“Because of Lloyd.”
“Can you get off the Lloyd thing?”
“Why?”
“Because I already told you, it has nothing to do with Lloyd.”
“Well, it’s a little weird that you were fine until you talked to Lloyd, and now all of a sudden you don’t want to talk to me.”
I snort. Does he really think we were fine this whole time? Has he not noticed the fact that there is this very weird tension between us, due to the fact that he dumped me two weeks ago for some other girl?
“What?” he demands.
“Nothing,” I say. “I think it’s just kind of funny that you think we’re fine.”
“I don’t see why we can’t be,” he says. “People break up and stay friends, Court.”
“True,” I say. “But I don’t really want to be your friend.” It’s true. I don’t want to be his friend. I want to be his girlfriend or nothing. I feel a lump rising in my throat and I take a sip of my soda in an effort to push it back down. I can feel Jordan watching me, so I open up the fast food bag and take out my Whopper. I peel off the paper and take a bite of the burger. He remembered the cheese this time. I look at the burger and promptly burst into tears.
Day Two, 1:50 p.m.
“Dude, it’s Jocelyn,” I say, looking over my shoulder nervously, just waiting for Courtney to get out of the Burger King. Could this trip be any more fucked up? Seriously. Courtney bursts into tears, something about cheese on her burger (which I know I remembered, because I knew if I didn’t, she was going to flip the fuck out). She ran into Burger King crying, and I stood outside the bathroom, yelling in to her and looking like a freak. She kept telling me to go away, so finally I did, and now I’m waiting in the car for her to come out. The weird thing is, all I can think about is that song by Digital Underground, the one with the lyric “I once got busy in a Burger King bathroom.” I think I have it on a mix CD in here somewhere.
“This isn’t Jocelyn,” B. J. says, sighing. “It’s Jordan. Dude, try to play a better trick than that. You sound nothing like her. Plus your number came up on my caller ID.”
“No,” I say, feeling like I’m living in some sort of weird alternate reality. “Jocelyn is the one who’s following you.”
“Why would Jocelyn be the one who’s following me?” B. J. asks, sounding thoroughly confused. Again, I’m struck by his ability to be very insightful and smart about some things and then totally clueless about others. Maybe he’s one of those idiot savants.
“Because she wants to know where you’re going, obviously,” I say. I crane my neck to get a look at the Burger King. Still no sign of Courtney. I’m giving her five more minutes, and then I’m going back in there. What is it with me and the women’s bathroom?
“Why would she want to know where I’m going?” B. J. asks, sounding even more confused. “Wait, how do you even know this?”
“Because Courtney was asking all these questions about who was following you, and about how I should try to convince you not to call the police because it was probably nothing.”
“So?”
“So obviously she was saying that because it’s Jocelyn, and they don’t want you calling the police and getting her in trouble, and/or finding out it’s her.”
“Did you just say ‘and/or’?”
I don’t respond.
“Why would Jocelyn be following me, though?” B. J. asks again. “She knows where I’m going. I tell her every second where I’m going to be. I check in.”
“Maybe she doesn’t believe you,” I say. “Maybe she’s following you because she wants to make sure you really are where you say you are.”
“That’s ridiculous,” B. J. says. “Why would I lie about where I’m going?”
“She doesn’t trust you,” I tell him. “I have to go.”
“Why wouldn’t she trust me?” he demands. “I’m totally trustworthy.”
I try not to point out that not only does B. J. tend to get caught doing things and then lie about them, he also has an extremely impulsive personality, which makes him do things spur of the moment. Like dress up as a midget. Or cheat on his girlfriend. Not that B. J. has ever cheated on Jocelyn. Not that I know of, anyway.
“Listen,” I say, “I gotta go. But it’s definitely Jocelyn. You should talk to her.”
“Hmm,” B. J. says, sounding unsure. I want to be a good friend, but I really can’t deal with this right now. I slap my phone shut and head inside to rescue Courtney from a women’s bathroom for the second time in twenty-four hours.
33 Days Before the Trip, 6:57 p.m.
“This house,” I say, “is amazing.” I take a soda out of the refrigerator, pop the top, and pour half of it into my glass. I can’t believe I’m in Miami. It feels exotic for some reason, just saying that.
“It is pretty awesome,” Jordan says, sitting down next to me at the bar. I hand him my glass and he takes a sip of my drink.
“So what’s this place like tonight?” I ask. Jordan, B. J., Jocelyn, and I are going to the beach, then out to dinner, and I want to make sure I’m dressed appropriately.
“What do you mean?” Jordan asks. He hands me back my soda.
“I mean, is it dress up or what?” I bought this amazing black dress that I can’t wait for Jordan to see me in. It has a flowing, crinkly skirt and a low back.
“You don’t have to dress up,” he says. “But you can if you want.”
“And what about after?” I say, leaning in close to him. “What are we going to do after?”
“What do you mean?” he asks, grinning. He shifts in his chair and moves closer to me.
“I mean are we going out to a club or anything?”
“A club?” Jordan throws his head back and laughs. “You want to go to a club?”
“Of course,” I say. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Um, because you don’t dance?”
Hmm. This is true. But I feel like dancing tonight. “We’re in Miami,” I say. “Isn’t that what people do in Miami? Besides, I do so dance.”
He raises his eyebrows.
“It’s my new thing,” I say. “Dancing is my new thing.”
“Oh, really?” He leans in close to me and puts his forehead against mine. “Since when?”
“Jordan,” I say, “are you trying to say I’m a bad dancer?”
“No,” he says. “Of course not.”
“Good,” I say. “Need I remind you that my dancing was the thing that attracted you to me in the first place?”
He tilts his head to the side, then kisses me lightly on the lips. “That is true,” he says. “You’re a very hot dancer.”
“I know,” I say. “And tonight I’m going to be a dancing machine.”
“Okay,” he says, kissing me again. “But you have to promise you’re not going to dance with anyone else.”
“No one else?” I say. I cock my head to the side, pretending to consider. “But what if some really cute guy asks me to?”
“No,” he says. He kisses me again, a little more forcefully again. “I want you all to myself.”
“What about girls?” I ask, smiling. “Can I dance with girls?”
“Only if I can watch,” he says, grinning.
“Eww,” I say. “You’re dirty.” I push him playfully, but he grabs my arms, and this time, I kiss him. He kisses me back, and his hands are in my hair and on my face.
“We have to stop,” he says, after a few minutes, pulling away. But I can’t help but think about what would happen if we didn’t stop, if we just kept on kissing, if we just kept going and didn’t stop.
“I don’t want to,” I say, trying to pull him close to me again.
“We have to,” he says, giving me another light kiss on the lips.
“We don’t
have
to do anything,” I say.
He laughs. “We’re supposed to be going to the beach,” he says. “With B. J. and Jocelyn, remember?”
“Yeah,” I say, sighing.
“And if we don’t go, they’ll probably end up killing each other.”
“True,” I say. “I don’t want to be responsible for the deaths of our friends.”
“Then come on,” he says. He holds his hand out, and I slide my palm into his. “But later,” he whispers huskily, “you’re mine.”
You have no idea, I think. I follow him happily up the stairs to where Jocelyn and B. J. are waiting.
33 Days Before the Trip, 7:07 p.m.
“Seriously, they do have naked beaches here,” B. J. says, grinning. He’s wearing camouflage shorts and a T-shirt that reads “Hi! You’ll do.”
“Perfect,” Jocelyn says, pulling off the pink tank top she’s wearing and exposing the top of her white bikini. “So you’ll have no problem if I go topless.”
“No problem at all,” B. J. says, grinning again.
“Great,” Jocelyn says. “So you’ll have no problem with all the guys on the beach staring at me.” She crosses her arms across her chest with a satisfied expression on her face. B. J. frowns, and Courtney and I look at each other nervously.
B. J. and Jocelyn are, at their best, volatile. They have this weirdness between them that tends to come out at horrible times. On prom night, they got in this huge fight in the limo about Katelyn Masters, a girl B. J. used to hook up with freshman year. In the midst of the fight, B. J. went to change the radio station, and Jocelyn screamed, “If you touch that music I’ll break your fucking fingers!” I’m beginning to think that Jocelyn is quite crazy, although Courtney assures me it’s just something B. J. brings out in Jocelyn, that she’s usually sane.
“You’re not going to be exposing your boobs to every guy on the beach,” B. J. says. We’re all in Miami, at my dad’s friend’s house, standing in the room Courtney and I are sharing. We were getting ready to go out to the beach, and then B. J. made the remark about boobs, which has obviously put a kink in the plan.
“Why not?” Jocelyn asks. “You’re so intent on seeing everyone else’s boobs, and you’re all excited about the naked beaches.”
“So?” B. J. asks. He takes the baseball cap he’s wearing off his head and throws it onto the bed, which is not a good sign. In my experience, when B. J. starts removing any kind of clothing, it can only lead to bad things.
“Actually,” I say, “it’s private beach property outside, so there probably won’t be that many people around.”
“So let’s go! Do you have your sunscreen?” Courtney asks brightly. She pulls a bottle of Coppertone out of her bag and squirts some into her hand.
“I don’t!” I say. “I don’t have my sunscreen!” I’m almost shouting it. I sound like a tool, but it’s what needs to be done if we want to save the situation. Otherwise, Jocelyn and B. J. are going to be fighting all night and ruining our good time.
“Jocelyn?” Courtney asks, holding up the bottle. “Do you need some sunscreen?”
“Yes,” Jocelyn says calmly. “Actually, I do.” Oh, thank God. Situation diffused. Score one for Jordan and Courtney.
“Here you go,” Courtney says, holding out the bottle. Jocelyn takes it, then reaches behind her back, unhooks her bikini top, and starts slathering the lotion on her bare boobs.
“Jesus!” B. J. screams. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Courtney looks at me, and I quickly look away from Jocelyn’s boobs.
“I’m getting ready for the beach!” Jocelyn says. I move to the other side of the bed and sit down facing the wall. The last thing I need is seeing my girlfriend’s best friend’s bare boobs. That can definitely not be good, especially since she’s also my best friend’s girlfriend. This whole thing is getting very incestuous, what with Courtney’s dad banging my mom and everything.
“Um, I think we should go,” Courtney whispers in my ear.
“Probably a good idea,” I say.
“So, we’re going to go,” Courtney announces, as B. J. screams, “PUT THAT BACK ON IMMEDIATELY!”
We walk out of the room (OUR room, I might add—B. J. and Jocelyn have their own room, but of course they elected to start their naked fight in ours) and onto the beach.
Once we’re settled into the sand, Courtney and I look at each other and start laughing.
“They are so fucked up,” I say, leaning back on my towel. The sun is starting to set, which means there probably wasn’t too much reason for sunscreen. “Good diversionary tactic with the sunscreen,” I say.
“Thanks,” she says, smiling. She’s wearing a purple bikini and black sunglasses, and I reach over and pull her sunglasses off her eyes. “Come here,” I say, pulling her close to me.
“I’m so glad we’re not them,” Courtney says, snuggling into my arm.
“Ya think?” I say, kissing the top of her head.
“They’re so crazy,” she says. “They’re not honest with each other at all. It’s like they almost get off on messing with the other person’s head.”
There’s a sick feeling in my stomach when she says the word “honest” and I try to ignore it.
“Yeah,” I say. “They’re all screwed up.”
“Not like us,” she says, pushing me down on the sand. She gets on top of me and starts kissing my neck.
“Whoa, whoa,” I say, turning away. Her long hair slides across my chest. “You want to make out on the beach?”
“There’s no one around,” she says, and I pop my head up and look down the beach. She’s right. Way down, there’s an old guy walking his dog, but they’re moving in the opposite direction from us.
She starts kissing me again, on the mouth this time, and my hands are in her hair and on her face. Every so often she pulls away and looks at me, and her eyes are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Then suddenly, she’s looking at me intently and whispering something, and I’m so caught up in her that I don’t hear what it is.
“What did you say?” I murmur into her hair. She slides her body off mine and settles in next to me.
“I said I want to be with you,” she says into my chest.
“You are with me,” I say.
“No, I mean, I want to make love to you,” she says, and my eyes spring open. Whoa.
“Whoa,” I say. I prop myself up on my elbow and look at her. “Court, that’s…”
“I know,” she says, smiling. “I know it’s a big deal and all that. And Jordan, I’ve thought about it, I really have.” I believe her, too. She’s definitely an analytical sort of girl, and I know she wouldn’t take something like this lightly.
“Are you sure?” I ask, dumbfounded. It’s not that I don’t want to. Believe me, I do. There are times when Courtney and I are doing our math homework and making out that I feel like I’m going to go insane from wanting her so bad. But anytime we’ve even talked about it, she’s made it pretty clear that she wasn’t ready.
“Yes,” she says. “I’m sure.” She frowns. “You don’t want to?’
“Of course I want to,” I say truthfully.
“Good.” She starts kissing me again, and her tongue is in my mouth and she tastes and feels so good, and I can feel her body pressing against mine and I’m so turned on that I almost lose my head.
“Wait,” I say. “You want to do it right here?” How is this happening? Somewhere along the line, Courtney has become sex crazed, and now wants to have sex on the beach.
“If you want to,” she says.
“You don’t want your first time to be on a beach,” I say.
“I don’t care, as long as it’s with you,” she says, her face flushed. She starts kissing my neck. “Hey, Jordan?” She pulls away and looks right at me.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.” She’s looking in my eyes, and she’s waiting for me to say it back, and I want to. I feel it. I do love her. But then I start thinking about her dad, and how I’m lying to her, and suddenly, I know I can’t say it. I shouldn’t say it.
“Thanks,” I say, swallowing. A look of confusion crosses her face, and for a second, I don’t think I’m going to be able to do it. But I look away from her before I can get caught up in the moment. “We should go inside.” She climbs off me, and I still don’t look at her, because I know I won’t be able to take the look on her face. “And check on Jocelyn and B. J.” I stand up and brush the sand off my shorts and start walking toward the house. And after a second, I can hear Courtney following me.