Page 56 of Beauty and the Beach
“No one at all,” he corrects himself. “I’ll abide by the same rule.” He swallows. “No romantic relationships for either of us.”
“Do you actually think I would cheat?” I say with a scoff, letting my arms drop to my sides again.
“No,” he admits, and he takes a few steps back. The cool air is a welcome relief. “But it’s still good to have a contract in place.” He hesitates; then, looking at me, he says one more thing. “This is your last warning, Amsterdam,” he says, his eyes dark. “Don’t start a game you can’t win. Don’t kiss me whenever you feel like it.”
The words slam into me, unexpected, a blow to the solar plexus that makes it difficult to breathe.
“Or what?” I say.
“Or I’ll kiss you back,” he says, looking suddenly tired. “And we’ll like it, Holland. You know we will. We’ll start kissing, and we’ll never—” He clears his throat, his gazedarting away. “We’ll never want to stop. Things will get messy and complicated. So don’t do it, not unless you know what you’re getting yourself into.” He gives me a little parting nod before turning silently and disappearing down the beach.
A single tear slips down my cheek, and I have no idea why; I swipe it angrily away.
But another one just falls in its place.
Nine Years Ago
Holland
Every yearfor New Year’s, my parents travel to New York City. And while they’re gone, my brother holds a party—every single year. He did it in high school, and he’s continued to do it in college when he comes home for winter break.
Every year he holds his New Year’s party, and every year I hide in my room with Maggie. We have a girl’s night where we watch movies and eat snacks and I paint her nails—blue, usually, because that’s the only color she really likes. Trev checks in on us throughout the night, and he brings us more snacks so we don’t have to venture out into the social hubbub. He’s a people person, a Golden Retriever; I am not.
But this year is different.
I mean, nothorriblydifferent—I still hide with Maggie. But usually I go to sleep after she falls asleep, the two of us snuggled up on the bed in my childhood bedroom. Tonight I don’t do that.
Because I know for a fact that Phoenix Park is here tonight, and I also know Trev invited some girl in a few of Phoenix’s classes, a girl Phoenix has had his eye on.
I’ve gotten to know Phoenix a bit better—since it turns out he’s Trev’s roommate. He’s not a partier or a flirt; he’s an observer, and if someone catches his eye, he watches them intently. He’s serious a lot of the time, but he has a dry sense of humor that comes out every now and then. He’s smart. He’s loyal.
He was rude about the tampon thing when we first met, but he’s warmed up a bit. Mostly he’s just impatient, with a low tolerance for anything he deems dumb or stupid or wrong.
I shouldn’t like him, but I do—just a little crush. And if I have to watch him get together with that girl from his classes, I’m going to cry—but at least I’ll be able to see it for myself, and then maybe I can put these silly feelings to rest.
Because a large part of my brain knows it’s never going to happen. He’s Trev’s best friend, three years older than me, and way out of my league in every way. His family owns some sort of company, so they’re filthy rich, and he’s tall and handsome and he wears a lot of suits.
The girl from his classes—Jewel, Trev said—is about his age; I saw her briefly when she first got here, before Maggie and I went to the bedroom. She’s pretty, and she and Phoenix clearly have similar interests if they’re in classes together.
She’ll be perfect for him.
I just…need to know for sure.
So I wait until Maggie falls asleep—my sweet, precious Maggie, whose cheeks are still the slightest bit round because she’s only twelve—and then I slip out of the room, making sure she doesn’t wake at the sound of the door opening and closing.
The hallway is cooler than the bedroom, and it’s a welcome relief. I fan my face with my hands, lifting my hair off my neck and fanning that too. I shouldn’t have worn thiscardigan. I’m doubly irritated because Jewel is wearing one almost exactly like it.
It looks better on her.
I tiptoe down the hallway, listening for voices; as I expected, the party has congregated downstairs, in the basement. There’s someone clanking around in the kitchen, but other than that, it’s silent up here. So I round the corner and head down the stairs on gentle feet, making sure to skip the squeaky step, even though I know no one will hear me with how loud they’re all being.
The temperature drops several degrees by the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, and the lights are off; the only illumination is the glow of my parents’ TV, large and shining blue as Trev conducts a conversation about what movie to watch—or maybe they’re debating which game to play? I don’t know. I’m too busy hovering there, scanning the clusters of people, looking for Phoenix and Jewel. I try to look casual, like I belong with this group that hasn’t even noticed my presence; I lean against the wall, my arms folded, as my gaze roves around the room.
I don’t see Phoenix anywhere, and I don’t know Jewel well enough to tell. Why did Trev have to turn the lights out?
I sigh. Everyone continues talking about what movie they’re going to watch, and that’s when I decide to take my pity party elsewhere. My cardigan is itchy and there’s a weight in my stomach and I keep looking for Phoenix and Jewel, but now that I’m here, I’m not sure I actually want to find them. So I push off the wall and stand up straighter, running my fingers through my hair again. I tug at the hem of my cardigan, trying to stop it from riding up.
“All right, ladies,” Trev says loudly from next to the TV. “Come look at our movie selection and pick something.”
