Page 1 of The Beach House
Chapter 1
Every summer since I could remember, we’d head up the coast to the Flynns’ beach house. Summer there was like a dream.
Packing for the beach house, though, was always my own personal nightmare.
Always.
It never used to be so bad when my mom did it for me—back when I was a little girl who didn’t really know or care what I needed. But now I would make more of an effort…and then lose my patience, turn my suitcase over, and start again.
It was midmorning on Wednesday, the day before we left, and Dad came into my room with a glass of soda for me.
“It looks like a bomb’s gone off in here,” he said, laughing.
“Ihatepacking.”
“Don’t forget to take aftersun.”
“Okay, okay, okay!” No way was I going to forget that; last year I’d burnt the back of my legs so badly, it had been painful to sit down. My dad looked around the room, shook his head, and abandoned me to the chaos.
In the end, I packed the same as always: plenty of swimwear and flip-flops and sun hats, plus some shorts and T-shirts. I eventually threw in a yellow sundress that the girls had convinced me to buy on a day out shopping—just in case.
Part of the reason I was having even more trouble packing this year was because I had a boyfriend now, and he’d be there with us. I’d known Noah and Lee Flynn all my life, and Lee was my best friend, but in the last few months, Noah had gone from being just Lee’s older brother to…well, my boyfriend.
Which meant that we might end up going on a date, especially since we weren’t sneaking around anymore….
I smiled at that. No more sneaking around! No more hiding it from my best friend because I was worried we would hurt his feelings. We wereofficiallydating.
As much as it made me smile, it also made me want to yank at my hair in frustration. What if I wanted to dress nicer to go out places with Noah? Would there be some kind of new rule that meant I couldn’t slouch around in threadbare pajama shorts and a shapeless tank top anywhere near him?
I picked up the pajamas I’d happily worn for the past few months. Definitely not the kind you want your boyfriend to see you in—especially when he’s easily the hottest guy in school, with that swoon-worthy smirk—but it’s not like I had anything different to wear.
I sighed and said to myself, “To hell with it,” and threw them in my case.
A voice sounded behind me. “To hell with what?”
“Hi, Lee,” I greeted him, not even having to glance over my shoulder to know my best friend since forever was standing in my doorway.
“What did you do in here—blow up your closet?”
“Yeah. We had a fight. I think it wants to file for divorce.”
He laughed, and I heard him dropping clothes onto the floor from my bed. I turned round to tell him to be careful and not crease my stuff, when he dropped face-first onto my duvet.
“What were you grumbling to yourself about?” he asked.
“Nothing, just…”
He raised an eyebrow, giving me that unconvinced expression that told me he knew exactly what was up but just wanted to hear me say it. “Bikini not skimpy enough for my brother?”
I threw a tank top at him. “No, it’s not that.”
“Then what? Oh, man, no, don’t tell me you’re gonna make me go shopping for lingerie or something. Please, Shelly, anything but that! Tampons I can do, but not—not—lingerie!”
I laughed. Lee was about the only person I’d let get away with calling me Shelly instead of Elle (short for Rochelle), although Noah would use the nickname too, just to tease me. “Not that either. It’s my pajamas.”
“Oh, that’s all you’re worried about?” Lee laughed. He rolled on my bed and leaned over the edge to look into my case. “You’ll look fine whatever you’re wearing. Besides, it’s not like he’s really going to care.”
I smiled at Lee. No matter what was getting me down, he could always brighten me back up in an instant.
