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“Anytime, Pep. You know that,” I whispered back.
Chapter Nine
Penelope
SOMETHINGABOUTKNOCKINGonmy own front door at five thirty in the morning felt so wrong. What was I supposed to say to my father when he opened the door?
Hi, Dad. It’s me. The daughter who got expelled from the best university in the world. The daughter who got a renowned professor fired. The daughter who was deported. Oh, yes, the same daughter who's showing up on your doorstep this early in the morning because she got so drunk last night that she lost her keys. Oh, and she had to sleep in the backyard of the neighbor’s because in her drunken state she thought she could somehow avoid you finding out about what a fuck up she is.
I turned away from the front door and took a seat on the steps, my head finding its place between my knees. Carter being back home made me feel bold. I think it was the way he ended up being exactly who he was meant to be without even trying that made me think I could do that too. He’s a breeze, flowing wherever the wind takes him and never worrying about where he may end up. He has complete trust in the world around him, and that is a comfort I’ve never had myself. Yesterday, I allowed myself to ponder the idea that maybe if I was more like that, I would end up exactly where I needed to be. All that did was land me in Carter’s bed.
The boldness that had set a fire to my stomach only a day before was now settling at the bottom of it, my former actions rising up my throat with the bile. I swallowed hard, unwilling to puke in my mother’s hydrangeas. Once I knew Carter would be going out with us, I felt brave enough to make that bet. That stupid fucking bet.
I didn’t even care about the bet. I really didn’t. That night at the dance I was feeling hopeful and light for the first time in a while. I’d cleared the air with Carter, I was still living in the blissful ignorance that I may still be accepted to Stanford. Or Berkeley. Or anywhere for that matter. I knew when Macie looked at me with her puppy eyes, she would end up asking Carter to join us Thursday night. So, I made that bet because I knew he’d be there. That fact made me feel free. A feeling so rare for me. I had this unnerving urge to chase it. To remember what it felt like to be carefree, if that was a feeling I’d ever known in the first place. Then, as the week progressed, the shadows of my anxiety began to envelop me. They were choking me, suffocating me, slithering around my throat and pulling tight. It only loosened as the warmth of the alcohol settled in my belly.
The sky to the east was just beginning to brighten, the clouds emerging in shades of periwinkle. I could tell already that today would be an unseasonably warm and beautiful one. I used to love painting sunsets. There wasn’t much else I could paint, since I wasn’t particularly talented. Sunsets, though– sunsets I could do. It was really just a blend of every imaginable color streaked across the sky. I’d never tried to paint a sunrise, most likely because I was never up early enough to see them. I wonder if it felt the same way to paint a sunrise as it did a sunset.
My eyes were still fixated on the budding sky as I heard the gate I had just walked through a while ago become unlatched. A sound I wouldn’t normally hear, but in the silence of the morning while the rest of the world slept, it echoed across the lawn. I watched him as he walked down the long driveway to his truck and threw his longboard in the back. Though I was visible to him if he had chosen to look, he didn’t seem to notice me. That was, until the front door to my house creaked open behind me, his head snapping up to meet my gaze. It tilted to the side as he stared in confusion, likely wondering why I was still out here.
“Penny?” My dad’s cool voice came from behind me, dripping with concern.
I hopped up from the steps casually and turned to face him, with only seconds to think of my excuse. It wasn’t that my father would be angry if he knew I had been out all night obliterated, or that he’d even be upset, really. It was that he’d probably be disappointed to find me messing around with my coworkers, getting drunk, and sleeping in the bed of the guy who lived next door. I’m sure last night’s actions were more like the activities he thought I had been doing during my time at Oxford, though that wasn’t true either.
I glanced at Carter one more time, still watching us from his truck, and realized that he was my excuse. My knight in wetsuit armor. “Hi, Dad!” I said a little too brightly. Calming myself, I continued, “I’m glad you opened the door. I just realized I locked myself out.”
My dad glanced down at his watch, noting the time. “Why are you outside at five-forty-four in the morning?” It was then that he noticed Carter and waved.
“I was about to go surfing with Carter, actually,” I lied coolly. “I had just stepped outside to tell him I decided to join him when I locked myself out.” I spoke loudly, hoping Carter would hear me in the otherwise silent morning.
My dad looked me up and down suspiciously. “Whose clothes are those?” I could hear the sharpness on his tongue that accused me of lying.
“Easton’s.” It wasn’t a bad lie. Easton did have a dresser full of clothes he kept at home, and he was probably about the same size as Carter. “I was doing laundry and didn’t have any pajamas.” I spoke casually. My father huffed, a bit of disbelief in his eyes. His gaze landed on Carter and I thought I glimpsed a bit of accusation on his face, but he seemed to be letting it go for now. He held the front door open for me. “Thanks,” I said with a smile. As I stepped inside, I yelled to Carter, “I’m going to go change! I’ll be right back.” He laughed and leaned against his truck, giving me a thumbs up.
I sprinted upstairs to my bedroom and watched from my window until my father had driven away before opening it. Carter was still standing next to his truck, staring at the front door as if he expected me to walk out of it any moment.
“Hey!” I shouted in a hushed tone.
He looked up at me and smiled. My heart faltered.
He held his arms out wide. “I’m waiting!”
I shook my head. “I was just saying that as an excuse to my dad. I don’t really want to go surfing.” He frowned as if it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.
“Don’t tell me you’re going back to bed,” he dead-panned.
I shrugged as if to say,not likely.
“You better get a damn wetsuit on and get down here!” he demanded. There was a playfulness to his voice that removed any seriousness. An empty threat. “I don’t want you to miss it! Come on, Pep. Live a little.”
Live a little.
I wanted to snort at that, thinking of everything that seemed to happen to me whenever I ‘lived a little.’ Yet somehow, all the humiliation I felt earlier seemed to dissipate the longer he grinned at me.That grin.He knew he had me. He knew I wanted to live a little. He knew I trusted him to come to my rescue whenever my little bit of living bit me in the ass.
I sighed in defeat, holding up my hand and spreading my fingers. “Five minutes!” He tapped his wrist impatiently in the place an imaginary watch would be. My stomach fluttered and I struggled to suppress the giggle bubbling in my throat.
? ? ?
We turned off the 101 and headed down the narrow, empty road toward Rockaway Cove. I tugged at my brother’s uncomfortable wetsuit, wondering why I’d bothered to put it on. There was no way I was getting in the water, let alone the board. My mind must still be hazy from the alcohol. I had never been into surfing, despite living in a coastal town. My brother used to surf when he was younger, a hobby he involuntarily dropped upon his move to Boise.
