The Beach House (a The Kissing Booth novella)

12: The Beach House

*Cue the fanfare*

Chapter twelve right here for ya, folks! Hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 12

It was weird, without Noah there. It was also kind of weird to go back up to the house to make a sandwich for lunch, and see June sitting by herself reading a book out by the pool, with no Matthew.

            Then, we felt kind of bad for her, because she was a bit alone, so we spent a few hours in the pool instead; and I think that she was quite glad of the company, even if she did just sit there sipping lemonade and reading a mystery novel.

            It was around seven when I decided I should probably start getting ready. Lee said the volleyball guys had told him the day before that people probably wouldn’t start showing up until at least eight.

            “Are you ready yet?” Lee asked for the twenty ninth time in the past half hour (I’d been counting). It was quarter to eight, and I was still throwing clothes out of the drawers and trying to choose something.

            I didn’t think it’d be so hard to choose something to wear! I mean, would all the girls be in dresses? Would I look really stupid if I turned up in shorts and a tee?

            “Elle, just pick something already! Do you even really care that much?”

            “Well… no, but it’s just –”

            “Just what?”

            I shrugged. I didn’t really know why I was taking so much trouble to pick out an outfit. I’d braided my hair over one shoulder, and my makeup was done. It was only the clothes I was having a problem with.

            Shorts, I decided firmly. I was going to wear shorts.

            I rummaged through the haphazard mountain of grounds that had grown on my bed and the floor around me for the pair of dark denim distressed shorts. Then I picked up the first top I laid my eyes on, which happened to be a cream camisole with some floral-patterned lacing around the neckline.

            “Okay,” I announced. “Ready.”

            “It’s gonna be cold,” Lee reminded me.

            “Right,” I said, snapping my fingers. I picked up the grey zip-up hoodie lying across my pillow, and then slipped my feet into my sandals. “Okay! Now I’m ready!”

            Lee chuckled, and swung himself off from where he was lying across his bed with his hair grazing the floor. He was wearing dark khakis and a plain white tee, and had a hoodie exactly like mine (my grey hoodie used to belong to Lee, actually. But I kept stealing it because it was so comfy, so he bought a new one).

            “Come on then,” he said, linking his arm through mine.

            “You kids off, now, huh?” his mom said as we wandered through the lounge to go out the doors in the kitchen.

            “Yup,” we answered simultaneously.

            “Okay, well, have fun. But be careful.” She’d already read us the riot act on not accepting drinks from anyone, not letting our own drinks out of our sight, not getting too drunk, how dangerous it could be, to stay together at all times. It was like we’d never been to any party before. “What time do you think you’ll be back?”