It Was You (11 page)

I slipped off my own sandals and dropped them into the bed, too. He opened up the cab and stuck the food and drinks into the wooden basket, then took my hand and led me toward the beach.

The sand was cool beneath my feet as we walked north along the shore. We were alone, the last surfers having probably left at dusk. Not many people were stupid enough to surf at night, except maybe the hardcore ones. I spied a bonfire further up the beach and wondered if that's where we were headed. But West stopped well short of it. He set the basket down on the sand and spread the blanket and we sat down. He pulled the drinks out and set these down in front of us. He reached for the bag from the taco shop and handed me a paper boat with the rolled tacos. They were drenched in guacamole and shredded cheese and, as if on cue, my stomach growled. If he heard, he didn't say anything, just grabbed his own food and positioned it next to him.

“
This alright?” he asked, his eyes scanning the water. “I didn't want to sit in some restaurant where we couldn't hear each other.”

“
This is more than alright,” I said, my irritation from earlier gone. “This is perfect.”

He moved his eyes from the water to me. “Yeah?”

Those blue eyes hypnotized me. Captivated me. I tried to hold his gaze. “Yeah.”

He smiled and we ate in silence, listening to the water crash against the shoreline. A thin layer of clouds streaked the night sky, hiding the few stars that were usually visible. The lights of the city usually muted the sky, casting a dull glow on the inky darkness. It was always hard to believe the Universe was full of billions of stars. We could barely see any.

I picked up one of my tacos and gingerly bit into it. Eating rolled tacos slathered with guacamole was messy and I was glad the cashier at the restaurant had thought to shove a wad of napkins into the bag. I grabbed one and wiped my fingers, setting it in my lap. I knew I'd need it after every bite. West sucked the guacamole off one of his tacos and I stared at his mouth, mesmerized. I thought about what his lips felt like, tasted like. I suppressed a sigh. I needed to stop thinking about mauling him.

“
Probably should have grabbed some bibs,” West said.

I held the last bite of one of my tacos between my thumb and forefinger. “Seriously.” I popped it into my mouth.

Before I could reach for the napkin, he grabbed my hand and brought it to his mouth. With his eyes locked on mine, he brought my hand to his lips. His mouth opened and he sucked softly on my finger.

I sat, frozen, desire bubbling inside of me. His tongue danced circles on the tip of my finger and I shivered. But I didn't pull away.

He finally released my finger from his mouth. He held my hand tightly in his own and smiled. “You taste good.”

Thank you seemed like a ridiculously inadequate response. I hated that he left me wordless. Breathless. But I loved it, too. No guy had ever desired me the way West did. No one ever had the chance—because Annika was always there. She was the one guys always wanted. And even when I did date or hook up with guys, I knew what they were thinking. They were settling for me.

West didn't know about my sister. And I was determined to keep it that way.

But how to respond? It wasn't like I was a nun fresh out of the convent, but my experience with guys had definitely been limited. At least compared to Annika's. What would she say to West?

It came to me immediately.

“
You have no idea...” I told him.

His eyes widened and a slow, knowing smile appeared. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

I grabbed the napkin in my lap and tossed it and the empty taco boat back into the paper bag. West did the same. He stood up and walked it over to a blue trash container a few feet away. I watched him. Even in the darkness, I could see the way he moved. Confidently. Like he knew I was watching him.

He came back and dropped onto his stomach, close to me but not touching. I resisted the urge to press up against him.

“
So,” he said.

“
So.”

I was still sitting and he looked up at me, a playful expression on his face. “Now what?”

Kiss me
.
Touch me
, I wanted to say. But I didn't want to throw myself at him. Yet, anyway. “You planned the date.”

“
True.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Tell me about yourself sounds so lame.”

I nodded. “It really does.”

“Do you surf?”

I shuddered. My idea of a good day at the beach did not include fighting waves and struggling not to drown. “No. Do you?”

“Yep. Right around here, most of the time.”

So he was good. Better than good if he was surfing Bird Rock.

The breeze blowing in from the water was cool and I rubbed my arms. “So if you ever fail to show up for a date, I should look for you here?”

He raised an eyebrow and pushed the dark hair off his face. “That seems to indicate there will be more dates.”

“Well, you did take me to a drive-thru for dinner,” I pointed out. “How could I refuse more of that?”

He laughed. “Come on. That was high class dining.”

I laughed. He was easy to talk to, to tease. To look at.

“
I liked it,” I said. “I really did. So, thank you.”

“
You're welcome.” He was quiet for a minute but he kept his eyes on me. “You want dessert now?”

My heart beat a little faster. “That sounds like a loaded question.”

He laughed again, pushed himself up and reached for the basket, sliding it between us. “Go ahead,” he said. “Reach inside.”

I stared at the basket for a minute, wondering what was inside. I reached my hand out, my fingertips grazing the lid.

“You like snakes, right?” he asked.

I snatched my hand back. He cackled and flipped open the top. “Kidding.”

I peered inside. I couldn't see much in the dark but I could smell. And I smelled chocolate. “Chocolate?”

He nodded. “Chocolate chip cookies,” he clarified. “And they're terrific.”

I reached inside and pulled out a zippered, plastic bag. It was filled with cookies, massive ones loaded with hunks of chocolate. I pulled one out and took a bite.

“
Wow,” I said. “They really are.”

I polished it off in three bites and immediately wondered where he'd gotten them from. It led to all sorts of questions: did his mom make them? An older sister? Did he live at home? Those were all the things I didn't know about him...and all the things I desperately wanted to find out.

“Told you.” He smiled. “Confession time. I can bake like crazy.”

I think my mouth dropped open. “You made these?” That was one scenario I hadn't considered.

“Yep.”

“
You're lying.”

He reached into the bag and pulled one out, shoving the entire thing into his mouth. “Made them this afternoon. All by myself.”

“I'm impressed,” I said, finishing the cookie. “So, now I know you surf and bake cookies.”

“
What else do you want to know?” he asked, rolling onto his back. “I'm an open book.”

I wanted to ask a million questions. I wanted to know everything about him, about this boy who had stormed into my life and made me, for the first time, feel wanted and desired because I was me. He didn't want my sister. He didn't even know she existed. He wanted me.

“Last year,” I asked. “Why didn't you start school then?”

His grin faded and he looked away. “Just a lot of obstacles.”

“Like?”

“
Like things that got in the way,” he said. “They're out of the way now.”

“
You're being vague,” I said.

“
I am,” he said. “Maybe I'm just a partially open book.”

I was curious, but I didn't want to pry. “Okay.”

“What about you?” he asked. “Why are you really at Mesa?”

I frowned. “What do you mean 'really'?”

“You told me it was complicated.”

Because it was. I didn't want him to know about my sister. I didn't want him to know anything about my life in high school. This was my fresh start and I didn't want anything to get in the way of it.

“Maybe I'm a partially open book, too.”

He laughed and reached for my hand, gently pulling me to him. I snuggled next to him on the blanket, my arm draped over his chest. I rested my head on his shoulder and breathed in. He smelled like citrus and spices and I wanted to bury my face in his hair and let him consume me.

“Maybe we should just make out, then,” he said.

“
Maybe,” I said.

He rolled into me and wrapped his arm around me. “I figured you'd say no.”

“I didn't say yes.”

His hand found the small of my back and rubbed gently against it. “Hmm. But I don't hear you saying no...” he whispered.

I couldn't. His hands felt perfect, heated against my own warm skin. His eyes paralyzed me. And the kiss from earlier was still fresh in my mind.

I leaned forward and kissed him and he pulled me tighter to him. His hands traced circles on my back, the tips of his fingers digging into my skin, and I shivered with anticipation. He shifted so that he was on top of me and slowly, he began to move his hips against mine. I could feel him inside of his shorts, pushing against my thigh. I let my hand slide down over his body, hesitating at his hip before dropping it lower. I rubbed my hand over him and he groaned and kissed me harder.

I didn't want to stop touching him. I didn't want him to stop touching me, kissing me. But, eventually, he did. He tore his mouth from mine, his breathing heavy.

“
Wow,” he said.

“
Yeah,” I echoed, trying to steady my own breathing. “Wow.”

We lay there beneath the dark sky, our bodies still entwined. I rested my head on his shoulder and he held me to him, his chest rising and falling as he took shallow, rapid breaths. I smiled, ridiculously pleased that he'd been so affected by our mini make-out session. Because I felt the same way. I'd dated a fair number of boys—and hooked up with even more—but there was something going on with West that I couldn't pinpoint. I'd heard about chemistry and spark and all that, but had never really believed it. But now? The sparks between us felt like they were about to ignite a fire.

“I got in a little bit of trouble,” West finally said. “Last year.”

I shifted just a little, propping my chin on my elbow so that I could look at him. “Okay.”

“I was pissed,” he said. “I did something stupid. Messed up the whole year.”

My hand was on his chest and I could feel his heart beating. “What did you do?”

He tilted his head toward me, a crooked grin on his face. “Partially open book, Abby. One page at a time.”

I smiled. That was fair. I was beyond curious, but at least he'd shared something with me. Which was more than I'd done. I swallowed hard. I needed to give him something, some little kernel of information about me. I owed him that. And, I realized, I wanted to give him that. Another piece of me, a piece that would help him see as much of the whole as I would allow.

“I was supposed to go to State,” I said.

“
Okay.” When I didn't offer anything more, he asked, “Why didn't you go?”

I shrugged. “I changed my mind.”

But he wanted more. “Why?”

“
I told you. Complicated. And one page at a time.”

His arm pulled even tighter around me,  warmth radiating through his shirt. “I guess we'll need to make some time for those other pages then.”

My stomach jumped. I wanted more time with him. All kinds of different time. And I was thrilled that he wanted more time with me.

I nodded. “Tell me about your name,” I said. I didn't want to talk about me but I wanted to know everything about him.

“What about it?”

“
West is an unusual name,” I said. “Is it short for something?”

His arms tensed. “Yeah. Weston.”

Weston. I liked it. “That's a cool name,” I told him.

He shrugged but said nothing.

“Are you named after someone? Is it like a family name?”

He hesitated. “Yeah. My dad's.”

I nodded. “Did he play baseball, too?”

“
We're not at that chapter yet,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. But there was an edge to his voice, something that told me I was treading into uncomfortable territory.

So I just nodded and said nothing, preferring instead to lean against him and just enjoy the feel of his arms around me.

“You in a hurry to get home?” he asked after a bit.

I wasn't. Even with Annika gone, I wasn't looking forward to going home. Not because I was miserable there—I wasn't—but because it meant I wouldn't be with him. “No. Why?”