddling his lap and his hands are all over my backside. At least the weed and paraphernalia are not in the shot. “Who’s account is this?”

“It says ShellybeanD3?”

“Freaking Shelly,” I sigh. “I was stoned and horny.”

“Your two weaknesses.”

I wonder if Henry’s seen this and if it would upset him. Probably not. Not much does, but I don’t like the exposure. Not after the video and all the fallout last year.

We both stare at Henry across the pool talking to Tate. It’s the week before the Fourth of July and many of the families are out of town so things are a little slow.

“I think you should go fuck him now,” Josh declares.

“What? No,” I say. “I mean, sure I want to, but there’s the whole ethics of the ‘no sex at work’ thing and Henry’s on duty. Plus, Tate is right there and well, where would we even do it?”

“Well, obviously the water is out. How about the office?”

“No.”

“Quickie in the car?”

I consider it for a moment, but it’s 98 degrees outside. We’d suffocate. “Too hot.”

What the hell did I mean, too hot? I’m not seriously considering this.

“What about the changing room? It’s pretty spacious in there, shady and cool. There’s even a bench.”

“Someone could walk in and Henry’s working,” I argue.

Josh sounds pretty excited about this now and throws his legs over the side of the chair. He leans toward me conspiratorially. “Okay, this is what we’ll do. You walk into the changing room and get Henry to follow you. Lock the door. I’ll distract Tate.”

“I don’t know,” I say, but one look at Henry and my libido overtakes me. He’s got both arms stretched up to the top of the shelter roof, fingers hooked over the edge. The waist band of his pants slides down revealing the white, non-tan skin. The soft, downy hair of his happy trail fully exposed. I ball my fists in determination and stand. “Let’s do this.”

With my shoulders back and my chest forward, I make my way across the pool. I’ve already attracted Henry’s attention. Even Tate sees me coming, but then again, I’m wearing a bikini, which is pretty much all it takes. I pass the boys and tilt my head, suggesting Henry follow me. I don’t look back, but feel him behind me and sure enough, I’ve barely made sure the changing room is clear when he appears in the doorway.

“What’s up,” he says, eyes everywhere but my face. He’s oblivious though, which makes this even more exciting.

“Lock the door.”

Henry’s eyebrows shoot upward and a silly, sexy grin forms on his lips.  He turns the lock and closes the space between us. His skin is hot from the sun, greasy with sunscreen. The surprise make-out seems to be something he’s into; at least I assume this due to the noticeable tightness in his pants.  His fingers tug and pull at my bikini top but I stop him, pushing him toward the benches.

“Sit,” I direct. He follows my orders and slides his back down the wall until he’s sitting. I kneel before him and his jaw drops.

“Yeah?” he asks. I nod and paw at his waistband and that’s all the instruction he needs. Moving quickly, erratically, he lowers his shorts and his erection springs free. His trunks fall to his ankles.

I run my hands up and down his thighs, pushing his legs apart. I make sure to “accidentally” graze his cock in the process. This elicits the hottest, genuine shudder and he expels a long shaky breath. His pleasure makes me bold. I know we’ve only got a few minutes. Josh can only distract Tate for so long.

“Ready?” I ask. Henry mimics me licking my lips.

“Uh, duh. I mean, yes, please.” I roll my eyes and bend down. Tasting the tip and then the sides. I take him in whole.

“Oh man,” he mumbles, pushing one hand into my hair and the other on my breast. A few minutes is all it takes and I have Henry worked into a trembling mess. “Pip,” he breathes, pushing at my hair but I don’t stop. Instead, I hold onto his hips, absorbing the convulsions that jolt through his body as he comes.

Eyes closed, Henry sinks back into the wall, his breath heavy and strained.

“You better go,” I tell him, even though I’m horny as hell myself.

“Just like that?” he asks. “No cuddling?”

“Sorry, babe. We can cuddle later.”

“Damn right, we can. And will.” His voice cracks like a twelve year old.

I walk over to the sink and mirror and make a lame attempt to straighten my hair and top. Henry’s face appears behind mine in the mirror and I feel his hand on my hip. I turn around.

“You’re the best,” he says, his eyes filled with utter sincerity. He’s pretty freaking adorable.

“You’re welcome?” I ask, more than say. I don’t think he hears me because I’m engulfed in a massive hug. His arms squeeze me so tight I can barely breathe.

He finally releases me with a kiss, then unlocks and opens the door. Sunlight and heat burst into the room. I wait for a beat, squinting at the bright light. There’s no one around so I follow him out, adjusting the ties at my hips. No need to expose myself to everyone at the pool.

I round the corner of the short hallway from the changing area and hear Tate call my name. “Zadie! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“You were?”  Something about his voice sounds off and I look around. Josh is walking back to his chair and Henry’s already on his way back across the pool.

“Yeah, babe,” he says, throwing his arm around my shoulder. “Wanted to make sure you were all in for the party on the fourth?”

“The party?” I ask, trying to follow.

“At the frat.” His eyes dart to the right, while flashing an encouraging, mega-watt smile. I glance over and see Lisa and her husband under the shelter. Admittedly, he does seem pretty interested in our conversation. “Remember?”

“Oh, right, of course. I’m all in,” I say.

“Great,” he says, giving me a hug, not unlike the one Henry just gave me in the bathroom. Well, physically it’s the same. The emotional connection falls flat. Post blow-job hugs are far superior to fake relationship hugs.

I wiggle free from Tate and start back over to my seat with Josh. Halfway there I’m stopped by Lisa’s husband, Eric, who’s easing into the water. “You’ve got quite the fan club,” he says.

“Excuse me?”

“One boy to sneak around with—another for show. How do they feel about it?”

My eyes flick to Henry, who is in the middle of an argument with an eight year old in the deep end.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” he snorts. “Slutty college girls are a dime a dozen and typically your trivial love affairs wouldn’t interest me. Except I suspect they’re affecting my family. Marriage isn’t a game, young lady. Especially mine.”

His tone makes me uncomfortable and I start to walk away. I’ve barely moved two feet when he says, “I’m curious what would happen if I revealed to Tate that you just had a tryst with that other young man. He emerged from the changing rooms looking quite pleased with himself. I figure you had something to do with that.” He winked knowingly. Gross.

“Are you threatening me?” I ask, conflicted and confused about this situation. Who is he to threaten me?

“Just speculating,” he shrugs. “Just like how I wonder if your boss would care that you’re all involved, you know, intimately? That you risk the safety of the swimmers to screw around?”

Anger and fear build in my chest but I don’t react. He steps forward and in a low voice he says, “You don’t want to mess with me, Zadie. If Tate is hurting my family like I suspect he is, then I will hurt those he cares about in return.”

I stare at him hard, giving him my most disgusted face and walk away. I mutter, “Psycho,” loud enough for him to hear.  Josh looks up from his phone with a grin but it fades as soon as he sees my expression.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, frowning.

I shake my head and pick up my book. My hands shake and I try my hardest to steady them. I realize now that Tate was right about Lisa’s husband being suspicious. I also know that I need to come clean with Henry. Sooner than later.

*

My fishbowl tastes like watered-down tequila, the juke box music seems especially loud, and my sundress is way too revealing, but I’ve come out with an ulterior motive. The plan is for the drink to make me bold, the music to drown out a possible scene and for my boobs to hypnotize Henry into thinking about sex instead of being pissed.

One look at his semi-glazed over eyes and all three seem to be working. That would be great if I’d fessed up about Tate yet but I haven’t. He probably just thinks he’s getting lucky tonight. I figure that if he’s still speaking to me once this conversation is over, then that’s a pretty solid assumption.

“These taste like crap,” he says, stirring his straw around the giant glass. “Where are Tricia and Josh? Did they bail on Fishbowl Thursday?”

“They may meet us later,” I say. “Josh and Davey are pretty tight and even though she hasn’t said anything, I think Tricia may be seeing someone.”

“Really? Why the secrecy?”

“Someone at work I think.” I take a sip of my drink and run my finger along my sundress strap nervously. “Um, I had something I wanted to talk to you about anyway.”

He takes another sip. “What’s that?”

“Have you noticed how Tate’s been pretty huggy with me lately?”

Henry sobers a bit. “Is he bugging you? Did he do something?”

“No, not exactly.” I take a gulp of my drink and sigh. “Before we went to the camp that weekend I caught Tate and Lisa having sex on the office desk. I told him I would keep it a secret until we had a chance to talk, but instead Lisa’s husband showed up at work. Tate was convinced her husband knew and begged me pose as his girlfriend.”

“What do you mean, pose?” he asks, warily.

I lean forward. “Nothing big. Promise. Just hugs and stuff when her husband was around. I told him I wasn’t doing it more than the one time, but a hug is just a hug and not a big deal, except…”

Henry runs his hands through his hair. “Just be honest. Did you sleep with Tate?”

My jaw drops. “What? No.”

He looks relieved enough that I’m sure he believes me. “I know Tate well enough to buy what you’re saying. I had a feeling he was fucking Lisa. There was just no way he’d keep his hands off her all summer.”

“So you’re not mad?” I ask, feeling a wave of relief myself.

Henry moves from his side of the booth and slides into mine. He wraps his arms around me and gives me a kiss. “Tate’s crazy and you’re beautiful. I’m just glad he didn’t try to hit on you because then I’d have to kick his ass. Again.”

“Again?”

His face flames red. “Yeah, he and I got into it when I saw him at your apartment a while back. He knew how I felt about you and I thought he was making a move.”

I shake my head. “Nope, just using me to further his disgusting affair with Lisa.”

“I made it pretty clear you were hands off. No wonder he told you not to tell me.”

“I’m sorry I lied.”

“You were being a friend and technically he didn’t know we were together,” he says. “But seriously, thank god I don’t have to really fight him over you, not that I wouldn’t, but I’m pretty sure he would win.”

“He’s got pretty big muscles,” I agree.

“Hey!” His lips form the most adorable pout. “I have muscles.”

I run my hand over his leg. “So there’s one more thing. I may have agreed to go to a Fourth of July party with Tate and pretend to be his fake date.”

His eyebrows knit together. “Why would you agree to that?”

I explain how Lisa’s husband threatened me earlier in the day.  Henry’s eyes blank for a second and I get a good idea what he looks like when he’s angry. “I think I should play it off one more night and then we’ll just settle this once and for all. He can’t hurt me or you now that I’ve told you. Tate and Lisa will have to be on their own.”

“I can deal with one more night, but I’m probably going to go to that party too.”

“Please do. You can keep me from making an ass out of myself again. Oh, by the way, did you see the photos Shelly posted of us on Instagram?”

He nods. “Those were pretty hot.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” he says, his hands reaching for the exposed skin on my legs. We’re halfway tangled up in the booth. “Want to get out of here?”

This is what I love about Henry. He’s carefree and easy. He loves and he’s loyal. I search for the tattoo on his arm. Pressing my lips to the words, I follow him out of the bar and into the night.

Chapter Thirteen

I hear the music and crowd before we even get to the house and when we do, my jaw drops at the scene in front of me. Tate’s fraternity brothers may be a bunch of knuckleheads, but they sure know how to throw a party.  Red, white, and blue banners hang from the face of the house. The front yard is covered in picnic tables and piled with food. Several guys, pledges I assume, man the grills and kegs line the porch. Girls in bikinis and shirtless guys are everywhere. Tate’s in the middle of everything, looking every bit the Greek God.

“You said there’s a pool?” I ask Tate, who told me to dress for swimming. “I don’t remember there being a pool last time.”

“Wait until you see it,” he says with a killer grin.  He takes my hand and drags me around the side of the house.  The backyard is covered in sand, obviously brought in by the truckload and there’s a huge above ground pool surrounded by wood decking. Coeds sunbathe on blue and white lounge chairs. “The pool is only waist deep, but that’s sort of just so we can see the girl’s tit’s and stuff.”

“This is sort of amazing,” I say, trying to absorb everything and intentionally ignoring his gross comment.

“Isn’t it?”

The sun is starting to set, which is good for the heat. Henry and I worked the day shift at the pool, and because of the holiday, we closed early. Tate’s been here all day and from his slurring voice he’s had quite a bit to drink. His hand inches down my back. I move it and say, “Can we set some parameters?”

“Sure.” He settles his hands on his hips.

“Kissing on the cheek only. No lips. Also, no butt or boob grabs. You can hug me or wrap your arm around my shoulder or waist.”

“All right. Anything else?”

“I’m not drinking or smoking anything. Nothing. Don’t even offer,” I tell him. Then, because I’m tired of the games, I add, “Oh, and Henry will be here in about thirty minutes. He knows everything.”

Tate’s eyes widen and he shifts his feet. “Everything?”

“Everything,” I confirm. “Oh, and we’re dating.”

He takes that in stride, nodding his head a little, maybe doing a little relationship math in his head. The bathroom breaks, cleaning the pump room… Tate may be a chucklehead but he’s not stupid. “How pissed is he?”

“You know Henry, he takes everything pretty easily.”

“Not when it comes to you,” he says, rubbing his jaw. “So, tonight. We’ll just present like close friends. Enough to keep Lisa’s husband and all the available ladies off my jock.”

“Your jock?”

He gives me a lazy grin and cups his junk. “Everybody wants up on this.”

“Gross.”

“Everyone except you, of course. Seriously though, her husband has been all over me. He’s sent some private investigator around. Asking the brothers about me, taking photos. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s around here today. No way I’d be able to pick him out in this size crowd.” He tosses an arm around my shoulder and we walk into the throng of people. Tate stops at a bar set up in the yard. “This is Zadie. She’s with me,” he says to the bartender. “She only gets non-alcoholic drinks. Got it?”

“Got it,” the guy says, pouring me a red colored drink out of a pitcher. He hands it over and I sniff it. The bartender assures me by saying, “Virgin.”

We take our drinks and I ask the question I’ve been holding on to. “So you think Eric’s investigator is taking photos?”

“Lisa thinks he’s trying to build a case against her.”

“Are you sure all this is necessary? It seems a little extreme. “

“She’s filing for divorce tomorrow. After that we’ll have more freedom.”

“Good,” I say. I take a deep breath. “Okay, since this is the last day for all this and I decided to go out with a bang. You can never say I didn’t do anything for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I bought something I think you’ll like and maybe will help the cause,” I tell him.  “Well, it’s a little bit for you and a little bit for Henry. I saw it in the store and just had to buy it.” I lift my sundress over my head revealing the new swimsuit I bought. Tate’s eyes pop wide open and he burst into laughter.

I look down at the revealing suit, black material with gold strings and adjust the straps. A gold marijuana leaf had been applied to the fabric covering my breasts and one over my pelvis. My skin has turned a warm brown over the last couple of weeks, which sets off the suit nicely. I figured Tate would love the fact I’m posing as his date in a skimpy bikini, while Henry would dig the design. Well, he’ll dig the skimpiness too, but for this party he’ll have to look and not touch.

“Damn,” Tate says, his eyes glued to my chest. That is until he’s sent sprawling to the side. “Fuck!”

Henry appears in the space where Tate had been standing. His eyes skim over every inch of exposed skin. He licks his lips and his fists tense near his sides. I can’t tell if it’s to keep from punching Tate or to keep his hands off of me. “Damn. Yeah, this isn’t going to work.”

“What the hell, dude?” Tate asks, scrambling to his feet.

“This. No way you’re getting anywhere near Zadie in that bikini.” The hint of possessiveness in his voice makes my stomach flip.

I take a step forward. “Look, we already went over the ground rules. Tate’s going to behave. I say we just have a good day and once this is over, it’s over.” I lower my voice. “No one is going to touch me but you. I promise.”

Henry’s jaw tenses but he nods. He drops his towel and shirt on the chair next to mine before announcing he needs a drink. He wanders off. I lie back on my own lounge chair and stretch out.  A pledge walks over to Tate with some sort of fraternity business. They walk off together and I close my eyes in an attempt to gain some peace. One positive of my summer of being around noisy kids has given me the ability to shut out a lot of the noise around the pool. I’ve successfully zoned out, until I feel cold dripping water across my abdomen.

“Ahh!” I shout, sitting up. I open my eyes and find Jackson standing above me in board shorts hung loose around his hips. Water rolls down his chest. He holds a blue party cup in his hands.

“Long time, no see,” he says with his charming smile. This guy must give Tate a run for his money.

“Jackson,” I say. “How are you?”

“Better, now.”

I ignore his flirting and search for Henry. I spot him talking to Charlie and Shelly near the volley ball court.

“You need a drink?” Jackson asks, sitting in Henry’s chair. He leans back and places his cup on the ground next to mine, making himself comfortable. “Food? Pool supervision? Suntan lotion on your back?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“You’re a bit of an enigma.” He tilts his head in my direction.

“How’s that?” I wonder.

“Winning over Tate for the summer. He’s usually hard to pin down.”

“Tate and I go way back, maybe that made it easier.”

“Maybe,” he muses. His hair dries quickly in the heat and I can see the loose, blond curls starting to appear over his ears. His eyes narrow and he leans forward. “Don’t move,” he says quietly. I freeze and he places his hand on my neck. I think he’s going to kiss me but he only rubs his thumb over my skin. “Mosquito. These bastards are vicious.”

Jackson pulls back and I touch my cheek. “Thanks.”

A long shadow crosses over the two of us and I look up. Henry’s returned with two cups. From the look of the beer foam at the top, both are for him. Whatever he needs to get through this day. “Hey,” he says. “You’re in my seat, Jackson.”

“Nice of you to crash, Henry,” he says. “I guess we’re not good enough to be your brothers anymore but good enough to drink our beer.”

“Sounds about right,” Henry says, unaffected.

“I was just checking on Zadie to see that she’s being attended to.” He has the thickest southern drawl that I find disturbingly appealing. The expression on Henry’s face suggests he’s not impressed.

“I’ll keep her company until Tate gets back,” he says. There’s an underlining tension between them but Jackson just nods and walks off. Two seconds later he’s jumped into the pool, splashing some girls.

“Are you friends?” I ask.

“Not really. Not anymore, at least. We pledged together. He couldn’t understand why I left the fraternity. Admittedly, it’s a bit of a social blunder for me to be here. I did walk away. But Tate’s got enough pull that if he says it’s cool for me to be here then no one will really question it.” His eyes roam down my body. “Good thing I showed up. No way I’m letting you out of my sight in that thing.”

We stare at one another, the energy building. I may need to jump in the pool and cool off myself.

Dammit.

I reach for my drink and turn away, taking a big gulp. “Don’t look at me like that,” I say, keeping my eyes anywhere but on him. Shrieks from the pool catch my attention and I see a couple of girls in a chicken fight. They could be straight out of a porno.

“Like what?” he asks innocently.

“It’s like a bad movie.”

He takes a sip of his beer. “It’s college and it’s fun. Relax and enjoy yourself.”

“When I do that I tend to make a mess of things. Like the superhero party.” He doesn’t know about Elton and the video and I’m not about to take this as the opportunity to tell him.

“Do you think Neal Cassidy or Hunter S. Thompson worried about what people thought about them? They spent half their lives in a drug addled haze and called it life experience.”

“I’m not saying I don’t appreciate their work, but I’d rather not have to be an addict to be successful.”

“I’m not suggesting you turn into an addict, Pip. I just think you need to chill out and see where life takes you.”

“Things are different now, with video and photos everywhere. I don’t like being exposed like that.”

“Don’t you think they would have been cool with the exposure? They documented everything else? Then they fictionalized it—working the story with their own twist.”

It’s a weird argument—or discussion, and I’m torn in my views. Thankfully a hulking shadow casts over the two of us, interrupting our conversation. “Hey, man.”

Tate sits at the edge of my seat and I nurse the drink he brought me earlier. It’s sickly sweet but I’m thirsty. It’s so hot I’m beginning to feel a little light-headed. The girls chicken-fighting in the pool squeal, and we all look over. One of their tops has fallen off and she’s making a big show about covering herself.

“Seriously?” I ask. “This is how we’re spending our night off?”

“We can see the fireworks from downtown from here,” Henry offers.

“Fireworks?”

“Yep, it’s right after the wet T-shirt contest,” Tate chimes in.

“You’re kidding.”

Henry shakes his head and Tate doesn’t even pretend he’s not into it. “See those sprinklers over the deck? The girls stand underneath and water comes out. Jackson organizes it.”

“Big surprise.”

“You should totally enter. The girl I came with last year won.” Tate lifts his eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“You’re not naked or anything, just in frat shirt over your bikini. You’d win.” He glances at Henry. “Right?”

My boyfriend reluctantly nods. “Yeah, you’d win. Hands down.”

I’m disturbed at how flattering that sounds, since it’s obviously so disgusting and offensive. “You’ll have to pick another ringer, I guess, because there’s no chance in hell.”

They fall into some fraternity gossip and I leave to get another drink. I’m hit on by no less than three guys as I walk through the crowd and again, I find myself confused by the attention. Maybe it’s the girl to guy ratio or something. Then again, this suit in this environment begs for attention, and that brings out conflicted emotions of anxiety and excitement. Maybe I can push past this fear once and for all. I can be part of the crowd. I’m not doing anything these other girls aren’t doing as well.

At the bar I find Shelly, clad in a red, white, and blue suit. “Hey girl,” she says, giving me a hug. “Love your suit.”

“It’s kind of a joke,” I explain.

“For your man. I get it. He loves weed and he loves you. Two punches,” she tells the bartender.

“I’m not drinking,” I say.

She looks at me like I have three heads.

“Not tonight. I just need to keep my head level and lately I’ve made some stupid choices. Like those photos you took. God, I looked like a whore.”

“Why, because you’re making out with your boyfriend? That’s not being a whore. You two are in love. It’s sort of inspiring.”

“Pictures of Henry’s hands on my ass while I dry hump him in front of a room of people isn’t inspiring.”

“It was erotic.”

“Tacky porn at best.”

She shakes her head and laughs. “You judge yourself too harshly. No one else sees it like that. We’re young and having fun.”

I’m doubtful but say, “Maybe.”

“There’s no maybe about it. You need to lighten up. Have a good time.” She turns away to gather our cups. “Here,” she presses one in my hand. “This one’s yours.”

I sniff it. There’s no alcohol in it. “Thanks.”

Shelly leads me through the crowd and introduces me to some of her friends. They’re nice and I start to loosen up. Tate comes around, handsy but following the rules. Everyone thinks we’re together. Shelly doesn’t ask questions, which is weird since she knows all about me and Henry, but maybe she doesn’t care. Maybe she sees through the games. Maybe, like she said, she’s not into judging. I could be more like this, I think. I could have more fun.

“Zadie, come on!” a girl calls. Cassie? Camille? They want me to join them, and I do. Just as I enter the photo booth with the girls, I catch Henry’s eye. He’s shiny and bright, like a star, and I fight the urge to go to him.

He smiles and tilts his head, my last image before I disappear behind the curtain.

*

The sun set a while ago but it’s not dark yet. We’ve got about an hour before the fireworks and Jackson’s rounding up girls for the wet T-shirt contest. Shelly grabs a shirt.

“Why not?” she says. “I’ve been prancing around half naked all day.” She pulls the skin-tight shirt over her head. “You in?”

“Me?” My skin feels electric and my mind fuzzy, which doesn’t seem right. I’ve stuck to my no drinking policy but everything has a glimmery sheen. A shiny Jackson holds out a shirt and I’m tempted. The encouraging grin on his face isn’t helping my confusion. Shelly looks pretty sexy and I wonder if her lips taste like candy.

“Zadie?”

Henry’s voice pulls me away. “Hi,” I say, snaking my arms around him. I move against him, wanting to dance to the music rushing through my ears. “No frowning,” I tell him. “I decided to make some friends. They’re nice.”

“I’m sure they are.” He’s frowning, which seems ridiculous. I decide to remove it and get on my tip toes, pushing my tongue into his mouth. I hear a strange sound.

“What’s that noise?”

“What noise?”

“It sounded like a cat or a squirrel or something.”

“That was you,” he laughs.

“Me?” That’s embarrassing.

“Babe,” he says. “I need you to calm down.”

His statement makes me angry. And sad. And why isn’t he touching me anymore? Maybe I need to get his attention. Or better yet, someone else’s attention. I bounce on my toes and turn to Jackson. “Can I have a shirt?”

“Of course,” he grins.

I lift up my arms for him to place it on my head but find myself spinning around and facing Henry. His eyes are cold and hard and challenging Jackson. “Hands off, man,” he says, then gently pulls the shirt over my head. He smoothes my hair back over my ears and I feel a tremor run across my skin. “Zadie, I think we need to go.”

“But we promised Tate,” I say.

“I think he’ll be okay with it.”

“We made a deal and I’m sticking to it.”

He tugs on my shirt. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”

“I’m having fun with my new friends,” I whine. Shelly grins and winks. “It’s not a big deal.”

Shelly tosses an arm over my shoulder. “Stop being a downer, Henry. Just go up top and enjoy the show.”

I nod and he throws his hands up. “Don’t blame me for this,” he says and walks away.

“Whatever,” I say.

“Seriously,” Shelly agrees. “He’s just mad the other guys are going to be ogling and talking about you later.”

“Who cares what they say.” Again I’m watching her mouth and her lips are really pink. “I bet they taste delicious.”

“What?”

“Your lips. They’re so pink. Do they taste like Starbursts? Jolly Ranchers?” I’m so curious.

Jackson calls our names and she links her fingers with mine. We file on to the make-shift stage to loud cheers and whistles. I feel short, since many of the girls are wearing sandals or heels, but I’m barefoot and the deck feels rough under my feet. I search for Henry but can’t find him in the crowd. Tate, on the other hand, is perched on the life guard chair and shouts my name. I wave and blow him a kiss.

He pretends to catch it and everyone yells louder.

“Want to really make them crazy?” Shelly whispers in my ear. Her blonde hair looks like a halo and I reach out to touch a long strand.

“Yes.” At that moment I’d do anything she, or anyone else, asked me to.

She grabs me by my hips and pulls me close. Her lips press into mine and they’re supple and yummy. Not cherry, but strawberry. The feeling is weird, no not weird, different? I’ve only kissed guys before, and she’s too soft and not quite right. Not for me. I hear a rushing in my ears and break away to look up. Cold water pours down my face and I shut my eyes.

“They love it,” she laughs through a mouthful of water. She grabs my boobs, covered in the drenched shirt. My nipples harden at her touch and the cool chill from the water. I’m overwhelmed by the sensations and lift my arms over my head, reaching for the sky. Everything is too much but not enough. The water and roaring crowd. The flashing lights in the dark and the way my skin buzzes. Shelly brings me in for another kiss and I cave, sinking into everything.

Chapter Fourteen

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Henry’s concerned face. Tate’s angry fists. Shelly’s confused eyes. Fireworks set the backdrop and I watch them burst into the black sky from over Henry’s shoulder. Accusations fly, with the words ‘dose’ and ’how much’. Henry keeps checking my eyes. All I know is they’re ruining my night and I want them to stop. I want to dance and have sex. I want to strip off these clothes and pull down Henry’s pants, but the expression he wears stops me.

Decisions are made and during the grand finale of a gazillion fireworks, we leave. Heavy bass echoes against the houses as we pass celebrations in the night. Henry’s got me in his arms, carrying me because my legs stopped working somewhere near the big Greek letters in the yard. It’s okay with me though, because I can see his face this way. His eyes are stormy. I run my hand down his jaw.

“You need to shave.” He ignores me, but I don’t care. I’m focused on how everything feels sticky and wet. My skin prickles where it used to feel nice.

“My voice sounds weird,” I say, feeling my lips with my fingers. “Does yours?”

“No,” he finally says.

“It does. But it also sounds sexy.”

We’ve reached the car and he deposits me in the front seat. “Don’t move,” he says. I wait, frozen in my seat, while he gets in the driver’s side. Henry straps me in with the seat belt and I kiss his neck and tug at his shirt, but he moves my hands away.

“You don’t want me?” I pout.

He rolls down the window as we drive away. His pretty face is marred by heavy creases on his forehead. The tiny lines near his eyes are nowhere to be found. The wind rushes in the car and whips my hair and the lights stream by. I forget about sex. “It feels like we’re flying,” I squeal, hanging my head out the window.

*

“Why can’t we?”

“You’re too wasted.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I didn’t drink anything.”

His hands find my face in the dark. Once we got out of his flying car he lured me in the shower, where steamy water warmed my bones. My bikini hit the ground with a splat and I tried to get him in with me but he shook his head and kept his eyes lowered to the floor. He dressed me in one of his T-shirts, the black one with a space monkey on the front, and some flannel pants. Now we’re piled on blankets in his room and he’s been trying to calm me down for what feels like hours.

“You didn’t,” he agrees. “But someone put something in your drink, remember?”

I think back. “Sort of.”

He strokes my hair and it’s the wrong thing, or the right one, and I move fast like a cat over his body. “We can’t.”

I press down, hard meeting soft. “You want to.”

“I always want to, but no.”

“Stop trying to be a gentleman and give me what I want.” My lips find his mouth and he surrenders, at least briefly to a kiss.

“I’m not being a gentleman. I’m just trying really hard not to be an asshole.”

His words get past my lust and I press my nose to his. “You’re very sweet, Henry Fletcher.”

“I try, Zadie Parker.”

“Am I too wasted to tell you that I love you?”

“Probably.” I feel his mouth turn into a smile. “Are you too wasted for me to tell you that I love you?”

Noses still connected, I shake my head slowly back and forth. I whisper, “No.”

“I love you, Zadie Parker. Every crazy, neurotic, adorable part of you. I always have. I’m pretty sure I always will.”

I roll to my side and wrap my arms around his waist. I love him, too.

*

I recovered from the Ecstasy. Yes, X. I’d never done it before and the effects rolled over my body like a freight train of euphoria. Going up was amazing. Coming down, horrific. Henry sat by my side, massaging my muscles and watching Buffy with me all night.

Once I gained some coherency, he told me that he and Tate suspected Jackson had dosed me and Shelly earlier in the night.  While my boyfriend kept me and Shelly from making out on the stage in dripping wet T-shirts, Tate punched Jackson in the face. Jackson, bloody and adamant, denied doing anything. Tate didn’t believe him and dove at him, busting his nose and jaw. I wanted to be mad at Jackson, but the drug was still coursing through my veins, so none of it mattered to me right then. I did, bizarrely, worry about marring his beautiful face.

Now? I’m not feeling so generous.

“What should we do?” I ask Henry a few days later. We’re alone under the shelter during a break while Tate checks the chemicals across the pool. Lisa hasn’t been seen since the Fourth, but maybe she served her husband with divorce papers like Tate said.

“Do you want to press charges?” Henry asks. “You can. It happened on campus, so you can go to the campus police. I’m not defending Jackson, but this doesn’t seem like his kind of thing. He’s a bit of a frat douche, but in general, he’s an okay guy.”

“Is he still denying it?” I ask.

“Yeah and we don’t have any proof.”

“I don’t know about pressing charges. The whole thing was idiotic. It’s not like I got hurt or anything.”

“Only because we were watching out for you. And that’s not really the point, Pip.”

I never thought Henry Fletcher and Tate Christensen would be my guardian angels, but they’d proved themselves several times over. Of course, Tate has a streak of the devil in him. Maybe he’s more like a fallen angel or something.

“Tate reported it to the fraternity, but they’ll keep it low profile unless you report it also.”

“I’d rather forget it.”

He nods, his blue eyes holding mine. “I’m okay with that. Except for one part.”

“Only one, because there are so many gems,” I groan.  “We’ve got the trashy bikini? The girl-on-girl kissing? The way I rubbed up on you like a cat in heat.”

“Those were all fairly memorable, but no.”

I rack my brain trying to remember the details of that night. Nothing specific comes to mind. “I can’t remember.”

“You will,” he says, kissing me on the forehead and walking across the pool to get in his chair. He blows the whistle and all the kids hovering on the edge of the pool jump in.

Tate passes me on the way to office. “Any word from Lisa?” I ask.

“Not really. I know she served him with papers and he was pretty upset. She took the kids and went to stay with her sister for a while.”

“Where does she live?”

“Texas.”

“Oh.”

He walks off, his shoulders a little more hunched than normal. He misses her, which is weird, but I look over at Henry and think about how falling in love never comes when you expect it.

Chapter Fifteen

“Did you get your confirmation for class registration?” I ask Henry. We’ve just pulled into the parking lot at the indoor pool. Cindy called and asked me to come in after work.

“Not yet, I’ll check my email when we get back home.”

‘Home’ means his apartment, which we’ve somehow nested in over the last couple of weeks. The party on the Fourth bonded us. Unlike Tyler, Henry isn’t scared off by my public humiliation. If anything, I think he wants me more. So, his bed has become my bed. My laptop has become his and somewhere in between we share an assortment of socks, T-shirts and pillows. My hairbands litter his dresser top and he bought the kind of toothpaste I like and left it in the bathroom. The only downside is I haven’t seen Josh and Tricia much, but something has to give, I guess.

“You coming in?”

“Nah, I’ll wait. Probably a better idea since Cindy doesn’t know about us yet.” Although this is true, I have a feeling his desire to stay in the car has more to do with his new habit. We’d made an agreement to stop smoking and drinking after the party. His addictive personality picked up video games. I futilely try to write. His current game of choice is something about world building that has zombie pigs. I can’t even pretend to be interested.

I leave the air conditioned car and step into the late July heat. It’s sweltering, and I’ve started to sweat by the time I reach the front door.  The lobby is air conditioned but I have to leave that for the stifling pool deck before I manage to cool down. I spot Cindy at her desk.

“Hey,” I say, entering her office.

“Zadie. Thanks for coming in.”

“Sure.” I sit in the chair across from her desk. “What’s going on?”

She taps her pen loudly on the desk. “I don’t really know how to say this, but I received a complaint about your behavior at work.”

A feeling of unease settles in my stomach. “A complaint? From who?”

“It was anonymous. Someone called in yesterday and said that you were often inappropriate with the other guards.”

“Inappropriate how?”

“Overly friendly. They said it seemed like it was possible you were engaging in a relationship with both Tate and Henry. During pool hours.”

I shake my head and lie. Well, halfway. “No. That’s not true.”

“They also suggested that you came to work on your days off and not only were flirty with the guys but also with some of the male members.”

“What?” I’m floored. Who would say such a thing? “Cindy, I promise you, none of that is true.”

“I thought it seemed ridiculous as well. On my visits to the pool everything has seemed fine and there have been no other complaints. I said as much to the caller.” She glances over at her computer and types on the keyboard. “Then I received these in an email.”

She turns the computer in my direction and I nearly jump at the image on the screen. I’m standing over the edge of the pool in a barely there bikini talking to Lisa’s husband. It’s from the day Josh dared me to hook up with Henry at work. If Cindy had been there she would know that nothing was going on between Eric and I, but the photo, out of context, looks damming. I’ve got my chest out and my hands on my hips. I’m bent over so I could hear him better at the time. I pretend not to see the post-changing room flush on my cheeks.

“Who sent this?”

“I don’t know. There’s no real name on the account,” she says. “I assume it’s from the same person that called. You have to admit, Zadie, you look a little inappropriate here.”

“He was the one talking to me and to be honest, he made me feel a little uncomfortable.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know,” I say. I want to argue that he’d threatened me but that opens a whole other can of worms for me, Henry and Tate. “He just made me feel weird. Just the things he said, but I decided not to make a big deal about it.”

The truth is getting increasingly muddled, while at the same time everything became crystal clear. I had started to form a suspicion that Eric was behind this phone call, and now the email also. He’d mentioned turning me into my boss that day. “But whatever he thinks was going on, it’s not true. I promise it was nothing. It was my day off and I told my roommate we could go hang out. That guy, Eric, was the one that approached me.”

Cindy closes the page and turns the computer away. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I need you to be careful. We don’t have a co-worker dating policy because so many of you guys are students and I’m not stupid. I do expect you to act professional. If anything is going on between any of you, make sure it’s not at work. And no dating members. There’s a zero tolerance on that.”

I feel a flash of guilty anger. Guilt because I’m not innocent in all of this. Anger because I’m the one getting called in here, not the guys, even though this is Tate’s fault. I’m getting the heat because some jack-off has decided to mess with me. I bite back any arguments and nod. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but it won’t happen again.”

She gives me a sympathetic grin. “I’m sure it will be fine. You’re a good worker, Zadie. It’s just my responsibility to bring this type of stuff up.”

“I know. Thanks for being understanding.”

I make it outside before I start crying. The hot air dries the tears before they even make it down my cheeks, which is good because I feel like an idiot. Keeping my head down, I hop in the passenger seat.

He stows his phone in the cup holder and looks over. “That was fast,” he says, and then does a double take. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

A surge of anxiety swells in my body and I can’t speak. I can’t do it. Henry’s eyes widen and he reaches out, taking my hand. “Hey, take a deep breath, all right?”

He brushes my hair over my ears and his eyes never leave my face. I focus on catching my breath. “Okay,” I say, shakily.  “That bastard, Eric, sent Cindy a photo of me  talking to him at the pool. I’m standing there in my bikini looking like I’m hitting on him or something. He also sent an email saying I was being inappropriate with you and Tate at the pool.”

Henry blinks once and his jaw pulls tight. “He sent it?”

“Well, it was sent anonymously. It would have to be him, right? He threatened he’d do this.”

“Probably.”

Henry pulls out of the parking lot and we head toward the apartment. “I hate this. I hate feeling on the defensive like this. I hated lying to Cindy, but for some reason I’m still covering for Tate.”

“You can stop that any time you want,” he says.

“I know. It’s just that we only have a couple weeks left anyway.”

We get out of the car. Henry waits for me at the sidewalk and engulfs me in a hug. “It’s bullshit, Zadie. Cindy was cool with it so you need to just let it drop. She’s not going to show that photo to anyone and like you said, we’ve got a couple of weeks left. It’s no big deal.”

I take another deep, settling breath. “You’re right.”

We head in the apartment. No one is home but the two of us. Henry stops me at his door and kisses me. “Wanna make out?”

I laugh, because yeah, duh. “Let me check for my class schedule confirmation email first, okay?”

“Will you check mine?”

“Yeah.”

Sitting at his desk, I check my email and find the confirmation letter. Then I open his email and scroll down. There aren’t many messages, but I do see the University’s email.  “All good,” I say. “You want to look at these other messages before I shut down?”

“Sure, yeah, bring it over here.”

I carry the laptop over and set it on the bed. Henry leans over and clicks a couple of buttons. “What’s this?” he mutters. I look up just in time to see a Tumblr account open. The title at the top says, “Tit for Tat.” A thin banner sat at the top of two perky, tan boobs in a black and gold marijuana leaf bikini.

“Oh God.”

He scrolls down, both of us silent other than the mouse and a photo of myself pops up. A photo I’ve never seen before but that was obviously taken at the pool this summer. I’m in my guard suit, hands on my hips.

“What the hell is that?” I ask. Sweat coats my palms.

“I don’t know.”

He continues scrolling and there are more and more photos. Some with Henry. Others with Tate. The pictures are all from far away, like paparazzi shots. Each one has me in it but the theme is clear. I’m a whore. I get around. It’s not just Tate and Henry. Shots of me and Charlie hugging at Motorhead and one of Josh tugging playfully at my shorts outside the apartment. There’s even a couple of me talking to Jackson—including one from the Fourth of July that looks like we’re kissing.

One thing that stands out is that my face is clear and visible, while the guys have been blocked out with a black bar through the eyes and the word “victim” typed across. I know who it is and so does Henry.

“I wasn’t kissing him,” I say, my voice high and panicky. “He wiped a mosquito off my cheek.”

Henry squeezes my leg. “I know, babe. I was there.”

His reassurance doesn’t help and the next image is a video. “Click it,” I say, feeling sick to my stomach.

“You don’t have to,” he says.

“Do it.”

I brace myself as the video plays. It’s from Elton, when I fell off the bar. I’ve seen it a dozen times but Henry hasn’t. I cover my face when I fall ass up in my dress. “When was this?” he asks.

“Elton. Last year.”

The You Tube history shows that there are more videos uploaded to this account and I grab the mouse and click on the next one. The familiar tune of “I Kissed a Girl” by Katy Perry starts up and images of me and Shelly lip-locked appear.  We’re both in wet bikinis, strained provocatively across our chests. I barely remember the moment but I look like I’m enjoying it. In one photo Shelly palms both my breasts, fondling them and I’ve got a shit-eating grin on my face. “It looks like a fucking Girls Gone Wild video.”

Henry says nothing. God, he’s stunned silent.

I move the mouse and go back to the original email. “Oh shit,” I cry. “Whoever sent this sent it to dozens, no hundreds, of people. Maybe the entire Greek system.”

“Zadie,” Henry says. “It’s okay. We’ll report the account and get it shut down.”

I go back to the Tumblr and scroll down, grimacing at the images. The ones from Shelly’s Instagram account are there. Photos of me and Henry sneaking out of the changing room at the pool. Tate’s arm around my waist. Me kissing his cheek. Photo booth pictures, where my eyes are dilated the size of quarters. “Do you see these tags?”

“Turn it off, Pip.”

“ “Whore.” “Slut.” “Lesbian.” “Hooker.”  “Druggie.” Oh and the best one, “Zadie Parker is a Home Wrecker.” Why is this up? Why did they send this out? Who is it?” I hop off the bed and Henry snatches the computer. He’s typing, I assume reporting the account, but I know from experience it’s too late. My heart lodges in my throat and I can’t breathe. I can only hear my pulse in my ears and feel my hands sweating. I eye the door and Henry must finally notice my deranged state and jumps up, reaching for my arms.

“This is what happens,” I choke out. “This—these things—this is what happens to me when I…”

“When you what?” His hands force my chin up, trying to get me to make eye contact. I squirm away.

“When I push outside my comfort zone. When I drink. When I smoke. I do stupid shit and people use it against me.”

“Zadie, that doesn’t even make sense. Eric seems pretty psycho; this isn’t about you, it’s about him.”

“No one knows that though!” I shout. “All they will see is some stupid, slutty girl.”

“We’ll figure out a way to get this offline. And make Eric pay. He’ll take responsibility.”

“Henry, I’m the one who’s responsible for this. Me. I did this.”

He reaches out but I jerk back. “Zadie you aren’t even doing anything in those photos. You’re working and hanging out. You’re kissing me. I know that other shit means nothing. I was there. It means nothing.”

“It means something to me,” I say. “It means that once again I let down my guard and got exposed. It means that everyone thinks I’m a drunk and a druggie. Which God, maybe I am.

“You’re not.”

“It means I’ve lost my anonymity. Again. And this one is going to follow me, Henry. I thought I’d cleaned up that last one too, that video from Elton, but there it is.” He makes another attempt to come near me but I don’t want anyone touching me right now. “I’m going upstairs.”

“I’ll come with you.”

I shake my head. “I need a little time alone, okay? It’s a lot of,” I search for the right word. “Exposure. It’s too much exposure and I need a minute to process it all.”

I grab my bag and frantically pick up a couple of things I’ve strewn around the room. Henry blocks me at the door and forces me into his arms. “Remember when I told you only one thing mattered to me about that night?”

I fight back tears and nod. “Yes.”

“I love you. And you love me. And that’s all I give a fuck about, okay?”

He locks my eyes with his and it’s a struggle to get away, but I need to. I need to lock myself in my room and sort all this out. I lower my eyes and push him aside, bolting out of the apartment before I fall apart.

*

Cindy doesn’t question me when I call in sick. I can only assume she got the second email. At least she doesn’t fire me. I explain that I have the flu or something and that it could be days until I come back. She sounds relieved.

Josh and Tricia were in the living room when I got home watching one of their shows. One look and I knew they’d seen the email.

“Are you okay?” Josh asks, tentatively, like he knows if he pushes me I may break. He knows me well.

“Not really.”

“Want to talk about it?” he asks.

“What’s there to say? I look like a fucking idiot. Whoever sent it made sure everyone knew that.”

“It’s not that bad,” Tricia says.

“Really? It’s not? Let me know the next time someone tries to fuck with your life, okay?”

I leave them to their stupid show about ghosts or Bigfoot or whatever and collapse in my bed. I spend the afternoon and evening holed up in my room, obsessively checking social media for anything about me.

Josh comes in without invitation at some point bearing candy. He stops short when he sees me hunched over the laptop. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

He moves closer. “Step away from the computer, Zadie.”

“I’ve gotten 73 friend requests on Facebook this afternoon.”

“Shut it down. Close your account.”

“What, and deprive people of the freakshow?”

He wrenches the laptop out of my hands. “You need to delete your accounts and stop digging around for trouble.”

I can’t admit I’m addicted to checking and seeing what people are saying about me. He knows it anyway and walks out, leaving me a bag of chocolate and no computer.

The next day I made a short list of places I could move to. I’d have to bail on school for the fall. Maybe I should go overseas, backpack through Europe. I’d check for prices but Josh hasn’t returned my laptop yet.

“I’m meeting some friends for pizza, you want to come?”

I glance up and see Tricia in the door. It’s the first time she’s spoken to me since I holed up. “No.”

“You’re just going to sit here and mope all night.”

I refuse to look up. “Yes.”

“For how long? How long is this going to last? Another week? Do you plan on transferring to a different school? Running home?”

Busted. Still, I refuse to take her bait. “Where’s Josh?”

“Why? So you can get him to save you again? Fix all your issues? Or is that Henry’s job now?”

I sit up and glare at her. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem is that you’ve really turned into a self-absorbed drama queen.”

“That’s not fair! You saw the website.”

“So what? You look like a stupid college girl having fun. No one cares, Zadie. Except you, because you think everything is about you, all the time.”

Anger boils under my skin. And hurt. “What the hell, Tricia? That whole website was about me. It’s not like I’m making this up. He sent it to the whole school!”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “I know. And I’m sorry that happened to you, but it’s not the end of the world, you know? Except I think you want it to be. I think that ever since high school you’ve managed to take normal events and turn them into something tragic. You need to lighten up and let it go.”

“Easy for you to say. No one cares what you’ve been doing,” I say harshly.

She recoils back from my words. “Wow. Are you serious?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Like what? That I don’t matter? That no one matters but you and the little circle you’ve been running in?”

“Of course you matter.”

“Do I? Do you even know that I’m dating someone? Seriously dating them? Did you know Josh and Davey broke up?”

“They did?” I ask, trying to remember the last time we’d hung out. I’d skipped the last couple of Thursday Motorhead nights to be with Henry instead.

She throws her hands in the air. “Let me know when you’re ready to deal with life again, okay?” she says and walks off.

Tricia’s words cut like a knife, deep and painful.  The worst part is that maybe she’s right.

Chapter Sixteen

After our fight, or whatever happened between Tricia and I, we steer clear of one another. Via text, Henry makes it clear he’s giving me time, but only so much. He does manage to close the accounts on Tumblr and YouTube and the leadership in the Greek system has banned any further distribution of the photos. I feel better, but only a little bit.

Once something hits the internet it’s out there forever.

I realize how much I love Henry’s perseverance. I love that he loves me. But the nagging feeling in my stomach and chest make me skeptical that he’s up for it. The stuff Tricia said makes me wonder if she’s right, am I just using different people to save my ass. Tyler couldn’t handle my post-Elton depression, he didn’t rescue me, so what did I do? I ran.

“Hey, girl,” Josh says through my closed door. I’m in my pajamas and haven’t showered in four days. At this point I can’t decide what hurts worse. The fallout with Tricia or the other stuff.

“Hey,” I call back.

He cracks open the door. “How’s it going?”

“Okay, I guess.” I wave him in. “I heard about you and Davey. I’m sorry.”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “Just a fling, I guess. It was fun while it lasted.”

“I should have been around though, for you and Tricia. I got kind of caught up in everything this summer.”

“That’s what summer and college is about. Love and sex, doing stupid shit.”

“Making out with girls in a tawdry wet T-shirt contest.”

He smiles big. “Totally. Hopefully in the end we’ll find ourselves. Worst case? We grow up.”

“Growing up sucks.”

“You know, this reminds me of that summer in high school after junior year when we watched all eleven seasons of Beverly Hills 90210. Remember how Dylan and Brenda were dating and then her parents made her to go Paris for the summer with Donna, and Dylan and her BFF Kelly hooked up in the swimming pool while she was gone? Remember that?”

“Vividly.”

“Everyone hated Brenda for being pissed and really Kelly was the whore who stole her boyfriend, which who could blame her. Luke Perry was hot back then.”

“Stupid Kelly.” I shake my fist in mock anger. “I think I’m missing the point of relevancy here.”

“Okay, it’s not really relevant I just wanted to talk about it.”

I hit him with my pillow. “You’re such a goof.”

“A handsome goof,” he says, catching his reflection in the mirror. He toys with his hair.

“Definitely. Are you sure you aren’t mad at me? Tricia seems mad.”

“Oh yeah, Tricia is totally mad. You’re going to have to fix that.”

“I can try.”

“Of course you can. Now, there’s a sad boy sitting on the futon and I can’t get him to leave. Can he come in?”

I plop back on my pillow and groan, pulling the covers over my head.

“He’s adorable and he’s been really patient. Normally, post-breakup, I would say that boys suck, but he doesn’t. He may be the best thing ever so, I’m letting him in regardless of what you say.”

“Wait! What?” I panic. “Traitor!” My vanity may be why I’m being dramatic but he rolls his eyes and walks off, leaving my door wide open. I swipe at my greasy hair, irritated that he showed up like this, but my heart betrays me by kick-starting for the first time in days. That is, until I see green eyes instead of blue and it sputters to a stop.

“What are you doing here?” I ask Tate. He’s hulking in my doorway looking concerned.

“I came to see you.”

“I’m alive. I’m good. Just, you know, taking some personal time.” I flash him a fake smile hoping it will do the trick and he’ll leave. Instead he enters the room and sits down. Crap.

“You wouldn’t take my calls.”

“There wasn’t anything to say.”

“I would have said I was sorry. You could have said you were pissed. We could have hashed it out.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Fine. Let’s talk about it.” He shifts a little and I notice the bruising on the side of his cheek and under his eye. “What the hell happened to your face?”

He rubs the bruise, wincing at the tenderness. “Oh, I kicked Eric’s ass.”

“You what?” I sit up in the bed. “Holy crap! What happened?”

“I went to his house to talk and things escalated pretty fast.  The neighbors called the cops and we both got arrested.” He shrugs like this is no big deal.

“Um, arrested? Are you kidding me?”

“Dude has had it coming for a long time. All the crap he put Lisa through and then those emails he sent out about you. He needed to learn a lesson about respecting women.”

I stare at Tate for a minute trying to figure out if I should explain what “respecting women” really means, but I’m so overwhelmed by his gesture that I give him a hug instead.

“You’re such an idiot,” I tell him. “You slept with his wife, Tate. He had a reason to come after you.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t have a reason to come after you.”

My heart turns to mush. “Does Henry know you did this?”

“Oh yeah, he bailed me out. Well, he called my parents and had them bail me out, but yeah, he knows.”

“This is such a mess.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not. Eric is a douche. You got caught up in his psycho behavior. None of that was about you. It was all about me and Lisa. He admitted that he wanted to hurt someone close to me, so he picked you. That’s when I punched him in the face.”

“That’s sort of awesome of you.”

“I think so,” he grins. He bends his arm and flexes his biceps. “Gotta use these guns for something.”

“Thank you for sticking up for me.”

I wrap my arms around his waist. “Thank you for being a good friend, even when I didn’t deserve it.” Tate’s chest heaves up and down and he says, “Lisa’s pregnant.”

I drop my arms and stare at him. He doesn’t look as panicked as I do. “Is it yours?”

“She says it’s not, that it happened when they were on family vacation.” I can see, admitting that she was still having sex with her husband is hard for him. It’s also obvious he’s a little sad the baby may not be his. Damn. Tate’s a mess for this woman. “But we’ll have to see when the baby gets here.”

“So wow, you may be a dad.”

“Yep.”

“But you may not be.”

“Maybe.”

“So what do you do about that?”

“Wait it out. Finish my senior year, get a job.”

“Are you going to keep seeing her? Are they still getting a divorce?”

“I’m going to back off a little bit and let them figure that out.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, leaning into him again. We sit together and I breathe in his clean, warm scent. I realize Josh may be right. College is about figuring it all out, having fun and making mistakes. I’ve done all three, but it may be time to grow up.

*

Bolstered by my conversation with Josh and Tate, I finally take a shower. I wash my hair and shave my legs. Once I toss on clean clothes, I truly feel like a new person.

“Oh thank God,” Josh says as I pass by him on the way to the door. “I thought I was going to have to get out the hose and spray you down with bleach.”

I flip him off.

Downstairs, Charlie opens the door and a cloud of smoke pours out. He lifts a purple bong in my direction. “Hey, Zadie. Wanna smoke?”

“No thanks.” I peek around him to see if Henry’s in the room. He’s not. “Is Henry here?”

“He’s in his room, go on back.”

I pass the others on the couch. Syd and another guy they play Frisbee with. I stick my head in Henry’s door since it’s not fully closed. He’s lying on his bed playing with his phone. “Hi,” I say when he doesn’t notice me.

His face lights up and I’m overwhelmed with how happy I am to see him. Before he has a chance to respond I rush the bed, barely stopping to kick off my shoes before climbing into his arms.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” I say.

“You smell clean,” he says, pressing his nose in my hair.

“You should have seen me thirty minutes ago.” I rest my head on his chest, my ear pressed against his warm body. “The last couple of days have been really hard.”

“You’re tough, Zadie.”

“Did Tate really fight Eric?”

His chest vibrates with laughter. “It was epic. I can’t believe you missed it.”

“I think I’m okay with missing that, even though I’m glad he did it,” I say. “He told me about Lisa, too.”

“The baby?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how he’s going to handle all of it.”

“Me neither, but he’s also tough. We’re a group of tough kids. We can take whatever comes our way.” He’s kidding, but there’s truth in his words. Growing up sucks. He slips his fingers through mine. “How are you?”

“Okay, I guess. Tricia’s pissed at me. Josh made me laugh and somehow Tate is my knight in shining armor.”

“Hey! What about me?”

“You? You’re just the guy I sleep with, who’s really, really cute.”

“I can accept that role.”

“I think I’ve just got to figure out how to navigate life better. My normal seems to be sort of one train wreck after the other.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know.” Henry leans over and kisses me. His fingers move to the waist of my shorts and his warm fingers against my skin feel wonderful. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Tricia thinks I’m a drama queen.”

He nods, kissing my neck and chest. “Maybe a little.”

Henry moves down to my stomach and lifts my shirt, his other hand still on my shorts. He’s moving a little fast—even for Henry. “Hey!”

“Calm down, I’m looking for something.”

“Down my pants?”

“Yep.” I wiggle away, but he uses his strength to gently hold me down. “Be still.”  I do what he asks because it’s been days since he’s touched me and his hands feel so good.

He hooks a finger in the elastic waist band of my panties and tugs them down, revealing my tattoo. My head is against his pillow and I feel his lips press against the sensitive skin. My want and desire for Henry override the depression of the last few days. Who knew one expertly placed kiss could elicit such emotion?

I push my fingers into his hair and he looks up. “You’ve got to own it, babe.”

“Own what?”

“All of this. Who you are. You’re a hot mess and you do crazy stuff.  Yeah, you may get a little high from the drama of it all and then have massive remorse, but it’s no big deal. You’ve got to own it and live by the words.”

He sounds like he’s stoned but I know he’s not. He’s just Henry. Loving, creative, never regretful Henry. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You already are, just keep doing it.”

I sigh and look at the ceiling. Part of the reason I kept him away was because I knew he’d talk me out of bed before I was ready, or worse, out of my pants. Sure enough, he’d managed to get me out of both.  “What first?”

“First, you make up with Tricia. She’s your best friend.”

“Check.”

“Next,” he reaches to the end of the bed, halfway falling off the edge. He emerges with a cardboard box. “You take this.”

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

There’s nothing special about the box. Simple cardboard, with a gold seal on the top. I lift the lid and find a variety of notepads and journals. Packs of colored pens and pencils line the bottom. “What are these for?”

“Your writing.”

The depression rolls back over me like a wave. “Yeah, about that. I’m a little blocked lately.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“You need to get creative and I think maybe the way to move past all this stuff isn’t to really move past it. Dive into it. Feed off the pain and embarrassment.”

“You want me to write about it?”

“Why not? It’s socially relevant. It’s real. Use all that energy for good instead of tearing yourself down.”

Tears form in my eyes and I fight them off, feeling stupid. “Since when did you get so perceptive?”

“Since I decided not to lose you a second time.” Hell, with lines like that maybe Henry is the one that should be the writer. “Plus, I miss your writing. I kind of need a poem to replace Fuck You, Henry Fletcher.”

“That’s a classic, though.”

“Isn’t it?” he laughs.

He pushes me back on the bed and wraps his arms around me. I turn so we’re facing, where I can see his eyes. “I’ve been working on something. Mostly in my head, want to hear it?”

“Obviously.”

“It’s similar, I just change the fuck you, to an ‘I love you’.”

The crinkles around his eyes appear. “It has a nice ring to it.”

“I love you, Henry Fletcher.”

“I know.”

Chapter Seventeen

I use my heel to lower the kickstand on my bike. It’s dark, but the dim lighting from inside the bar makes it easy to see. I search through the window for my roommates. Tricia’s red hair flames like a beacon. They left me at home in front of the couch, notebook propped on my knees. I’ve taken Henry’s words to heart. I’m trying at least. He sparked a fever of writing and the words are coming out, finally, but I haven’t ventured further than his apartment.

A crappy bar? I can do this.

I can totally do this.

My fingers falter on the door, but a couple people push in behind me, so I plunge into the light. Several people at the bar look up when I walk in and unless I’m completely paranoid, at least three recognize me. Ugh. I bolt to the table and Tricia’s eyebrow rises in surprise.

“Move over,” I say to Josh, basically sitting on top of him.

“Look who came out of her cave,” he says, throwing an arm around my shoulder. I glance nervously across the booth to see what sort of mood my best friend is in, but I stop short when I see an adorably handsome guy sitting next to her. He has his own half empty fishbowl margarita in front of him.

“Hi,” I say. “I’m Zadie.”

“This is Ryan, my boyfriend,” Tricia says. There’s an unmistakable glimmer of happiness in her eyes. You know, under the anger and daggers she’s throwing my way.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says, adjusting his black-framed glasses. So. Adorable.

“You too.”

I’m trying to keep my expression normal but internally I’m freaking out. In an effort to get this apology moving, I reach out and pinch Josh in the leg. He reacts by stomping on my foot. “Mother fuuudge,” he groans.  “What the hell, Zadie?”

“Want to get me a drink?”

He looks like he wants to pour his drink over my head but he finally gets that I want to talk to Tricia alone. “Come on, Ryan, let’s go get a refill and a new glass for Princess Zadie. She looks like she could use a drink.”

We watch the boys walk off. “Wow, he’s super cute,” I say once they’re out of earshot. “So things are going well between you two?”

“Very well,” she says stiffly.

“Good, because he seems great and I’m happy for you. For real. I’m sorry I messed things up with us. I never wanted to do that. I knew you were seeing someone but you were really quiet about it so I didn’t push.” She snorts and shakes her head. “Fine and I was terribly distracted by my own life. I’m a jerk.”

“A huge jerk.”

“The biggest,” I agree. “I want you to know I heard what you said the other night. I’ve got to get past all this stuff. It’s stupid and it’s not the end of the world. It’s these stupid anxiety attacks, though. Ever since Elton, things have gotten out of control. I feel completely out of control.”

“Then take control back.”

“That’s what Henry says, too. He says I need to own it.”

“He’s right. Remember when Henry ditched you for the prom and you asked Carter to go?”

“Yes, obviously.”

“Well, you took control of that situation. Things changed for you after that.”

“But was it really better for me? People thought I was slutty and I lost years I could have spent with Henry. I don’t think that was the best solution.”

“Really? Because I do. You pushed yourself and it gave you the courage to try Elton. To have a boyfriend and give things with you and Henry some time. Do you think you’d still be with him if you’d gone to prom with him all those years ago?” I wanted to think we could have made it, but it was doubtful. “I just want my old friend back. The one who wasn’t self-centered and scared all the time.”

I look over at the bar. Josh and Ryan are sitting next to one another talking but several of the guys and at least a couple girls keep glancing my way. “People are talking about me right now.”

“Who cares? It’s not like you murdered someone. Don’t let them win. And don’t let your insecurities destroy another relationship. Like you and Tyler.”

The door opens and a couple of guys walk in. I see Charlie’s head above everyone else’s and I search for Henry. I didn’t know he was coming but I’m not surprised. He knew I needed to fix things with Tricia and that it was possible it would go badly. I spot him behind the others and he flashes me a smile and points to the bar.

“I’m not going to screw this up again. I love him,” I say. “Oh and just so you know, that talk was way better than the one Josh gave me. He started rambling on about 90210.”

She giggles and playfully rolls her eyes. “Brenda and Kelly, right? It’s his favorite topic.”

“He’ll never get over it.”

“Never.”

We’re interrupted by a bartender holding a fishbowl with two straws. He’s rocking a thick beard and dreadlocks threaten to spill out of his hat. “Which one of you is Zadie?”

This guy must not have Internet.

Tricia points to me. He places the drink on the table. I search the bar where the boys are all busy talking about something on the television over their heads. “Did Josh send this?” I ask.

“Some guys over there.” He jerks his thumb to a table across the bar. Three knuckleheads wave and raise their eyebrows suggestively. What the hell?

“Yeah, no thanks,” I say, feeling my face turn red.

“You sure? It’s paid for.” I shake my head and he turns away.

“Wait,” Tricia says. He stops, grimacing when the overflowing drink sloshes out of the glass. “I think you should go give it to that guy over there. The one with the stocking cap on even though it’s ten million degrees outside.” She points to Henry. “He deserves a free drink.”

I nod. “He really does.”

The beardy bartender smiles. “You got it.”

Henry accepts the drink and raises it in my direction in a mock toast. I blow him a kiss in return. “See?” Tricia says. “This is so much better than running away.”

“Maybe, but they look a little pissed.” I gesture to the guys who bought the drink.

“That’s their fault,” she says. “Come on, let’s go see what happened to our real drinks.”

We slide out of the booth and cross the crowded bar floor. Henry smiles when he sees me. I lean into him and feel his arm snakes around my waist. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Well, you can thank those douches over there. They bought it.”

“For Zadie,” Tricia adds, wrapping her arm around Ryan She takes a sip from his drink.

“Guess they were hoping for another show,” I speculate.

Henry’s eyes flash and I feel his body tense. “No fighting. I’m good.”

He looks down at me. “You sure?”

“Very sure,” I say and give him a kiss. His lips taste like salt and lime. I link my hands behind his neck pull him to me. Whispering, “You know the old Zadie would have suggested we make out right here to make them jealous.”

He tilts his head in interest. “That’s a great idea.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s not. Okay, fine it is a great idea but we’re not playing that game anymore.”

“Well, you won’t let me kick their asses and we can’t have public revenge sex so I’m not sure this new game is any fun.” He sighs and looks at Tricia. “I guess you won’t make out with Tricia either then.”

I pinch his arm and twist. “No. Pervert.”

“Just checking.”

Henry gives me a sip of his drink, but I take it easy, wanting for this to work. Confident and controlled. Fun but safe. It’s not rocket science, but for some reason it doesn’t come easily to me.

*

“Will you come to work with me tomorrow? It’s the last day,” he asks. We stayed at the bar until closing and the streets are dark and quiet. Everyone else passes us on the sidewalk while he unlocks my bicycle. Henry pushes it toward home with one hand while holding mine with the other.

“Closing day?”

“Yep.”

“Only if you buy me doughnuts and soda and snacks on the way.”

“Deal.”

We walk home slowly, laughing at our friends being stupid down the street. The night is warm and not too muggy for once, a hint of fall coming in the future. Tricia jumps on Ryan’s back, while Charlie and Josh talk quietly on the sidewalk. I glance at Henry, taking note of the crinkles near his eyes, at his forearm muscles on the handlebars. He’s perfect. The night’s perfect and the pieces of the summer split like a jigsaw puzzle, fragments of ideas that begin to click together, tiny parts of a story building in my mind.

Chapter Eighteen

The final day is a bit more wistful than I imagined. Saying goodbye to the families and kids. Henry and I lock the gates and tidy up for the final time. It’s hard to think that summer is almost over since it feels like any other day, including the fact Tate ditched us an hour earlier to pick Lisa up at the airport, leaving the cleanup to us.

Yeah, that’s still going on. Even with the baby that may not be his baby.

“I knew he wouldn’t be able to stop seeing her.” I hang the skimmer net against the metal hooks on the wall.

“He loves her. In his own crazy, bad-decision kind of way.” He shakes his head. “Speaking of bad decisions, did Tricia hook you up with that prosecutor?”

“Yeah, this morning. I think I have a case against Eric for libel. I’m going to meet with him tomorrow at his office. He seems to think we may have a couple of options. Lisa’s lawyer called me too. I have a feeling she and Eric aren’t going to get back together.”

“Good.” Even in the shadows I can see he’s fighting some residual anger over this whole thing.

Near the diving board Henry links his fingers with mine. We walk around the edge of the pool, picking up the last bits of trash. “So, we have the next two weeks off work before fall semester starts.”

“We do.”

“I thought maybe we could take a trip. Like get in the car and drive.”

“A road trip? Like Kerouac?”

“Or Thompson.”

“Or Kesey.”

He nods and I smile. The sadness of leaving the summer behind disappears with the excitement that we’ve got so much more to do together. A road trip sounds exciting. Maybe even a little romantic. “Let’s do it,” I say. “We can go to Graceland.”

“Or the desert.”

“Maybe the mountains. Real ones.”

We store all the ropes and cleaning materials, the chemicals and stacked the chairs. We talk about the trip and what we need to do to leave in two days. Not much, Henry thinks. He wants it to be spontaneous.

I love him so much.

It’s dark by the time we finish. The pool glows blue from the underwater lights. It’s a little weird, seeing the place so sterile. No kids or inner tubes in the pool. No soda cans or popsicle sticks to pick up. Now it’s just me and Henry sitting on top of a picnic table under the shelter in the warm evening heat. He’s trying his hardest to convince me to have sex with him. Here. Now.

“Come on,” he says, turning the maximum power of his eyes on me.

“We agreed; no more risky behavior.”

“I don’t think I agreed to that. And I don’t think this really counts as risky.”

Mentally I’m wavering. The door’s locked. It’s dark and Eric’s in big trouble. He’s right. It’s not that risky.

“You could use it in your book,” he suggests sincerely.

“How could I use it in my book?”

“Eh, make it an erotic book or something where the two main characters have sex all the time. Once they can do it after closing at the pool. Think of it as research.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Crazy about you.”

I punch him playfully. He catches my wrist and that feeling of heat rises between us. The rawness that falls to the pit of my stomach. His hair hangs in his eyes and I use my free hand to push it back. Electricity sparks between us and I restrain myself as Henry moves from his seat so he’s kneeling on the bench. I reach for his neck and chin. I want to kiss him, desperately, and do.

Kissing Henry may be my favorite thing to do, especially after going days without it—without him. He’s salty from the sun, tasting and smelling like summer. I let him lift my shirt and he tosses it on the patio. I watch impatiently as he yanks his from behind his neck and over his head. My hands are on his chest before he’s half way done.

He leans over me and says, “Is this against the rules?”

“Probably,” I laugh. “I don’t care.” I mean it. I really don’t care.

“Good, because I’ve wanted to do this for ages, but if we get busted, there’s no third chance.”

I declare my position by removing my suit bottom and sliding his over his hips. He smiles adorably and I lock my ankles at his lower back, bringing us closer, until we fit nestled against one another. I expect his motions to be a little urgent, but he’s calm and steady. Moving with ease and restraint. He pushes into me slow and deliberate. Kissing me leisurely. Perfect.

Sweat builds between us, making us sticky and slick. His mouth finds my breasts and he kisses them—sucks them, making me groan with want. I grip the edge of the table, bracing myself for each unhurried thrust. “You’re killing me, babe,” I breathe as he winds me tighter and tighter.

My words are enough to make him increase his pace, finally increasing the intensity, giving me what I need. “Love you,” he whispers into my mouth. I fall over the edge, taking this boy with his blue eyes and kind heart with me.

*

If you liked No Regrets please try Roxy’s other books located HERE

Table of Contents

- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen