Cross Me Off Your List (6 page)

“Adam!” I shout, hoping he can hear me over
the club music. He spins around, a bit confused, so I yell his name
again and wave my arm like a flailing fangirl.

His eyes light up, and he smiles like he’s
just run into an old friend. Definitely a good sign. He ducks down
and hugs me, the railing between us.

“Marisol Cruz,” he says, shaking his head.
“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Spring break,” I tell him.

“Here? You’re more of a big city kind of
girl,” he says.

I shrug as best as I can while hanging on to
the rail. “Los Angeles plans fell through,” I say. “This was my
only real option. Any way you think you could get my friends and me
into the VIP area?”

“Done deal,” he says. “Go get them. I’ll meet
you over by the stairs.”

He makes his way back to the ‘man with the
list’ while I hurry back to our suddenly crappy table. I’ll kill
two birds with this stone – make Benji’s night a little more
enjoyable and cross off item number four (get into a VIP section).
I seriously figured that one would happen in a restaurant, but this
works even better. I make a mental note to update the list when I
get back to the hotel because I haven’t even marked off item number
three – meet a celebrity. I have a list of celebs to choose from. I
wonder who Hilary has met.

“I have awesome news,” I announce, looking at
Benji more than Noah. “I may sort of know the DJ who is taking over
the midnight hour, and he’s going to get us into the VIP
section.”

Benji tackle hugs me when he gets out of the
booth and then tells Noah that he should keep me. I’m not
completely sure what that means, but as long as he sticks with me
this week, that’ll work for me. We head back over to the stairs,
where we get stamped with the VIP stamp and Benji smarts off to the
guy with the list.

Adam plays it cool when I introduce him to
Noah, and I decide not to tell Noah the extent of how well I know
the DJ. Instead, I drag Noah back to the dance floor – on the VIP
level – and bask in the glory of my accomplishment. I can’t deny
that I’m proud of myself. I got us in here when Spaceships Around
Saturn couldn’t even do it. Can I count that toward something on
the list?

“So, I have to ask,” Noah says, leaning
closer to me and making it hard not to basically wrap myself around
him in front of all these people. “Exactly who the hell are
you?”

I crack up because I’m not even sure what he
means by that.

“I’m serious,” he says, wrapping an arm
around my waist and pulling me to him. “You got us into the VIP
section. Are you locally famous?”

“Maybe I’m locally infamous,” I say, just to
see his reaction.

“Well, that would explain how you know the
DJ. He looks like he could have an infamous side to him,” Noah
says. He laughs immediately after, which lightens the mood.

“I’m not even local,” I admit. “I live two
hours from here. My spring break plans weren’t supposed to be in
Crescent Cove, but things went down and plans changed. I used to
date Adam – nothing serious.”

Noah pulls me against him, and with this
‘grind on me’ kind of music, that’s not the smartest idea because I
could easily take advantage of the moment. I’m not sure what that
would do to his reputation, and frankly, I don’t even care.

“Serious enough to get us into the VIP
section,” he says, giving me this ‘uh-huh, I know better’ kind of
look. “But I don’t even care because he’s spinning records and
you’re with me.”

Not the jealous type? Hell yes. Can I keep
this guy? I already have Benji’s vote, and that should count for
double points since Noah’s brother is clearly obsessed with him.
Plus, Noah doesn’t seem to have the strict rules that are placed on
Benji and apparently Chloe. I could totally ease into this
life.

And I only have a week to prove it.

I’m not even sure how late – or early – it is
when we drag ourselves out of the VIP section and toward the exit
of Lights Out. I definitely should’ve worn better dancing shoes.
Benji stumbles next to me, but Nat catches him before he faceplants
on the sidewalk. We seriously should’ve taken the drinks away once
we moved to the VIP area. Noah was right, though – Benji got drunk
enough that he even let Nat drag him onto the dance floor. Of
course, it didn’t last long because Benji couldn’t even see
straight, but nonetheless, Noah’s prediction won.

“Take him to the car,” Noah says to his
brother. He nods toward Benji. “We really don’t need anyone taking
pictures of him right now. I’ll hold off anyone out front.”

We wait out front alone while Big Tony goes
to get the car. Tank and Nat go through another exit to avoid any
possible camera flashes. Fortunately, the paparazzi are gone, aside
from two creepers with cameras sitting on the curb. I guess waiting
around here all night for a picture of Spaceships Around Saturn
leaving a club wasn’t worth it. I can’t say I blame them. Sleep
sounds much better.

“Is this what it’s like?” Noah asks. He
motions around us. “You know, being normal? I can’t even remember
the last time I went anywhere without someone stopping me for a
selfie or autograph.”

“Um, yeah, it’s pretty normal for everyone
else to ignore you while you stand around and wait for a car,” I
say. “Welcome to my glamorous life.”

Noah laughs and then wraps an arm around my
shoulder. He hugs me close to him while we walk out toward the curb
so we can jump in the car and get out of here pretty quickly. A
bright red sports car rolls up to the curb, though, instead of our
ride. Noah glances at it but doesn’t seem impressed.

An older guy on a cell phone makes his way
toward the car. He looks to be in his mid-forties, but he’s
definitely held his age well. He reminds me of the rich doctor
type, a bit rugged yet clean cut, in that way that only actors or
models can pull off. He’s nice-looking. I can only imagine what he
looked like at our age. He probably has a trophy wife.

Noah watches the guy, maybe thinking the same
things I am (except the nice-looking part), and the man catches his
gaze.

“Excuse me for just a sec,” the man says into
his phone. He lowers it to his chest and takes a few steps toward
us. Maybe his daughter is a Spaceships Around Saturn fan. “Is there
a problem here?” he asks instead.

I instantly turn to Noah, who seems as
confused as I am. He simply shrugs and shakes his head.

“Then would you mind stepping back?” the man
asks. “That car is worth more than you’ll ever make in your
lifetime. Are you aware that you’ll be lucky to get a job with all
those tattoos? No one worth working for is ever going to hire
you.”

The man shakes his head in disgust before
stepping back to his car and taking the keys from the valet guy. He
says something into the phone about ‘punk ass teenagers’ before
slamming the door.

“Who the hell does he think he is?” Noah
asks.

“Dr. Richardson,” someone says from behind
us.

I glance over my shoulder to see a tall guy,
about six foot one or two, with surfer hair a lot like Benji’s,
except it’s sandy brown instead of blonde. Even in the glow of neon
lights and streetlamps, I can tell he has a beach-given tan. He’s
possibly the hottest guy I’ve seen in Crescent Cove yet – no
offense to SAS or their bodyguards. This guy just looks like he
lives on the shoreline and soaks up the sunshine.

“Doctors are assholes, eh?” Noah says.

The guy shrugs. “He’s always an ass. His son
is just like him, thinking they’re God’s gift to the world.
Arrogant sons of bitches. The doc’s going to hell anyway, and I
hope they don’t have mansions or yacht clubs when he gets
there.”

A sea-foam green truck roars its way to the
curb in front of us. I’m pretty sure the vehicle is older than I
am. I wait for it to die on the spot, but it just chokes a
little.

“How drunk are you?” the guy says, popping
out of his driver’s side window. It’s the guy with blonde
dreadlocks who I saw on The Strip.

“Not drunk enough,” the guys says. He
half-waves to us before getting in his friend’s truck.

I watch them make a U-turn and disappear
back into the depths of Crescent Cove. It’s sort of weird
vacationing in someone’s town, seeing them live their normal lives
with normal jerky doctors who live in mansions, drinking beer at
their normal hangouts. And here I am standing on the curb with a
celebrity, who those normal guys probably didn’t even know. It
makes me smile. Maybe I wasn’t the last person alive who didn’t
know what Spaceships Around Saturn looks like after all.

It’s a little after noon when Noah shows up
at room 322. He’s unaccompanied by Big Tony, and I’m thankful. He
hurries inside, just to be safe, kicks off his flip flops, and
stretches out on my bed – flattening the pink paper with the purple
owl in the process.

“What is…” He reaches under himself and grabs
the paper. “The spring break bucket list?”

I want to dive across the bed and snatch it
from him, but it’s too late. He’s already skimming the list, his
eyes moving faster than I want them to.

“Ahhh,” he says, shaking the paper at me.
“This whole hanging out with me thing – all part of the master plan
to check off number three, right? I’m the ‘meet a celebrity’
guy.”

“Give me that,” I say, reaching across the
bed for the list.

He jerks his arm back, and I topple onto him.
He keeps his arm at a good length, so I can’t reach it, and hooks
his other arm around me, so I can’t really wiggle my way toward
it.

“You know, I kind of like this whole you
squirming on top of me thing. It’s a bit sexy,” he says, laughing
at my struggle. “Maybe we can add that to the list.”

I pull myself free from his grasp and plant
myself on what was formerly Erin’s bed. Then I give him my bitch
glare, as best I can anyway. It’s hard to pull off when his ‘I’m
playing innocent’ grin makes me want to laugh.

“Seriously,” he says, sitting up on my bed.
“What’s the story? I won’t laugh. I promise.”

I’d much rather have him know the truth than
to think he’s a pawn in my bucket of games, so I tell him
everything. I tell him about Hilary and how we had our falling out.
I tell him about everyone but Erin taking her side, and I even
admit that I don’t blame them. Hilary was going to LA with or
without me. It was the better spring break trip. I can’t say I’d
have chosen my side either, regardless who was right. They had to
be on her side at least until spring break was over, but I’m sure
they’re bonding and making the greatest memories of their high
school careers without me.

“Erin heard about this place and said it was
big on tourists and that we could maybe do our list here,” I tell
him. “Then we got here and realized how tiny and boring it was. The
joke was on us, I guess.”

Noah shakes his head and moves over to Erin’s
bed next to me. He examines the list again. “You know what? The
joke is on Hilary,” he says. “One, because she lost you which is a
damn shame, and two, you’re here with Noah Winters of Spaceships
Around Saturn, and anyone she meets for item number three won’t
even come close to me.”

I’ll give him that. She could meet freaking
Justin Timberlake, and I’d still have the edge over her because I’m
on Saturn, which might be better than LA in the long run.

“We’re going to cross off your list,” he
tells me. “I’m in. Let’s do it. We’ll narrow down what you have
left, and we’ll go on an adventure. You don’t need Hilary or your
no-good friends or Erin and her broken ankle. You can do it without
them. You’ve got me.”

I partially want to melt right here on the
hotel bed, but I also want to be rational because I know we can’t
pull this off. Even with his money and connections, there’s no way
to accomplish this list in a week. We didn’t even expect to
complete it in LA. It just gave us a map.

“There’s no way,” I tell him. “There are
things on that list that are impossible, especially here. In LA,
maybe, but Crescent Nowhere Cove? Not happening.”

Noah places the list on the bed and turns
toward me. He isn’t buying it. It’s written all over his face that
he doesn’t believe a word that’s coming out of my mouth.

“The hardest thing on that list to pull off
in Crescent ‘Nowhere’ Cove is meeting a celebrity, and I’m pretty
sure you’ve met a few of them,” he says.

He crosses his arms over his chest, and I
swear, for a split second, he reminds me of Nat with the prissy
attitude. I instantly burst out laughing.

“Well, I’m glad that was funny to you,” he
says, completely oblivious to why I’m even laughing. “Are we doing
this list or not?”

If nothing else, I’ll do this list just so I
can take photos of myself doing the items with him instead of my
friends. And then I’ll post them all over my social media accounts
so they’ll be forced to look at them. Immature? Maybe. Do I care?
No. I just hate having to withhold photos until after this week is
over. I can’t be the one who unleashes the big Saturn vacation
secret.

“Let’s do this,” I say.

This bucket list adventure with Noah would be
a lot more fun if we didn’t have Big Tony tagging along three steps
behind us everywhere we go. I understand why he’s here, but the
lack of privacy is annoying, and more so, I’m not so keen on having
a bodyguard around for some of these items. I feel like we’re
breaking the law with a cop. Not cool.

The Strip isn’t any more exciting than it was
when I bought a bracelet and scarf while Erin whined on the
sidelines. Still, Noah insists that we use what’s available to us,
and The Strip is more than available. He skims most of the vendors
before deciding to stop at Strickland’s Boating.

The store itself is entirely out of place.
It’s massive with its own back parking lot and storage unit. The
surf shop next door doesn’t blend any better. I feel sorry for all
the mom-and-pop stands along the sidewalk now. I don’t know how
these people even make a living with corporate units like this
exploding out of The Strip.