Island Girls (and Boys) (12 page)

I
felt wickedly wonderful. Not a shred of guilt. Okay. There was a shred of guilt pricking my conscience, but I told myself that I would make it up to Mrs. P. I�d work a day when I really was sick. Go in with a headache or cramps or a fever. So I was sorta taking an advance on a sick day. At least, that�s how I rationalized it.

I called Mrs. P as soon as I woke up, before I�d used my voice so it sounded low, raspy�hopefully making me sound like I was truly ill. And hopefully so she wouldn�t notice on her end that my voice was shaking on my end. The fact that I had a slight headache from drinking the night before also eased my guilt. I was kinda sorta a little bit sick.

And I felt a lot worse when I went into the
kitchen and saw the mess from the party. It had been so late when everyone finally left, and we�d been wiped out. So we hadn�t bothered to wash the dishes that had somehow managed to get used�even though we�d put out paper plates and cups. We�d just stacked everything on the counters and island.

The cat was on the counter, lapping up beer that had spilled out of an overturned mug. Tiny was gnawing on a partial hot dog. But that wasn�t the worst of it.

Two large trash cans had been overturned, their contents spread over the kitchen. I could see the large, hairy back end of a strange dog sticking out of one of the cans.

Another dog, huge and mangy looking, had its paws on the island and was licking ketchup off a plate. The plate tottered, and before I could reach it, or even decide if I should approach the beast, the plate hit the floor and shattered.

�Amy!� I walked into the hallway. �Amy!� I shrieked at the top of my lungs.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. A heavy-set guy with a beard and a dirty T-shirt that said
DESIGNATED DRINKER
stopped in front of me.

�What�s wrong?� he asked.

�Amy!�

I heard softer footsteps on the stairs and a door open behind me. Amy and Chelsea reached me at the same time.

�What is wrong with you?� Chelsea asked.

�Amy�s strays. Let�s start with this guy. I don�t know him,� I said, looking at Designated Drinker.

�He drank too much and was just sleeping it off,� Amy said. �He�s not permanent.�

�And the two new dogs? Are they sleeping it off?�

Amy had the grace to blush. �No, they�re really strays. We have to keep them, Jen.�

�Have you
looked
in the kitchen recently?�

She cautiously eased past me and peered around the corner. �Shit.�

�Exactly.�

I looked at Designated Drinker. �Did you sleep on a bed?�

�Top bunk.�

�Wash the sheets before you go.�

Alex had crept down the stairs, and Noah
was standing behind Chelsea, yawning and scratching his head.

I took a second to look at everyone, and then I said very firmly, �I want this mess cleaned up now.�

�You�re not the boss��

�Right now, I am,� I said, cutting Chelsea off. �This is
my
grandparents� house, and we promised to take care of it. We have one hour to make this house look as clean as it did the day we arrived. Or else.�

�Or else what?�

�We move back home.�

It was a threat I never would have carried out. I didn�t think. I mean, I wanted to be here as much�if not more�than they did. And my parents would never agree to let me stay here all alone.

But they didn�t know that.

Which might be why they pitched in with such enthusiasm. All of them. Even Designated Drinker. It took us almost two hours. It didn�t help that the dogs kept trying to retrieve what we put in the trash. Noah finally took them outside, along with a bottle of Chelsea�s
strawberry-scented shampoo. She started to protest, looked at me, and went back to scrubbing the counters.

We were further slowed by the fact that we had to keep stepping around a drunken cat. It actually staggered, this way and that. And in the end was what lightened the mood and got us all to laugh again.

Until it barfed.

But even then, things didn�t seem quite so bad. We had the dishes cleaned and put away, the counters scrubbed, the floors swept and mopped, linens washed. The dogs smelling like Chelsea. Which I thought was funny as well.

I waited until we were finished putting everything back to the way it was and Designated Drinker left before I confessed my plans for the day to Amy and Chelsea. After all, they needed to know so they could back up my story.

�You gave me all that grief about taking a day off, and now you�ve called in sick?� Chelsea asked. �Have you got a lot of nerve or what?�

I knew I deserved that, but I�d hoped she�d be a bit more mature about it.

�It�s not the same thing, Chelsea. You have
Noah every day. Dylan is going to be leaving. I�ll probably never see him again.�

�That�s so weak, Jen. At least I was spending the day with someone I love. You�re taking a sick day to be with someone who doesn�t care enough about you to hang around. He�s using you. He�s like a sailor. A girl in every port.�

�He�s not using me,� I said defiantly. �We have something special.�

�Right.�

It really ticked me off that she�d put all these doubts out there to mingle with my guilt over lying to Mrs. P. Sure, Dylan and I weren�t committed to each other, and he might have a girl in every port�or at least on every island�I didn�t want to think about it. I didn�t want to question my actions today or his actions in the future. I didn�t want to speculate about what was really happening between us�or not happening. Or why he wouldn�t stick around.

I stood on the balcony and watched Amy and Chelsea drive away and tried not to feel the guilt settling in the pit of my stomach or the doubts weaving through my heart.

But when Dylan arrived, the guilt and doubts
fled as quickly as they�d arrived. I was so incredibly glad to see him, so glad that I�d agreed to play hooky today. Really, who would it hurt? Most of the campers had left late yesterday. It would be the weekend before we were busy again�but I didn�t want to think about that. I just wanted to think about my time with Dylan.

I would have loved to have time alone with him in the house, cuddling on the couch, sitting on the balcony, but Noah and the shower guy�Alex�were hanging out together, watching some show about surfing. Like they�d ever surf. It would require getting off their butts. And I didn�t see that happening any time soon.

I was decked out in my bikini. I grabbed my beach bag and jogged down the steps. I refused to let the fact that this summer wasn�t what I�d envisioned bring me down.

I was going to spend the day with Dylan.

I stepped out into the sunlight. He was waiting for me. He slipped his arm around me, his hand warm against my bare side.

�Where�s your stuff?� I asked.

�I travel light.�

�Hold on then. I�ll be right back. I�ve got
another beach towel.�

I ran back up the stairs and into my bedroom, grabbed another beach towel, and an extra bottle of lotion. Stopped off in the kitchen and tossed some extra drinks into my bag, along with some snacks.

Then an idea hit me. I walked into the living room. It didn�t appear that either Noah or Alex had moved a muscle.

�Noah?�

He was lying on the couch. He craned his neck back to look at me, somehow keeping half his gaze on the TV. �Yeah?�

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I took a deep breath.

�I was wondering if you guys could make yourselves scarce around noon. I�d like some alone time with Dylan here in the house.�

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. �I bet you do, but relax. I hear nothing, see nothing, speak nothing.�

I sighed. So typical of a guy to not get what I wanted. �I just want to fix him lunch, but I�d like nothing to distract us.�

�I�m down with that. I�ll make myself scarce.�

�Alex?�

�I�m already gone.�

�Will you take the animals with you as well?�

�Sure thing,� Noah said. �That�s what roomies do, right? Help each other out.�

�If you really wanted to help out, you could chip in on the expenses and the daily chores.�

�Chelsea said everything was covered.�

�Yeah. By us.� I waved my hand. �Never mind. Just be gone by noon.�

�Not a problem.�

 

The beach was paved with bodies�every shape, size, and skin tone. But since Dylan and I headed down to the sand early, we�d managed to grab some prime real estate. On the soft sand, near the water.

We�d staked our claim with a beach umbrella and our beach towels covering the sand. We�d slathered lotion over each other, and then we�d talked. About nothing. About everything.

He had two older brothers, both in the army. Special Forces. So he was feeling the pressure to measure up. Neither of us wanted to really
dwell on the dangers�or the fact that he might be going far away.

Instead I told him about the drunken cat that morning. He laughed. A wonderful, marvelous laugh.

He told me about the first night that he and Zach camped out.

�We just headed out from home, no plans at all, except to reach the northeast corner of the Texas coast. We got there just as it was getting dark. Nothing in sight. Nothing. Just sand and water. No houses, no lights, no people. So we set up our tent, right there on the beach. Cooked supper over a driftwood fire. Real adventurers. Do you have any idea how dark it gets at night when there isn�t a town nearby?�

�Pitch black?�

�Blacker. But the stars. They�re beautiful, Jennifer. No city lights to fade them. You feel so small.�

We were on our sides, facing each other. He played with my hair while he talked, wrapping strands around his finger, unwrapping them.

�Were you scared?� I asked.

�Nah, not really. Just in awe that we could
be so insignificant.�

�You�re not insignificant.�

�Not like I didn�t matter�it�s just that everything else seems so much greater. We hardly talked at all. Just communed with nature. The next morning nature communed with us. The tide came in and soaked us. We�d pitched our tent too close to the water.�

I laughed. �You�re kidding!�

�Nope. Made a mess of everything.�

�I thought tents were waterproof.�

�Not when you leave it unzipped so you can have a breeze blowing inside.� He tugged on my hair. �You ever slept in a tent?�

�No. I know it�s odd for a person who works at a campground not to like camping, but I like having air-conditioning and a bathroom.�

�I�d like you to sleep in my tent sometime.�

�I�ve seen your tent. It�s tiny. I think three would be a crowd.�

�Zach hooked up with an island girl at the party last night. I�m sleeping solo until we leave.�

�Oh.�

That one little word seemed to say nothing
and everything. I swallowed hard, thinking that I should follow it with something significant.

�Will you think about keeping me company in my tent?�

I nodded. Yeah, I could think about it. As a matter of fact, now that he�d put the notion in my mind, I wasn�t certain that I could think about anything else.

W
hile I puttered around in the kitchen fixing lunch, I couldn�t get two thoughts out of my head: that Dylan had extended a not-so-subtle invitation to sleep with him, and that Chelsea might be right, darn her. Dylan and Zach were trying to hook up with girls on every island.

I wanted to believe that I was special. That he�d planned to spend only a day or two on this island and had hung around longer because he really liked me.

�So where�s Noah?� he asked.

�He had things to do.�

Dylan was sitting on the bench seat at the table by the window, his arm stretched across the back, watching me. Usually, I didn�t mind
guys watching me. All right. I�m a normal girl. I
like
guys watching me. It�s why I spend time making my hair look stylishly messy and putting on makeup. It�s why I always wear clothes that leave my pierced belly button visible.

What girl doesn�t want the attention of a guy?

But Dylan wasn�t watching me like he was intrigued or fascinated. He was watching me like he was baffled.

I was standing at the wooden island in the center of the kitchen, chopping up chicken breast, celery, onions, and walnuts to make Gran�s famous chicken salad. I was trying really hard not to feel his gaze on me.

But I felt it anyway.

�What�s wrong?� he asked.

�Nothing.�

How could I explain what I didn�t understand?

�What about that other guy who lives here now?�

�Same thing. He had things to do.�

�You in tight with him?�

I swung around. �No. He�s Amy�s friend.� I
shrugged. �Or something. She acts like this place is a shelter, offering anything we have to any stray that shows up.�

He was studying me again, his blue gaze intense.

�I can see the dolphins,� he said, a total change in subject. I welcomed it.

I walked to the refrigerator and took out a head of lettuce. �I love watching them.�

Chopped it up, washed it. Put a little on two plates. Then using an ice-cream scoop, I gathered up the chicken salad and put a nice little mound on top of the lettuce.

�Or maybe they�re porpoises,� he said.

�Maybe. I never can tell the difference.�

I washed off strawberries and put them around the mound. I thought it looked very artistic.

I set a plate before Dylan and one opposite him. I got the box of saltines out of the pantry and put it on the table. I�d already poured two glasses of sweetened tea and left the pitcher within easy reach. I slid onto the bench and smiled. �Dig in.�

�Do you have bread?�

�Oh, yeah.�

I retrieved the bread, watched as he turned my creation into a sandwich, leaving only the strawberries on the plate.

�I�ve never been much for salads,� he said. He took a bite of his sandwich. �It�s good.�

�It�s my grandma�s recipe.�

With my fork, I started picking at the chicken, wondering if I should have chopped it up finer. It didn�t look exactly the way Gran�s salad did. I scooped some up and ate it.

�Is it because I said that I want to sleep with you?�

I almost choked. I took a sip of tea, trying to get the chicken salad to go down my suddenly knotted-up throat. It was dry. Way too dry.

I swallowed, cleared my throat. �That isn�t exactly what you said. You said you wanted me to sleep in your tent.�

�Yeah, in my tent
with me
. But you�re not down with that.�

I looked at him, studying him the way he�d been studying me. �I don�t know. I�ve thought about it.� A lot. Wondered, agonized, tried to figure out where we were going here.

�But�� His voice trailed off.

�When you leave here, will I ever see you again?�

He looked around the kitchen, looked out the window like he was trying to find the answer. Finally, he brought his gaze back to me. �Probably not.�

I nodded. �And when you leave here, you�ll meet other girls and maybe invite them into your tent. Maybe there was a girl before you got here.�

�There wasn�t.�

�But there will be after you leave.� It was a statement, but it sounded like a question, and I was hoping he�d deny it.

�Probably.�

I gave him points for being honest. But points only count in sports.

He sat back against the bench. �Look, Jennifer, that�s what my summer is all about. Camping along the coast. Meeting girls, partying, drinking. Having a grand, final send-off.�

�I know, and I understand. I just don�t want to be one of the girls. For me to sleep with a guy, I have to be
the
girl. The
only
girl.�

He gave me a funny, lopsided grin and looked out the window. Like he didn�t know how to respond to my heartfelt declaration. Like he hadn�t expected me to say no to his invitation.

To be honest, I hadn�t thought I�d say no either. And if Chelsea hadn�t given me a reality check with her talk about all the girls in various ports, I probably wouldn�t have.

�I�m sorry if you feel like your time with me has been wasted,� I said quietly.

He slid his gaze over to me, reached across the table, and took my hand. �I don�t feel that way. Sure, I�m disappointed. Sure, I�d hoped for more. But I can respect where you�re coming from. Doesn�t mean I like it, but I can respect it.�

�So what now? Are you going out in search of an island girl for tonight?�

�I�m not trying to put notches in my tent pole. I just want to have a blast this summer. I have fun when I�m with you. So for now, you�re the only island girl I want to spend time with.�