Page 101 of Be Your Anything
She lets out a long sigh, though I can tell by her expression she’s still playing with me.
“Like the only thing that matters is being the best.”
“But thatisall that matters.”
She scoffs. “If you think that, you can be a man all you want, but you aren’t going to get a woman with that attitude.”
“Oh really?”
She nods.
I love this little banter thing we have going on right now. It has been far too long since the two of us were playful with each other, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because I was dating Remmy.
Well, now things with Remmy are done. I broke up with her last week because I caught her with a guy from Manhattan High School. She didn’t even try to deny it, didn’t even try to talk me out of it when I stormed out of her house.
I’m better off, though, I’m sure.
Now, I can spend more time with Lennon.
We’ve been friends since we were kids. She, Paige, Wyatt, Otto, and I have all been really close since we were little, coming up through the same school and hanging out all the time.
But Lennon lived next door until a few years ago when her parents got divorced. Now, she lives on the other side of town at the Roth compound, a behemoth of a property that’s basically another country club, complete with a tennis court, a swimming pool, and a massive garage. It’s by far the nicest house in Hermosa Beach, though Wyatt’s parents are finishing up the Calloway Castle here in the next few months.
It’ll be fun to compare the two.
I’ve missed having her right there every day. We used to go surfing together in the mornings, just the two of us. Rode our bikes to school together, even though her mother pestered us constantly about having their family driver give us a ride.
It’s hard to remember when all that changed. I mean, it would be easy to say things shifted when she moved out from next door, but it was something else, and I’ve never been able to really nail it down.
All I know is one day she was my friend, and the next, she was the most beautiful girl in school.
Maybe that was it. Maybe things changed because I stopped seeing her as my friend, instead only focusing on the breasts she’d developed or how my heart felt when we went surfing together—like it would beat right out of my fucking chest. I had a hard time focusing when we talked because I was so hyperaware of her all the time—how she smelled, the way she laughed, what her eyes looked like when she looked at me.
For most guys, when they realize they like someone, they have the ability to do something about it, but I’ve always felt like I needed to keep my feelings for Lennon to myself.
I mean, I was crazy about her, but she’s a Roth. Her parents wouldn’t ever let her slum it with a nobody like me. As much I think young love can conquer all, I also know exactly how much Lennon values her family, and I would never want to put her in a situation where she felt like she had to go against them. So I allowed myself to move on, to test the waters elsewhere. Clearly it was a mistake.
Being here now, flirting and teasing, especially after that kiss we shared in the closet…it feels right. It feels good, like a joint that wasn’t sitting in the right place finally popped back into the socket.
Maybe this time around, there could be a chance for us. I won that surf competition today. There’s talk that I might be the youngest surfer to ever get ranked by the WSL. Maybe I can become famous, and then her family wouldn’t be so opposed to me.
And that idea, of finally allowing Lennon and me to have a chance? That makes me smile.
“So what would you call what happened between the two of us in the closet?” I say, enjoying when her cheeks pink up again. “You don’t call that me—a man—getting you—a woman?”
She crosses her arms and shifts where she’s sitting so her back is pressed up against the opposite post.
“You’re gonna have to work a lot harder than a kiss on a dare to say you’vegottenme, Lucas.”
I love that sass, love her confidence, how she never gives anyone a chance. It’s not a rich bitch attitude, either. This isn’t an ‘I’m a Roth so I’m better than you’ type of situation, even though I’m sure her mother has done some hard work to implant that idea into her head.
No, this is an ‘I’m a queen and any man who is worthy of me will understand my worth’ type of situation.
Maybe it’s because Paige is always shoving her feminism in my face. Maybe it’s because I have a single mom who has always pushed female strength. Who knows.
But I dig a woman who knows her fucking value, who draws a line in the sand and tells you exactly what you have to do to cross it.
“So what do I have to do to get you to go on a date with me?”
