The Beach House (a The Kissing Booth novella)

9: The Beach House

Today is the 30th November, the last day of National Novel Writing Month. Right now, it's 20:40 and I have just recently become a winner of NaNoWriMo!!!! I wrote my 50,000 words! Link in the sidebar.

Hence the late upload - I was writing :)

Also, the Watty Awards begin from December. The Kissing Booth is entered in The WA so please vote for it :) xxxxxx

Anyway, here's the next chapter, and I hope you enjoy it!!! Sorry, it is kind of short! :)

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Chapter 9

“Jeez, Lee, could you make any more mess?”

            I picked up the sock and t-shirt he’d dropped by the door; he was moving back into out room now Rachel was gone. I was still sick – headache, stuffy nose and cough – but June had picked up some stronger medicine from the drug store, so I was feeling way better. Which was just as well really; I couldn’t afford to be ill when we barely had any time left here.

            Noah was leaving Saturday morning, taking a twelve-thirty flight to Massachusetts with his dad, but they were flying from the airport nearer to home, and it was around a two hour drive back there.

            That only really left us with Friday together. I didn’t care if I was still kind of sick. I was going to make the most of this last day whatever it took.

            And with Lee’s things messing up the bedroom, and no Rachel, it felt just like old times.

            Not that I wasn’t totally sad to see her gone; it had been nice, actually, having her around. Plus, I knew Lee had loved having her here.

            “Are you even ready?” I sighed at him now.

            “Yes, of course I am. What about you? Hair straightened and makeup all plastered on ready to go in the sea?”

            “Har-de-har,” I said, narrowing my eyes. He was so taking a dig at my bed-head, which was so untamable I couldn’t even get it back into a half-decent ponytail, so I’d run a brush through it and given up.

            “I’m sure Noah won’t care if you look like a troll, don’t worry. You drool in your sleep.”

            “What’s that got to do with –? Wait, I drool? Are you serious? Oh my gosh, tell me you’re joking!” My cheeks started to burn up at the thought; I’d fallen asleep in Noah’s arms last night – what if I’d drooled all over him?

            Lee burst out laughing. “I’m yanking your chain, Shelly, don’t worry!”

            “Yanking your chain?” I smirked. “Really?”

            He just gave me a bright smile and shoved the pile of clothes he’d picked up off his bed into a drawer, ramming it shut.

            “Hey, are you guys coming or what?”

            “Shelly hasn’t got her face on,” Lee said. “She needs another hour for that.”

            Noah looked at me then, and I saw him bite back a laugh at my hair.

            Under any other circumstances, I’d have been totally mortified for Noah to see me all snotty and sick, and with bed-hair, and in old unflattering pajamas – but everything felt different at the beach house. Like, I was almost allowed to be a slob here if I wanted to. I didn’t bother wearing makeup, and I rarely did my hair like I would usually.