Page 23 of Wilder Love
My jaw dropped as I stared at the willowy blonde across from me. “Asshole.”
“He said a lot of shit. And at first, I fell for it. I started to believe all the stuff he said, you know? Like maybe he was right about me. I was cold and unlovable. My butt was too big…”
It was easier to believe the bad things people said than the good things. I knew that.
“I was watching my parents one day and it hit me. Someday I would be my mother. Botoxed, popping Xanax, and downing bottles of oaky Chardonnay every night because my husband had traded me in for a newer model. It’s a badly kept secret in the Woods house.” Sienna gave me a big smile. “So, I dumped Tristan’s ass.”
“And how did he take it?”
“He spread rumors about me. Haven’t you heard? I have an STD that I picked up from sleeping with the entire football team of a rival school. Now I’m an untouchable at Costa del Rey High. Fuck him.” She held up both middle fingers.
“Fuck him,” I said, downing the rest of my drink and slamming the glass on the bar. Even rich girls like Sienna had dysfunctional families and got bullied. I used to believe that people with money didn’t have to deal with shit like that but not even they were immune.
“So… tell me more about Shane…”
An hour later, buzzed on Sienna’s Christmas specials, I raced through the streets of town under the cover of darkness, the cold air stinging my cheeks and numbing my hands. As I cruised past Tristan’s brick colonial lit up like the Fourth of July, I raised my middle finger. “Never,” I shouted to the wind. And then I laughed because I was a little bit drunk and brave and defiant.
* * *
“That’s your dream?To be world champion?” I asked, although it didn’t really come as a surprise. I already knew that Shane wanted to be the best.
“That’s the dream.” He was staring up at the sky as if envisioning it. Clouds covered the moon and stars tonight, so I made star-shaped designs on the night sky with my flashlight then set it on the blacktop. An arc of light illuminated the graffitied wall across from me.I WAS HEREin bold black letters, with a skull and crossbones.
Real original, Dylan.
Shane was sitting cate-corner to me and nudged the toe of my Chucks with the toe of his Vans. “How about you? What’s your dream?”
I leaned my back against the rough wall, popped a piece of watermelon bubblegum into my mouth, and contemplated his question while I chewed. I was usually too busy trying to survive day-to-day life to give much thought to my future. But I knew what I would do if I could. So, I guess that made it a dream.
“To travel the world and see all the exotic places. And take photos of all the beautiful and ugly and interesting things.” I wanted to go to all the beautiful, exotic places he went, but I didn’t say that. I lifted the camera from my lap, brought his face into focus, and pressed the shutter. The flash went off, capturing the shot. I grinned. “I’ve just stolen another piece of your soul.”
“Add it to your collection. Pretty soon you’ll own my whole soul.”
“The photos of you surfing will go into my beautiful collection.” I said it without stopping to think how it could have sounded.
“What about Travis and Ryan? They belong in the ugly collection?” he teased.
“I never take pictures of them. Only you.” I should have been embarrassed to admit that. But I wasn’t. It was true.
Meeting up on the roof had become our thing. I’d text him and tell him I was up here and then I’d wait to see if he joined me. Every time the metal door opened, revealing him on the other side, my heart skipped a beat. Pathetic.
Shane leaned forward and grabbed the camera.
I got onto my knees and lunged for it, but he held it out of reach and batted my hands away. “It’s only fair I steal a piece of your soul.”
“Since when is life fair?” I settled back on my heels.
“It’s not. Smile for me.”
I stuck out my tongue. He snapped the photo. I rolled my eyes. He snapped another one. I blew a big bubble that popped in my face. The camera kept clicking, the flash going off until I covered my face with my hands. “Stop. You’ll waste all the film.”
“Photos of you would never be a waste of film,” he said, his voice low and hoarse.
I lowered my hands and stared at him. He licked his bottom lip. I wanted to kiss him. Taste him. Breathe him in. Run my fingers through the waves of his sun-bleached hair. Lick his tanned skin. It was starting to feel like a sickness. A dull ache that never seemed to go away. Wanting him so badly and knowing I couldn’t have him was the sweetest torture.
He was still looking at me, our eyes locked and I was holding my breath as I leaned in, my upper body tilting toward him as if I was being pulled by an invisible magnetic force.
The door burst open and Dylan strode across the roof, his eyes darting from me to Shane, narrowing with distrust. Dylan’s eyes were a little glassy and a lot bloodshot, the scent of weed clinging to his clothes.
