“You did all that shit?” Sean asks, moving forward. “Man, and here I was thinking you were just working on the schedule.”
Mason who tends to be the most serious among us just shakes his head and laughs, because that’s what we all do around Sean.
Becca backs away toward the driver’s side, keeping her grin as she points to our boys. “Alex Pettyfer, Nathan Owens, Channing Tatum, y’all got the back,” she tells them. She grabs my bag and tosses it onto the floor of the passenger side. “You, get to ride with me, cutie.”
I almost ask to switch with Alex Pettyfer, aka Hale. But I’ve known Becca long enough to know something’s up. So I hop in the front, barely snapping my seatbelt in place before she shifts in gear and tears out of the lot.
We catch the road leading out of the resort. Masontugs on my hair just like Hale had, just to say “hi”. Like most men I meet, he thinks I’m cute. As in a kid sister or a BFF cute. Not cute as in, “hey how about you let me rip off your thong with my teeth?” You know what I mean? The kind of “cute” that really matters.
I’ve pretty much resolved myself to BFF status, even though I wish I could be more.
Hale, whether because of what I said, or because he realizes time is running out for him to make a move, leans in between the seats, his attention fixed on Becca. Unlike me, that’s not sand filling out the cups in her swimsuit.
“Hey, Becks, how about we catch dinner Tuesday after work? Maybe even a movie?”
Becca’s wild hair—highlighted in alternating shades of blonde and blonder—slaps around her gorgeous features as she grins. “I don’t know. The boss may not like me dating a co-worker.” She looks at me then. “Isn’t that right, Boss?”
I crack up. All my lifeguards can do whatever they want during their time off. But these four in particular? These four that have been my friends since before any of us learned to read, swim, or cuss. I know they’re a good bunch. I know they have my back. For all we joke, the minute their toes dig into that smooth white sand, it’s on.
I perch my legs up and over the dash and cross my arms behind my head. “As your fearless leader, I hereby let that be your call, ma’am.”
Okay. Maybe I’m not so fearless. And “leader” is a pretty loose title considering all I do is run a few drills each day and make sure everyone has a shift.
“I’ll think about it,” is all Becca tells him.
Hale is a good guy. Good enough to slink back and give her space. Like all my male besties, he’s had a crush on Becca since he hit puberty and his male parts saluted her in celebration. Capable of stirring erections with a single glance was Becca’s super power. Mine is the ability to make people snort drinks through their noses at my jokes. I adjust my head beneath my hand after another glance at my beautiful friend. We all have our gifts, and if mine includes making others smile, I can’t complain.
Her grin widens as she takes the road that leads to Your Mother’s Coconuts, better known to the locals as “Your Mother’s”. Once off the resort we’re no longer lifeguards expected to abide by the rules. We’re just fresh college grads ready to run amuck, do some skinny-dipping, and partake in all the fun our young selves demand.
In less than a minute, Becca is screeching to a halt at the far end of the half-filled lot. It is a quarter to eight on a Friday and our work week is done. With a hoot and a few hollers, our buddies jump out the back, rousing the other lifeguards who beat us here to do the same.
“Where the hell have y’all been?” the new girl calls out. “I’m thirsty.”
Sean holds his hands out. “Then what’re you newbies waiting for? Order up the first round.”
“Us?” she asks, looking at her friend. “Wehave to pay?”
“Damn straight, yeah,” Sean says like it’s obvious. “Everyone knows virgins always buy the first round. Ain’t that right, boys?”
The rest of my team, even those loitering on the outside deck, start chanting “virgins, virgins, virgins,” pumping their fists in the air.
“Aw, hell,” her friend says. “Come on. Let’s go get our cherries popped.”
They walk in, but we don’t follow. Becca’s made no move to slip out so I know she means to talk. I smile softly. “What’s up?”
She looks to the ocean, where the waves sweep in to bathe the sand with all its salty heaven. But I doubt she really sees it, even though like me, Kiawah is a part of her. She crinkles her nose and then takes my hand. “Last summer,” she says.
“Yeah, last one,” I answer quietly, knowing how she feels because I’m feeling it, too. I squeeze her hand, my tone mirroring all the emotions fluttering inside me. “Time to grow up, right?”
“I wish we didn’t have to,” she mumbles, keeping her stare on the sea as if trying to gather some strength from it. “You still serious about applying to the Peace Corps?”
I was hoping we didn’t have to have this conversation any time soon, but I’ve kept things from her long enough. “Iapplied over winter break, Becks.”
Her mouth slowly falls open. “I told you to wait—to not do something drastic just because of what those doucheheads did to you.”
The “doucheheads” she’s referring to are Hunter, my ex-boyfriend, and Blakeney, my ex-friend. They once held my heart, until I caught them in bed and they ripped it from my chest.
Her words chip away at me. Not because I’m not over Hunter, or Blakeney. I am. I’m just not over their betrayal. I could never hurt anyone I claimed to love or called a friend. But they didn’t feel the same.