Waking Up to Boys (9 page)

C
helsea was going to kill the McCullough boys. From the moment Matt got a look at her cast, the prodding questions had started, and he hadn’t let up since.

“If
you
broke your
arm
boarding, does that mean that Mikey’s going to break
his
whole body?” Matt poked her in the side. They were sitting in the boat, watching as Mikey hung on to the towrope for dear life and tried to edge his little body in and out of the wake. Although Chelsea could tell that he was really nervous, he was actually doing a pretty good job. She was glad she’d separated them and let each one take turns behind the boat. Mikey seemed to gain a lot of confidence without his bullying brother around knocking him off the board.

The downside, of course, was that Chelsea had to keep Matt entertained.

“Are you going to kill my brother?” Matt demanded.

“Not before I kill you,” Chelsea grumbled under her breath.

Matt heard her and whooped. “I’m gonna tell my dad you tried to kill both of us!” he shouted. “I’m gonna tell him you made us go boarding through shark-infested waters and wouldn’t let us come back in the boat even after Mikey lost a leg!” The thought seemed to delight him as he leaned back, giggling uncontrollably.

“Mikey hasn’t lost a leg,” she pointed out, exasperated. She leaned over the side of the boat and called out to Mikey. “All right, I want you to try a little jump now. Go out of the wake, and when you edge back in—as soon as the nose of your board hits the white part of the water—just do a tiny little hop like this, okay?” She demonstrated by jumping in the boat, which rocked slightly from side to side.

“Augh! We’re going to capsize!” Matt screamed. He pretended to be a news anchor talking into a microphone: “In a terrible tragedy on Lake Tahoe today, an evil, crippled wakeboarding instructor tried to murder two sweet boys by sinking their boat in shark-infested waters. The boys were saved by Superman, but Chelsea the evil wakeboarding instructor had her head bitten
off by sharks.” He laughed so hard at his own joke that he fell off the bench and went writhing around on the floor.

Chelsea rolled her eyes and looked out at Mike, who had edged so far out that he was having trouble getting back in. “Lean your body into it!” she called.

Mike looked scared. “I don’t want to!” he yelled back. “How come Matt gets to hang out in the boat with you while I have to be out here on the water?”

Nina shot her a sympathetic glance from the driver’s seat as Chelsea buried her face in her hands. If her arm hadn’t been in a cast, she would have gone out there on her own board and shown Mike how to do it. It wasn’t that hard, but it helped to see someone else demonstrate it first. Chelsea was at a loss. Teaching was hard enough, but teaching without getting in the water was turning out to be nearly impossible. Matt got up and tugged on the bottoms of her board shorts.

“What?” she growled.

Matt looked up at her with big blue eyes ringed in long black lashes. “Am I driving you nuts?” he asked sweetly.

“Yes,” Chelsea told him.

Matt smiled happily and sat back down. “Good,” he said.

Chelsea walked away from the boat feeling antsy and frustrated. Her arm itched inside her cast and she was dying to scratch it, but there was no way she could reach through the thick plaster.

The way her arm felt in her cast was the way she felt in her life: itchy and constricted. Summer was no good without being out on the water—without her long late-afternoon sessions in the boat. She missed the water and, more maddeningly, she missed Todd. He hadn’t been around much, and she knew he was still mad about what she’d said to him after breaking her arm. She wished she could apologize—or, better yet, rewind to the moment right before she’d decided to try for a 720. He was right. She
had
been a stupid senseless daredevil and an idiot, and now she was paying for it. She wanted to tell him that, but there was no way she could. She was just too proud to admit that she’d been doing it to show off for him.

Instead, she wandered up to the tennis courts to see if Sebastian was done with his lesson. Lately, it seemed like Sebastian was the only person who could put up with her.

When she got to the terra-cotta tennis courts, Chelsea saw that Sebastian was still in the middle of a lesson. A tall, gawky pre-pubescent boy with his Adam’s apple protruding almost as far as his nose and an oversized purple T-shirt stood on the other side of the net,
clutching a tennis racket like a caveman brandishing a club. His skinny legs spread out in a crouching stance as he waited for Sebastian to lob him the ball. But when the ball came to him, he flinched and swung frantically, like he was trying to swat a bee. It was obvious to Chelsea what the boy’s problem was: He was terrified of the ball.

Sebastian vaulted over the net like a small, spry bird and was instantly at the boy’s side. Chelsea laced her fingers through the tall fence surrounding the court and strained to hear what he was saying.

“Your stance is great, Francis.” Sebastian’s voice was soft and encouraging. “Your legs are in the perfect position, and you look like you’re ready to swing the racket. But you can’t wait for the ball to come to you. You have to be ready to smash it back before it’s even over the net.”

The boy nodded, looking anxious.

“You don’t have to think of it as a tennis ball,” Sebastian said. He smiled at the boy. “Who do you hate most in the world?”

It took Francis only a second. “Brett Carver,” he said. “This guy in my school. He…well, never mind. He just sucks.”

“Right.” Sebastian went to the edge of the court and picked up the tennis ball, rolling it back and forth in his palm. “So this thing I am holding? This isn’t a tennis ball—this is Brett Carver’s head.”

A slow, pleased look spread over Francis’s face.
“Awesome!”
he said, now fully animated. His cheeks shone with eagerness. Chelsea watched Sebastian jump gracefully back over the net and serve the ball. This time the boy was ready, his eyes gleaming ferociously. He nailed the ball back with so much vigor that Sebastian had to leap to get it. Their game became a duet, the boy acting out his hatred against Brett Carver with Sebastian’s quick, easy footwork as an encouraging backbeat. Chelsea couldn’t help but be impressed at how naturally teaching came to Sebastian. It seemed like it was no problem for him to bond with his students rather than…well, threatening to kill them.

Chelsea thought to herself that Sebastian really was a great guy. She was lucky to have him. Maybe she really
was
starting to fall for him—even if she hadn’t quite realized it yet. She leaned against the fence, trying to soak him up from afar. As she watched Sebastian, she had an epiphany. Suddenly she knew what she wanted: something only Sebastian could do.

At one point, Sebastian’s eye caught Chelsea’s and he winked sexily, holding up one finger to indicate that he’d be done in a minute. Then he lobbed the ball with just a tiny bit more force and follow-through than before, sending it flying over the boy’s head and landing just inside the lines.

“Oh, man,” Francis said as he jogged to get it. “I was really feeling that.”

“Good!” Sebastian called jovially. “We’ll pick it up again tomorrow. Remember for practice: When you serve, try moving your arm like this.” He demonstrated a long, smooth follow-through, which the boy imitated. “Good. You’re looking fantastic. See you tomorrow!”

“Bye,” the boy said, jogging off the court.

Sebastian ran over to Chelsea and kissed her through the fence. “Hey, how was your lesson?”

“Not as good as yours,” she answered, coming around the side of the fence and onto the court. “That kid Matt’s a terror. Won’t leave me alone.”

“Ah,” he chuckled. “The fun kind.”

“What? You’re nuts. I’m exhausted just
dealing
with him—let alone the actual teaching part. Plus, I don’t even get to go out on the water,” Chelsea explained, pouting.

“Poor baby.” Sebastian draped an arm over her shoulder and kissed the tip of her nose. “I wish I could make you happy.”

“You can.” Chelsea kissed him back, fiercely, on the lips. “I need your help. I need to get back out on the water, Sebastian. It’s all I want. I’m not made to sit around.”

“I know.” Sebastian’s forehead was up against hers, his eyes still smiling. “That’s one of the things I like about you.” He raised his eyebrows flirtatiously. “You’re feisty.”

He said
feisty
like it was a cute thing. Maybe he didn’t get it. She didn’t want to be cute—she wanted to be the best. “Sebastian,” she said, “if I still wanted to compete in the Challenge, would you help me?”

Sebastian’s brow wrinkled. “But you can’t compete,” he said. “Your arm is in a cast. They wouldn’t even let you.”

“The cast is supposed to come off a few days before,” Chelsea reminded him. “If I could just find a way to practice in the meantime—”

“You’re not going to heal if you don’t let your body rest,” he said. “It’s not good to practice with an injury. Every athlete knows that.”

She
did
know that. But she couldn’t respond. She felt herself choking up again, feeling the same panic she’d felt when she first woke up in the hospital. Sebastian seemed to see the pleading look in her eyes, because he put his hands on her shoulders and quietly kissed her forehead. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted so much more.

A
ll right, Nina, let’s go back to shore,” Chelsea instructed the driver. Carl, a beginner with so little balance that she wasn’t sure he would ever be able to get up, let alone ride, had just climbed back into the boat and was looking at her dejectedly through the droplets of water on his eyelashes.

“Has it really been an hour already?” Nina asked. “It feels like less.”

“Of course,” Chelsea assured her happily. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“I wasn’t really having…,” Nina began, but stopped short when Chelsea shot her a death glare. “All right, let’s go in.”

Nina gunned the motor on the boat, and Chelsea’s
heart began to race as they headed back to shore. She felt bad about cutting Carl’s lesson short by fifteen minutes, but she had more important things on her mind. She had a plan.

“Oh, look, Sebastian’s here,” Nina said as she pulled the boat into the dock. She shot Chelsea a knowing look. “Should I leave you two alone?”

Chelsea bristled. Did
everyone
at the resort know what she and Sebastian had been up to? As much as she tried to keep it quiet, Sebastian was always slipping his arm over her shoulders or trying to take her hand while other people were around.

Chelsea ignored Nina’s insinuations and turned to Carl. “Good job,” she told him. “We’ll work on getting up on the board during your next lesson.”

Carl climbed out of the boat, followed by Nina.

“See you later, Chelsea.” Nina’s voice had a sing-songy quality that set Chelsea on edge. “Have fun.”

“Yeah, okay. Bye,” Chelsea said, annoyed. Sebastian was already heading toward her.

“Why did you want me to meet you here?” he asked.

“Well, I thought since we both had some time off, we could take a little ride,” Chelsea said, trying to sound casual and upbeat. “You know, someplace alone.”

A big smile spread across Sebastian’s face. “That sounds like a great idea,” he replied, climbing into the boat and leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.

“Cool,” Chelsea said. “Want to drive?”

Sebastian laughed. “I’ve never driven a boat before.”

“But don’t you want to learn?” Chelsea hoped she didn’t sound too desperate. Teaching Sebastian to drive was all part of her plan. “It’s just like driving a car.”

“I guess I’m up for anything,” Sebastian said easily.

Relief washed over Chelsea, and she impulsively wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Awesome,” she said. “I’ll back it out for you and get us onto the lake. That’s the hard part.”

Once they were in the middle of the lake, Chelsea slowed the boat and switched seats with Sebastian. She showed him how to work the throttle, where the brake was, and how to speed up and slow down. “Generally, you want to keep the speed around twenty-two-and-a-half miles per hour,” she told him. “Now, try to go around the island.”

Sebastian pulled out the throttle and the boat surged forward, practically knocking Chelsea out of her seat. “Hey, easy!” she called. “These boats are sensitive. Maintain the right speed.”

“All right, all right.” Sebastian slowed down. Once he’d gotten them around to the other side of the island, Chelsea had him slow the boat until it came to a gentle stop, drifting slightly in the soft breeze rippling the
lake’s surface. Stillness filled the air, punctuated only by the sound of Jet Skis and laughter off in the distance. Chelsea leaned toward Sebastian and kissed him again. Smiling, he pulled her over and onto his lap. Chelsea opened her mouth and lightly touched her tongue to Sebastian’s lower lip. He let out a soft moan and kissed her harder. When she pulled away, he was breathing heavily.

“Sebastian,” she said, looking into his eyes, “I need you to help me with something.”

“What?” he asked breathlessly. He reached for her again, but she laughed and leaned away from him.

“I
need
to compete in this Challenge,” she said. “And I need to win. And if I’m going to win, I need to practice—and if I’m going to practice, I need someone to drive the boat.”

“Oh.” Understanding slowly dawned on his face.

Chelsea took his hand. “Please,” she said, looking into his eyes.

“I don’t know…,” he replied uncertainly. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“Sebastian.” Chelsea tried to keep her voice calm, even though the inside of her brain seemed to be twisting in a million different directions. “I’m going crazy without the chance to ride, and the thought of skipping the Challenge is eating away at me. I feel like I can’t be
me
without this, and you’re the only one who can help me.”

“Chelsea…,” Sebastian said helplessly.

She put both her arms around his neck and kissed it. She looked pleadingly into his eyes. “If you care about me, you’ll do this,” she said, inwardly cringing at her own words.

She could see the battle raging in his mind play out on his face. “Fine,” he said finally. “I’ll do it. But you have to promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Oh, thank you!” Chelsea pitched forward, hugged him, and planted a huge, happy kiss on his mouth.

Then she sat back again. “Sebastian, you really are an amazing boyfriend.” And in that moment, she actually felt like it was true. She kissed him one more time before leaping to her feet. “So let’s do this—I’ve got my board stashed under the seat.”

Chelsea trudged to shore, her entire body aching from her session riding with Sebastian at the wheel. She had never realized how exhausting it could be to ride behind an inexperienced driver. In between all his false starts and varying speeds, Sebastian had caused her to take several inopportune dives into the frigid Tahoe water, and the few tricks she’d had the chance to attempt were thrown off by the weight of her cast.

Chelsea had begged off Sebastian’s invitation to stay
in the boat and make out, claiming she was tired and needed to rest. But as she dragged herself toward home, she realized there was only one thing that could make her feel better: ice cream.

As she climbed into her beat-up old Jeep, she realized that she hadn’t left Glitterlake’s grounds since her accident. It was so easy to get caught up in the life of the resort and forget there was even a world outside. Going into town would be good for her, she hoped. At the very least, it would help get her mind off Sebastian and her most recent debacle on the lake.

Her mouth watered at the prospect of a fudge-sprinkle-dipped caramel swirl cone. Chelsea pulled into the gravel parking lot of the local ice-cream shop, Claire’s Cones, and she was so preoccupied choosing between a sugar and a waffle cone that she didn’t even notice the couple sharing a sundae at one of the store’s five small tables. She had already paid for her cone and turned around to look for a seat when a pang in her stomach made her lose her appetite completely. Todd sat directly in front of her, feeding a large spoonful of dripping ice cream to a thin girl with aggressively highlighted hair. The girl slurped it up suggestively, staring deep into Todd’s eyes.

I have to get out of here,
Chelsea thought. She was about to head toward the door when Todd looked up and noticed her.

“Hey, Little M,” he said easily. He swirled his spoon in a pool of fudge sauce and smiled smugly. The girl he was with looked up, surprised to find her date talking to someone else.

“Gosh, what happened to your arm?” she asked.

“Wakeboarding accident,” Todd told her without taking his eyes off Chelsea’s face. “Unlike me, Chelsea doesn’t always put safety first.”

“Right.” Chelsea’s cheeks flared with embarrassment. “Well, I have to get going. Nice running into you.”

Just then, the opening chords of Justin Timberlake’s “SexyBack” came tinkling from inside Todd’s date’s beige Coach bag.

“Oh, that’s Tina.” She scooped out a sleek pink Razr and flipped it open, pressing it to her ear. “No, I’m out with Todd. Yeah…” She giggled. “
Again
. Listen, let me take you outside.” She stood up and wiggled her fingers at Todd, who responded by blowing her a kiss. A wave of nausea rolled through Chelsea as the girl pushed open the door to the shop’s wooden porch and continued her chat where she couldn’t be heard. Todd returned his attention to Chelsea.

“What?” He had obviously noted her harsh glare, and he raised his voice a couple octaves as he mimicked her. “Nothing is going on between me and her.
Really
…”

“Screw you, Todd,” Chelsea spat back at him before
storming out of the store. She realized she was shaking as she tossed her uneaten ice-cream cone in a nearby
KEEP TAHOE CLEAN
trash can, and as she peeled out of the parking lot, spraying gravel under the Jeep’s tires, the last thing she noticed was the sliver of toned, tan stomach peeking out from between Todd’s new girl’s tank top and skintight Luella jeans. Everything about her exuded sex…in fact, when Chelsea thought about it, everything about
every
girl Todd dated exuded sex.

As she turned into the long winding driveway that led from the main road to Glitterlake’s property, Chelsea wondered if all the sex-exuding, kittenish girls Todd dated actually
had
sex with him. Had he done it with that girl from the ice-cream store? With Vanessa? With any of the girls he had dated last year…or the year before? Maybe that was the reason all those girls seemed so much older and more sophisticated than her, even though some of them were her same age. Maybe that was the key. Maybe you couldn’t be truly sexy without experiencing sex first.

As the lake appeared in a glimmering sweep of blue below her, Chelsea had a revelation. Maybe sex was the missing thing in her relationship with Sebastian. Could doing it unblock all the love for him she was sure she had stashed somewhere deep inside? She knew that having sex was something you should do only with
someone you loved, so if she was even thinking about it, she must love him, right? The more she thought about it, the more she thought that there was only one way to find out.

But where should she even start? She parked and got out of her car, wishing as she entered her house that she had someone to talk to. She had lost count of all the times she’d heard groups of girls whispering and giggling about sex in the halls at school, and for the first time she wished she had a close-knit group of girlfriends to whom she could go for advice.

She climbed the stairs and wished, as she passed Sara’s room, that she had been nicer to her half sister all summer. Sara would be the perfect person to talk to about something like this: She was older and wiser, and obviously had tons of experience with boys. Sara would know exactly what to do in her situation.

Chelsea realized that she had stopped in front of Sara’s open door and was looking directly into the empty room; specifically, she was looking at the diary sitting on Sara’s desk. The same trance that had overtaken her when she tried on Sara’s clothes slipped over her again, and Chelsea found herself entering her older sister’s room, picking up the diary, and letting it fall open to the first page.

If Chelsea couldn’t talk to Sara directly, maybe she
could at least learn something from her journal. At that moment, nothing could have convinced Chelsea that Sara’s diary didn’t hold the key to everything there was to know about boys and sex. But what she read surprised her.

A loud thud made Chelsea leap to her feet, shove Sara’s diary back into its spot on her desk, and race out of the room. She had already flopped down on her own bed, with the door shut safely behind her, when she realized it was just the wind knocking a low pine branch against a window. Still, she had read enough. Sara might have been a lot less secure and a lot more tortured than she came across, but one thing was clear to Chelsea.

If all guys thought about was sex, then she was definitely going to give Sebastian something to think about…and she was going to do it as soon as possible. Before she lost her nerve.