Page 56 of Faking Summer
twenty-three
Caroline
"She's the worst," Sam murmured, throwing her purse over her shoulder. "Your sister changes her mind every day about the wedding. She can't make up her mind about anything."
"Told you she'd be a bridezilla," I said, knowing damn well there is no way to please that woman.
"She's the worst kind," she added. "The wedding is almost here, she can’t keep making changes."
"Then you're just going to have to tell her no."
"Tell her no," she repeated, and then a smile stretched across her face, and we both let out a loud snick. We knew—oh, how well we knew—that telling my sister "no" was never a word she’d ever accept.
"By the way, you forgot to text me back," she said, narrowing her eyes. "How is your concussion?"
"What concussion?" I replied, thoroughly confused.
"The one you must have to make you so confused that you were caught in a bathroom hooking up with Reese Carrington? Have you lost your mind?" She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to an angrywhisper. "I thought it was strange he was taking you home from Taillight Tapout, and Kim just told me the rumor going around that you two were... in Willow's bathroom. Was that the night I left with Crew?"
The truth was clawing at the edges of my conscience. Losing my mind was a definite possibility.
"It's not what you think it is," I murmured, almost pleading with her to understand—except I didn’t even understand what was going on.
"So you weren't hooking up with him?" she pressed, hand on her hip.
"Well," I began, the word slipping out as a half-sigh, "I kind of was."
I continued to walk in front of Sam, toward the front entrance of the bar. "Kind of?" she echoed behind me. "You do remember that he was the sole reason for the most humiliating day of your childhood, right?"
I could feel the weight of that memory, the painful beat of my heart when I thought about it. The shame I felt, the sting of betrayal sharp as ever when I thought of Reese's role in it all.
"Trust me, I know," I admitted. "But we were just kids back then, and it's complicated. He's a lot different than I always thought he was."
I knew she didn’t believe the diminishment of my pain. It was the kind of moment that carved itself into your memories, no matter how badly you wanted to forget it. Now wasn’t the time, though, and I knew I had to downplay it even though that moment still hurt when I thought back on it.
Sam leaned in, her voice rising over the tinkling glasses and chatter. "I can imagine," she whispered, her eyes scanning mine as she tried to understand. "Just be careful. We both know who he is."
As I pulled the door open, I thought about the undeniable force that Reese exerted—the magnetic feeling I had around him, theelectricity between us that both thrilled and terrified me. I knew this was the same man who, as a little boy, played a role in my downfall. That moment changed me forever, and I learned how cruel the world could be. It forced me to toughen up in order to protect myself. In the end, it didn’t really matter. Reese Carrington was basically dissolving before my very eyes, leaving this place—and me with it—behind soon.
"Oh, trust me, I know."
"Two vodka sodas," Sam told the bartender. As he nodded and turned away, she swiveled back to me, eyes alight with mischief and curiosity.
"Okay, now that we're over the whole 'making sure you're of right mind' thing," she started, then the corners of her mouth twisted into a knowing smirk, "can you tell me now what the heck it's like to hook up with Reese Carrington?"
"Incredible," I breathed out, the word barely more than a sigh. My mind was instantly swept up in the serious and intense expression on his face before he kissed me, the way he smelled so good I’d contemplated finding a way to steal one of his sweatshirts. And then there were his hands—those large, veiny, sexy hands. Sculpted by god knows how many years of gripping baseballs and bats. When had I ever thought hands were sexy? I was definitely losing my ever loving mind.
"His hands," I managed to add, voice trailing off as the memory threatened to swallow me whole. Sam watched me, silently observing the internal tumult her question had unleashed. She offered no words, only a faint nod, understanding immediately.
"Damn," she murmured. "I was hoping the rumors about him were all lies."
"I mean, we haven't hooked up… but we have done a few things, and from what I can tell..."
Sam's gaze shifted past my shoulder to the door, interrupting my trailing words. "Speaking of potential husbands for you," she said with a playful arch of her brow, "look who just walked in."
Wells Clark. The very notion of him as spouse material almost made me spit out my drink.
"I’d rather marry Goldilocks," I declared, flipping my hair like I was in a shampoo commercial.
