Football players are assholes. I know; I'm related to their king. My older, and annoyingly overprotective, brother Jake is the star quarterback at Santa Cruz High School. I love him but hate living in his shadow. Everyone worshiping the air he breat...
"From this far away," Harper's voice pulled my gaze to her scowl. "He doesn't look like a complete asshole. But fuck him. We're here to have fun."
"Drowning fun?" My knees buckled, so I sat with a huff. "Or puking my guts fun?"
"You won't drown or puke," Harper said. I didn't believe her for a second, not with her eyes screaming fun osmosis setup. "Shocker, you might actually smile. And, with all this festering beach hatred, I bet you haven't thought about... you know."
Yes, I knew. Painfully, I knew.
Even an indirect reminder was a dull stab in my chest.
The panic that vaulted me upright at two a.m. raised the hairs on the back of my neck and forearms. It shortened my breath, and I closed my eyes to calm down the frenetic beats pounding in my ears.
A shift in my weight sank my heels into the sand and pitched me off-balance. Control slipped out of my grasp, and I needed it back.
Control wasn't a tiny, red string bikini, but Harper tossed one in my face. "Bathing suit first."
Correction: string was too generous. It was three red eye patches attached to dental floss.
She was right. I was more than distracted.
Given a web of material, I groaned as she peeled off her coverup and revealed her 'how-do-you-not-exercise' figure. Nothing was wrong with my body, except I resembled a middle schooler more than an incoming senior. Eight inches shorter, I was a pile of seaweed next to a mermaid.
Piles of seaweed had their purposes in life. Mine was to bide time until college rescued me from the exact incident I tried very hard to forget.
"And that." She flashed a wicked grin, pointing at a wood shack twenty yards away. My heart sank. "It's just a distraction, Elle. You'll be fine."
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"Really, really bad idea!"
I spat out another cold, salty ocean mouthful. Every taste bud burned as if I licked acid. Why had I agreed to this? All ten fingers were prunes. My exposed stomach and back stung. This distraction was not worth drowning for.
I'll take overthinking and panicking over this.
"You're not trying!" Harper loomed over me. Her shadow blocked out the semicircular sun chasing the horizon.
I'm going to drown.
My short, 'last dodgeball pick' arms flailed to grasp my board, abandoned during my most recent belly flop. She stroked her paddle with the ease of a swan, caught my torture device, and pushed it to me.
"I'm trying everything not to drown!" I said through a mix of coughs and sputters. A saltwater burn seeped into my internal organs. Yep, definitely going to drown. I'm going to drown and get eaten by sharks. I'll never make it to college and-
