Page 32 of Miss Behaved
“I’ll think about it,” I tell them, even if the idea brings back the flutter of butterflies in my stomach.
Kennedy starts to giggle, and her phone drops.
“Oops, sorry ladies.” Her screen does a one-eighty before her face comes back into view.
“Got to go?” I tease her, knowing Zac must have popped into the room with her. Kennedy giggles again and looks off to where we can’t see.
“I’d say,” Luce says. “I may be sexually frustrated, but not enough to want to watch you two lovebirds go at it.”
“Sorry, we’ve had a lot of late work nights, so tonight Zac’s taking me out on a real date. Dinner, dancing, you know.” Kennedy is practically glowing.
“You kids have fun,” Luce says.
“Say hi to Zac from us.”
“Will do,” Kennedy smiles. “Mon, when you get back, we’ll plan a girls night, okay? Have fun.”
Luce waves her hand. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she says before hanging up.
“Bye, girl.” Kennedy hangs up as well.
Anything Luce wouldn’t do is a short list, but maybe that’s exactly the mindset I need to embrace right now.
13
Carson
Twelve Years Earlier
“Wasn’texpectingyououthere.” A voice pops up behind me, and it sends electricity shooting down my spine.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a halo of curls, but I don’t look up at her.
“Hey, Mon,” I say, focused on my notepad.
She pauses her approach. She’s always so perceptive. Probably scanning me over and trying to figure out what’s wrong. Why I’m not greeting her. Why I’m being a dick.
But I can’t help it.
I came out here to be alone, get some air when the walls started caving in. Granted, if I really didn’t want to run into her, this particular stretch of the beach isn’t where I should have gone. I know Monica comes out to this log to write and think. Sometimes I’ve even tagged along, catching waves and soaking up the sun while she disappears into her notebook.
Not today. Instead, it’s me lost in thought between the pages. Purging words I’ll no doubt rip out and throw away later.
“Sorry, I can go,” Monica says after a long, quiet moment. She spins on her toes, and I look up just in time to catch the hurt expression on her face.
“No, stay.”
I toss my notebook aside and jog to catch up with her. I grab her hand, not realizing the sudden tug would pull her toward me. The beat of space between us feels like mere inches and somehow still a canyon.
“Sorry. It’s not you,” I tell her, dipping my chin.
One look of her deeply brown eyes takes the fight out of me. Flecks of gold swim in the brown, drawn out by the sun. She tips her head to the side, taking in my full face with her stare, and when her gaze meets my eyebrow, her irritated scowl falls with widened eyes.
“What happened?” She reaches out, but I pull away before her hand makes contact with my skin.
“Nothing,” I say, dropping her hand and heading back to the log, where my notebook rests on the ground half covered in sand. I sit down and pick it up to shake it out.
“That’s not nothing.”
