Page 15 of Tiny Fractures

“How long have you known Vada?” I ask in an attempt to distract myself from looking at him too much.

“Forever. We went to preschool together. Stevie has obviously known her just as long, but they only hooked up last year. It’s funny how that happened; they went from playing tag and hide and seek to, ‘Ew, cooties,’ to, ‘Let me get in your pants.’”

I laugh, and he laughs along with me.

“Seriously,” he says, “do you have any idea how weird it was when I realized my brother had a thing for Vada? That took a minute to get used to.”

“I bet. Vada said she sleeps over at your house sometimes. That’s got to be awkward. And how does that work with your parents and her dad?” My parents would never.

“Easy. My dad’s always gone and my mom works nights.”

“Wait, so it’s just you and Steve at home? Alone? At night?”

“Most nights.” Ronan nods. “My mother usually works twelve-hour night shifts; sometimes she’ll put in eighteen and twenty-four hours. As far as what Vada tells her dad, I have no idea. You’ll need to ask her. I doubt she divulges the fact that she spends the night with Steve.”

“What don’t I divulge to whom?” Impeccably timed as ever, Vada makes her way toward the bonfire, her movement a weird mixture between a hop and a jog, her forearms pressed against her wet upper body, her hair dripping, lips tinged blue. She’s freezing. Just behind her is Steve, equally as soaked, the skin on his arms covered in goosebumps.

Ronan grabs two towels from the stack behind him and throws them at Steve, who deftly catches them and proceeds to wrap the first towel around Vada and the second around his own waist. “You haven’t told your dad that you’ve basically moved in with Steve and me,” Ronan says.

“Oh, yeah, no. Definitely not,” Vada says.

“So, where does he think you spend the night?” I ask her.

“Tori’s,” Vada states matter-of-factly, just as Tori and the rest of the group return from the water to the bonfire. Once again Ronan distributes towels, first to the girls, then to the guys.

“It’s an understanding in this group,” Vada says. “If Tori wants to spend the night at Shane’s, she’ll tell her parents she’s spending the night at my house, and vice versa. Cheyenne and Summer have the same arrangement. Well, Summer has that arrangement; Cheyenne isn’t currently in a relationship.”

I see Cheyenne’s eyes flit to Ronan. “How would you even know, Vada?” she asks, her voice contemptuous.

Vada raises her eyebrows at Cheyenne. “Because I know who you want to hook up with, and I also happen to know that your advances haven’t been all that successful. Or am I wrong?”

Cheyenne huffs loudly, collects her clothes, and turns her back toward the group. “I’m going to change.” She stalks up the stairs to the house.

“Was that necessary?” Ronan asks Vada, who immediately looks guilty.

“Sorry,” she says, her voice small. “I’m right though, aren’t I?”

“That’s beside the point. You make me feel like shit, too, when you say crap like that,” Ronan grumbles, and I wonder if he’s the person Cheyenne has been in pursuit of, to no avail.

“You’re right, I’m sorry, Ran. She just irks me.”

“Okay, let it go, guys!” Shane tries to diffuse the tension.

The girls all make their way upstairs to change back into dry clothes while the guys simply throw on their dry shirts and—keeping their towels wrapped around their hips—exchange their wet clothes for dry pants.

We spend the next hour huddled around the bonfire, which slowly dies down. I sit, appreciating the warmth that Ronan’s sweater provides me, listening to the banter of the group. Vada has her head in Steve’s lap. Drew passes out on one of the blankets, snoring loudly to the amusement of Zack, who pretends to be sawing wood to Drew’s rhythmic grunts. Tori engages me in chatter, but my gaze finds Ronan’s over and over again. His eyes more often than not meet mine, causing a weird little tingle to spread through my core.

***

I’m happily surprised at how great a time I’m having, despite my apprehension about going to a party and hanging out with people I would have perceived as exactly the kind of people to stay away from. By the time eleven-thirty rolls around, I’m dismayed to remind Vada that my curfew is in thirty minutes.

“Well, let’s get you home,” Vada says, equally as disappointed. She and I both stand up and wipe the sand off our clothes.

While Vada gives Steve an elaborate goodnight kiss, I take a few steps over to Ronan. I begin to pull the hem of his hoodie up and over my body, but Ronan’s hand on mine stops me. “Keep it on,” he says, his voice low and flowing over my skin like a warm ocean breeze. “You can give it back to me the next time we see each other.” He gives me a sexy half smile, his green eyes bright despite the low light.

“That sounds like a plan,” I say more confidently than I feel, and I reciprocate his smile, which makes his wider.

“Good.”

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