Contents
After
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
After
Excerpt from A Need So Beautiful
Excerpt from A Want So Wicked
About the Author
Back Ad
Copyright
About the Publisher
After
I’m standing at the edge of the world, staring out at the ocean. The beach is rocky beneath my bare feet, grit between my toes with broken seashells, sharp and jagged. I take in a deep breath, filling my lungs with salty air. It feels so good to be alive. To be back.
“I thought you left me again,” he says from behind me. “Was sure of it, actually.” His voice is on the wind, blowing over me and breaking my heart. “But we’re together now. We’ll restart. We’ll—” He pauses as I turn to him slowly, my long red braid slipping over my shoulder. Harlin’s eyes weaken, unable to disguise his pain. He reaches to run his finger over the ribbon tied to the end of my hair. “You’re different,” he whispers. “How will I find you?”
My eyes well up, and I step forward into his arms, hugging myself close to him. “I don’t know,” I say. “Guess you’ll just have to look harder.”
Harlin’s breath is warm against my skin, even as the air surrounding us quickly chills. I don’t want to let him go—because the minute I do, he’ll be gone forever. But the cold is starting to burn the bare skin of my forearms, the backs of my legs; the icy breeze burrows into my clothing, searching out my soul.
I close my eyes, holding tighter to Harlin. The edges of the scene begin to fray, and I pull back to take a final look at Harlin. His hazel eyes search my face—trying to memorize me before we both evaporate. “I love you,” he says miserably. “No matter who you are, I’ll always love you.”
I lean forward to kiss him one last time, but it’s too late—I’m falling. Ocean waves climb to catch me and pull me under, burying me before dragging me out, away from Harlin. I try to scream to him, but the salty water fills my mouth and chokes me.
And then I’m gone, alone again in a vast nothing.
Chapter 1
The waves chase me as I crawl away on the hardened sand of the beach. When I pause to choke up a little more of the Pacific Ocean, my red surfboard floats beside me, knocking hard into my knee. I was so close. I drag the back of my hand across my mouth and then fall on my side, heart pounding beneath my gray wet suit. I unzip it at the neck and try to catch my breath.
“Claire?” Ezra yells, dropping to his knees and sending a spray of sand over my cheek. The morning sun is blinding, and I blink against it until my boyfriend comes into focus. When I smile, he exhales loudly and then collapses into the sand next to me.
“I’ve gotta tell you, Becks,” he says after a second, “that was a pretty major wipeout. I thought you were a goner.”
The sun is radiating heat strong enough to evaporate the water off my skin. The sound of the waves laps in the distance. “Almost got on the board this time,” I murmur, running my fingers up Ezra’s arm and over his chest as I hug myself closer to him. “Did you see?”
“Sure did. But I also saw you face-plant. You’re completely fearless, you know that, right?” When I smile against his shirt, he chuckles. “No, Claire. Not in a good way.”
I start laughing, and Ezra leans in to kiss my forehead. He’s right. Surfing is not getting easier, and I really bit it hard this time. My neck is killing me.
“Give up the bet,” he says. “At least for my sake. You belong on land, where you can’t get washed away with the current.”
“You and Soleil already know how to surf, so maybe I feel left out,” I tease. “You like being able to do something I can’t.”
“Not even close to true.”
“You like it a little.”
He watches me for a moment, squinting from the brightness surrounding us. “I like you a little.”
“A lot.”
“Yeah. A whole hell of a lot.” He lifts his head to kiss me. I can still taste the saltiness of the water, and the mix of beach and Ezra is enough to make me forget all about where I’m supposed to be right now. At least until I feel the buzz of Ezra’s cell phone in the pocket of his khaki shorts.
Ezra fishes out his phone, still kissing me, and holds it up to glance at the screen. He tries to slide the phone back into his pocket, but I quickly grab it away. Before nine a.m., chances are the call is for me. None of Ezra’s friends would be up this early, and my cell phone took a bath in the ocean last week.
My best friend’s name shows up on the caller ID, and I give Ezra a little shove before pressing the receiver to my ear. “Hey, Soleil,” I tell her, climbing to my knees and brushing the sand from my suit.
“Just checking on your progress,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. In the background there’s the murmur of conversation.
“It’s going great,” I lie. “Are you in class already?”
“Yeah, I had to finish up the study guide, so I’m here early. Are you on your way?”
“Uh-huh,” I say, even though I’m still on the sand. “But you’re not copying my homework.”
Soleil laughs like she wouldn’t dream of asking. “I’m almost done anyway, so hurry up. There’s something here you have to see. Talk soon,” she sings, and hangs up.
Although it’s almost September, it feels like my class at Deseo Community College has cut my summer short. My boyfriend and his friends still have another week to sleep in and stay up late before the start of their senior year of high school. Wish I was still a senior.
“Time to go,” I tell Ezra, grabbing his hand as I get to my feet.
“Or . . .” he says, stepping in to wrap his arms around my waist, “you could ditch, and we’ll lie around on the beach all day.”
I brush his blond hair to the side, gazing into his eyes as I consider his offer. A splash of cold water covers my bare feet, snapping me out of my trance. I look down and see the surfboard hovering in the water a moment, half-covered in sand. “I can’t stomach any more failure,” I say, glancing back at Ezra. “I’m leaving this on the beach.”
Ezra bends to grab the surfboard anyway, ignoring the same empty threat I’ve been making for weeks. He tucks the board under his arm. It looks short next to his tall frame, even though I nearly killed myself dragging it down here from the car.
Ezra’s sandals scrape along the concrete as we start toward my mom’s Jeep. The parking lot is still deserted, which was why I chose this beach in the first place. The real waves (and the real surfers) are on the other side of town.
Ezra tosses the board through the open back window and slaps his hands together to shake off the sand. Although I need to get going, I’m not quite ready to tear myself away from him, so I rest against the car, and he makes his way over. He grins, effortlessly handsome in that sun-kissed California way. When he stops in front of me, I lean into him.
He smells like soap and ocean, and I kiss him slowly, drawing out the moment as long as I can. But eventually I feel the buzz of his phone once again and pull back. I have to go.
“I’ll see you tonight?” Ezra asks, kissing me quickly before backing away. I hear a bus pull up behind us, a loud whoosh of air breaking through the otherwise quiet morning. Ezra holds up his hand, and I watch as he turns to head in the direction of his house a few blocks away.
“Excuse me.”
Startled, I turn to find a girl standing next to me. She’s model tall (at least compared to me), with porcelain skin and black hair in a sideswept pixie cut. Her long blac
k dress and eyebrow ring make her look completely out of place in our laid-back beach town.
“Sorry if I scared you,” she says, looking around helplessly. “I’m pretty lost.”
“Are you sure you’re in the right town?” I ask with a smile. A stranger in Deseo is pretty rare; this isn’t Southern California—or even northern. The last person to move here was Francesca Roberts in the third grade, and we still call her the new girl.
The stranger looks me over, chewing on her bottom lip. “Yep,” she says, returning my smile. “Middle of nowhere, California, right?”
“Officially. It’s on our welcome sign. So where are you headed?”
The girl glances down at a crumpled piece of paper in her hand. “The Cordova Apartments? I don’t think I got off at the right stop.”
“It’s across town but too far to walk. Do you want a ride? I’m headed in that direction anyway.”
“Seriously? That would be awesome. I didn’t think it would be so hot near the ocean. I’m Lucy, by the way.” I notice her glance at my wet suit.
“I’m Claire,” I say, starting around the Jeep. “And in case you’re wondering, I’m not actually a surfer.”
She laughs. “Interesting choice in apparel, then.”
I like Lucy already. To be honest, I’m surprised by our instant rapport, but then again, it’s not like I’ve had a lot of experience meeting new people. I’ve had the same best friend since kindergarten.
“I’m trying to win a bet,” I explain to Lucy as we climb into the car. “Last year my friend and I wagered a latte on whether I could get up on the board for one full ride. Haven’t gotten there yet, but I will. The fact that we’ve bought each other coffee a . . . a million times since the bet was made isn’t the point. I hate to lose.”
“That reminds me of something my little sister would do”—she smiles to herself—“although most of her bets are wagered on pizza.” Lucy turns to me. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“I do,” I say, starting the car and then crossing the parking lot to the street. “Three brothers—although two of them are away at college. Now it’s just me and River.”
Lucy’s eyes are a cloudy shade of midnight blue, but as the corner of her mouth lifts in a grin, the color seems to deepen. “There’s nothing like family,” she says softly. “Blood’s thicker than water and all that.”
“My mom likes to say that blood is thicker than cream cheese because, although inaccurate, that expression fits in better with our lifestyle. My parents own a bakery.”
She laughs. “Nice. Free pastries for life, right?”
“Almost. We earn the free food. All the Becks kids have to work at the Costas Bakery for a while. My dad says it builds character.” I look over at Lucy. “You should come by one morning. I’ll hook you up with a latte. No bet required.”
Lucy smiles broadly. “That sounds great.”
I hit the blinker with my thumb, turning into the roundabout of the apartment complex. When I stop in front of the adobe-style office, I glance at the time, and my leg begins to bob with impatience. I hate being late for class.
“Thanks so much for this, Claire,” Lucy says, unbuckling her seat belt. Her voice is velvety and deep, endearing. I feel a sudden burst of nostalgia, although I can’t quite place why. Either way, I’m honest when I tell Lucy it was my pleasure and that I hope to see her later.
She climbs out of the Jeep, pausing to look around at the buildings. The Cordova Apartments are a bit run-down, and Lucy hesitates a moment before pulling open the office door and walking inside.
When she’s gone, I drive through the roundabout, struck again by a sense of familiarity—and maybe a bit of loss. It’s so odd. I check my rearview mirror, watching the yellow building get smaller, and it isn’t until it’s out of my view altogether that the feelings fade.
“Ah, Miss Becks,” Professor Roth says when I walk into the small lecture hall. “I’m sorry if my class interrupted your . . . surfing?”
The room erupts in giggles, and I hold up my hand in acknowledgment before slipping into my seat in the back of the room next to Soleil. I’m still in my wet suit, and it squeaks against the hard plastic of my chair. Although there’s a duffel bag of clothes in the Jeep, I didn’t want to change and risk being even later for class. In hindsight, I’m not sure five more minutes would have made a difference.
My professor is barely out of college himself, and his suit and tie make him look like he’s playing dress-up. He’s easily my and Soleil’s favorite teacher. “We’re on page ninety-four,” he calls, pointing to the text on his podium. I nod, pulling the philosophy book from my backpack, and glance sideways at Soleil.
Her brown hair is braided and woven into a bun, her dark skin slightly pink on her cheekbones and nose. Soleil spends half her life surfing, and even now her red bathing suit strings are tied behind her neck, hidden beneath an oversize T-shirt. She bites on the end of her pen, hiding her smile, and Professor Roth continues his discussion on metaphysics—a subject I normally find riveting—but my attention falters when I notice a new student sitting across the room. The second stranger I’ve seen today.
There’s a small spike in my heart rate, and I have to admit, I’m a fan of the disheveled look he’s got going on. His brown hair is too long, tucked behind his ears; his chin scruffy and unshaven; his jaw sharp and strong. His Nirvana T-shirt looks worn and soft, stretched over his impressive biceps. I could probably stare at him all morning, but I’m interrupted by Soleil bumping her shoulder into mine.
“Told you there was something you had to see,” she whispered. “He’s just my type, isn’t he? Looks like a real troublemaker. I talked to him earlier.” She shoots a cautious glance at our teacher before going on. “I’ll tell you the rest after class.”
“You better,” I murmur, continuing to watch the guy, my curiosity piqued in a way I’m sure my boyfriend wouldn’t appreciate. Still . . . I can’t look away. I’m fascinated by him.
As if sensing me, the guy casually glances in my direction. But when he pauses to look at me, I hold my breath. His eyes, almond-shaped and green hazel, are beautiful. The corners of his mouth pull up slightly, and I think that if he smiles at me I’ll be lost completely.
My teacher clears his throat, and I force myself to give him my attention—even if I feel slightly dazed. Roth is explaining natural theology, and I’m fighting hard to keep from looking at the stranger again. When class is dismissed forty minutes later, I finally give in and turn.
The guy’s already up and grabbing his backpack from the floor, a black leather jacket gripped in his hand. He casts one more curious look in my direction and then heads out the door.
Chapter 2
“Harlin?” I repeat, looking at Soleil. “What kind of stupid-hot name is that?”
Soleil laughs, clicking the remote to unlock her car as we cross the school parking lot. “I know, right? I nearly died when he told me. He was pretty quiet, though. Doesn’t strike me as a big talker.” She pauses next to her driver’s door. “Still, I got his name and a basic rundown: originally from Oceanside, lived in Portland and Arizona. I was about to ask if he had a girlfriend, but then Roth came in and wanted to teach.”
“So inconvenient.”
“Totally. Okay, sunshine, are you off to work?” she asks. When I nod, she opens her door. “Cool. Then I’ll see you at the bonfire tonight. I have a date with the ocean in about ten minutes.”
I hold up my hand in a wave as Soleil gets in her car and leaves for the beach. Although I know it’s kind of wrong, I think about Harlin. And then I wonder what he would have said if Soleil asked him if he had a girlfriend.
There are several customers sitting at the outdoor tables of the Costas Bakery when I show up for my shift. I don’t normally work during the week, but after my phone took a dip, I asked my parents for a new one. My request was met with laughter, and then extra shifts so I could afford to buy one myself. Which will hopefully be by next paycheck.
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I park the Jeep on the side of the building and then take a minute to look in the rearview mirror and tie up my long red hair, which is stringy and salty-dry. I brush sand from my temples and then close my eyes for a second, still feeling the sway of the waves. When the sensation threatens to rock me to sleep, I blow out an exhausted breath and then smile as hard as I can for ten seconds.
“Six, seven . . .”
By the time I get to eight the smile turns real, and I’m ready to serve up some cinnamon lattes. My parents have owned this bakery since I was a toddler, naming it after my mother’s family in Mexico. Our place is a hit; then again, we’re the only bakery in Deseo other than the donut case in Safeway. I don’t mind working here; it’s not like the job doesn’t have its perks. I get free coffee.
I approach the back door and see Tanner—our busboy—sitting on a milk crate, smoking a cigarette. Tanner’s in his early twenties, with long black hair he wears in a ponytail. He used to be a riot, but lately he’s been calling in sick. Distracted. Cranky. Today, he’s staring off across the parking lot, pulling a long drag from his smoke.
“Hey,” I say as I pass him. He turns slowly, his dark eyes rimmed in red. I’m about to ask if he’s okay, but then I feel a wind blow through me, although it doesn’t brush against my skin or move my hair. A tingling inches up my veins until my entire body tingles. I take in a sharp breath, and suddenly knowledge floods me—knowledge I could never have had on my own.
Panic starts to bubble up, but then a vision materializes and I’m immersed in it, as if I am there. It’s months ago, and I see Tanner sitting at a bar, talking to a woman who’s not his girlfriend. I know everything then—what he’s thinking, feeling. Tanner thinks this woman is everything his girlfriend is not. The scene fast-forwards and I watch their affair, watch how Tanner becomes obsessed. His mind twists around the thought of being with her, only her. And he doesn’t want her with anyone else.
I try to pull myself from the vision, terrified of what’s happening to me. How can I see this? How can I know? But it’s like I’ve lost control of my body, and I’m submerged once again.