We do share a desire for excitement. The difference is I can rein mine in, she can’t. Hers is driven by love and romance and thinking about such things makes me want to vomit.
When my mom crushed her spirit without batting a lash, we all silently suspected the ancient saying would ring true when it came to my whimsical sister.
There’s no such thing as a sure thing.
She proved their safety measures right, and so the backup plan was in full effect—I was on the next plane home.
Growing up, my parents were unlike any of the others I remember. While they could enjoy a night or weekend out like Cali and Jules did, they weren’t concerned with social order or country clubs and would rather be working than all else, including hanging out with me or my sister.
They would preach the importance of education, of independent thinking and demanded we stand up for ourselves where others were concerned. Nobody was to take us for weak, and what made us even stronger was our understanding of the world we lived in, one where our parents knew best.
And they do.
My mother came from the south side with nothing and now owns a forty-four-story skyscraper.
The day of my flight back to California, my mom drove me to the airport herself and left me with what she called her ‘wistful notion.’ I was instructed to ‘sow my wild oats’ as my old-school mother put it—gross, coming from her.
She knows I’m not a virgin, that I did my thing and had some fun throughout high school in Naples. She’s the one who took me to get the Depo-Provera shot after all, but the only reason I have the freedom I do is because I am my mother’s daughter and she’s aware of that fact.
I have never had a boyfriend and I have no desire for one.
I never date as dating goes, but I’ll hang out and go along for the ride. I go to dances and events, never alone, but that’s where it ends.
Three to four ‘hang outs’ was all I allowed.
The first is an ice breaker, a fun and flirty night where you size up your companion. The second, when things go well, makes the curiosity rise. The third, sexual tension builds, and the fourth, you either give in to it or go home.
Either way, after that, you only see them again in groups, because that moment you go for the fifth, they want a quiet night in, with a movie to make things more personal.
That’s not my vibe.
My mom always says you reap what you sow and it’s true.
My family knows firsthand what happens when emotions take control, which is why I take after my mom and cut them from the equation.
It’s the exact reason my parents’ plan is perfect for me.
To hide the heart is to salvage the soul.
I learned that from my real father, and he didn’t even have to be here to teach it to me.
“You’re awfully quiet, Trouble.”
“As are you three.” I look to Beretta in the passenger seat. “Don’t pretend you want me to annoy you by asking where we’re going, all so you can say ‘you’ll see’ or ‘wouldn’t you like to know’ or something else along those lines.”
His grin is widely idiotic. “I like you.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “You constantly being in my face sort of hinted to that.”
An easy laugh escapes him, and he and Arsen share a small smile.
Ransom looks my way, so I give him my attention.
He holds my gaze steady for a long moment before he holds a vape pen between us. I make no move to accept, so he pulls it to his lips and looks away.
I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into by leaving school with them today, but it’s definitely not the smartest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve already done it though, so there’s no point in dwelling on it.
All I can do is sit back and enjoy the fresh air.
We’re on the road for well over an hour and when they finally pull over, it’s onto the side of a long, winding, deserted road overlooking the ocean.
Beretta tries to grab my bag as we climb out, but I keep it tucked tight to my side. He laughs as the three lead me down a stairway of cement steps, half hidden by overgrown poppies. They curve to the right at the end, leading us toward a beach cave.
I slow, running my eyes along the spongy-looking rock arch, the opening, the shape of a gemstone; the inside, a shadowy pit of who knows what. There are a lot of these around here, different shapes and sizes, in various lengths from the ocean, some even half full of water.
The guys trek up the small trail to the entrance, turning toward me, and while it looks different from one to the next, humors marked on each of their faces.
Their premature judgment is misplaced but understandable.
I’m wearing solid white and my heels cost more than all of their shoes combined. My hoops are large and solid gold, and yes, visually speaking, I can’t deny I’ve got full-on spoiled, rich girl vibes, but I like to think that’s only at first glance.
That’s not who I am... but I can’t expect them to know this.
I slip my shoes from my feet and climb up as they did.
I’m pretty much check-marking each and every line on the long list of ‘never dos’ by walking into a dark cave on an isolated beach, off a deserted road, with three guys my friends claim are crazy. Yet here I am, being a dumbass.
As I approach, the stereotypical expressions I had thought I first spotted reveal their true selves, and surefire grins curl their mouths.
Beretta slides backward, pushing his body into Arsen’s chest and Arsen’s arm comes over his shoulder. “Lead the way.”
I turn to Ransom, who has yet to look away.
He glides closer, tugs my hair tie from my head and watches as my self-made curls fall around me, his middle finger flicking along the strap of my shoulder bag.
“She ties her hair back without a mirror, lets her silk soak in the muddy sand, and carries her own things.” His tone is low, intensely sarcastic, yet somehow not mocking. “What kind of social princess are you?”
“Hm.” I tip my head, playing along. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Beretta’s knuckles brush my collarbone as he seizes a long lock, wraps it around his fingers, and gives a gentle tug. “I sure as fuck would.”
I don’t turn his way, and Ransom’s haughty smirk grows.
Making sure his chest brushes mine, he slips past me into the cave.
I follow behind, maneuvering around the narrow entrance, and my eyes widen with surprise.
It’s not as dark and desolate as I imagined, but, in fact, quite the opposite.
A large diamond-like opening at the surface’s top allows the afternoon sun to illuminate the space. Giant tree trunks, both cut and carved, are scattered all around, two creating a couch-like shape, the others offering simple stump-style seating. In the middle, a hole was dug, a deep cast iron crescent embedded there. It’s lined with large stones, ashes speckled in the center as proof of recent use.
I don’t have to look their way to know they’re watching me, possibly waiting for that moment when my nose will lift high into the air or scrunch in distaste, but that’s not going to happen. I lower myself onto the longest one and kick my feet up on the opposite end.
“I take it you guys hang here often?”
Slowly, they drop onto seats of their own.
“Maybe.” Beretta grins, tearing into an M&M’s packet with his teeth. “Or maybe it’s where we bury bodies.”