Summer of Sloane (6 page)

It feels good to be here. Like I somehow managed to escape all that happened at home in Seattle, while Mick and Tyler are stuck in that hell. Although that could also be the alcohol talking. But I hope it’s not.

From the corner of my eye, I see someone jogging down the beach. The football is launched in his direction and easily finds its way into his hands. He twirls the ball between his fingers with the ease of someone who’s done it a thousand times before. Whoever he is, he seems to already know everyone here, as he smiles and confidently shakes his head at the boys rushing toward him. Without hesitation, he expertly plants his foot, then bullets the football back in a perfect Hail Mary spiral, just before the boys tackle him to the sand.

And then it’s a messy pile of limbs everywhere, as one by one, they peel off to get up. He stands and dusts the sand out from his hair as Shep pretend jabs him in the stomach, which he quickly blocks. Slapping a few of them with high fives, he tugs his shirt off over his head and shakes it out. I stare, then look away, then stare again at the ripples of muscles that ease their way down the front of his stomach and disappear somewhere below the waistband of his swim trunks. Then I look away. Then back again. Because while I may be heartbroken, I’m definitely not dead.

“Who’s the Arm?” I ask Mia. “He’s new.”

The ball is thrown his way again, and I watch him catch it one-handed, then launch another perfect spiral some forty yards down the beach with ease.

“Oh, that’s Finn, Luce’s older brother. And if he’d finally say yes, he’d also be Punahou’s starting QB.” She whispers this as she watches me watch him. “Like that, do ya?”

Well, what’s not to like? As he shakes hands with my brother, I see he’s several inches taller than Penn. His hair is the identical dark brown that peeks out from under the baseball cap Luce wears, and I wonder if he has the same mesmerizing ice-blue eyes. His skin is a golden brown from plenty of days like today out in the sun, and a wicked tattoo races up one well-muscled bicep and over his shoulder. Normally I’m not a huge fan of ink, but there’s something about this one, wild and reckless.

Note to self: look into getting a tattoo this summer.

“Slo?” Mia is snapping her fingers in front of my face, and I turn back in her direction. “Yummy, huh?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

This one screams trouble from a mile away, and I can’t help but grin. Perhaps that’s exactly what my summer needs.

After the boys finish their game, they come over to where we sit by the fire. Shep flops down in the sand behind Mia and wraps his long legs around the sides of hers. She leans against his chest as he threads a marshmallow onto one of the skewers and whispers something in her ear that makes her laugh. They’re great together, something I’ve seen over the years we’ve all been friends. I’m just glad they finally figured it out.

“Hey, Luce, think fast!” Luce giggles as she catches the football, then squeals as the Arm noogies the top of her head. She places both hands on top of his and gives them a squeeze. “What’s up, Mia? How’s it going, Ash?” He pokes her with his toe, and she instantly giggles and looks down at the sand. “And who’s this?” Turning away from Ashley, his gaze slides onto me. “Sweet cast, but I’d hate to see the guy on the receiving end of that.”

“Funny, so would I.” It’s the first thing that falls out of my mouth. Of course he has no idea how true that really is.

Mia grips my hand between us and gives it an encouraging squeeze. “Finn, this is Sloane, Slo, this is Finn. She’s the other half of—”

“Let me guess, of Penn?” he interjects. “I can spot a twin when I see one. Slo, was it?” He stretches a hand out, and I raise my cast awkwardly, not knowing what to do with it. He tugs gently on my pinky finger in a mock handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too—is it Finn or Phineas?”

For a second, one of his eyebrows arches in surprise, but then just as quickly, a cocky glint finds its way to his eyes. And his eyes. They are indeed a match to his sister’s. He gives a small, quick nod, confirming I guessed his real name correctly, then turns and pokes Shep in the side before stealing away the marshmallow skewer from his hand without another word. Gee, I seemed to have angered him, perhaps?

“Only our dad calls him Phineas,” Luce quietly tells me, “and since we both can’t stand him, Finn doesn’t like it much. He always goes by Finn, or back in LA, his friends used to call him Mick.” She mistakes my sharp intake of air and explains. “Mick as in McAllister, our last name?”

Oh, you’ve
got
to be kidding me. I travel almost three thousand miles to get away from one Mick, only to find another one right in front of me? Awesome.

I chug down the rest of my beer and find a new one in my hand. It’s when I’ve finished with it and try to stand that I realize maybe mixing three beers with narcotics wasn’t such a good idea. Then again, I kind of don’t care at all, and I love that feeling.

“Come on, Mia—we’re up for chicken! You ready to lose?” I yell far too loudly, pulling her away from the fire.

“Oh, you’re so going down, Slo.” She tugs her T-shirt up over her head and unfastens the button on her jean shorts, letting them drop to the sand at her feet. Someone whistles. She’s wearing an orangey-red bikini and, man, does it not only make her boobs look tan, but huge. I so wish I had boobs like that.

I attempt to take off my own T-shirt with as much finesse, but struggle with getting it over my cast—cursing as I stretch it to fit over my arm—then slide out from my shorts. And a few more whistles sound at the two of us. My bikini is similar to Mia’s, only in all black. But I am in no way tan or have the boob-a-licious thing going on.

I point at Finn. “Not sure if you’ve heard, but I just happen to be the queen of all things chicken. Think you’re up for it?”

He actually snorts. Out loud. “Now this I’ve got to see. Although I somehow feel you’re only using me for my height.”

“Using you? Pshaw…not even close. It’s called a tactical advantage,
please
.”

I leave him standing there as Mia and I run out into the water. Holy shit, it’s cold! I cross my arms over my chest to hide the evidence of just
how
cold, and bounce up and down trying to acclimate. The waves crash into my legs, and the world spins around me. Suddenly I realize two things: one, there’s a slight chance I may puke, and two, I pretty much just told the hottest guy on the beach to get his ass out into the water to be my partner, in not so many words.

Mia is already hoisted on top of Shep’s shoulders as I wade farther out, and they tower high above me. I turn and cup my hands over my mouth to yell for Finn, just as a brown cap of hair breaks the surface of the water next to me. Brilliant blue eyes follow, and a tattooed shoulder rises slowly after that.

“Cold much?” He eyes my chest with that one damned raised eyebrow of his and a dangerous smile. I contemplate my chances of success at pulling his eyebrow back down with my own fingers. Before I can say anything in return, he’s already ducked back under the waves. I feel him swim between my legs, and a moment later, I squeal louder than I’ve ever squealed in my entire life as he rockets me up high out of the water. My stomach stays somewhere down near the sand, but it’s not anything I can even think about with my face on fire like it is.

His hands firmly grasp both of my knees. As he wades out to deeper water, a wave crashes into us, and he wobbles slightly. Instinctively I grab at his hair and hang on tight.

“Hey, think maybe you can let me keep some of that up there?” He squeezes both my knees and continues out farther into the water.

“Sorry, not like I have much else to hang on to up here.”

I pat him gently on the head as we turn to face our opponents. Shep and Finn are almost the same height; Mia and I are not, so they’ve got us there. But I’ve got muscles from years of swimming, which I’ll put to good use. Then again, I also have this obnoxious cast, which isn’t going to help me at all, unless there’s even the slightest chance I can use it as a club to knock her off-balance. Which of course I’d only do as a last resort. Maybe.

“Whatcha got for us, McAllister?” Shep taunts. The boys come closer together and circle each other, until Mia and I are arm’s length apart. Well, her arm’s length, that is. She picks the perfect moment to strike and sends me crashing to the water below. I come up dizzy, spitting mouthfuls of ocean as I watch her pump her fists high in the air.

“Oh my God, that was almost too easy!” she shouts my way. “Please tell me you’ve got more than that?”

Shep slaps at her knee. “Hey, go easy on the cripple, wouldya?”

Oh, that’s it. Game. On.

Ignoring my faint queasiness, I yank on Finn’s arm and tug down on his shoulders. But he doesn’t even budge. He looks down at me as he realizes what I’m trying to do and a lazy grin widens across his face as water drips from his chin. “Oh, I’m sorry, you want up again?”

“Well, I can’t exactly climb up there myself!” I cross my arms tight over my chest in my stubborn stance, my cast pressing against my wet skin. Um, duh.

He shakes his head, then ducks under the water again, sending me skyward as he stands up.

“Queen of all things chicken, huh? So maybe you’d like to stay up there longer than five seconds this time? You know, actually play the game?”

I attempt to swat the top of his head, missing by a mile as he continues forward. “Or maybe you can be quicker? You know, and move out of their way?” I try my best to mock him, but it only makes him laugh.

He hangs on tighter to my knees as Mia and Shep head toward us. But this time I’m ready for her. She’s flailing off Shep’s shoulders in five seconds flat. We do this several more times and the score is tied 3–3, when I taste the sting of something nasty in the back of my throat.

“Hey, guys, I don’t feel so hot, I think I need to head in.” I cover my mouth and pat Finn gently on the head. “Can you let me down?”

“Ah, come on, Slo, one more! Just one more!” Mia yells as Shep holds up one finger with a puppy-dog face. “You can’t leave this in a tie!”

I press my fingers firmly against my stomach and wonder if I’m imagining things. Nope. I’ve gotta go in. I can feel the bile rising in my throat.

“Come on, Sloane, I know you’ve got this!” Finn moves toward the tower of the other two, and the sway of his movement is what seals the deal. I turn my head and chuck up my entire dinner.

“Oh, shit,” Finn mumbles, lowering me down into the water and tucking out behind me. Thank God for the waves that quickly erase any trace of my puke from around us, although we all swim a few cautious feet away.

“Looks like the fish will be eating good tonight,” Shep jokes. “I think I actually saw a whole marshmallow come out.”

“Hey, not cool,” Finn says, shaking his head. I feel his hands around my waist as I bob in front of him. “You okay?”

My face burns with an intense heat I can only pray he doesn’t see. I sink under the water with all intentions of drowning myself.

So much for the summer of Sloane.

The e-mail came in late last night, followed by a string of text messages—he even called and left a voice mail. But I couldn’t get myself to open the e-mail until now.

It’s early morning, a light breeze is drifting in through the open doors to my lanai and I can hear the ocean beyond that in the distance. The lull of the waves is what gave me the courage to click on his name in my in-box. But after reading his e-mail, I so badly want to go back to before. To before everything. To before I got it. I’d at least settle for going back to before reading it, so I could delete it and not have to hear his words replaying over and over in my head. But who am I kidding? There’s no way I’d have the courage to do that. At least not yet.

Tyler has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, just like Mick. I met him on the first day of kindergarten when, instead of going to sit at the table with the other boys, he had nodded their way with a cocky grin—well, as cocky as a kindergartner could have—then came over and sat in the seat right next to mine. Little did he know that once he’d picked his seat, he was stuck there the entire year. Stuck at a table with both Mick and me, while all his friends sat together without him. But instead of letting it bother him, he spent the year making sure I knew he was there. And he did that every year thereafter, too.

But if he’s so sorry, then why can’t he tell me why he did this? Why can’t he explain why it happened not once, but twice, instead of constantly stumbling over his own words without a clear explanation?