Turtle Bay (12 page)

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I think they're cool," I repeated.

"Me too," she answered impishly, looking relieved that I wasn't making fun of her.

We reached the end of the hall where she threw open a large set of double doors without knocking. I'm not sure what I had been expecting when Farrah said her parents were writers who worked from home. Maybe a dark, dusty old room with endless bookshelves and large wooden desks, but their office was nothing like that. One entire side of the room was nothing but windows that provided a breathtaking view of the ocean below. It looked like the beach was a part of the house. There were bookshelves, but they only lined one wall. The two other walls were covered in framed poster-sized book covers. Each cover depicted a different couple in an intimate embrace. Against one of the walls below the posters was a custom-made sofa that was easily ten feet long. A frumpy-looking short balding gentleman was sitting there typing frantically on a laptop while a slightly less plump woman was perched on a luxurious chaise lounge in the center of the room with her own laptop on her bent knees. Both looked completely lost in whatever they were doing. I was envious. Writing was my passion. It was my dream to one day make a living at it, but that was my secret. Not even Butch and Buttercup knew.

"Mom and Dad, this is my new friend, Rain," Farrah announced, dragging me into the room. I suddenly felt nervous. I'd never read any of their books, but these were my kind of people. Just stepping in the room I could practically feel the creative juices flowing.

Their heads snapped up like they'd just been released from a mind trance. Each of them took a moment to eye me before setting their computers to the side and standing up so they could greet me properly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Rain," her mom said, holding out a hand with nails that were cut in a blunt style, but painted black.

"Thank you," I stuttered, wondering why I felt starstruck. She was obviously a popular author, but it wasn't like I was a fan or anything. Regardless, I felt strangely tongue-tied.

"Rain," Farrah's dad greeted me, engulfing my hand with his as he shook it heartily. My tension dissipated from his welcoming enthusiasm. With one handshake, I knew I liked them.

"I'm sorry we interrupted your writing," I told him as a way of greeting them.

"No problem. Samantha would have been clamoring that it was time for a chocolate break in a few minutes anyway," he said, crossing to the corner of the room where an elaborate armoire was sitting. Opening the doors, he revealed several glass jars filled with different kinds of wrapped chocolates.

"My mom has a chocolate fetish," Farrah clarified.

"It keeps my creativity flowing," Samantha said, walking over to her husband so she could pick the chocolates she wanted. "Rain, would you like one?" she asked.

"Sure," I answered, joining them at their chocolate bar.

"Farrah?" she asked, looking at her daughter questioningly.

"I better not," she said, looking longingly at the tempting treats before self-consciously smoothing a hand over her curvy hips. "I can't afford it. Not if we're going to chow down on popcorn later."

From the corner of my eye, I watched her parents exchange a look. "God forbid you actually have a little meat on your bones," her father commented.

"Daddy, don't start," Farrah warned, beckoning me to follow her out of the room.

"It was nice meeting you," I called over my shoulder as I hurried after her.

"You too, dear," Samantha responded as I closed the door behind me.

"What was the deal-io there?" I asked as we climbed the stairs to the second floor.

"It's nothing. My parents just don't agree with my dieting," she sighed, pushing a set of double doors open that were right off the staircase. Following her into her room, I couldn't help the gasp of pleasure that left me. Here were the wall-to-wall bookshelves I had been expecting downstairs filled with hundreds of books.

"You read?" I asked, running a finger over some of the spines while checking out the titles.

She took a moment to answer before giving a minute nod.

"Me too," I confided.

She smiled like we were sharing a deep, dark secret. I had the impression it felt that way to her.

"Most of these titles I've never even heard of," I said, pulling one of the books off the shelf that had a dreamy-looking guy surrounded by smoke.

"The majority of them are signed. I usually go with my parents to their book events and most of their friends who write YA give me their books."

"YA?"

"Young adult. I'm a total YA fan," she said, sinking on one of the two chaise lounges in the corner.

"That's awesome," I said, enviously studying all the books. "It must be cool to go to the events. I've never even been to a signing."

"You could go with me sometime," she said shyly.

"Really?" I asked, sitting down next to her.

"Sure. I asked Leslie and Paris last summer, but they said they would rather poke their eyes out than surround themselves with a bunch of porn-writing book nerds. I tried to explain the difference in the genres, but I swear their eyes glazed over. I've learned to keep my mouth closed."

Her shyness suddenly made sense. In reality, she wasn't all that different from me. We both had our secrets. Of course, a love for books was a whole lot different than becoming a troublemaker to take the spotlight off your parents.

Farrah and I ended up spending the rest of the afternoon discussing our favorite books and writers. I had a major fangirl moment when I realized she had met my favorite author the previous year. I spent a few minutes drooling over her signed book that was also personalized before reluctantly handing it over.

"You can get your own copy when you go with me to the next big event."

I shook my head. "I'm not sure I can afford it. If you can't tell, our lifestyles are vastly different."

"Duh, you'd be my guest. My parents have been bugging me to bring a friend along for ages. They always feel bad about leaving me alone while they're on panels or in meetings with their agent or editors. They'd probably pay you to go," she joked, chucking a throw pillow at me. "I can already tell that my parents like you a lot. I actually think they like you a little more since you're not some diva princess. Both of my parents came from nothing. Until I was ten, we were pretty much poor. My dad was working two jobs and my mom worked as a counselor while they scrimped and saved to pay off their student loans so we could finally move out of the small apartment we were renting. I was twelve when their fourth book hit it big, and I guess you can say the rest is history," she said, flipping the channels with her remote.

"Seriously?" I asked, climbing on the other side of her king-sized bed.

"Seriously. That's why they don't fit in with a lot of the people around here. I don't see how being born with a silver spoon in your mouth makes you more worthy than people who worked their asses off to get where they are, but my parents get treated that way sometimes," she said in a huff.

"Wow, tell me how you really feel," I laughed. My instincts about Farrah from day one were dead on. She and I weren't that different after all.

"Sorry. I guess after everything that went down last weekend, I finally realized I've been trying to fit in somewhere I didn't belong," she said.

"Me too," I agreed as we shared a smile.

After that, we talked about anything but Evan and his friends. I was especially interested in her parents and their writing. As we sat cross-legged on her bed, I confided that all the journals she had helped me unpack were filled with stories. She was impressed and said she wished she had gotten a lick of her parents' creativity when it came to writing. From there, our conversation shifted to books we liked and disliked. She confessed that she was considering starting a book review blog. I had no idea what that entailed, so I peppered her with questions. Her knowledge of the subject was impressive. It floored me to learn that book blogging was quite popular. We talked about it for several hours and she showed me the template she planned to use on her computer. She even volunteered to let me guest blog, which was both intimidating and exciting at the same time.

The evening slipped away as we settled in to watch scary movies and gorge on brownie sundaes. To say I had fun would be the biggest understatement ever.

Farrah and I wound up sleeping in late since we were up half the night talking and watching creepy movies. I staggered home groggy and decided to veg so I could be ready for my community service duty the following day. The distraction of hanging with Farrah had allowed me to not excessively obsess about Josh, but now that I was alone, it was all I could think about. I stood a good chance of seeing him during the week and if I was assigned with him again, I didn't know if I'd be able to handle the endless silence.

I tossed and turned that night with Josh invading my dreams as thoroughly as he had my thoughts. As I got ready Monday morning, I put more care into my appearance, refusing to acknowledge if it was more for him or me. I would have preferred to wear my hair down, but by the end of the day it would be sweltering. Rather than the scruffy T-shirt and cutoff shorts I'd worn the previous week, I pulled on a newer pair of lightweight shorts that felt uber-comfortable with a simple tank top in fluorescent pink to complete the ensemble. I had to admit, with the tan I had recently acquired and the natural highlights running through my hair, I didn't think I looked half bad.

I was too anxious to eat a real breakfast, so I grabbed a muffin instead. My feet bounced restlessly against the floor as I counted down the minutes. I couldn't decide what I wanted more—for time to drag to delay seeing Josh or for the minutes to fly by so I could get the unknown over with. Either way, until I found out who I was going to be paired with, I was going to be a mess.

"Your friend Farrah came by this morning when you were in the shower," Buttercup said as I poured myself a steaming cup of coffee.

"She did?"

"Yeah. She said she wanted to drop off some books she found that were extras. I left them stacked on the table in the living room."

I carried my coffee and gluten-free muffin to the living room so I could check out the books Farrah had left. I gasped with pleasure when I spotted several by authors I recognized. Touched by Farrah's thoughtfulness, I knew I would have to think of a way to repay her.

"I didn't know her parents were writers," Buttercup said, sitting crossed-legged on the floor so she could browse through the books.

"Yeah, they write adult books," I said, taking a sip of my coffee.

"Adult books, huh? Maybe I'll have to check them out," she mused. "Maybe spice things up a little."

"TMI," I stated, downing the rest of my coffee.

"TMI?"

"Yeah, you know, too much information. My tender ears don't want to hear about yours and Butch's sex life."

"Sex is as natural as breathing."

I stuck my fingers in my ears. "La, la, la. I can't hear you," I sang.

She was still laughing when Butch joined us a few minutes later. After filling him in, much to my disgust, Butch and I left with fifteen minutes to spare. I was relieved that Butch was in a chatty mood. Talking filled the van with noise so my thoughts of Josh wouldn't take over. All too soon though, we were pulling into the parking lot and I was mumbling a goodbye as I headed into the office.

"Hey, Rain, how was your weekend?" Vanessa asked, handing me a new time sheet for the week.

"Really good," I answered. For the most part it had been, especially hanging out with Farrah. With the exception of the intrusive thoughts that involved Josh, and the weirdness I felt over the way things had ended between Evan and me, the weekend had been pretty amazing. "How about yours?" I asked, remembering some of my manners.

"It was very quiet, which is exactly what I needed. My ex took the boys on a camping trip, so I had the whole house to myself," she said, grinning at me.

I returned her smile. I liked Vanessa. Her easy acceptance of me was refreshing. I was kind of surprised how nice everyone was, with the exception of Mr. Closed Mouth. I guess I'd been expecting them to treat me like a criminal.

Truthfully, I was beginning to enjoy working at the patrol office until her next words ruined the moment. "You'll be teamed up with Josh today. We have another lifeguard manning his station, so he'll be all yours the whole day," she said, smiling like she had handed me a winning lottery ticket.

My face must have given away my lack of enthusiasm since her smile slipped slightly.

"Is that okay, dear?"

Not wanting to cause problems, I nodded. "That's fine," I answered, pasting a smile on my face. As fine as rolling around in ants with honey all over me, but fine.

"Josh should be waiting for you," she added, reminding me why I was there.

Waving as I turned around, I headed out back. Josh was indeed waiting for me and judging by the frown on his face, he wasn't happy about it.

I had barely swung my legs into the motorized vehicle when he stepped on the accelerator. I glared at him as I gripped the seat to maintain my balance. Clamping my teeth together, I vowed not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to me.