“Well, enjoy your stay,” Jackson says, as if we’ve only been having a friendly conversation, then he turns and walks out of the room, leaving it feeling strangely empty in his absence.
Chapter Six
Past
THERE’S a lot of noise in the pool area, loud shrieks followed by splashes whenever one of the girls gets pushed into the water. I’ve already been pushed in twice, once by Blythe, and once by her boyfriend Carter. It may have been my imagination, but I think his hands lingered at my waist for far too long.
It’s one of those summer parties that start out of nothing. Usually Blythe hanging out with some friends and then more and more people show up until it’s a pool party.
They’re usually fun, and this one is no different. I’m sitting at the edge of the pool, feet in the water, having an argument with May, my best friend from school, and Lettie Lockewood, Jackson and Blythe’s second cousin who’s staying for the summer, about how reading books is so much better than watching the movies made about them.
“I want to be a doctor, so I’ve been reading Gray’s anatomy since when I was ten,” May says, “I watch movies to rest my brain, and I don’t have the time to read anything else.”
“I watch Grey’s Anatomy.” Lettie says softly. She’s like a thinner, younger, and shyer version of Blythe. Her mother is a reclusive artist who never married, and according to Blythe, even Lettie doesn’t know who her real father is. “I also read,” she continues, “but none of the books I read ever gets made into movies.”
I laugh, thinking of the stack of romance novels she brought with her to Halcyon. “Nobody’s going to make a movie based on a romance novel.” I say.
“Why not?” She complains.
I’m about to reply when the doors to the terrace open and suddenly Jackson is standing there.
He’s been spending the summer in the city, interning at an investment firm and staying at the family’s Park Avenue apartment. I’ve missed him all summer, and now, seeing him, I feel as if I’ve slammed into something hard. I want to run over and throw my arms around him. I’m overwhelmed by a mixture of delirious happiness and tense confusion. I want so much, but I’m not even sure what exactly I want.
He’s wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and knee length shorts, a pair of dark sunglasses perched on his hair. I watch him, unbelievably tense as he scans the pool, his eyes coming to rest on me.
For a moment, it’s just us. I lose myself in his gaze. My heart stops and my skin flushes, suddenly hot and cold at the same time. I don’t know how long we’re like that, but someone calls his name and he looks away.
I breathe, wetting my lips as I wait for my heart to return to its normal rate. I watch as Lindsay Gorman, wearing a tiny scarlet string bikini, leaves the lounge chair where she was lying and runs to throw her arms around Jackson, planting a kiss on his lips, no doubt eager to display their intimacy to the whole world.
I look away, determined not to be hurt. She’s his girlfriend, or on again - off again girlfriend, as Blythe unrepentantly says to her face. Of course, they kiss. Of course, they’re intimate. It’s none of my business what they do together.
At times like this, I wish I was older and more confident, then maybe I would be brave enough to tell him how I feel without being so afraid of what it would mean if he doesn’t feel the same way.
Blythe comes out of the pool, soaking wet, but looking amazing in a black bikini, with her wet hair hanging down her back. She only has time to call out a greeting to her brother before she gets pushed back inside the pool. She emerges moments later to chase the culprit around the terrace, prompting laughter from everyone, but I can’t bring myself to join in the merriment.
I sneak another look at Jackson and Lindsay. She’s pulled him towards her lounge chair, and they’re standing beside it, her body plastered against his as she whispers something into his face.
I watch them, filled with an acute and painful jealousy, I don’t know how long I stare, but suddenly Jackson turns his face and looks right at me, and I freeze.
I don’t know if he sees the hurt and jealousy written plainly on my face, and at that moment, I don’t care. Lindsay follows his gaze and turns around to look at me. Her eyes narrow and I flush, looking away.
May and Lettie are still talking, but I’m not interested anymore. I mumble some inane excuse to them and pick up my towel, getting up to go into the house. I’d rather be upstairs in my room reading a book than have to watch Jackson make out with his idiotic girlfriend.
I go into the house, leaving the noise and the sun behind as I move towards the stairs. I don’t go very far before I hear the door to the terrace open behind me.
“Hey, Livvie…” I turn around to see Lindsay coming into the house behind me. “It’s Livvie, isn’t it?” She continues sweetly, “I always forget.”
I bite back a sarcastic retort about memory loss. “Do you want something?” I ask politely.
“Yes actually.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Some loser poured a drink on my towel. Can you get me another one?”
I shrug and go to the linen closet. It’s close to the back of the house, beside the laundry and the kitchen. I’m surprised to hear her footsteps following behind me. I open the closet and retrieve a fresh towel, when I close the doors she’s standing right beside me.
“Here.” I hand it to her.
She reaches for it, and then pauses without taking it from me. Her pretty eyes are hard and unfriendly as she looks at me. “You think Jackson is hot, don’t you?”
“Excuse me?”