Island Girls (and Boys) (6 page)

I
wasn�t even irritated that Noah was camped out on the sofa. I introduced him to Dylan and Zach, while Amy and Chelsea went to their rooms to change.

�Beer�s in the fridge, dudes,� Noah said. �Help yourselves.�

�Did you go grocery shopping?� I asked hopefully, because there hadn�t been any beer when we left that morning.

�Nah, just made a beer run.�

Of course. Let�s not overlook the important things. I tamped down my irritation and walked into the kitchen. My feet were starting to ache from being on them all day. I searched the pantry and the cupboards. Nothing much. Half a package of crackers. Two heels of bread.

I went to the refrigerator. Lots of beer. I ground my teeth together. I could make beer soup.

I heard footsteps and turned. Dylan stood there.

�I have to go to the grocery store,� I said.

�You don�t have to cook for us. We owe you anyway.�

�No, you don�t. Besides, we offered to cook.�

�So do it another time. It�s late. Let�s go out.�

Everyone agreed with Dylan�s suggestion. I ran upstairs and changed into a pair of low-riding jeans and a lacy top that left my midriff and pierced belly button exposed.

We went to Joe�s Surf �n Turf. Because it was Friday, a holiday weekend, the true beginning of summer, the place was as crowded as our campground. Maybe even more so.

Wall-to-wall people. I normally wouldn�t have minded, but I was seriously hungry. We�d walked there, which turned out to be wise, because we wouldn�t have been able to find anyplace to park outside.

But standing just inside the doorway, I was beginning to think we�d made a mistake. It
would be forever before we would be able to find a place to sit and could get our food. Rock music was blasting from speakers somewhere. The place was dark with candles flickering in hurricane lamps. Along the walls hung thick ropes and netting holding seashells and starfish. Anchors leaned in the corners.

�There�s a table!� Chelsea yelled.

She headed for it, with Noah right behind her. As I started to follow, Dylan put his hand on the small of my back. It was warm against my skin.

I wondered if we were on a date. Or was he simply touching me because it was so crowded in here and he didn�t want to lose sight of me?

The round table was set near a wall. Dylan sat beside me. As soon as everyone was seated, Noah planted his mouth over Chelsea�s like he hadn�t seen her all day. Uncomfortable�again�I shifted away from her.

Which placed me almost in Dylan�s lap thanks to the cramped quarters.

He grinned. �They�re pretty serious.�

�Yeah.�

We reached for the menus stacked in the
center of the table between the napkin holder and a tray of condiments. Our fingers touched. I froze, feeling silly and self-conscious. He grabbed a menu, opened it, and set it between us.

�Hey, I get it,� Noah, suddenly unlocked from Chelsea�s lips, said. �Fish in the surf, cows on the turf. Cool.�

I sneaked a peek at Dylan and wondered if he was studying the prices as carefully as I was. I leaned over to Chelsea and whispered, �Noah�s going to have to pay his own share tonight. We walked. We didn�t use his gas.�

�He doesn�t have any money.�

�How did he buy beer?�

She gave me a pained look like I�d taken my fork and stabbed her in the back.

�Look,� I said, �We can�t ask the guys to pay for him, and Amy and I aren�t made of money either.�

�I�ll take care of Noah�s share,� Chelsea said.

�Okay. Thanks.�

One worry over with. I felt bad that Noah was broke, and I didn�t like being stingy with my money, but I really didn�t think it was fair for everyone else at the table to have to pay his
way. Especially when the waitress came over and he ordered a triple-decker cheeseburger with a side of shrimp.

The guys ordered beers. Amy, Chelsea, and I ordered tea. It made me feel like a kid.

Until Dylan leaned back slightly and put his arm along the back of my chair. Not on my shoulder. He wasn�t even touching me, but it somehow seemed intimate.

I noticed that Amy and Zach were talking. Chelsea and Noah had returned to their favorite pastime, exchanging spit. While part of me thought it would be great to have a guy who wanted to kiss me all the time, couldn�t keep his hands off me, I also wanted a guy I could talk to. I wanted something more than the physical.

But when I looked at Dylan, the physical was about all I could think about. I wondered if his kisses felt as crooked as his smile. If they�d be as warm as his eyes. As deep and penetrating as his gaze while he watched me watching him.

I leaned toward him. He leaned toward me.

�It�s loud in here,� I said pointlessly.

�Yeah. You like working at the campground?�

�Usually. I worked there last summer. I got to meet a lot of interesting people.�

�And not so interesting, I imagine.�

I laughed. �Mostly interesting.�

Our food arrived. I�d ordered the shrimp, my favorite. Dylan had ordered a burger. We were sharing a basket of fries.

�So how long are you guys going to be here?� Noah asked.

�We haven�t decided yet,� Dylan said.

�You�re just camping all summer?�

�Pretty much.�

�Awesome.�

�Yeah, it is.�

�Camping, though. Don�t you get kinda yucky?� Chelsea asked.

�Only when it doesn�t rain,� Zach said.

Chelsea�s eyes got huge. �What?�

Zach grinned. �When it rains, we just strip down and use nature�s shower. When it doesn�t rain, well, then we have to pay to use the man�s shower.�

�You don�t really strip down, do you?� Chelsea asked.

�Not where anyone can see.�

Chelsea gave me a funny look. I couldn�t decide if she approved or not. Wasn�t certain if I did either.

�What if you get all lathered up and it stops raining?� she asked.

�He�s teasing you,� Dylan said. �Don�t believe anything Zach says.�

�So what
do
you do?� Chelsea asked.

�Chels, does it really matter?� I asked. �You�re never going camping.�

�I might.�

�Where would you plug in your curling iron?�

�Good point.� She shrugged and returned her attention to Noah.

I looked at Dylan. �Sorry about the third degree on your bathing habits.�

�No big deal. You like to camp?�

�I�ve never been camping. I�m sorta like Chelsea. I prefer modern civilization.� I held up a ketchup covered French fry to make my point.

�We have ketchup.�

I grinned. �And fries?�

With his mouth, he snatched the fry from
my fingers. I just sat there, staring, watching him chew.

�No fries,� he finally said.

I wasn�t at all certain what had just happened, but I found myself suddenly wondering if I was getting in over my head.

 

It was late when we finally left the Surf �n Turf. We all started walking along the side of the road back to the house. We�d paired off again. Chelsea and Noah, naturally. Amy and Zach. Dylan and me.

We�d only gone a few yards when Dylan took my hand. �Let�s walk along the beach.�

I thought about letting Amy and Chelsea know, but they were already far ahead and busy with someone else anyway.

Dylan didn�t wait for me to answer. He simply pulled me along between some houses. It was shadowy and dark, the houses blocking the moonlight. We walked cautiously until we reached the invisible line where houses stopped and the true beach began.

We slipped off our shoes, rolled up our cuffs, picked up our shoes, and strolled to the
water�s edge. It was close to midnight, but I wasn�t thinking about how tired I�d be in the morning when I woke up for work. I was just thinking that I wished tonight wouldn�t have to end.

Dylan let go of my hand, reached down, picked up a shell, and threw it into the surf. It was like he suddenly needed something to do.

�Your friends are nice,� he said.

�Thanks. So is Zach.�

�So are you.�

He looked over at me, and even though it was night, there were enough lights from the buildings, the moon, and the stars for me to see that he was studying me intently.

�You�re nice, too.� I felt like such a dweeb. I couldn�t think of anything clever to say. And that description seemed so inadequate when applied to him.

�Glad we agree that everyone�s nice,� he said.

Only he was more than nice. He was sexy, and he made my heart pound every time he looked at me.

�Why camping?� I asked.

�Why not?�

�Because of the whole showering in the rain thing?�

�Hey, don�t knock it unless you�ve tried it.�

�Have you?� I asked incredulously. �I mean really showered in the rain? You said Zach was teasing.�

�Don�t you know that there�s some truth behind all teasing?�

�So you have showered in the rain?�

�Maybe.�

Mr. Mysterious started walking along the shore. I fell into step beside him. The warm water washed over our feet. There was a light breeze blowing my hair around my face. I gathered my hair, holding it in place off one shoulder.

�Why did you decide to join the army?� I asked.

�No reason in particular,� he said.

But he said it in a way that made me think there was a particular reason. We simply didn�t know each other well enough to share the reason�whatever it was.

�So you don�t have a boyfriend?� he asked quietly.

�No.�

�That�s hard to believe.�

�I had one for a while, but it didn�t work out.�

�How come?�

�I don�t know. Do you have a girlfriend?�

It seemed a little late to be asking. I wondered if it would make a difference to me if he did.

�I did a couple of years ago.�

�Why did you break up?�

�I don�t know.� The same answer I�d given him.

�You miss the guy you were dating?� he asked.

�I never think about him unless someone asks me about him.�

�Same here. But I�m not looking for a girlfriend.�

�I�m not looking for a boyfriend.�

�That�s good,� he said. �It would be a real bummer for me to have a girlfriend when I�m going into the army.�

I wasn�t sure why he was harping on not having a girlfriend, unless he thought I was interested and wanted to make sure that I knew he didn�t want anything permanent.

�Do you play pool?� he asked, abruptly changing the subject to something safe.

�Yeah.� I�d gotten pretty good last summer.

�What time does that game room at the campground close?�

�They lock the doors at midnight.�

He lifted his wrist, pushed a button on his watch that illuminated the face. I could see it was one with all the fancy gizmos that guys seemed to like.

�It�s almost midnight now. Hardly worth going back over there,� he said.

�Well, actually, I have a key.�

W
e returned to the house to see if anyone wanted to come with us. But they were watching a Vin Diesel movie. So we left them to it.

I hadn�t really considered how we were going to get to the campground until Dylan and I were back outside, and he handed me his helmet.

�I�ve never ridden on a motorcycle before,� I confessed.

�Guess we could walk.�

I laughed. �It would take us all night.�

�Bad plan. Put on the helmet.�

�You should wear it,� I said.

�I live on the edge.�

I pulled the helmet down over my head, buckled it, and climbed onto the back of his
motorcycle, right behind him. He reached around, grabbed my hands, and pulled me forward, tucking my arms around him.

�Hold on tight,� he called back.

And I did. Because I was terrified that I�d fall off or we�d topple over. I nearly left my stomach behind when we turned onto the main road. The bike tilted slightly and I thought,
This is it! We�re going to crash!

I tightened my hold on Dylan, and thought I heard him laugh. The bike straightened and off we went, up the road. I tried not to close my eyes, but they kept closing anyway. I was sure we weren�t breaking the posted speed limit�.

Except, I wasn�t sure. Because it certainly felt fast. Maybe it was the roar of the engine and the rush of the wind. I wished that I didn�t have the helmet between us.

I wondered if he would stay long enough to break my heart.

Where did
that
crazy thought come from? Just because I was with him tonight didn�t mean we�d have anything more than this.

He began to slow down. I opened my eyes, and recognized everything around me. We were
almost at CCR. My stomach dipped right along with the bike when he took the turn to the campground. I was sorry to realize that I�d soon be letting go of him.

He slowed. Regretfully, I straightened away from him.

He parked right beside the Beach Hut and cut the engine. The silence and stillness were disorienting for a second. I took off the helmet.

Dylan twisted around slightly. �So what did you think of the ride?�

�Totally awesome.�

�It gets addictive. I really get claustrophobic when I ride in a car now.�

�I hope you don�t have to drive a tank for the Army.�

�Me, too.�

I slid off the bike, pulled the key out of my jeans� pocket, and started up the steps. It was eerily quiet and dark around us. Using the key, I opened the door. Once we were inside, I locked it. The light from the streetlamps set around the campground poured through the windows, softly illuminating the inside of the building, along with the overheads on some of
the appliances in the snack bar and the flickering lights of the video games.

�We won�t be able to turn on the main lights,� I said quietly. �We�ll attract too much attention, and night owls will want in. But there�s still plenty of light to see once your eyes adjust.�

It was very shadowy in there, but we could still see what we needed to see: mainly each other and the pool table.

I watched Dylan walk over to the case that held the cue sticks. He took down two cue sticks, handed me one, and ambled to the pool table. �Where do we get the balls?�

�You drop a quarter into the slot.�

He looked over his shoulder at me. �We have to pay to play?�

I suddenly felt a little daring as I sauntered over to the table. �Well, if you were an ordinary camper you would. But since you�ve hooked up with the unofficial assistant manager�� I jingled my keys, crouched down, unlocked the coin slot, and flipped a switch. The balls tumbled out into a tray at one end of the table.

Pleased with the results, I straightened and
gave him what I hoped was an I-am-good-at-this smile. �I�ll break.�

Because of the shadows, I couldn�t see clearly into his eyes, but I could feel him studying me. He moved to the table and started arranging the balls in the rack. �So what are we going to play for?�

His voice sounded low and secretive and left me wondering what game we were really here to play.

�The joy of winning?� I asked, my confidence suddenly sliding down to my toes.

He moved the full rack to one side, then the other, up a bit, then down, before centering it in place. �That�s no fun.�

Very carefully, he lifted the rack, leaving the balls in place. Although we were on opposite ends of the table, I felt his gaze home in on me.

�There has to be some element of risk to make the game interesting,� he said. �Otherwise, we�re just smacking balls around.�

I liked smacking balls around. I�d done it a lot last summer. Still, I couldn�t help wondering what I�d gotten myself into here. �What did you have in mind?�

�Home-baked chocolate chip cookies.�

A bubble of laughter escaped with my relief. I was expecting him to suggest a kiss, or maybe even strip pool! Something that went with the shadows and his sultry voice.

�Hey, don�t laugh. I didn�t expect to miss my mom�s cooking so much.�

�But chocolate chip cookies?�

�My weakness.�

�I thought only girls craved chocolate.�

�Whatever. But if I win, you bake me some chocolate chip cookies.�

�And if I win?�

�You bake me some oatmeal raisin cookies.�

I laughed harder. �No way are you coming out ahead either way.�

�Not totally ahead. If I win, I get something I
really
like. If I lose, I get something I sorta like.�

�Not happening. If you win, I�ll bake you some cookies, but if I win�I get an unbroken sand dollar�one that isn�t bought at a tourist shop. You have to find it on the beach.�

Holding his cue stick to the floor like a staff, he shifted his weight to one hip. �A sand dollar?�

�Unbroken. I�ve always wanted to find one on the beach. I figure with you going all the way down to Mexico, you might find one. You can mail it to me here.�

�All right. You got a deal. Best out of five games. Break.�

I hit the white ball so it sent the other balls scattering over the table. Two solid and one striped ball went into the pockets. �I�m solid,� I said.

I walked around the table, studying how the balls were now arranged and the various angles.

�You�re looking at the table like you know what you�re doing,� he said.

�Red ball in the side pocket,� I said.

Lined up my shot.
Smack, tap, bingo!
I looked back at him. �I do know what I�m doing.�

He groaned. �I really don�t want to spend my summer looking for the perfect sand dollar.�

�So what happened to your no risk, no fun policy? Yellow ball, corner pocket.� I loved the sound of balls clicking as they came into contact with each other, even more the thud of a yellow ball dropping down into the corner pocket.

�That was when I thought winning was a sure thing.�

�It is a sure thing,� I said, moving so I could get a better angle on the blue ball. �
My
sure thing. Blue ball, off that end, then back into this far corner.� With the tip of my cue stick, I tapped the corner I was aiming for.

�No way!�

It was a tricky shot, but I was feeling confident. As geeky as it sounds, pool is all about angles, and angles are all about math. I envisioned the ball�s journey, exactly where it needed to touch the side to get the necessary angle, and how hard to get the momentum it needed to reach the far corner pocket�

�Come on already.�

�No talking,� I said.

�You�re taking this way too seriously.�

�You bet. You have no idea how badly I want a sand dollar.�

�What�s the big deal about a sand dollar? All the tourist shops sell them.�

�Like I said. Purchased sand dollars don�t count. It�s gotta be a washed-up-onshore-
discovered
-sand dollar. Now be quiet.�

I heard him heave a deep sigh, but I wasn�t going to be distracted. Besides, I wasn�t just playing for the sand dollar, but the joy of beating him. I
really
wanted to beat him. I lined up my shot and
smack!
The white ball hit the blue ball. It rolled to the end with a force and angle strong enough to bounce it back toward the corner I�d indicated. It rolled, started to slow�no, no, no!

�It�s not going to make it,� Dylan said.

�Yes, it will.� I tried to send forceful vibes�

Didn�t work. The ball stopped right at the edge of the pocket. If I just breathed on it, it would drop right in. �Not fair!�

�Yes!� Dylan jabbed a fist into the air, ambled up to the table, and bent over it. �Have to admit, Jennifer, you had me shaking in my shoes.� He looked up and winked at me. �Now, babe, start lining up your ingredients, �cause tomorrow I�m eating chocolate chip cookies.�

And he proceeded to clear the balls off the table with stunning swiftness and accuracy.