him when he’s still totally—”
“Go home, Natalie!” Garrett snaps. “You’re drunk.”
Two girls timidly approach her from behind and start pulling her arms.
“No!” Natalie protests, shaking them away. “I won’t let my friend get his heart broken all over again.” She locks eyes with Blake. “I care about you!”
The girls are pulling her harder now, but Natalie breaks free again.
“You don’t even know for sure that she’s dead!” she tells Blake. “I mean, they never found her body, right?”
She jerks around toward me. “The love of his life might still be alive, you moron! Still think it’s a cool idea to throw yourself at him? Just because you look like Cara doesn’t mean you can step right into her life. And stop boring everybody with your sob story, by the way. Yes, everybody’s heard by now, Anne. Dead parents? Whatever. Parents are supposed to die before their kids. It’s not the same thing as what Blake is going through at all. You leave my friend alone! ”
Now, all three guys are on their feet. When Jamie reaches for Natalie’s arm, she splashes her drink in his face. “Some friend you are.”
The plastic cup falls from her limp hand as Jamie wipes the drink from his face. Her friends start pulling her insistently, and Natalie, now heaving throaty, jagged sobs, reluctantly lets herself be dragged away.
Everyone is frozen in place for a solid minute. The guys stay on their feet, the girls and I sit stunned and saucer-eyed on the blanket.
It’s Blake who finally shakes us from our stupor by throwing his hands in the air. “What the hell … I hardly even know that lunatic!” he sputters.
“I knew she was an idiot, but I didn’t know she was unhinged,” Lauren says, her voice somber.
The guys exchange charged glances.
“Oh, Anne … ” Melanie says. “I can’t believe what she said about your—”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I say.
“But to talk about your parents that way … ” Melanie mutters, her words trailing off.
“I barely even know her!” Blake repeats, clenching his knuckles as a vein bulges in his neck.
Jamie studies him evenly. “Yeah, well, she sure as hell knows you.”
“So … that was fun.”
Blake drops his head and laughs sheepishly. He’s dropped off everyone besides his brother and is lingering at my aunt and uncle’s front door, occasionally swatting a moth as it dives for the porch light.
“I dare that psycho to ever speak to me again,” he says. “Or to you.”
I wave a hand breezily through the air. “Aw, I’ve been through worse,” I say. “A girl in second grade cut off my braid one day in art class. True story. Although ragging on me for having dead parents … that’s a close second.”
Blake’s closed-mouth smile is showcasing a dimple I’ve never noticed. I squelch the impulse to reach out and touch it.
“Let me make it up to you,” he says. “Dinner tomorrow? I know Jamie had a good time with Melanie; we could make it a foursome.”
My eyebrows arch. “That was Jamie having a good time?”
Blake shrugs. “He’s just a little … edgy lately. But he’s a good guy. Really.”
He snatches my hand and kisses it. Then he leans in and kisses my lips.
It’s crazy … I barely know him.
But suddenly, kissing him back feels like the most natural thing in the world. His lips are warm and salty, like the sea air. He presses me tighter as I kiss him back. I love the feel of his arms around me, strong yet gentle. We kiss for a long moment—his head tilting right while mine tilts left, then vice versa—before we reluctantly pull away.
That’s when I glance at the driveway and notice Garrett looking at me from the front seat of Blake’s car. I clear my throat and point discreetly at the car.
“Your brother … ” I say.
Blake smiles his dimpled grin. “Yeah, I’ll definitely leave him home tomorrow night,” he says.
I smile back, yet feel a chill run up my spine. I can’t quite shake the look I just saw on Garrett’s face when I pulled away from Blake. Yes, having Garrett share our private moment was clearly awkward, but his expression registered something else as well. What did I see in his eyes as he watched me kiss his brother? Worry? Concern? Protectiveness? Yes, all those things. But it was the underlying emotion that made me shiver.
I saw fear in his eyes.
Uncle Mark is reading a book on the couch when I walk in.
“Hi,” I say, straightening my shirt.
He