"So, where are we going now?" Nick asks this as we're stopped at a busy intersection on Bourbon Street, somewhere in the heart of the Vieux Carré—as Jolie calls the French Quarters. Storefronts and restaurants are illuminated in every color of the rainbow, and people are flocking everywhere, ready for a night on the town.
"Wherever we want." Hartley gazes down the narrow street and past the crowded buildings, then twists around and hooks her elbow over the front seat. "Do you have any requests?"
I look at Sully and he shrugs.
"How about we go to Melanie's?" My friend lights up with the sudden idea. "Her family's out of town this weekend. We'd have the whole place to ourselves."
"She went away with them?" I ask.
"Yep. Her and her sister both. But we could have our own little party." Hartley grins. "The drinks and pool are already there. It's like they're waiting for us to enjoy them. It'd be a crime not to if you think about it."
Nick nods slowly, a half-smile inching up the side of his smug face. "I like the sound of that."
I squirm in my seat, unease rolling through me at the lecherous tone of his voice. "Are you sure Melanie wouldn't mind?"
"She doesn't even have to know. We'll leave everything the same way we find it. Minus a little bit of alcohol," she adds quickly. "I don't know about you, but after what we just went through, I could really use a drink." Hartley swivels back and turns on the radio. An alternative rock song floods the car, drowning out the memories of what went down at the plantation.
Something pokes the side of my thigh. I look down and see Sully's finger. "Are you okay with this?" he whispers over the music.
His expression is concerned yet hopeful and I can't bear to let him down. So, I nod, but a morsel of anxiety still blooms in my chest. The more I'm around Nick the less I want to be, and a party of four might be a little too close for comfort. Especially if they're planning to drink. If Intoxicated Nick is as unappealing as Sober Nick, I think we might all be in trouble.
Sully's staring at me like he's not convinced by my answer.
"I don't know." I shrink back in my seat, embarrassed by what I'm about to ask. "Will you be drinking, too?"
His eyes widen slightly but he doesn't flinch. "Not if you don't want me to."
The thoughtfulness behind those words cling to me. "I ... don't. Is that a problem?"
"Not at all." He smiles like he means it then laces his fingers through mine. My hand gets all tingly like there's a hive of bees buzzing underneath the skin.
When I think about Nick and all of the guys I go to school with, I wonder how many of them would forfeit an alcoholic beverage simply because a girl asked them to. It dawns on me that not many would, and it just proves how genuine Sully actually is.
We don't speak for the rest of the drive but do steal glances at one another, looking away as soon as we realize the other's noticed. And it's very sweet and incredibly stupid and WHY EXACTLY CAN'T WE LOOK AT EACH OTHER? When we pull up to Melanie's house I decide to do something drastic—something very un-Gwen-like. Because Summer of Change. So, I squeeze his hand in mine. When he looks up in surprise I hold his gaze. "Thank you."
His brows crinkle. "What for?"
"For being one of the good guys."
For the briefest of moments, a shadow crosses Sully's face but it disappears so quickly I wonder if I imagined it. "You don't have to thank me. It's not a big deal."
"It is to me."
He gives me a faint smile and averts his eyes. "Then, you're welcome."
Hartley pokes her head through the passenger window. I didn't even realize she'd gotten out of the car. "Are you two coming or what? Don't forget we have a curfew."
We hop out and silently follow Nick and Hartley up the driveway into Melanie's backyard. As soon as we pass through the privacy gate, the enormous in-ground pool shimmers back at us, empty and inviting, the fiber optic lights making the water a deep, royal blue.
Goosebumps dot my flesh as I check out the adjoining hot tub. I run my hands up and down my arms, hoping they'll go away but they don't. This is supposed to be a fun adventure, but I can't relax.
I stare directly at Hartley, praying she can read my mind. She doesn't. "Aren't we going to get our swimsuits?" Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.
"I wasn't planning to. You're wearing a bra and panties, right? It's basically the same thing."
Nick chuckles. "What's the matter, Gwen? Scared to show a little flesh?"
"No, but I—" Okay, so maybe they are practically the same thing, but Hartley's suggestion leaves me feeling naked, even though I'm fully clothed. But Summer of Change. I take a deep breath and make another un-Gwen-like decision. "You're right. It's cool."
Hartley's brows arch, probably because I'm not staging a protest. "Great. Then I'll get the drinks." She looks over her shoulder as she heads toward the pool house. "You want a beer, Sully?"
His eyes connect with mine. "No thanks, I'm good."
"Suit yourself." She turns to me. "Do you want anything?"
I shake my head, because I'm not ready to change that much yet. She disappears behind the door, emerging a moment later with a bottle of vodka and a can of beer in both pockets of her cardigan. She sets all three on the patio table and twists off the cap, taking a long chug from the half-empty bottle of liquor.
Nick pulls his shirt over broad shoulders, revealing a tanned six pack underneath—so far as I can tell, the only semi-decent thing about him. He kicks his sandals to the side and peels off his shorts until all that's left is black boxer briefs. My eyes flick away, not wanting to look too closely. He snaps back the tab on a can of beer and holds it to his lips, tilting his head back as the liquid makes its way down his throat. He lets out a long belch.
"Neanderthal." Hartley laughs and tugs the band from her hair, shaking her curls until they cascade around her shoulders. She slips off her cardigan and hesitates for a split second before pulling the sundress over her head, tossing it across the back of a patio chair. All she's wearing now is a pale blue bra and matching panties.
Nick's gaze leisurely travels the length of her body, hungrily sizing her up. "Damn, girl." He wraps his arms around Hartley's waist and pulls her into his chest. "You're lookin' good."
And something inside my stomach flips. Because no ... she does not.
I've been in New Orleans for several weeks now, but this is the first I've seen my friend half-dressed. She always manages to change in the bathroom and typically comes out wearing any number of layers. Hartley's always been thin but looking at her now it's clear she's lost a ton of weight. I can count every rib in her torso, both front and back, and her hip bones jut out like two bulbous knobs on a dresser.
Hartley giggles as Nick gnaws the span of her neck. "I know where Mrs. Ruiz keeps the spare key. Why don't you and I take this party inside?"
"That's the best idea I've heard all night."
I try not to stare as they molest each other but it's like watching a car accident—I can't turn away.
Hartley glances at me and Sully. "Think you two can entertain yourselves for a while?"
"We'll be fine." The rough edge to Sully's voice catches me off guard. When I look at him, his eyes are fixed on Hartley's like they're in the middle of a showdown, the sudden tension so thick it's almost difficult to breathe.
"We're going swimming. Right?" I blurt out, desperate to lift the black cloud that's suddenly hovering above us.
"That's right." Sully kicks off his leather sandals, sets his glasses on the table, and grabs the hem of his shirt, the muscles in his abdomen stretching as he lifts it over his head.
And I ache all over. Not only because Sully is standing in front of me half-naked, but because my best friend is about to run off and do unspeakable things to a boy I can't stand.
Hartley takes another swig of vodka and tosses Nick the second can of beer. We watch as they walk toward the house, their arms wrapped around each other, and disappear from sight.
We're finally alone. "We don't have to go swimming if you don't want to. I just said that because ... I don't why." I force myself to focus on Sully's face, far far away from his naked chest. But his nipples are like magnets, and before long, my eye muscles twitch and burn from the innate need to look down. So, I do the only thing I can think of—I close them.
"We can go swimming. Isn't that why we're here?" he says slowly, his voice softer than before. "Um, Gwen. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
"Well, because ..." He clears his throat. "Because you're squeezing your eyes shut."
"Oh." I let out a little breath and open them. Sully's staring at me, mystified. Like maybe I've grown two heads. But nope. I'm still the same old Gwen, uncomfortable in my own skin. "Sorry. It's been a weird night."
"Tell me about it." His gaze twists toward the pool. "Would you rather hang out in the hot tub?"
The Hot Tub. I've seen movies about hot tubs. Movies my mom would probably ground me for if she found out I'd watched. And it's because of those movies that I know exactly what can happen when two people are left in them unsupervised.
"The hot tub." Wait, what? "I mean, the pool. We should swim in the pool."
Sully gives me a funny look before peeling off his khakis. And now he's standing in bright orange boxer shorts, which are thankfully nowhere near as tight as Nick's. I don't want to look, but oh yes I do! A giggle bubbles up inside of me as I squint at their design. "What are those?"
"What?" Confused, he looks down and tugs at the hem, straightening the fabric. "The jalapenos?"
"Are they ... dancing?"
He smirks. "Yes, they're dancing. You got a problem with that?"
"No, I don't have a problem." My giggle turns into a full-blown roar. "Why are boy's underpants so weird?"
"If you think these are weird then you should see my Got Bacon? ones."
"Seriously?" My stomach aches from the ridiculousness but the tension in the air finally lifts. "Do all of your boxers have food on them?"
He shrugs. "Not all of them. I have a pair that looks like an elephant. It even has extra fabric for its trunk where my—well, you know—" he gestures toward his crotch. "— is."
My eyes shoot open wide. "Are you lying?"
"Yes." His lips curve into a wide grin. "Alright. I've shown you mine. Now let's see yours."
My throat instantly dries up like the Atacama Desert. I'm about to strip down to my underwear in a public place. In front of Sullivan Reed. And there will be nothing but twelve inches of space and two thin layers of cotton between us.
Holy fudge.
I'm not sure where to begin, what garment would make me feel less exposed once it's separated from my body, so I step out of my shoes first, regretting my decision to forgo socks. I pause before unbuttoning my shorts and then slowly shimmy out of them, shivering as the night breeze crawls over the most sensitive areas of my flesh.
Sully's watching me with unblinking eyes.
The only thing left is my shirt—which after an internal once he sees me practically naked he'll never be able to unsee me debate—I lift over my head. When I look down at my understated bra and pink and white striped panties, panic jolts through my limbs. All I want to do is sink into the patio bricks, past the soil and bedrock, and not stop until I reach the center of the earth.
"You look really pretty."
After an excruciatingly long moment, my eyes meet his. "Thank you."
On the scale of attractiveness, I'd say I fall somewhere toward the middle range—decent enough to avoid hideous but too plain to pass for pretty. Yet Sully has this way of making me feel beautiful. Like, if he could be anywhere in the entire world, he'd still choose to be with me.
His expression turns serious. "I have something to tell you."
My heart sinks. "What is it?"
"Last one in is a rotten egg!" Sully takes two giant leaps then vaults off the edge of the pool, making a colossal splash as he plummets into the water. When he emerges, he's wearing a wide grin. "Well? What are you waiting for?"
I waver for just a second before jumping in after him.
The water is cool and refreshing as I sink into the waves, like a breath of fresh air. When I rise to the top, Sully's watching me.
"Nice, huh?" he says. There are microscopic droplets of water clinging to his long lashes.
"Very." I wade closer. "I have a confession. I've never gone swimming in my underwear before."
In the fiber optic glow, his eyes twinkle. "And?"
"Honestly?" I let out a tiny laugh. "It feels more satisfying than swimming in my bathing suit."
Sully glides closer until he's treading right in front of me. "I bet you're not used to breaking the rules, are you?"
"I totally am," I tell him, my heart stuttering as his leg brushes against mine. "I almost never recap the toothpaste after I'm done using it. I stay up hours past my bedtime writing Harry Potter fan-fiction—even on school nights. And sometimes, I hang the toilet paper roll upside down. On purpose."
"Ooo! Such a rebel." He studies me for several excruciating seconds, the moonlight making a sort of halo behind his head. And when his fingers gently brush a strand of hair away from my face, I don't flinch. "I'm glad we're finally alone."
My stomach lurches. "Me, too."
"Come with me." Sully grasps my hands in his and guides us to a spot where my toes just barely touch the floor. "My favorite place is right here in the center of the pool," he says. His hands move to my waist as if it's the most natural place for them to rest. "When I was little and just learning to swim, I went on vacation with my family and got stuck in the middle without my life jacket. My arms were flailing and my legs were kicking, and when I looked around, every edge seemed so far away. I thought I was going to drown."
My voice grows tiny. "Did anyone see you?"
"No, and I was too terrified to scream. Everyone was splashing around and having fun, and the lifeguards were so busy flirting with each other, they didn't notice."
Shyly, I hook my arms around his neck, mainly to stay afloat. Or, that's what I tell myself. "So what'd you do?"
"I remembered something Sawyer told me earlier in the week. He said if I ever drift into water over my head, not to panic and to take slow, even breaths. Before I knew it, I was paddling just enough to get to where my feet could touch bottom. Ever since that day, the middle of the pool has been my favorite. Because I know now that if I can save myself, I have nothing to be afraid of."
And I wonder if there's a reason he's telling me this story. Is it because he can tell that I'm afraid? Is this his way of convincing me I have nothing to fear?
Sully's hands tighten around my waist, his fingers sliding over my skin. I try to distract myself from the odd sensation swirling low in my belly. "Where were you vacationing?"
"Disney World. We went there every winter when I was growing up."
And suddenly, the entire universe crashes and lands on top of me. Sully's still talking but I tune him out. All I can think about is how my parents promised to take me and my brother on a Disney cruise and now it's never going to happen. Because my family has been ripped in two with one side bigger than the other.
I'd managed to avoid thinking about the divorce all night, and now that I'm finally alone with Sully, it's the only thing on my mind. Why can't I shut everything off and just have fun? My heart stutters, the surge of emotions nearly too much.
Breaths punch in and out of my lungs at increasing speeds, and the stars in the sky begin to spin together until they form a tornado of diamonds high above our heads. I push away from Sully and trudge toward the ladder, each step heavier as I make my way toward the edge of the pool. I need to stop thinking about the drama back home. As I climb out of the water, my attention falls on the patio table, and in an instant, I know what will help me forget.
"What are you doing?" Sully calls from the center of the pool.
I stare at the vodka, tears blurring the label. "Getting a drink."
I press the bottle to my lips, ignoring the sting of liquid as it pools in the pit of my stomach.
Sully is beside me in an instant, water dripping from his blond waves and into his eyes. "Are you alright?"
I don't answer. I just tilt the bottle back and take a bigger swallow. It tastes exactly how nail polish remover smells, but I don't care.
"Gwen?" He sounds panicked. "Should I get Hartley?"
I choke down another gulp. "No."
"Did I do something wrong?"
"No." Tears spill down my cheeks and I don't try to stop them. "I just want to forget okay?" I mumble between gasps. "Alcohol is supposed to help with that, right?" I swallow another mouthful.
"You want to forget what? Hartley and Nick?"
"No, my—" Sobs rack my entire body as I force down another drink. "It doesn't matter."
I think back to when I was six-years-old and my father bought me a stuffed brown puppy dog for Valentine's Day. It had enormous black eyes and on the collar was a big red heart that said I Love You in fancy white font. I slept with that stupid thing every night for years—until I tossed it into the trash the day he moved out. I don't understand why I'm thinking about this now, or why the memory makes me cry harder, but it does. I sink into a chair, determined to drink away my problems the same way people do in movies.
Sully's still talking. His lips blur into his face until they become two elongated pink globs that appear to be moving independently. It dawns on me that he's no longer talking to me but to Hartley, who's now standing beside him.
Her voice is shrill. "What the hell's going on?"
"I don't know!" Sully tells her. "She just started drinking."
"Gwen?" Hartley sags down in front of me, her hands gripping my thighs.
"He's not coming—," I slur. "And I don't want to—"
Her expression morphs into something unrecognizable. I open my mouth to speak but nothing more comes out.
"Take a deep breath and try again."
But I can't. I attempt to place the bottle back on the table, but it teeters along the edge and crashes to the cement, liquid, and shards of glass spraying the ground around us. "I'm sorry." I'm crying again, even harder than before.
"Help me get her up," she says.
Before I can protest, I'm hoisted from my seat, the backyard spinning as I stand. I try to orient myself, but my brain feels thick and fuzzy like it's filled with quicksand.
"Fuck," Hartley says. "How am I supposed to get her into the house without my mom noticing?"
It's Sully who answers. "I can help."
"That's not a good idea." She lets out a sigh.
There's another voice now. This time it's Nick. "Can't you sneak in through the window?" He's irritated, I can tell.
"There's no way I can drag her up the side of the house!"
I want to apologize but words won't form in my mouth.
"Nick, shut the hell up," Sully tells him. "You're not helping."
"Who's trying to help? I don't want any part of this."
Hartley readjusts her arm around my middle. "Would you guys both shut up! I'm doing this on my own. I'll deal with you two later."
"Please let me help you," Sully pleads. It sounds like he's under water.
"I've got this. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
And with that, we stumble down the driveway and toward whatever's waiting for us at home.