“Thanks.”
The conversation diverges again, the way it tends to with friends; from what we’re packing to who’s going on the trip, to the places we want to see. It feels normal. It is normal, and if I can get through this lunch, I can get on that plane. That’s what I tell myself all the way home, but when I pull into the driveway there’s already a car waiting for me. Not a car, but a Jeep with South Carolina plates, and my stomach drops like a stone while my heart races like a humming bird. I almost fall over myself opening the door. A lone figure sits on the front step waiting for me, but it’s not Justin. No, the build is bigger, hair darker.
“Nick?” He stands and watches me cross the sidewalk. “What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t really think we’d let you go without a goodbye, did you?”
“We?”
I look around but no one else appears. No Whit or Pete. Certainly, no Justin. I knew how much I’d hurt him that night before I left. There’s no way he’d be here.
“Okay, me. I’m the only one that isn’t too stubborn to come up here.”
“You came up here for a goodbye?” I ask, feeling my heart hammer around my chest. Seeing him here, at my house, in my world, rocked me.
He takes a step down, closing the space between us. He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me until our bodies arepressed together. “You and I have unfinished business,” he says, mouth close to mine. “And you’re not leaving the country until we’re really done.”
My hands tremble and the bag I’m carrying in my hand falls to the ground. With two strong arms, he lifts me until we’re face to face and he kisses me right there in the yard.
His mouth is warm and his tongue bold and I’m panting when he’s done. “D-do you want to come inside?” I ask, still a foot off the ground.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
17
“So, this is how the rich and famous live.”
Before we spent half the summer in Ocean Beach, I would have said Julia wasn’t rich. She’s not, compared to my classmates whose fathers are senators or plastic surgeons, but by Nick’s standards? Julia is loaded. I’m hyper-aware of Nick walking through each room, studying the furniture and artwork. He pauses over the row of photographs of me as child, peering at each one.
“You came here to get decorating ideas?” I say, when my skin starts to itch.
He picks up a photo of me when I was about six, riding a horse. I have on silly sunglasses and a huge bow in my hair. “I came down here to find out why you left.”
“I’m going to France.” My suitcase is visible by the front door. “Tomorrow.”
“And Mason?”
“Has been fired and is under investigation by the school for having an inappropriate relationship with a student.”
His eyes flick to mine and his shoulders relax. He says quietly, “Good.”
“Any idea who gave him that black eye?”
“I wish I could say it was me but Anita held me back. She was worried I’d lose my scholarship.”
“So it was Whit.” A strange feeling builds in my chest. Pride? Appreciation. It’s weird.
“Whit has a temper,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s done inspecting the room, which means his eyes are on me. “His grandpa used to beat his granny. He doesn’t handle violence against women well. And you already know he doesn’t give a rat’s ass if he gets kicked out of the Citadel.”
No. I suppose he doesn’t.
“And Justin? What’s he up to?”
He shrugs. “He’s hurt. Pete’s just sad. Anita is crushed.”
I didn’t say goodbye to her either. If anyone could have talked me into staying, it would have been her. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. That’s why I left. Trouble seems to follow me around. Better now than later.”
He walks across the room and it’s strange. We don’t have a lot of men in our house. It’s usually just me and my mom, and Nick feels both out of place and perfectly at ease. He stands before me and pushes my hair over my shoulder, fingertips igniting a fire on my skin.
