Read Online Held: A New Adult Romance by Jessica Pine - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jessica Pine
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of your business."
"You don't have to be rude."
"I have to go, Beca. It's time for my rounds."
I'd like to think we were done, but I know it's wishful thinking. My sister has a way of moving heaven and earth in order to get exactly what she wants. She didn't want to go into hospital to have Chuy, even though she was a first time mom and the doctors recommended it. Beca was adamant - it was too expensive, she said. Which is why she kept the lid on her contractions until the baby was practically crowning. She had him right there on the living room floor. What she saved on hospital bills she ended up spending having the carpet torn up, but that had also been on her to-do list - for several years she'd been on at Marcus to get rid of the old carpet and put in hardwood floors.
The wind is hot and dry as I make my way up the hillside. The summer is nearly done - hurricane season on the Gulf coast, brushfire season here in California. Another year older and still no wiser. By the time they were my age my parents had been married for eighteen months; it seems insane to imagine that they were ever that young, or that stupid.
When I reach the pool I nearly turn back. I don't know how I'm going to stand being there. Amber is stretched out on one of the sun-loungers, wearing a little black bikini and giant sunglasses. Her skin is so pale it almost glows. Her legs seem to go on forever. She lies motionless, her fingers carefully spread to catch the sun. If it wasn't for the slight rise and fall of her chest you'd swear she'd been carved out of marble.
I clear my throat. She doesn't move. I do it again and this time her hand comes up, tips the sunglasses down. "Hi," she says. A phone rings at her side and she picks it up. "Time up," she says, and gets up off the lounger. "Can you help me with the umbrella? I think it's stuck."
It's on the tip of my tongue to say that she needs to take the plastic off the damn thing first, but I see she's already done that. She's right - it takes a little jiggling to push the umbrella up.
"You should have had this up in the first place," I say. "You'll burn."
"I won't. I'm on a timer - twenty minutes. I need the vitamin D. I'm getting prison pallor."
"Is this where I ask you why you won't go out?"
She pulls another lounger into the shade and pats it. I sit down. She settles into her own. I see how her little bikini bottoms are held at her hips with two little interlaced C's - Chanel. Complicated, I'd told Beca. Understatement. She's a million miles and a million dollars out of my league.
"Do you want to know?" she asks, picking up a bottle of sunscreen.
"Only if you want to tell me," I say. "If I wanted to know I'd have looked online, wouldn't I?"
"I guess," she says. She's very thin - too thin. When she leans over to put sunscreen on her legs I can see the bumps of her spine where she bends. I want to ask about the scar at the back of her neck, but I don't want anything to spook her. I don't think I could handle it if she told me to go away and never come back. When she kissed me the spot on my cheek was tingling for days.
"It was kind of you," she says. "Not to ask, I mean. Some days when my therapist comes I feel like I do nothing but talk about...stuff. Issues. Emotions. All of that. You were the first normal conversation I'd had in forever."
"I'm glad."
She smiles. "Me too. And I do, by the way."
"Do what?"
"Want to make friends."
I stare at the pool for a moment and swallow. I don't trust myself to look at her. She's too lovely and it's been too long for me. "Good," I say. "So do I."
She doesn't say anything else. I think she knows somehow that I'm trying to keep my eyes from straying. Out of the corner of my eye I see her rubbing sunblock on her chest. Her fingertips dip beneath the fabric of her bikini. She has one leg bent and I can see the pale inside of her thigh, but it's different this time. Nobody's shoving a camera up her skirt and
"You don't have to be rude."
"I have to go, Beca. It's time for my rounds."
I'd like to think we were done, but I know it's wishful thinking. My sister has a way of moving heaven and earth in order to get exactly what she wants. She didn't want to go into hospital to have Chuy, even though she was a first time mom and the doctors recommended it. Beca was adamant - it was too expensive, she said. Which is why she kept the lid on her contractions until the baby was practically crowning. She had him right there on the living room floor. What she saved on hospital bills she ended up spending having the carpet torn up, but that had also been on her to-do list - for several years she'd been on at Marcus to get rid of the old carpet and put in hardwood floors.
The wind is hot and dry as I make my way up the hillside. The summer is nearly done - hurricane season on the Gulf coast, brushfire season here in California. Another year older and still no wiser. By the time they were my age my parents had been married for eighteen months; it seems insane to imagine that they were ever that young, or that stupid.
When I reach the pool I nearly turn back. I don't know how I'm going to stand being there. Amber is stretched out on one of the sun-loungers, wearing a little black bikini and giant sunglasses. Her skin is so pale it almost glows. Her legs seem to go on forever. She lies motionless, her fingers carefully spread to catch the sun. If it wasn't for the slight rise and fall of her chest you'd swear she'd been carved out of marble.
I clear my throat. She doesn't move. I do it again and this time her hand comes up, tips the sunglasses down. "Hi," she says. A phone rings at her side and she picks it up. "Time up," she says, and gets up off the lounger. "Can you help me with the umbrella? I think it's stuck."
It's on the tip of my tongue to say that she needs to take the plastic off the damn thing first, but I see she's already done that. She's right - it takes a little jiggling to push the umbrella up.
"You should have had this up in the first place," I say. "You'll burn."
"I won't. I'm on a timer - twenty minutes. I need the vitamin D. I'm getting prison pallor."
"Is this where I ask you why you won't go out?"
She pulls another lounger into the shade and pats it. I sit down. She settles into her own. I see how her little bikini bottoms are held at her hips with two little interlaced C's - Chanel. Complicated, I'd told Beca. Understatement. She's a million miles and a million dollars out of my league.
"Do you want to know?" she asks, picking up a bottle of sunscreen.
"Only if you want to tell me," I say. "If I wanted to know I'd have looked online, wouldn't I?"
"I guess," she says. She's very thin - too thin. When she leans over to put sunscreen on her legs I can see the bumps of her spine where she bends. I want to ask about the scar at the back of her neck, but I don't want anything to spook her. I don't think I could handle it if she told me to go away and never come back. When she kissed me the spot on my cheek was tingling for days.
"It was kind of you," she says. "Not to ask, I mean. Some days when my therapist comes I feel like I do nothing but talk about...stuff. Issues. Emotions. All of that. You were the first normal conversation I'd had in forever."
"I'm glad."
She smiles. "Me too. And I do, by the way."
"Do what?"
"Want to make friends."
I stare at the pool for a moment and swallow. I don't trust myself to look at her. She's too lovely and it's been too long for me. "Good," I say. "So do I."
She doesn't say anything else. I think she knows somehow that I'm trying to keep my eyes from straying. Out of the corner of my eye I see her rubbing sunblock on her chest. Her fingertips dip beneath the fabric of her bikini. She has one leg bent and I can see the pale inside of her thigh, but it's different this time. Nobody's shoving a camera up her skirt and
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