The Secret Girl (Adamson All-Boys Academy #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,52
I laugh, but there's a thread of discomfort there that I'm not understanding. Before I left, I couldn't stop touching Cody. I loved when he touched me. And now … he smells like suntan oil and something sweet that seems familiar, but that I can't quite place.
Cody steps back from me, giving my hand a squeeze as he, too, looks me over. He bites his lower lip, and I can see from the twinkle in his pale blue gaze that he's a hell of a lot more excited to see me than Monica seems to be.
I stand there for a moment in the cool, air-conditioned foyer, and look between the two of them, people I've known since I was in kindergarten. And yet … they both feel like strangers. Monica's trying to smile, and Cody is smirking, but it all feels like an act.
The door opens behind me, and Dad appears with my bag, setting it down just inside.
“Monica, Cody,” he says, and his eyes narrow just slightly. He's never liked Cody which used to make me like Cody more. Not so much right now. “I'll be picking you up on Monday, no exceptions. You hear me?” I nod, and Dad leaves, closing the door behind him. We already made arrangements with Monica's parents for me to stay here. They don't mind; their house is like ten thousand square feet.
“So, we were just about to hit up the beach,” Monica says, and I force a smile. Just about to hit up the beach? Like, they weren't waiting for me to get here? I'm sort of confused, and all of this excitement that's been building in me for months is starting to trickle away. “We figured you could get changed, and we'd all go together? There's some swimsuit competition that Heather and Sheila begged me to enter, so … we'll do that, and then get lunch?”
I'm just standing there listening to her talk, and feeling my stomach turn to lead. It's just nerves, Charlotte, I tell myself, shaking it off and forcing a smile. I'm sure they haven't mentioned your birthday because they're waiting for the right moment. I don't want or need presents or anything else from them, just … a simple acknowledgment would be nice.
“I'll go get dressed then,” I say, trying to stay perky as I pick up my bag and head for the upstairs guest wing. Yep, they have a whole wing dedicated to guests in the Peters house. And I've stayed here so many times that I know exactly where my room is.
It hasn't changed much since I left, and I breathe a sigh of relief. At least something is the way I remembered it. Groaning, I sink down on the edge of the bed and put my face in my hands.
Monica seems standoffish while Cody seems … overly interested in me physically. I'm not sure what to make of all that. Dropping my hands to my lap, I force myself to shake it off. Monica threw that surprise party for your sixteenth birthday, remember? And that whole day you sulked because you thought nobody knew or cared.
That's enough motivation for me to get up, switch into my pink and white polka dot bikini, throw a cover up on top, and head back downstairs. When I get there, I find Cody and Monica whispering frantically near the front door.
They both pause when I hit the bottom step, and I find myself forcing back a grin. Yep. She's planning something.
I shake off that odd feeling in my arms and legs, and move over to stand beside them, slipping my shades on and cocking out a hip.
“Let's go win you this swimsuit competition,” I tell her, and Monica grins right back.
On the way to the beach, Cody sits in the front seat which is weird. The whole reason I jumped in the back is because I thought he'd be sitting next to me. With the top down on the convertible, it's too loud to chat, so we just listen to some pop song that Monica sings to, completely and utterly off-key.
Once we've parked and I've done the rounds of hugging a dozen different friends that actually seem more excited to see me than my best friend or boyfriend, we hit up the swimsuit competition, and Monica struts her stuff down the boardwalk.
It's nice to be back by the beach, with the surf rolling in, and the sun shimmering on the water. And it feels good to be dressed