UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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The next day Megan and I retell the story to the other girls in our room. Repeatedly. In detail. We do impressions of Luke and the girl. We show them the blurry picture of Luke naked and running. While we’re laying out, we spot Luke a good ways down the beach from us. He has on swim trunks, so he must have managed to get inside eventually.
After sunset, most people trickle down to the pool to hang out because there’s no teen night tonight. The other girls went to Buck’s room with Britney, but Megan and I put on swimsuits and cover-ups and head downstairs.
“So, how did it go with B?” I ask. I saw them disappear for over an hour at the beach today.
Megan shrugs. “She gets that what she did was really screwed up, but she said she knew how much I really liked Luke and she was just trying to protect me. I know what you think of her, but I don’t think I can handle cutting another friend out of my life right now.”
I nod. I kind of knew that was what was going to happen. As we walk down the rough plank boardwalk, the kind that will give you splinters the size of coffee stirrers, drunken voices carry over the gate.
“. . . got to second base in the bathroom of La Vela,” says Jimmy Marcus to a chorus of whoops.
“I can beat that,” says another voice. Luke’s. Megan and I exchange frowns and let ourselves into the pool area, but he’s surrounded by a crowd of people, mostly guys, so he doesn’t see us. “Last night, I went skinny-dipping with this chick from Mississippi, and she is into some freaky stuff.”
Jimmy slaps him a high five. “Aw, yeah.”
“I thought I saw Megan and Claire go down to the beach right after you,” says Glenn. “You must have seen them, right?”
“Oh, uh.” Luke looks petrified, but just for a second. “I mean, yeah, they followed me down there. I don’t know if they wanted to watch or what. Hey, it’s been a long time since they’ve seen me naked, so I’m not . . .” He finally spots us. “Judging,” he finishes quietly.
Most of the guys are laughing and nodding their heads, but Sam looks like he wants to murder Luke. His knuckles are white where he’s gripping the stone table in front of him. Everyone watches Megan and me, waiting to see if we’ll confirm or deny.
I put my hands on my hips. “You are so full of it.”
“We pretended we were going to skinny-dip with you so we could steal your clothes,” says Megan. “He chased us all the way back to the pool gate naked.”
Some of the guys snicker.
“Oh, okay,” Luke says. “You just came down there to ‘steal my clothes.’” He makes air quotes with his fingers.
I glare at Luke. “We can prove it. Megan has a picture of you.” I grab her phone and start scrolling for the photo.
“That only proves you wanted to see me naked. If a girl wants to take naked pictures of me, I’m not going to stop her.”
Glenn clears his throat and takes a long pull from his beer. “Well, I saw you sneak in through the pool gate last night with a flip-flop over your pecker, so I’m more inclined to believe them than you.”
Everyone laughs. Guys who doubted our story when it was Luke’s word against ours believe us now that Glenn is on our side.
“Here,” I say, waving the phone triumphantly.
“Fine,” Luke says, standing up to get the attention back on him. “So you’ve got a naked picture of me. It’s probably safer that way.” He leans so close to me that we’re almost touching, and I can smell the Jack Daniel’s on his breath. “You wouldn’t know what to do with the real thing, would you, virgin?”
The next few seconds are a blur. Sam stands so fast his chair flips over behind him, and before I know it, he lands a sucker punch across Luke’s jawbone. Luke crumples to the ground. He rolls around, holding his face. One of the guys from the soccer team crooks an elbow under each of his armpits to help him up. Blood dribbles from the corners of his mouth and down his chin.
“I bih mah thung,” he says as the guy walks him inside.
Sam shakes his punching hand. “Wow. I didn’t realize that would hurt so much.”
He sucks on one of his fingers. I rummage through a nearby cooler and scoop a handful of ice into my towel.
“Here.” I lead Sam to a table in the corner, away from the crowd.
The pool light overhead fizzles in and out, dying a slow death while moths flutter around the carnage. I gently pull Sam’s hand onto the stone table between us. His knuckles are swelling like sausages, but his fingers look normal and straight.
“Are you okay?”
He nods, but he can’t help but wince when he flexes his fingers. “I don’t think anything is jammed or broken. It just hurts.”
“This’ll help.” I hold his hurt fingers with one hand and press the makeshift ice pack lightly against them with the other. He blows a slow breath out through his mouth.
“Thanks for sticking up for me,” I say.
“How could I not? The guy’s a douche.” Sam’s eyes get angry for a second, but then they soften. “You deserve better, CJ.”
“Well, it means a lot to me. You’re probably the only person I can always count on.” I say all of this to Sam’s hand. I didn’t realize what a personal thing I was saying until it was already out there. It’s true, though. Everyone else in my life has let me down at some point. Sam is the only constant. I’ve never thought about it quite like this. I always assumed I knew everything there was to know about Sam. But since this whole “digging deeper” experiment is working so well with everyone else, I decide to try it out with him too.
I glance up from my hands, still holding Sam’s swollen fingers, feeling the calluses on his palms and his strong, bony knuckles. And I look at him. Really look. Something sparks when my eyes meet his. A feeling so big it makes me suck in my breath. I’ve felt that whacked-over-the-heart feeling with guys before, but never with Sam, and never this strong. I don’t know what to do. This is Sam.
Sam.
My friend.
My buddy.
Not a guy I have feelings for. Except now maybe I do. My hand tingles where it touches his, and when Sam watches me pull it away, I can’t shake this feeling I get from the way he’s looking at me.
He knows.
I go back to the room with Megan and try to forget the way I felt when Sam and I looked at each other. He’s just my friend. He’s just my friend. And besides, even if I did like Sam (which I don’t!), I’m done messing with other people’s boyfriends.
Two hours later, Amanda comes flying through the door with mascara running down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong, girl?” asks Britney.
“Sam broke up with me.” She flops on the bed and sobs into the tacky plaid comforter.
“Oh, no, honey.” Amberly squeezes on the corner of the bed next to her and gives her a hug. “Why?”
“He says it’s because we’re going to school in different states, and he thinks we’d be better as friends. But the real reason he broke up with me is the same reason he punched Luke.” She glares at me through her tears. “He’s in love with her.”
Kiss #16 xoxo
Even though I felt that spark with Sam, and even though we’re both single, I don’t do anything about it. I’ve had enough romantic drama this year, and the last thing I need is to ruin my oldest friendship on top of it. So we have a normal summer of hanging out, watching movies, and playing soccer—except now I sometimes get a fluttery feeling when he touches me.
The night before Sam leaves for the University of North Carolina, and a week before I leave for Georgia Tech, there’s a knock at my bedroom door.
“Come in,” I call. “Oh, hey, Sam.”
“Hey, I let myself in. Where is everybody?”
“Tonight is third-grade orientation for Libby. But I really needed to start packing.”
I gesture around the room at the half empty crates and boxes. There’s still so much I have to do this week. My desk chair is piled with junk, so Sam sits on my bed.
“I leave for UNC tomorrow,” he says.
“I know.” I continue packing books into a cardboard box. “Are you excited?”
“Yeah. I think I’ll like my marketing classes. And it’ll be nice to start over in a place where nobody knows me as the fat kid.”
“Aw, Sam. Things really changed this year, though. You dated Amanda Bell.”
“I know. But I think there are some people who will never see the new me.” He looks so sad when he says it.
“Yeah. I’m ready to leave it all behind too.”
I think about this year, and my reputation, and how I’ve been trying to think differently about people. I ponder this while I sort through my closet for summer clothes (pack) and winter clothes (leave). Sam’s hand closes over my shoulder, and I try not to jump. I didn’t realize he had gotten off the bed.
“Can I talk to you about something? It’s important.”
I stop pushing around hangers and turn to face him.
“Sure.”
“I don’t know if I should even be saying this, but there have been times this summer when you looked at me, and it made me think . . .”
He waits like he’s hoping I’ll interrupt him and rescue him from whatever he’s about to say.
“Anyway, I’ll regret it forever if I don’t.” His eyes are so scared, so vulnerable. They search mine like they’re looking for an answer, but I don’t know the question.
“I never stopped liking you,” he finally blurts out.
Chill bumps pop up on every inch of my skin.
“You didn’t?”
“Are you really that surprised?”
I kind of am. “I know you liked me when we were little, but you never act like that anymore.”
“Only because you freaked out after that time at soccer camp. You didn’t talk to me for three weeks. I was worried if I told you, you’d cut me out again, and I wouldn’t even get to have you as a friend.”
“What about Amanda Bell?” I ask. I can’t believe that while I’ve been hiding these growing feelings for a few months, he’s been doing the same thing for practically forever.
“She’s just a girl I had a crush on. She’s not you.” I am suddenly very aware of the fact that we are in my bedroom. Alone. He takes my hands in his. “I like you. I have always liked you. It’s grown and changed as we’ve gotten older, but it never went away. I thought you were feeling the same way. But maybe I . . .”
“No, I—I think I might like you, too.” Sam’s face lights up like the Fourth of July. “I started to realize it that day you punched Luke.”
“Best punch ever.” He grins.
Kissing Sam right now would be the easiest thing in the world. And I won’t lie, I want to. But even though Sam and I have been thicker than thieves practically since birth, I’m hesitant. Nervous. This isn’t some hot guy I just met. Then it would be easy to be bold. This is my oldest friend. And some things are more important.
I think Sam can sense my reluctance, because he takes a step back. “So, um, what are we going to do about this?”
“I don’t think we should do anything.” As much as it kills me to say it.
Sam looks at the floor. “Oh.” “It’s just, our friendship is more important than anything else. Plus, the timing is all wrong. Look at the facts.”
“What facts?”
“Fact number one: we’re going to school in different states. Fact number two: we just got out of serious relationships—your first, my most traumatizing.” Sam looks amused, and I’m sure he will tease me about this later, but I keep going. “Starting college fresh and single is definitely the best thing for both of us. We still have a lot of figuring out to do, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned this year, it’s that friendships are permanent, but you never know about love.”
I watch Sam, waiting to see if he’ll accept a friendship when he wants a relationship. “It makes sense,” he finally says. Whew. “But. What if the timing wasn’t all wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, so we don’t date now, but what if later, say, when we graduate from college, neither of us is in a relationship? We could give it a try.”
Works for me. “Dude. We should make a pact.”
“Those things you’re always making with Megan?”
“Um, yeah. They’re awesome. Here’s how it works: I’ll say the pact, and you repeat after me. Okay?”
Sam looks like he is working very hard not to laugh at me.
“Okay.”
I clear my throat. Despite my having been friends with Sam for practically forever, this is our very first pact. “Sam-and-Claire Pact number one: If neither of us is seeing anyone when we graduate from college, we’re going to try dating each other.”
I nod at Sam, and he repeats the pact. “And that’s it? That’s all we do?”
I shrug. “Megan and I usually seal it with a pinky swear.”
“I have another idea,” he says.
The atmosphere, which was silly and fun when we were making the pact, is suddenly serious. He takes a step toward me, his green T-shirt and sunburned arms so close I could touch him in a second. His warm, brown eyes are locked onto mine, and he smells like grass and childhood memories. He’s not supposed to kiss me. And if he does, I won’t be able to stop myself from kissing him back. He leans down, and just when I think it’s inevitable, he brushes his lips against my forehead, holding them there for just a moment. And somehow it is the most intimate thing that has ever happened to me.