The Day That Saved Us (11 page)

Worry about what, exactly? That we’ll drift apart? That we’ll change? That I’ll ruin everything with these feelings?

“You’re my best friend, Pete.”

“And you’re mine,” I whisper.

The grip of his hand on my waist surprises me for a few reasons. First and foremost, I wasn’t expecting it. And I wasn’t quite sure what it was until I felt his fingers grip and draw me closer. But, mostly, it surprises me because his touch feels different than it ever has. It’s intimate, and dare I say…possessive.

Our pact is broken. I’m changed. We’ve already changed. I let him down.

Does he realize it?

Without a second thought, I push his dark hair from his forehead to better see his eyes in the dim light. If eyes are windows to the soul, I want a better view. He blinks, and there’s a hitch in his breathing. It’s so subtle that, had I not already been so hyperaware of him in this moment, I may have missed it.

Suddenly, the background noise is gone. We’re in silence, but not the in-our-own-world silence. I don’t hear Harper and Skylar. I sever eye contact and look to where they were last playing around. They’re gone.

Then I’m being pulled under. I thrash in the water and break free of the hold around my ankle. Rising to the surface, I gasp for air. Brodee appears above the water almost immediately after me, coughing up water. Skylar and Harper bust out laughing as they swim around us.

“You guys are gonna get it,” Brodee warns, wiping the salt water from his eyes.

“You scared the crap out of me!” I shove water in Skylar’s face, and he backstrokes away, laughing his head off.

“Peyton and I will get our revenge.” Brodee gives me a conspiratorial glance and I nod, smirking back at him.

“Good luck!” Harper says. “We leave in the morning!” She giggles, treading water.

“Challenge accepted,” I say with a laugh.

I wish we could always be this way, but I know this is the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

A WEEK LATER
, the jostling of my bed wakes me up early.

“Pete! Pete! Pete! Wake up, Pete!”

I groan and curl my covers over my head. While I’m normally a morning person, you better know how to wake me up the right way. And jumping on my bed and chanting my name definitely isn’t it.

“Brodee, I will murder you.”

He laughs, but doesn’t stop bouncing at my feet. “C’mon! It’s morning! Time to wake up!”

“If you want to live to see tomorrow, I suggest you stop jumping,” I say from under the covers.

The jumping stops. The bed shifts slightly. When I remove the blanket from my head, Brodee is sitting at the end of my bed, grinning. “You want to go fishing?”

Even at… “What time is it?”

“Seven,” he replies.

Even at seven o’clock in the morning, he somehow wakes up my entire body with one smile. I press my palms into my eyes, rubbing away the sleep. If only the pressure of my palms could detach my retinas so I’d never have to look at his beautiful face again.

Oh, stop being so melodramatic, Peyton.

I throw back my covers and slip out of bed in pajama shorts and Dad’s old, oversized T-shirt. Then the strangest thing happens. Brodee’s mouth slowly hangs open, not gawking, but definitely caught off guard. His eyes travel from my bare feet to my face, and it’s highly likely that his eyes have magical powers because I can’t the stop the tingling sensation in every part of my body his gaze caresses.
Did he just check me out?
In an oversized T-shirt?

I look down at myself to realize the shirt is so long it looks like I’m not wearing anything underneath. As I walk to my closet, I do my best to nonchalantly pull the shirt to the side and hold a wad of material on my hip, so Brodee can see I wasn’t trying to flash him. I am, in fact, wearing shorts. There’s nothing to see here.

He clears his throat. “I’ll meet you downstairs.” Brodee bolts out of my room so fast, when I turn around to tell him, ‘okay,’ he’s gone.

I wasn’t going to change in front of you. Geesh.
I throw on a pair of jean shorts and a light yellow T-shirt, slip into my Rainbows, and head downstairs.

Brodee’s flipping through the channels when I walk through the living room and head straight for the kitchen. The layout is basically one big, open room. The kitchen island is the only thing that separates the two, so Brodee and I can talk freely from one room to the next.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Let me grab an orange and then we can go. Have you seen my mom?”

“I don’t think our parents are awake yet. The house has been silent since I woke up.”

I write on the whiteboard on the fridge that we’ve gone fishing. “All right. Let’s go.”

Brodee drives us about an hour and a half up to Nag’s Head. The drive up the 12 never gets old. I love seeing the ocean all around us. I roll down my window to breathe in the fresh, salt air. Out of the corner of my eye, I check out Brodee. His Ray-Bans perch on his tan, freckled nose, while the short strands of his dark hair flicker in the breeze.
Be still, my beating heart.

I’ve ridden shot gun a million times in Brodee’s car, but seeing him behind the wheel—sure of himself, in control—never gets old. We don’t have to talk. He doesn’t even have to acknowledge me. It’s calming just to be near him. I love the comforting silence for what it is. Ours.

When we arrive, we walk down the pier and find a spot where there isn’t anyone. Thankfully, it’s early enough that the pier isn’t too crowded yet.

We throw cheesy pick-up lines back and forth all morning. We’ve recycled some, but they’re still funny.

“All right, all right. I’ve got one,” he says. “Did you know they changed the alphabet?”

“Did they now?” I raise my eyebrows skeptically.

“Yeah, they put U and I together.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes, and turn my face to him as I keep control of my fishing pole. “I’m pretty sure Mike tried to use that one on me at least once, if not more.”

Brodee chuckles. “He would.” His smile is warm. Brodee pushes his sunglasses on the top of his head to get a better look as he hooks more bait on his line. The sun hits his eyes just right, flickering the gold in his green pupils.

“I’m not a photographer,” I say, “but I can picture me and you together.”

He doesn’t skip a beat. “Can I take your picture to prove to all my friends that angels exist?”

I smile. “I’m not drunk, I’m just intoxicated by you.”

“Let’s commit the perfect crime: I’ll steal your heart, and you’ll steal mine.”

Little does he know, he already stole mine. I’m a goner. It’s official.
No
.
You like Tyler. And Tyler likes you. And you’re going to have a future at USC together. Keep the pact in tact.
I laugh to myself. That rhymed.
Dork
.

“If you were a Transformer, you’d be Optimus Fine.”

Brodee throws his head back and laughs. “If I were to ask you out on a date,” he says, “would your answer be the same as the answer to this question?”

I have to think that one through for a second. “Clever.” I chuckle. “If someone were to actually use that on me, I might have gotten stuck.”

He laughs. “It’s good, right?”

“I’ll give you that one.” I continue, “I thought happiness started with an H. Why does mine start with U?”

As though Brodee can tell my pick-up lines are veering from the cheesy, he says, “If I had to choose between one night with you or winning the lottery, I would chose winning the lottery. But it would be close…real close…”

“Oh my gosh,” I say, snickering. “What kind of pick-up line is that?” I shove him as he laughs. “Though, I can’t say I’d blame him.”

“Me either.” Brodee throws out another fishing line.

My line snags. “Oh! I think I got something!”

“Reel it in!”

The tug is strong. I nearly lose my grip on the pole so I hold on tighter. It’s been so long since I’ve been fishing I have to listen to Brodee’s instructions or I know I’ll lose it.

“Hold on. Let it drag. Tire it out for a sec.”

“I feel like I’m gonna lose the pole.”

“You need help?”

I want to do it myself. “No, I’m good.”

“All right. Reel it in again. Okay. Let it drag for a sec. You got it. There you go.”

His encouraging words continue until I’ve pulled it out of the water. Brodee says it’s a Spanish mackerel.

“Way to go, Pete! We’re gonna feast like kings tonight.”

As I detach the mouth of the fish from the hook, Brodee brushes the tip of my nose with his knuckle. “You look better without all that makeup, by the way. You shouldn’t cover up your freckles.”

I automatically cover my nose. “You know I’m self-conscious about how much they show in the summertime.”

He laughs. “I know. That’s why I thought you should know. They look good on you. Don’t hide them.”

I hate it when he says stuff like that. I know he doesn’t mean it the way I want him to. To him, he’s just talking to his buddy, Pete, trying to pay me a compliment because he’s nice, not because he likes me.

“Well, I hate them,” I say.

He simply says, “I don’t.”

THAT NIGHT, WHEN
I jog down the stairs into the kitchen, Brodee is stirring something on the stove, while my mom cuts vegetables and Tate sets the table.

“Well, don’t you look pretty,” Tatum comments as she sets down a plate.

“Thanks,” I respond self-consciously and look down at my white dress. It’s nothing special. Just a simple eyelet dress I’ve had for years. It only looks like I tried harder because it’s a dress, but really it’s much more low maintenance not to have to think of what top I’m going to pair with what bottoms. I can throw on a dress and be done.

Brodee looks over his shoulder and catches my eye. He blinks and gives me a once over. If I’m not mistaken, I think Brodee Fisher just checked me out again. I can’t help feeling a little satisfaction.

“When’s Tyler picking you up?” Mom asks.

“He should be here any minute.”

“You’re hanging out with Tyler tonight?” There’s a weird tone in Brodee’s voice. “You’re not gonna eat the fish you caught?”

“Well, no. Tyler called when we got back from the pier and asked me out to dinner.” There’s a knock at the door. “And that’s probably him.”

I skip to the door because of course I can’t gain control of my evil, giddy twin. Tyler stands on the other side of the door. My eyes trail from his face to the bouquet of calla lilies in his hand. My chest tightens.
I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.

“It’s your favorite still, right?” he asks.

It’s not, but I tell him yes anyway and smile. There’s no way for him to know I haven’t been able to look at a calla lily the same since my dad’s funeral. They were everywhere. Tulips shortly after became my favorite. It doesn’t change the fact that the calla lilies are gorgeous, and Tyler’s thoughtful.

“Thank you.” I take them and clear my throat. “Come in. Let me put them in water before we go.”

He follows me to the kitchen, and I head for the cupboards to look for a vase. Brodee is looking at the flowers like he would beets. He hates beets.

“Well, hello, Tyler.” Mom sets down the knife and wipes off her hands on a dishtowel over her shoulder before she goes in for a hug. “Look how handsome you’ve grown up to be.”

Tyler’s cheeks redden, and his eyes shift to the ground like he’s embarrassed. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Please. We’ve gone over this,” she says. “It’s Olivia.”

He chuckles nervously. “Okay, Miss Olivia.”

Tyler’s family is clearly a little more proper than ours. He’s got the true Southern boy down pat. His politeness melts my heart.

“So, where are you taking Pete, Tyler?” Brodee asks. There’s no mistaking the subtle—or not so subtle—over protective brother edge in his voice.

“I thought we’d go to The Wreck. They’ve got a live band there tonight. Should be fun.” Tyler looks over at me as I arrange the calla lilies in the only vase I can find.

“I love The Wreck,” I say. “Good choice.”

Before my mom starts making more small talk, or worse, starts to get mushy about us going out on a date, I lead Tyler to the front door.

“You two have fun!” Mom hollers and waves from the end of the hallway by the kitchen.

When I turn as I open the door, Brodee’s mouth is set in a straight line, and his eyes narrow. He looks angry, but then the corner of his mouth lifts, softening his expression. I wave. He waves back.

“Marcus is throwing a big party on Wednesday,” Tyler says as he pulls out of my driveway. “You should go.”

“Oh yeah? Any reason in particular?”

“I’ll be there.” Tyler flashes his thousand-watt smile.

“Well, if that’s the case, then I’m definitely not going.” I suppress my smile, but my eyes give away the teasing.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah. I’ve heard this Tyler guy is kind of full of himself.”