Something Beautiful

  He stopped chewing and swallowed. "What?"

  "Tomatoes?"

  His eyes filled with horror. "Fuck. Are you allergic?" He frantically looked around. "Do you have an EpiPen? Should I take you to the hospital?"

  I fell backward, gasping and clutching at my throat.

  Shepley hovered over me, not sure where to touch me or how to help. "Fuck. Fuck! What do I do?"

  I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to me, concentrating on speaking. Finally, the words came. "Mouth-to-mouth," I whispered.

  Shepley tensed, and then all his muscles relaxed. "You're messing with me?"

  He sat up as I burst into laughter.

  "Jesus, Mare, I was freaking out!"

  My giggling faded, and I smiled at him. "My best friend calls me Mare."

  He sighed. "I am so going to get friend-zoned."

  I raised my hand above my head, twirling strands of my long hair, feeling the cool grass beneath my arm. "Better head that off with aggressive affection."

  He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I can handle you."

  "You won't know unless you try."

  Shepley anchored himself with his arms on each side of me, and then he leaned down, touching his lips to mine. I reached down, bunching my skirt, and smiled as the hem rose above my knees. His lips worked against mine as he positioned himself between my legs in one smooth motion.

  His hands felt so good on my skin, and my hips rolled and shifted in reaction. He hooked his hand behind my knee, pulling it to his hip.

  "Holy shit," he said against my lips.

  I pulled him closer. The hardness behind his zipper pressed against me, and I hummed, feeling the denim on my fingertips as I unbuttoned his jeans.

  When I reached inside, Shepley froze. "I didn't bring a ... I wasn't expecting this. At all."

  With my free hand, I fished a small packet from the side of my strapless bra. "Wishing for one of these?"

  Shepley looked down at the foil square in my hand, and his expression changed. He sat back on his knees, watching me, as I pushed myself up with my elbows.

  "Let me guess," I said, tasting the acidity in my words. "We just met. I'm sexually forward, and I brought a condom, so that must mean I'm a whore, making you wholly uninterested."

  He frowned.

  "Say it. Say what you're thinking," I said, daring him. "Give it to me in real time. I can take it."

  "This girl is articulate and fun and quite possibly the most beautiful creature I've ever seen in real life. How in God's name did I manage to be in this moment with her?" He leaned forward, half-confused, half in awe. "And I'm not sure if this is a test." He looked down at my lips. "Because, trust me, if it is, I want to pass."

  I smiled and brought him in for another kiss. He tilted his head, eagerly leaning in.

  I held him at bay, just inches from my mouth. "I might be fast, but I like to be kissed slow."

  "I can do that."

  Shepley's lips were full and soft. He had an air of nervousness and inexperience, but the way he kissed me told a different story. He pecked my mouth once, lingering for a bit, before pulling away, and then he kissed me again.

  "Is it true?" he whispered. "That fast girls don't usually stick around for long?"

  "That's the thing about being fast. You don't know what you'll do until you do it."

  He exhaled. "Just grant me a favor," he said between kisses. "When you're ready to walk away, try to let me down easy."

  "You first," I whispered.

  He laid me back onto the blanket, finishing what I'd started.

  Shepley

  America looked like an angel, pressing the phone to her ear, tears glistening down her face. Even if they weren't happy tears, she was still nothing less than beautiful.

  She tapped the screen and held her cell in the space between her crisscrossed legs. The thick hot-pink case lay on the bed of her elegant fingers and long olive-green skirt, reminding me of our first date--which happened to be the first day we'd met ... along with a few other firsts. I'd loved her then, but I loved her even more now, seven months and one breakup later, even with smudged mascara and bloodshot eyes.

  "They're married." America breathed out a laugh and wiped her nose.

  "I heard. I guess the Honda is at the airport then? I can drop you off and follow you back to the apartment. When does their flight get in?"

  She sniffed, getting flustered with herself. "Why am I crying? What is wrong with me? I'm not even surprised. Nothing they do surprises me anymore!"

  "Two days ago, we thought they were dead. Now, Abby is Travis's wife ... and you just met my parents for the first time. It's been a big weekend, baby. Don't beat yourself up."

  I touched her hand, and she seemed to relax, but it didn't last for long before she bristled.

  "You're related to her," she said. "I'm just the friend. Everyone is related but me. I'm an outsider."

  I hooked my arm around her neck and pulled her into my chest, kissing her hair. "You'll be part of the family soon enough."

  She pushed me away, another bothersome thought floating around in her pretty little head. "They're newlyweds, Shep."

  "So?"

  "Think about it. They're not going to want a roommate."

  My eyebrows pulled in. What the hell am I going to do?

  As soon as the answer popped into my mind, I smiled. "Mare."

  "Yeah?"

  "We should get an apartment."

  She shook her head. "We've talked about this."

  "I know. I want to talk about it again. Travis and Abby eloping is the perfect excuse."

  "Really?"

  I nodded.

  I watched patiently while the possibilities swam behind her eyes, the corners of her mouth curling up more every second.

  "It's exciting to think about, but in reality--"

  "It'll be perfect," I said.

  "Deana will hate me even more."

  "My mom doesn't hate you."

  She eyed me, dubious. "Are you sure?"

  "I know my mom. She likes you. A lot."

  "Then let's do it."

  I sat in disbelief for a moment and then reached for her. It was already surreal--the fact that, all weekend, she had been in the home where I'd grown up, and now, she was sitting on my bed. Since the day we'd met, I'd felt like reality had been altered. Miracles like America just didn't happen to me. Not only had my past and unbelievable present intertwined, but America Mason had just agreed to take the next step with me. Calling it a big weekend would be an understatement.

  "I'm going to have to find a job," I said, trying to catch my breath. "I have a little money saved up from fights, but considering the fire, I don't see any fights happening anytime soon, if ever again."

  America shook her head. "I wouldn't want you to go anyway, not after the other night. It's too dangerous, Shep. We're going to be attending funerals for weeks."

  Like a bomb, her words blew away all the excitement from our discussion.

  "I don't want to think about it."

  "Don't you have a house meeting tomorrow?"

  I nodded. "We're going to raise money for the families and do something at the house in honor of Derek, Spencer, and Royce. I still can't believe they're gone. It hasn't hit me yet, I guess."

  America chewed on her lip and then put her hand on mine. "I'm so glad you weren't there." She shook her head. "It might be selfish, but it's all I can think about."

  "It's not selfish. I've thought the same thing about you. If Dad hadn't insisted I bring you home this week ... we could have been there, Mare."

  "But we weren't. We're here. Travis and Abby eloped, and we're moving in together. I want to think happy thoughts."

  I began to ask a question but hesitated.

  "What?"

  I shook my head.

  "Say it."

  "You know how Travis and Abby are. What if they split up? Where would that leave you and me?"

  "Probably letting one of them crash on our couch
and listening to them argue in our living room until they got back together."

  "You think they'll stay together?"

  "I think it'll be rocky for a while. They're ... volatile. But Abby's different with Travis, and he's definitely different with her. I think they need each other in, like, the most genuine way. You know what I mean?"

  I smiled. "I do."

  She looked around my room, her eyes pausing on my baseball trophies and a picture of my cousins and me when I was around eleven.

  "Did they just kick your ass all the time?" she asked. "You were the little cousin of the Maddox brothers. That had to be just ... crazy."

  "No," I said simply. "We were more like brothers than cousins. I was the youngest, so they protected me. Thomas sort of babied Travis and me. Travis always got us in trouble, and it would be his ass. I was the peacekeeper, I guess, always petitioning for mercy." I laughed at the memories.

  "I'm going to have to ask your mom about that sometime."

  "About what?"

  "How she and Diane ended up with Jack and Jim."

  "Dad claims it happened with much finesse," I said, chuckling. "Mom says it was a train wreck."

  "Sounds like us--Travis and Abby, and you and me." Her eyes sparkled.

  Almost a year after I'd moved out, my bedroom was almost the same. My old computer was still gathering dust on the small wooden desk in the corner, the same books were on the shelves, and two awkward prom photos were kept in cheap frames on the nightstand. The only missing items were pictures and framed newspaper clippings of my football days that used to hang on the gray walls. High school felt like a lifetime ago. Any life without America felt like an alternate universe. Both the fire and Travis getting married had somehow solidified my feelings for America even more.

  A warmth came over me that only happened when she was around. "So, I guess that means we're next," I said without thinking.

  "Next for what?" Recognition pushed her eyebrows to her hairline, and she stood. "Shepley Walker Maddox, you just keep your diamonds to yourself. I am not anywhere near ready for that. Let's just play house and be happy, mmkay?"

  "Okay," I said, holding up my hands. "I didn't mean soon. I just said next."

  She sat. "Okay. Just so we're clear, I have Travis and Abby's second wedding to plan, and I don't have time for another one."

  "Second wedding?"

  "She owes me. We made a promise a long time ago that we would be each other's maid of honor. She is going to have a real bachelorette party and a real wedding, and she is going to let me plan it. All of it. It's mine," she said, not even a hint of a smile on her lips.

  "Understood."

  She threw her arms around my neck, her hair smothering me. I buried my face deeper into her golden locks, welcoming suffocation if it meant I was close to her.

  "Your room is really clean, and so is your room at the apartment," she whispered. "I'm not a clean freak."

  "I know."

  "You might get sick of me."

  "Not possible."

  "You'll love me forever?"

  "Longer."

  She squeezed me tight, breathing out a content sigh, the kind I worked my ass off for because it would make me so damn happy when she did it. Her sweet, happy sighs were like the first day of summer, like anything was possible, like it was my superpower.

  "Shepley!" Mom called.

  I leaned back and took America by the hand, leading her out of my room, down the hall, and into the downstairs living room. My parents were sitting there, together in their worn love seat, holding hands. That furniture was the first they'd ever bought together, and they refused to get rid of it. The rest of the house was full of contemporary leather and modern rustic design, but they would spend most of their time in the lower level, down the hall from my room, on the itchy blue floral fabric of their first love seat.

  "We're going to have to run an errand soon, Mom. We'll be back in time for dinner."

  "Where are you going?" she asked.

  America and I traded glances.

  "Abby just called. She wanted us to stop by the apartment for a little bit," America said.

  She and Abby were well versed in off-the-cuff half-truths. I imagined Abby had taught America well after she moved to Wichita. They'd had to do a lot of sneaking around when they were making underage trips to Vegas, so Abby could gamble and help her loser dad get out of debt.

  Dad scooted forward on his seat. "Think you could hold on for a minute? We need to ask you a few questions."

  "I just have to get my purse," America said, gracefully excusing herself.

  Mom smiled, but I frowned.

  "What is this about?"

  "Have a seat, son," Dad said, patting the arm of the brown leather recliner adjacent to their love seat.

  "I like her," Mom said. "I really, really like her. She's confident and strong, and she loves you that way, too."

  "I hope so," I said.

  "She does," Mom said with a knowing smile.

  "So ..." I began. "What do you need to tell me that you couldn't say in front of her?"

  My parents looked at one another, and then Dad patted Mom's knee with his free hand.

  "Is it bad?" I asked.

  They struggled to find the words, answering without speaking.

  "Okay. How bad is it?"

  "Uncle Jim called," Dad said. "The police were over at the house last night, asking questions about Travis. They think he is responsible for the fight in Keaton Hall. Do you know anything about it?"

  "You can tell us," Mom said.

  "I know about the fight," I said. "It wasn't the first one. But Travis wasn't there. You were right here when I called him. He was at the apartment."

  Dad shifted in his seat. "He's not at the apartment now. Do you know where he is? Abby is missing as well."

  "Okay," I said simply. I didn't want to answer either way.

  Dad saw right through me. "Where are they, son?"

  "Travis hasn't talked to Uncle Jim yet, Dad. Don't you think we should give him a chance first?"

  Dad considered that. "Shepley ... did you have anything to do with those fights?"

  "I've been to some of them. Most of them this year."

  "But not this one," Mom clarified.

  "No, Mom, I was here."

  "That's what we said to Jim," Dad said. "And that's what we'll tell the police if they ask."

  "You didn't leave? At any point during the night?" Mom asked.

  "No. I got a text about the fight, but this weekend was important to America. I didn't even respond."

  Mom relaxed.

  "When did Travis leave? And why?" Dad asked.

  "Dad," I said, trying to remain patient, "Uncle Jim will tell you after Travis talks to him."

  America peeked from my bedroom doorway, and I signaled for her to join us.

  "We should go," she said.

  I nodded.

  "You'll be back for dinner?" Mom asked.

  "Yes, ma'am," America said.

  I dragged her up the stairs behind me to the main level and out the door.

  "I looked up their flight," she said as we settled into the Charger. "Two more hours."

  "Then we should roll into Chicago just in time."

  America leaned over to kiss my cheek. "Travis could be in a lot of trouble, couldn't he?"

  "Not if I can help it."

  "We, baby. Not if we can help it."

  I looked down into her eyes.

  Travis had already cost me my relationship with America once. I loved him like a brother, but I wouldn't risk it again. I couldn't let America protect Travis and get in trouble with the authorities even if she wanted to.

  "Mare, I love you for saying that, but I need you to stay out of this one."

  She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Wow."

  "Travis will take a lot of people with him if he goes down for this. I don't want you to be one of them."

  "Will you? Be one of them?"

  "Yes," I said w
ithout hesitation. "But you were at my parents' all weekend. You know nothing. Understand?"

  "Shep--"

  "I mean it," I said. My voice was uncharacteristically stern, and she leaned back a bit. "Promise me."

  "I ... can't promise you that. Abby is family. I'd do anything to protect her. By proxy, that includes Travis. We're all in this together, Shepley. Travis would do the same for me or for you, and you know it."

  "That's different."

  "Not at all. Not even a little bit."

  I leaned down to kiss her damn stubborn lips that I loved so much, and I twisted the ignition, firing up the Charger. "They can just drive your car home."

  "Oh, no," she said, glaring out the window. "The last time I let them borrow my car, they got married without me."

  I chuckled.

  "Drop me off at the Honda. I'll drive them home, and they're both going to hear it from me the entire way home. And Travis isn't getting out of it by riding with you either, so if he asks--"

  I shook my head, amused. "I wouldn't dare."

  America

  I dabbed the sweat beading above my top lip with the back of one hand, pressing down on the top of my wide-brimmed hat with the other. Across the palm trees and shrubs flowering in every bright color imaginable were Taylor and Falyn sitting together at a table at Bleuwater.

  I removed my oversized black sunglasses and narrowed my eyes, watching them argue. The perfect island second wedding had taken most of the year to plan, and the Maddox boys were ruining it.

  "Jesus," I sighed. "What now?"

  Shepley grabbed my hand, looking in the same direction until he eyed the problem. "Oh. They don't look happy at all."

  "Thomas and Liis are fighting, too. The only ones getting along are Trent and Cami, and Tyler and Ellie, but Ellie never gets mad."

  "Tyler and Ellie aren't really ... together," Shepley said.

  "Why does everyone keep saying that? They're together. They're just not saying they're together."

  "It's been that way for a long time, Mare."

  "I know. Enough already."

  Shepley pulled my back against his chest and nuzzled my neck. "You forgot us."

  "Huh?"

  "You forgot to say us. We're getting along."

  I paused. Planning and organizing and making sure everything flowed smoothly had kept me busy. Aside from the reception at Sails, I'd barely seen Shepley. But he hadn't once complained.

  I touched his cheek. "We always get along."

  Shepley offered a half smile. "Travis has officially gotten married twice before the rest of us."

  "Trenton isn't far behind."

  "You don't know that."