“Me?” he shakes his head and a dark curl flops in his eyes. “It’s well-known Isabel is interested in one guy: Whit. She’s been following him around for years.” He looks me up and down. “But even if she was, you know I’ve only got eyes for one girl.”
It’s hard for me not to go to him. I trust Pete, but…
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Huh?”
“You spaced out for a minute.”
This is dumb. I should just ask him. If Pete’s sending me creepy letters, what better place to confront him than here with a bunch of people around? “Something is bugging me, actually.”
He frowns. “What’s that?”
“Something weird happened at the trailer today. I was with Shay and there was this yellow flower?—”
“Shit. Did it happen again? I’m so sorry, babe, I meant to come back and fix that screen in the bathroom and totally forgot. Juggling the internship and marina got me all screwed up.”
I blink. “What are you talking about?”
“The tear in your bathroom window screen? I came by the other day and saw something had torn the screen and left a mess on your bed. A shredded flower or something. I cleaned it up and tossed it.”
“So you didn’t leave the flowers?”
“No.”
“Or a note?”
“What note?”
With a hammering heart, I walk across the room and pull a piece of paper off a pad on the counter. I hand him the paper anda pen. In a falsely even voice I say, “Do me a favor. Write ‘good luck tonight’ on that.”
He gives me a crazy look but does as I ask. His lettering is actually pretty legible, not the scrawl from the note on my door or the ones left on my bed. “Like that?”
I take the paper, and the fears and worries come rushing back. “Yeah, thanks.”
“Summer, what’s going on?” he asks, but I’ve already left the kitchen, walking back to the party to keep an eye on my mom.
46
Whit
I’ve spentthe whole night running interference from teenage girls and inquisitive locals who want to know about the Citadel. I don’t give a rat’s ass about any of that, though. I’m just trying to get up the nerve to talk to Summer.
Isabel hovers around me like fly and I’m a pot of honey. I try, for the sake of the event, for this girl’s feelings and my own sanity, to let it be, but my nerves are already frayed.
“You look like you could use a drink,” she says, sidling up to me. Anita put me on door duty, making sure no one walked out without paying for their merchandise.
“No thanks, I’m good.”
She pulls a bottle of beer out from behind her back. “You sure?”
“Sneak that out of your daddy’s cooler?” I ask, holding back on my annoyance. Part of my irritation is at myself. Before I met Summer, that move would’ve worked—jailbait or not.
She shrugs and takes a nervous, slow sip from the bottle in an attempt to look grown and sexy. Instead she’s just confirmingher immaturity, which with everything going on right now, is not appealing.
I check a few bags, offer a few goodnights and look back and find her still standing nearby. “Isabel, what are you doing over here? Go hang out with your friends, hit the Camp, smoke a joint under the pier.”
“But,” she says, her face turning red, “I want to be here. Near you.” She takes a deep breath. “Look, I know you’re seeing Summer, but I also know she’s dating Justin and maybe Nick. You deserve better than that. More than that.” She steps closer and touches my arm and licks her lips. “You deserve a girl that can give you all her attention. A girl like me.”
