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Chapter 1
Chelsea
Adjusting the brim of my hat to shield my eyes better, I nudge my shoulders against the cushions of the lounge chair, careful to leave my ankles a safe distance apart. I want a nice, even suntan. That means lying here like a scarecrow with careful distances between my thighs and my arms. I even remembered to raise my chin a little bit so that my neck is not ghostly white.
My best friend, Yoyo, doesn’t have this problem. She just lies on the lounge chair next to me with a certain casual pose, like she was dropped there from a hot air balloon or something. The cord of her earbuds trails across her shimmering bosom and I bet she isn’t even worried about a line from that. She just always has the best skin. Glimmering, evenly toned, a perfect shade of caramel.
I can get there, I think. If I set a timer for twenty minutes and remember to flip over onto my stomach as soon as the timer goes off, then repeat that ritual four times, I can get a pretty nice glow as well. I have my grandma to thank for that. She was one of those dark-skinned Italian ladies who passed on both her curly hair and her pasta recipes. Maybe one day I’ll get to pass on one or the other. At least the hair, I hope, though I’m blonde now.
It’s hot. Uncomfortably hot. I can feel little trails of sweat trickling between my boobs as the sun beats down on us. I just have to remember that this is all in the name of summer strapless dresses. It will all be worth it.
A slight breeze swirls over the patio, breathing coolness across my belly. With longing, I gaze out over the rippling surface of the swimming pool water. I’d love to just jump in there and cool off, but I still have a bunch of time left on the timer.
Yoyo turns her head when she hears the patio door open. I don’t even have to look at her to know that she is arching her back, flexing her toes. Probably smirking. Definitely watching my stepbrothers, Chance and Jack, as they circle the far end of the swimming pool.
“Mmmm-hmmm,” she sighs to herself, shifting on the cushions.
“Why don’t you just keep your eyeballs in your head?” I remark, mostly because I think she can’t hear me.
“Why don’t you be a good friend and set me up with one of your big brothers?” she shoots back, casting a sidelong smirk in my direction.
I wince, embarrassed that she heard my snarky comment. But she is over it already, I can tell. Her toes open a little and I see the tendons behind her knees flex. Shit. This girl is totally transfixed.
I mean, I get it. Chance and Jack are ridiculously perfect specimens of manhood. Twenty-three and gorgeous, despite the fact that they live with their parents… Well, with their dad and my mom. We are one of those blended families, I guess. Blended like a bag of candy. Blended like a tropical drink.
My mom raised me by herself, assisted by the practically anonymous donations of my birth father, some rich dude who never troubled himself to turn back up again. That’s how we got this kick-ass house in Evanston with the inground pool and a nice new car every year. But please don’t feel bad for me. I never missed him. I never knew him, so how could I miss what I never knew?
Their dad met my mom at a real estate seminar in California wine country. Somewhere between the Chardonnay and the guest speakers painting convincing pictures of attainable real estate fortunes, they decided it would be cool to hitch our families together. Nobody asked me, and nobody asked my brand-new big brothers either.
But that was five years ago already. Mom and “Newdad” are actually happy together. Chance and Jack seem happy too. And I guess having them around made me a much more popular lady during high school. Suddenly everybody wanted to be my friend, especially if they could drop by and run into my brothers.
“I don’t even know how you can stand it,” Yoyo mutters, barely under her breath. “Under the same roof? How do you even control yourself? You must have nerves of steel!”
They are not looking at us, but I know they can see us. They might even be able to hear what Yoyo is saying about them. I bet they can. It looks like Jack is almost smirking. They sure do seem to show up without shirts on every time I have friends over.
“You get used to it,” I mutter back.
“Nerves of steel!” she says again, grinding her hips just a little.
Her voice is just barely in the audible range, and I see Jack shoot her a look, his steely gray eyes ricocheting off the mound of her bright pink bikini bottoms. I know it was meant to attract his attention, and it looks like it did the job.
But he twists around immediately, picking a foam football off the nearest table and chucking it toward his brother across the pool. Chance catches it in one hand, cupping it automatically to his chest. The sun and sweat glisten off his silky, chiseled torso as he flexes. He raises his other hand to push a disheveled lock of hair off his forehead.
Chance twists lithely to launch a side-armed return of the ball to Jack. Yoyo and I watch in silent concentration as they begin a vigorous game of catch across the expanse of the water.
I didn’t always feel this way, but I have to admit that this is hard to watch without… squirming. Those muscles that ripple under their skin, the strength in their hands as they throw and catch that stupid little ball… It all sends vibrations through me like someone snapping a rubber band over and over again against my belly button. I feel a kind of emptiness, a hunger deep in the pit of my gut.
“Come on, you can tell me,” Yoyo continues. “You think they’re hot, right? I mean, you’ve got eyes!”
“I don’t know. What does hot even mean?”
Yoyo rolls suddenly onto her side so she can stare right at me. Her eyes are wide with excitement and thirst.
