Page 49 of The Fake
We cross the street past the fieldhouse and the baseball field until I’m sure she’s just fucking with me when the sand courts come into view.
Wordlessly, she unlocks a cage of balls and takes out six of them. She lines them all up in a row, save one she rolls in her hand. She kicks off her sandals and stands just behind the boundary tape. Tucking the ball between her elbow and hip, she leans down and grabs a hand full of sand. As she rises, she lets it fall through her fingers. Then, standing tall, she serves the ball. A mean hit that lands just in bounds on the opposite far corner.
She hits all six balls before she switches sides and does the same thing. I watch her work out her frustrations on the ball. She’s badass. Surfer Princess is tougher than I’ve been giving her credit for.
After the third switch, she lines up the balls and then looks to me. “Your turn.”
I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, so I kick off my shoes and go to her.
I toss the ball and jump, mimicking her movement and hitting it so hard it flies two feet out of bounds on the opposite side.
The alcohol makes me feel invincible, and I hit the next five in steady succession, each one harder than the last.
I collapse to the ground when I’m done. “I should have picked a sport where you can hit things.”
Chloe lies beside me in the sand. “Right? It’s the best therapy.”
My breaths come quickly, the buzz I had wearing off. I should apologize for being an asshole, but that opens a door I’m not walking through. She doesn’t press, though, just lies beside me in the sand, not taking my shit but helping me work through it without internalizing it or giving me a pass.
I want to stay mad, feel anything but what I do, which is like I’m falling for a girl who doesn’t feel the same way I do.
17
Chloe
When we get backto The White House, the number of people out back has tripled. Nathan’s still quiet, but he seems more relaxed now.
“I’m gonna change my shirt real quick. You need anything?” Nathan asks as we stand in the kitchen, staring at the party outside. His black t-shirt is covered in sand.
“I’m good.”
“Be right back.” He races off to his room, and I fill a cup with vodka and Sprite Zero.
I hesitate, trying to decide if I should make him a drink. Is that blurring the lines too much? Too girlfriend-y? It has to be some sort of record for overthinking a drink when I’m still undecided after a solid minute. I finally say screw it and fill a cup with the Jack he was drinking earlier.
“Double fisting it. Nice.”
I jump and turn to find a pretty blonde smiling. She must have come through the front.
“Sorry,” she says with a laugh. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I was in my own little world.” I motion upstairs. “I’m waiting for my… Nathan.”
This excites her, and her glossy lips pull into a big smile. “Oh, me, too.”
Oh, no. I wonder if this is going to be another Maureen incident. Trying to get ahead of another situation, I extend my hand. “I’m Nathan’s girlfriend. Chloe.”
She doesn’t take my hand, though I don’t think she’s trying to be rude. She just sort of stares blankly at me. I pull my hand back and wave.
“Nathan? Nathan Payne?” She searches my face with wide eyes.
I nod.
“Since when?” The smile on her face is my first indication that I’ve screwed up. She doesn’t look jealous. She looks happy. Really, insanely happy.
“Oh, it’s recent.” The big smile she’s giving me is unnerving. “I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”
She shakes her head. “Oh, God, right. I’m Gabby.”
