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Deciding to be a brat, I make a mess in my room. I wear a smug expression on my face as I rumple up the duvet and plump pillows. Then, I drag my suitcase upstairs and throw clothes everywhere. Once I'm satisfied with what I've done, I congratulate myself.

The dress I'm wearing is off in one swift motion, landing on the bed. It doesn't take me long to locate my white bikini and put it on, since I don't plan on wasting any time – the beach it is.

If I can't spend time with my real friends in the city, I can at least hope to have some fun here, at the beach. I'm sure there are some of my old friends around… We used to spend every summer here when I was younger.

There was a bunch of girls I was friends with, but it's safe to say I'm quite a different person these days than little ten-year-old Cassidy. I wonder if they even remember me. To be honest, I used to be a huge bookworm, and I've been fighting hard to hide my addiction to books. If you ask anyone in my new home in Cali about my habits, they wouldn't have a clue about the stacks of novels I keep in my room.

I'm considered one of the mean girls now, and that reputation sits just fine with me. It's easier to attack than to get bullied by mean girls, anyhow. I'd rather be the tormentor than the victim.

Grabbing a towel and a pair of sunglasses, I head straight downstairs. The French doors in the living room (also very fancy, very beige) lead straight to the beach.

At least this place hasn't changed. Beautiful, silky sand under my feet, a cloudless sky, and the ocean … azure blue and pure perfection, just how I remember it.

My hopes of finding my old friends become extinguished as I realize no one I know has hit the beach yet. There's a group of people a little way off, so I set my towel on the sand and rush straight into the sea, giddy like a little kid.

The cool water envelops me, the waves soothing and cool against my skin. I've always been a summer kid, always had wet, salty hair and feet covered in sand.

It takes a while for me to get tired, but when I feel like I can't do another stroke, I get out of the water, heading straight for my towel.

The sun feels good on my skin, and for the first time, I think I may enjoy my stay at the beach this summer. As my eyes travel to the left, and I check out the group of people there, I even let myself think I may finally–

Whack!

I almost topple over, and it takes me a moment to realize that what just hit me in the head was a beach ball. All I can do is stare at it, lying a few feet away from me, and then let the rage take over.

I'm already turning around, my hands forming fists at my sides, ready to kick whoever did this in the balls. And sure enough, a guy is rushing towards me, his hands raised in the air in an apology.

I'm ready for my speech – that is, until I get a better look at him.

In the name of all that is holy – and all that is not.

"Hey, your big head was in the way of my ball," he says as soon as he comes closer, giving me the most perfect smile. Crooked smirk, teeth as white as pearls, and full lips. And tattoos. So much ink, I'm having trouble seeing some actual skin through the art. Good lord.

But then my mind processes what he said to me, and I have to fight the instant urge to scratch this guy's face off. Even though I haven't been around in years, I still think of the beach as my turf, and some tattooed bad boy will not be throwing me off my game.

"Yeah well, maybe you shouldn't aim your ball at me," I spit out.

I take a long moment to take him in. I'm tall, but he stands much taller at over 6'5''. His hair is wet and jet black, a little too long and falling into his eyes. Tattoos cover his body, from top to toe.

I have a thing for tattoos.

What I do not have a thing for are douchebags. A prime example of one is smirking at me right now.

He comes closer and I'm now realizing he's a little menacing. Tall, ripped and covered in that ink – he might as well be in a motorcycle gang. I gulp.

"Would you rather I aim something else at you?" he asks me in a quiet, rough voice, grabbing my hand and pulling it towards his body.


Tags: Isabella Starling Romance