Scarred Beautiful (10 page)

“I must look a bit like a raccoon now,” she says, changing the subject, as she wipes her face with the back of her hands, concentrating on the area underneath her eyes.

“A cute raccoon,” I jest. “Here, you missed some.” I swipe my thumb at the corner of her eye to remove the rest of the black from it. “There. All set. As good as new.”

She bends down and picks up a smooth rock, launching it into the ocean before plopping down on the sand in front of the water.

“Wow, that’s quite an arm. I’m impressed,” I say, joining her on the sand, the sun warming our backs.

A smile causes her lips to quirk up. “They used to call me the ‘golden arm of the Bronx,’” she tells me, holding her head up high with pride.

I turn my whole body to face her, making a pile of shells and rocks between us. “That’s quite a title. What’d you do to earn it?”

“Well, we didn’t have parks in the city, but my friends and I would play ball in the courtyard near our apartment and my ball always made it over the fence and into the street.” She covers her toes with sand, rendering them invisible.

“So did you ever play little league?” I ask, drizzling more sand on her feet.

“No. I never wanted to make it official. It was just fun playing around, you know? Less pressure. So…do you want to help me build a sandcastle or what? We’ve got the beginnings of a world class one right here.” She points to the mound of sand and our collection of shells.

“Sure, but we don’t have a bucket or a shovel.”

She rises to her knees and scoops sand into her hands. “Who needs those? It’s called improvising, you know, like what the cavemen did. Geez, you
do
need to get out more,” she says, smiling, and I chuckle before we get down to the serious work of digging a water hole for the foundation and pounding wet sand into odd shapes. We finish off with a surrounding wall to protect it.

“Where do you want to put the shells?” I ask, patting the sand down to create what looks like a road around it.

“Hmph. How about we put them on top? You know, instead of a flag. Ooooh!” she exclaims, eyeing a shell on the ground. “I love this one. It’s so pretty!” She examines it, holding it up to the sunlight. “It’s got silver and blue inside. Let’s use this one, too.”

“Okay, good thinking.” I choose a couple more shells and we both press them into the sand.

“There.”

We stand up and dust our hands off, admiring our work.

“For an architect, you certainly make crappy sandcastles,” she teases.

I cup my hands full of water, preparing to strike, and Fran retreats a few steps back.

“You wouldn’t d—” she starts to say, but then stops herself, already aware of the consequences.

“Ah, don’t say it, Fran. It won’t end well for you.” I grin, taunting her with the water as it seeps through my fingers.

She surrenders, holding her palms up and out in defeat. “All right, all right. Let’s go find the lovebirds. Knowing Peyton, I have a feeling they’re held up in a cave somewhere.” She laughs, and the sound carries in the air.

As we look for Peyton and Caleb further down the beach, we end up getting roped into a group volleyball game. We play for a while before we go in search of them again. I’ll admit I didn’t mind watching Fran jump up and down, and I noticed I wasn’t the only one.

“Wait, is that them?” I squint, trying to make out the couple I see a ways down the beach standing in front of the café. We start walking in that direction and I find myself wanting to reach for Fran’s hand but I hold back. She was just talking about losing the love of her life and I highly doubt she has any interest in me or my hand.

We meet up with Peyton and Caleb, and from the obvious swell of Peyton’s lips, he’s definitely been keeping her busy. I eye him suspiciously until I hear a grumble coming from Fran’s stomach. “Hungry there, little spark?” I grin and bump Fran’s shoulder playfully.

“Little spark? What’s that about?” Caleb asks, “Are you going to let us in on your private joke?”

“Nope,” I shoot back, and throw a wink in Fran’s direction.

Peyton leans over, whispering something in Fran’s ear and they both giggle, which leaves me wishing I knew what the hell they were saying.

We enter the café, a rustic interior that’s lined with wood tables, leather booths, and black and white framed photographs of the shore. I request a table outside overlooking the ocean and the hostess leads us to a terrace that’s lined with various exotic flowers in yellows, oranges, and golds. The tables are driftwood, bleached by the sun, each with a single yellow rose in the center.

I pull out Fran’s chair and she sits down, peering over her shoulder at me. “Such a gentleman,” she says, an edge of sarcasm to her sweetness.

Caleb directs his attention to Fran, raising both his brows. “Ha! Ask him how much of a gentleman he was with Hayley Williamson in eleventh grade.”

Peyton leans forward in her chair, her brown eyes aglow with curiosity. “That sounds interesting, do tell.”

I kick Caleb under the table and he groans, reaching under to rub his now throbbing knee.

Fran rests her chin in her palm as she waits for an explanation I’m not sure I want to give. “Well, we’re waiting. You’re not getting off that easy.”

“Oh trust me, he got off,” Caleb says laughing, and I’m two for two when I nail him in the shin. He scowls but doesn’t let my wrath deter him, continuing with the conversation. “The ladies are waiting.”

“How about you tell us, and then each one of us will also tell something about ourselves, to ease your pain,” Fran says, a mischievous smile floating across her lips.

I fold my arms across my chest, contemplating her proposition and interested in what story she might have to tell. “Okay, deal,” I concede, trying to figure out how to word what I’m about to say. “So…in a nutshell, Hayley’s mom caught her giving me head in their garage…in the front seat of her mom’s Mercedes…just as she was about to….” I hesitate and look to Caleb who isn’t any help at all. “Uh…swallow. Needless to say, her mom’s front seat needed a thorough cleaning.”

“Oh my God,” Peyton and Fran say at the same time, and their laughter ensues and it doesn’t stop. My ears heat and a streak of red slashes across my face.

I eye Caleb with a vengeful grin, anxious for him to take his turn so I can laugh my ass off, although he’s got a ton of stories and a lot more variety than I do.

“Caleb, you’re up dude,” I say, in hopes that he can take the focus off of me.

“Hmph,” he mutters, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “There are so many good ones. It’s really hard to choose.” He glances over at Peyton and then back to me. “Okay, I’ve got one. This was when I was in high school. So my parents had gone away for the night and I invited my girlfriend Valerie over. My bed was way too small and she suggested my parents’ king-sized bed, which I thought was a bit weird, but decided to go with it. Anyway, she left me for a minute and came back with some whipped cream, and…some other stuff. We were getting busy with the whipped cream when my dad ran up the stairs because he’d forgotten something, and caught us stark naked with, uh, certain parts of Valerie covered in whipped cream.”

I shake my head and chuckle as I recall that night. Caleb called to tell me his dad went through the roof, not because he found them naked, simply because they was on his bed.

“Whipped cream, huh?” Peyton asks with an arch of her brow. “I didn’t know you were into that.” She moves closer to him, whispering something in his ear and once again, I feel like I’m in the dark.

“All right, break it up you two. Fran, it’s your turn,” I tell her, excited to hear what she has to offer up.

“Wait,” Fran says loudly, “does it have to be dirty? Or can it be anything?”

Caleb pipes back instantly, just as the waitress returns with our drinks. “It can be whatever you want, but we prefer it be dirty. Right, Matt?”

The waitress eyes us curiously and I bite back a grin, keeping my fingers crossed it’s something dirty so I can get a visual.

“Okay.” Fran takes a deep breath and rubs her hands down the front of her skirt and I take that to mean it’s going to be a good one. “So when I was in high school, I was dating this guy Eddy and we had sex in the haunted house at the Halloween carnival.”

That’s it? I had my hopes up for something with a bit more gusto. But I suppose it’s adventurous and fun and that does seem to fit Fran to a tee.

She looks to me and then over at Caleb and Peyton. “That’s it? No reaction. Nothing.”

Caleb gives her a sympathetic smile, reaching out to pat her hand. “To be honest, Fran, it’s not all that exciting.” He turns to Peyton. “Okay, babe, your turn.”

I move closer to Fran and talk quietly so only she can hear. “That’s okay. I liked it.”

“Figures,” she teases back, and there’s that sassy mouth again. My eyes are immediately drawn to her lips and I take a sip of water to cool down, distracting myself from the divine temptation sitting beside me.

Peyton’s entire face beams when it’s her turn, obviously taking a liking to this game. “Well, I’ve got a one-up on your garage story. My boyfriend Rob and I were messing around at my house and he asked if he could tie me up, to which I responded, ‘of course.’” Caleb’s head does a 360 and he coughs, nearly choking on his drink. Peyton pats him on the back a couple of times before she continues. “So, let’s just say I was tied to my headboard in quite the awkward position when my sister walked in, followed by my mom. The sheer terror on my mom’s face let me know I probably would never be allowed in the house alone again. So needless to say that was the end of my escapades with Rob.”

Caleb’s phone rings, interrupting our hysterics, and he puts his finger up in the air, motioning for us to hold on. “Hi, Mom,” he says, but the smile on his face disappears almost instantly, leaving me concerned.

I love his mom and dad as if they were my own. They’ve stepped up for me in every way possible since my mom died—from Friday night dinners and helping with my studies, to being emotionally available for me. They mean the world and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.

I keep my eyes glued to his face until he hangs up. “What’s going on Caleb? Is your mom okay?”

He pushes his chair back and stands up, shoving his cell phone in his back pocket. “My dad fell and hurt his hip, and I want to get back so I can check on him.”

“Oh shit,” I mutter, throwing some cash on the table to cover the bill. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, man, but thanks. My mom said he’s really irritable because now he can’t get up off the couch and do his woodworking so you don’t want to be exposed to that right now. You remember how he gets when he can’t keep busy.”

“All right, well, I’ll definitely come by in a day or so to check on the old man. You know he’s gonna drive your mom crazy now.” We laugh, letting Fran and Peyton go ahead of us as we exit the restaurant.

Fran stops Caleb when we reach the car, setting her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry about your dad,” she says earnestly, and it makes me smile. This little spark has a heart of gold.

I lean my head back on the seat and look out the window, my eyes drifting upward. The sky is a kaleidoscope of colors; streaks of orange, pink, and blue graze the landscape as we head back to the hotel. A contented smile sits on my lips when I think about the day. It was a lot of fun and I’m glad I decided to be a part of it. Rolling my head to the side, I catch a glimpse of Matt, his cheeks sun-kissed, his arms tanned, and his features relaxed. He must feel me staring because he looks over and sends a smile my way.

There’s a tap on my shoulder and I wake up disoriented, trying to get my bearings, when I see we’re already back in the front circle of the hotel. I rub my eyes and yawn, not knowing when I’d even dozed off, but feeling somewhat rested as a result.

Matt comes around to open my door and I climb out, stretching my arms before bending over to rub my calf, now cramped from the ride. “I can help you out with that, if you want,” he offers, one hand resting on his hip, a devilish smirk on his face.

“I’m sure you could,” I reply, standing back up and shaking my leg out, “but I’m all set.”