Stuck With You (First Kiss Hypothesis) Read online

  I shake my head. “All right. Don’t worry,” I say. “Your evil secret is safe with me. But like I said, if I’m gonna play along, there are gonna be some rules.”

  When the words come out of my mouth, my eyes snap to Catie to make sure she’s listening. Her eyes are bugging out of her like she’s about to explode.

  “Okay,” Sunny concedes, like any rational person would.

  “What are you talking about?” Catie asks. “Rules? You have no right. No way. I’m not agreeing to anything.”

  “Catie, hush,” Ainsley whispers.

  I remember her, too. Tall, with red hair. Known wild child. It’s just a guess, but I’m gonna go ahead and say it was her idea to come to the beach.

  “Let the boy talk,” she says.

  Catie crosses her arms, which pushes her chest up and makes what’s under her bikini top way more noticeable. I look away immediately. There’s no reason for me to notice those. There are plenty of other boobs in the sea that would be far less trouble.

  I take a deep breath, rest my hands on my waist, forcing my brain out of my shorts. It’s Catie Dixon, dumbass.

  I clear my throat. “First, you don’t leave the house without telling me where you’re going. And second, no offense, ladies”—I give both Ainsley and Sunny a meaningful glance before my eyes settle on Catie—“but you have your space and I have mine. Comprende?”

  Catie lets out a huff again. No surprise.

  “Fine,” she says. “We’re going to Swede’s.” She reaches for the keys again, but I hold them up high. This has been a trick of mine since we were in elementary school. I’m a year older and at least a foot taller than her, then and now.

  I think of her in those days, long blond ponytail swinging, chin stuck out, all pissed off at me as I held whatever she wanted completely out of reach. Seems like I did that to her a lot, usually when I’d had enough of her following me around like a damn puppy, asking me all the questions, demanding all the answers.

  She’d be swinging her arms all wild, never willing to give up, and I’d just laugh. I’m laughing now watching her do the exact same thing.

  “Still can’t reach, huh, shorty?”

  She lets out a squeak like a frustrated dolphin, stamps her foot, and I swear, if looks could kill, I’d be a dead man. I can’t help but laugh again, even if I know better. I’ve totally just upped the chances of getting murdered in my sleep.

  “Give me those keys,” she growls, real low now.

  “Nah. I think I’ll go with you. Ice cream sounds perfect.”

  She lowers her arms, finally conceding.

  I stare directly at her, into those intense blue eyes, and I’m the first one to blink, which makes her smile.

  “Let’s go, girls.” She shoulders me out of the way and marches out the door. Her friends follow, and I can see on their faces as they pass me that they don’t know what to make of us—me and Catie.

  I have to confess, neither do I. Whatever we are is weird and has been for a long time. Not brother and sister, not cousins, not friends, but not exactly enemies. Maybe a little bit enemies. I don’t understand us at all, never have and probably never will, so I just trail after them out onto the deck, tell Mo I’ll be right back, and lock the door behind me.

  I drive the golf cart in the dark all the way to Swede’s, which is off the main road two communities over. It’s well known as a Bolivar hot spot, but it’s basically just a gas station with a convenience store attached, not as big as the Big Store and really nothing special. Except during the summer, when everyone goes there to hang out.

  I pull the golf cart as close as I can get it, but the parking lot is packed. The four of us crunch the gravel under our feet and walk to the door of the bright-turquoise shack.

  There’s a pack of frat boys under a streetlight near the gas tanks. I know they’re in a frat because they all have Greek letters on their shirts. One of them raises a hand.

  “Hey!” he shouts, smiling. I do a double take, wondering if I know this guy, but it’s soon clear that they’re not talking to me.

  “It’s him,” Ainsley whispers loudly to the girls.

  “Who’s ‘him’?” I ask from behind.

  They ignore me and keep walking toward the door, whispering amongst themselves. I can’t make out what they’re saying, so I shoot a look back to those guys who are still watching the girls.

  I shake my head and follow them inside.

  Walking in feels like coming home. The smell of suntan lotion and cheap plastic beach toys hits me first, then my mouth starts to water when I eye the ice cream freezers against the front wall. Going to Swede’s after a long day at the beach was always the ultimate treat. Our parents—mine and Catie’s—used to let us pick whatever we wanted.

  Speaking of Catie, she’s already out of sight. My eyes search but don’t find her.

  I grab a Dr. Pepper from the cooler and walk to the old man with leathery skin at the register.

  There’s a scary amount of people around here who look like him, like they’ve never been schooled on the benefits of sunscreen and wouldn’t care even if they had been. He doesn’t greet me, just grunts and takes my money.

  “Thanks,” I say, taking my change. “Have a good night.”

  He doesn’t answer. Here’s a man who’s clearly lost his passion for his job—not that I’m judging. I look around again and don’t see any of the girls anywhere, so I go out front, passing a few kids with ice cream bars. They’re probably around nine or ten, and they remind me of myself when life was as simple as it was ever gonna get, and I didn’t even know to enjoy it while it lasted.

  “Hey.” Sunny is outside the door, too, her smile completely fake. She glances at her phone and giggles awkwardly. “I’ve got to use the restroom,” she says and runs inside.

  I shrug. She doesn’t need my permission to do that.

  My eyes scan the perimeter of the parking lot. Ainsley is standing over with those guys. The tall one beside her puts his arm around her shoulder and holds out his phone to take a selfie. I’m thinking I might go over to check out these jokers when Catie and Sunny burst through the front door.

  “Okay, come on,” Catie says, not making eye contact and not stopping as she heads back to the golf cart. She’s holding a brown paper bag. “Ains!” she yells over to her friend. “Let’s go!”

  Ainsley says her goodbyes and heads back to the cart as I take a long swig of the Dr. and screw the cap back on.

  I’d have to literally have my head stuck in a sand dune not to see what’s going on here.

  Not that I care. I really don’t.

  Despite my vacation crashers, I am going to clear my head this week. Time is running out.

  I mosey slow as I can over to the golf cart despite the three of them looking really jittery. Sunny sits next to me on the front bench while Catie sits with her back to me.

  “Did you get some?” I catch the tail end of Ainsley whispering to Catie.

  “Get what?” I ask.

  “Supplies,” Catie mumbles.

  “Catie Dixon,” I say, trying my best to channel a dad. “Did you just buy beer?”

  “No!” Catie says as Ainsley giggles beside her.

  Uh-huh. I start the cart and drive off as the frat boys watch us leave. I am tempted to flip them off, but I grip the steering wheel tightly and ignore them. The girls start talking about what time they’ll hit the beach tomorrow, but I’m not interested in any of that.

  “How do y’all know those guys?” I ask.

  Another pause, and Catie twists in her seat behind me.

  “Caleb,” she says, “we agreed to follow your rules, but we only have a few days, and we have plans. You’re gonna have to deal with that.”

  What I’m dealing with is her breath hitting my neck, which somehow warms up my whole body. I close my eyes tight and blink them open again, not sure what’s happening to me.

  I force myself to stay cool. “I-I don’t care what you do.” I curse myself fo
r the stammer. “Just stay out of my way.”

  “Fine,” she says.

  “Fine,” I say.

  “Fine,” she says again. They start talking about bikinis, and I roll my eyes. I’m tired. I seriously cannot wait to get back to the house and go to bed.

  When I unlock the front door, Mo comes running. It’s been a long day for him, too. We both need a good night’s sleep, but first things first.

  “Walk?” I say to him. Just the word gets him jumping. Catie pets Mo on the muzzle, but the other girls go laughing off into the kitchen. I watch them pull a six pack of wine coolers out of that paper bag. Catie sees me watching and lifts her eyebrows.

  “What? I didn’t lie,” she says. “It’s not beer.”

  “Perfect.”

  She lifts a corner of her mouth. “Want one?”

  “No,” I say. “Thanks.”

  Mo and I go outside and head down the stairs. He’s on leash, but as soon as we get out to the water, I’ll let him run free. That’s what I’m supposed to be doing here, too—letting my mind run free, trying to figure out how to shut out the little voice in my head and carry on with my life.

  Now I’ve got to deal with Catie Dixon.

  Catie Dixon, who has only gotten prettier. And sassier.

  I can deal with her friends. I can deal with her parents, and maybe mine, showing up later on in the week. She’s the problem.

  Down by the water, I pick up a random driftwood branch and hurl it as far as I can down the beach. Mo’s an old dog and it’s dark, but he’s got superpowers when it comes to playing fetch. I watch the shadow of him shoot down the sand and wait for him to run back.

  Catie and I were friends as little kids. We had to be. Our families did everything together, and we’re just a year apart, so we were close. When she got to middle school, though, she was like my shadow, always following me around and asking me questions and calling me on my bullshit. No one saw through me better than Catie Dixon, and that was the last thing I needed. Then and now. My friends made fun of me, joked that she was like my wife. That kind of humor did not fly with me.

  Over the years I pulled away, begging off on weekend trips to the beach house, ducking out of joint family dinners. I made my own friends, she made hers, but she still acted like she was my keeper, like she knew what was best for me, digging at me like she expected me to spill my guts whenever something was on my mind, no matter how hard I tried to hide what was going on in my head. It got irritating, and I wasn’t shy about letting her know.

  The last few years I hardly spent time with her at all. Before we moved, I knew she was dating Darren McKee. He was the biggest douche in the whole place, and I didn’t understand the appeal. Then at our families’ Christmas party, when I was buzzed from the punch, I saw her at the top of the stairs at her parents’ house. The party was going on all around us, and she smiled at me, directly at me, and it was like all the years of her following me around like a puppy disappeared and I missed having her around. I missed her.

  Mo runs up to me with the stick, and I toss it again. He could do this all night long.

  It was too late for me and Catie, though. I was leaving Texas and moving to Florida. I convinced myself that I was just being sentimental. It was only natural. I’ve known her longer than I’ve known anyone.

  I walk a ways down the beach and notice a group of wooden pilings that are sticking out of the sand like gravestones. I know what they are—they’re what’s left of someone’s beach house pre-Hurricane Ike. Whoever owned it didn’t rebuild, and all that was left were the weathered stilts that their home had rested on. Over ten years have passed, and they still sit there, a reminder of the destruction that storm brought to Bolivar.

  I wonder what made some people walk away and some people determined to make things work.

  I don’t know the answer to that, and I can’t figure it out now. I can’t figure out what I’m feeling about Catie, either, and none of it matters. In a few days’ time, she’ll be going home, and so will I.

  Catie will always be a mystery to me, and I’m here to figure out my own life, which, at the moment, has nothing to do with her.

  When Mo and I get back to the house, it’s nearly midnight. The porch light is off, and the house is dark. I hope they’re all asleep or passed out on wine coolers by now. I head for the door, but Mo runs toward the far end of the deck, sniffing.

  “Hey, Mo,” a voice comes out of the shadows.

  It’s too dark to make out details, but I know Catie’s voice well. Mo sidles up next to her, licking her face. I walk over and try not to stare at her in the dim moonlight. She’s still in the bikini top and shorts, laying on the deck chair.

  “Caleb,” she says by way of greeting. She sounds serious.

  “What, is the booze gone already?”

  She sits up taller against the back of the deck chair. “Please, stop? I mean it. I know you’re perfect and all and you owe me nothing and I don’t expect you to be nice to me, but please don’t make Ainsley and Summer suffer because you don’t like me. I thought the house was empty this week. We came here to have fun. And I need the beach right now. I just do. Okay?”

  Her accent is thick like syrup and sounds like home. It’s possible I’ve missed it.

  I tsk, not quite ready to give in. “Always bossin’ me around.”

  She nuzzles Mo. He might like her more than he likes me.

  “I’m not bossin’ anyone.” She huffs out a breath. “I needed to get away, to think, and I saw an opportunity.”

  I sit down on the chair next to hers and pet the back end of my dog. “So you think I’m perfect?”

  “Seriously?” she says. “That was your takeaway from what I just said?”

  It’s fun to mess with her—maybe it always has been. “Well, clearly your mother does.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  I scratch the stubble on my chin. I haven’t shaved in a few days, which isn’t like me. It’s not surprising, though, because I don’t feel like me, either. “I love that woman,” I say. Aunt Kathy is sort of a wreck, but what I said is true. I love Catie’s parents like they’re my own blood family.

  “Except when she ruins your vacation, I’m guessing.”

  “Huh. I’d say it’s more you who’s ruining my vacation.” Mo nudges closer to her, out of my reach. “But I accept your apology.”

  She stares at me with wide eyes, bright even in the dark. “That is not an apology. This ‘reunion’ or whatever is all your fault. Any other boy on the planet, and she would have made me come straight home.”

  She’s not wrong. I stretch my legs out and put my arms behind my head. “Too perfect for my own good. It’s a curse.”

  “Oh, please,” she says. “Look, I don’t want to bicker with you all week. So, what do you say—can we call a truce?”

  I glance her way. In the shadow, in that bikini top, she looks nothing like the Catie from when we were kids, or even a few years ago. I can admit she looks good, not that it matters at all. “I didn’t know we were at war.”

  She flings her legs over the edge of her chair and sits facing me. I eye her, carefully keeping my focus on her face, forbidding them to venture down to that bikini top. That chin, the pushed up-nose, her eyes flickering like there’s fire in her, which let’s face it, there is. There’s been a blazing inferno in there since day one. It’s always kind of scared me, to be honest.

  “What we are, Caleb,” she continues, “is two planets in a parallel orbit. You have your space. I have mine. Paths never crossing. Even after the girls go home, you don’t have to worry. I’ll stay out of your way.” She stands up and looks down at me.

  I’m not sure what to say to that. “All right. I’ve survived worse.”

  Her face goes slack. She kicks on her flip-flops. “Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”

  “Totally.”

  “Completely.” She shuffles away from where we sit.

  “Hey, Catie?” I call over my shoulder
.

  She stops. “What?”

  “I don’t not like you.”

  She chuffs, and I can almost hear her eyes roll in her head. “You got a funny way of showing it, Gray.” She walks toward the house, Mo following after her—I’m really starting to question his loyalty—and my mind goes back to that summer almost two years after Ike, when the house was rebuilt. I was nine, she was eight, and we played together in the sand and the water from sunup to sundown. At night, we’d sit on the deck and watch movies on the screen our dads had set up. We ate fresh Gulf shrimp by the pound and fell asleep under the stars to the sound of the waves.

  I miss those days when everything was simple. When the furthest we looked into the future was tomorrow. Something tells me that she’s the only person who might understand why I’m here and what I’m going through. But it’s too late for that. She wants to be in her own orbit, which is fine. I don’t blame her.

  Although I admit, it’d be easier if her orbit didn’t look so good in a bikini.

  Chapter Four

  Catie

  When I come inside, Ainsley and Sunny are in our bathroom getting ready to go to the bonfire where the UT guys will be. I know that meeting up with a group of guys who are strangers is not the smartest thing to do—I am very familiar with the scary things that happen in this world—but we have a system of safeguards, the three of us, that I’ve insisted on, and they’ve agreed to. Namely, we don’t go to another location, especially with a boy; we don’t take drinks that we didn’t see poured; and lastly, that we have each other’s backs, 100 percent.

  There’s a vast amount of makeup products on the bathroom vanity, and the toasted smell of an old flat iron, heated up and ready to do its job. The wine coolers were gross. Truly nasty. But miraculously, the fake ID worked. Maybe miraculous is an overstatement. I don’t think that old guy behind the counter would have noticed if a UFO landed in the parking lot and little green men came in and bought a keg.

  When we got back, Ainsley chugged a few, then felt ill. I forced one down on principle, but it was way too sweet for me. Sunny said no—she’s prone to migraines and didn’t think the high sugar content would help that situation. Basically, we have no game when it comes to partying. Our usual Saturday nights consist of a half hour at a party where most of the people are already drunk and then a sleepover at one of our houses where we eat cookies, watch Netflix, and dish up plenty of gossip. We’d never admit it in public, but sometimes we even study.