Jamie to his feet. “You okay, man?”
I watched him and wondered if that was going to be it for our communication tonight. I downed the water, knowing I’d drunk way too much alcohol.
As Jamie shook his limbs, loose pieces of glass dropped to the pool of mixed liquors that puddled at his feet. “Yeah, I think so. Did you find that asshole?”
Jeremy shook his head. “He took off. I’m not sure in which direction.”
“Fuck him,” Jamie cursed and then turned toward the waitress who was staring at us in disbelief. At least she was completely unmarred by any of the spillage. “I am so sorry. Let me cover this,” Jamie said, reaching into his wallet.
The cocktail waitress refused his money and stood in some kind of shock for a beat before Jeremy whispered something in her ear.
She nodded and then looked at me. “Come on. It looks like you need to sit down.”
I did need to sit down. My head was spinning and my vision was blurring. But I didn’t want to leave Jeremy’s side. Which must have been obvious.
“Go on,” he said in that husky voice I had always loved.
I shook my head no.
He stepped toward me. Not too close but close enough that my body hummed from his proximity. “Go with Shelly, Phoebe St. Claire. We’ll talk later,” he whispered in my ear.
Even his breath was familiar.
Everything about him made me swoon.
He stepped back just as quickly as he had approached. When he did, the room started to spin but what kept me grounded was one simple fact—he knew who I really was.
And he was talking to me.
Shelly took my arm.
But I worried that once I turned my back—I’d never see him again.
It wasn’t that unlikely.
After all, it had happened before.
CHAPTER 4
Follow Me
July 2009
He was a bad boy.
A boy my mother would never approve of.
He smoked. He rode a motorcycle. He swore. He talked dirty. He went commando. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. But I could see he was trying to mature—“evolve” is what he called it.
There was nothing at all I didn’t like about him, but I didn’t tell him that. I preferred standing strong beside him, trying to counter his commands with even more authoritative ones. He said it was cute. I didn’t care if he didn’t see me as fierce, I felt like I was. When I was with him, I was someone else. Someone I liked. Someone I wanted to be. I was strong for the first time in my life.
Spend the night with me turned into spend the week together, which turned into me practically moving in with him. His mother had gone to Miami and had to stay there. Sadly, his grandmother was dying.
Jeremy worked two jobs. The days were long when he worked. But the nights he worked were even longer. During those times, I stayed at the house with my friends. At first things were calm there—we lay on the beach, hung out, and the guys drank.
But it had been only three weeks since we’d arrived, and things were getting out of hand. Chaos had ensued on a nightly basis—parties, drugs, lots of drugs, alcohol, limos, lobsters, caviar, champagne, anyone and everyone who was in the Hamptons for the summer stopping by. It was crazy, but I didn’t care about that kind of crazy.
I had my own crazy going on.
My friends and I had rented a house together for the summer. The house wasn’t crazy big like any of our parents’ homes in the Hamptons. It wasn’t in the epicenter of town. But it was available. It belonged to my college roommate’s father. The Charlestons had purchased a new house a block or so away and Mr. Charleston wanted to do some repairs before he put it on the market. He rented it to us with the contingency that he could work on it while we stayed there.
I loved the place.
I was the only one.
Standing in front of the television screen, I strapped the plastic guitar across my chest and assumed my best rocker stance. My fingers twitched slightly on the fret buttons in anticipation as the camera zoomed down to my on-screen avatar and I listened for
I watched him and wondered if that was going to be it for our communication tonight. I downed the water, knowing I’d drunk way too much alcohol.
As Jamie shook his limbs, loose pieces of glass dropped to the pool of mixed liquors that puddled at his feet. “Yeah, I think so. Did you find that asshole?”
Jeremy shook his head. “He took off. I’m not sure in which direction.”
“Fuck him,” Jamie cursed and then turned toward the waitress who was staring at us in disbelief. At least she was completely unmarred by any of the spillage. “I am so sorry. Let me cover this,” Jamie said, reaching into his wallet.
The cocktail waitress refused his money and stood in some kind of shock for a beat before Jeremy whispered something in her ear.
She nodded and then looked at me. “Come on. It looks like you need to sit down.”
I did need to sit down. My head was spinning and my vision was blurring. But I didn’t want to leave Jeremy’s side. Which must have been obvious.
“Go on,” he said in that husky voice I had always loved.
I shook my head no.
He stepped toward me. Not too close but close enough that my body hummed from his proximity. “Go with Shelly, Phoebe St. Claire. We’ll talk later,” he whispered in my ear.
Even his breath was familiar.
Everything about him made me swoon.
He stepped back just as quickly as he had approached. When he did, the room started to spin but what kept me grounded was one simple fact—he knew who I really was.
And he was talking to me.
Shelly took my arm.
But I worried that once I turned my back—I’d never see him again.
It wasn’t that unlikely.
After all, it had happened before.
CHAPTER 4
Follow Me
July 2009
He was a bad boy.
A boy my mother would never approve of.
He smoked. He rode a motorcycle. He swore. He talked dirty. He went commando. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. But I could see he was trying to mature—“evolve” is what he called it.
There was nothing at all I didn’t like about him, but I didn’t tell him that. I preferred standing strong beside him, trying to counter his commands with even more authoritative ones. He said it was cute. I didn’t care if he didn’t see me as fierce, I felt like I was. When I was with him, I was someone else. Someone I liked. Someone I wanted to be. I was strong for the first time in my life.
Spend the night with me turned into spend the week together, which turned into me practically moving in with him. His mother had gone to Miami and had to stay there. Sadly, his grandmother was dying.
Jeremy worked two jobs. The days were long when he worked. But the nights he worked were even longer. During those times, I stayed at the house with my friends. At first things were calm there—we lay on the beach, hung out, and the guys drank.
But it had been only three weeks since we’d arrived, and things were getting out of hand. Chaos had ensued on a nightly basis—parties, drugs, lots of drugs, alcohol, limos, lobsters, caviar, champagne, anyone and everyone who was in the Hamptons for the summer stopping by. It was crazy, but I didn’t care about that kind of crazy.
I had my own crazy going on.
My friends and I had rented a house together for the summer. The house wasn’t crazy big like any of our parents’ homes in the Hamptons. It wasn’t in the epicenter of town. But it was available. It belonged to my college roommate’s father. The Charlestons had purchased a new house a block or so away and Mr. Charleston wanted to do some repairs before he put it on the market. He rented it to us with the contingency that he could work on it while we stayed there.
I loved the place.
I was the only one.
Standing in front of the television screen, I strapped the plastic guitar across my chest and assumed my best rocker stance. My fingers twitched slightly on the fret buttons in anticipation as the camera zoomed down to my on-screen avatar and I listened for
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