Until We Meet Again(3)
of here.”
I plant my fists on my waist. “Nope. I’m going to swim.”
“Cass.”
“Seriously, go. I can take it from here.”
“I’m not leaving you alone at two in the morning. It isn’t safe.”
I laugh. “How very gallant, Travis.”
“I’m serious. It isn’t safe.”
With only a smile, I turn and head for the pool. He calls my
name in a sharp whisper, but I ignore him.
Little garden lights illuminate the path and surround the
flagstone patio. The pool shimmers. You’ve got to hand it to
the Andersons. They have a nice place here.
I circle the pool thoughtfully, then dip one toe in the water.
“Ideal temperature.”
No simple entrance into the pool will do. It’s got to be diving
board or nothing. With determination, I march to the elaborate diving area and grip the ladder.
Travis calls my name again. I glance over my shoulder with a
sigh. He’s in the shadows by the shrubs.
“You’re crazy,” he whisper-yells.
“Guilty as charged, Travis, my dear.” I blow him a kiss
and climb the diving-board ladder. My nerve ends tingle as
I approach the long plank. It’s a stupid little thing, but I feel
more alive now than I have all summer.
“Okay. Here goes nothing. One…two…”
The porch lights snap on with the fury of midday sun. It
startles me so much that I throw my arms up to block it and
almost fall backward into the pool.
“All right, kids,” a man’s voice booms. “Fun’s over.”
Who knew an uber rich gated community would have
twenty-four-hour guards on staff? Oh wait. I knew. I just
didn’t care.
A big man in a bouncer-type jacket strides in at the side of
the deck, right near where I entered. To my left, Travis flattens
against the house. Trapped. If he runs, the guard will notice
for sure.
The beam of a high-powered flashlight blasts in my face.
“Get down from there.”
I shoot a look to the gently rippling pool water, then to
Travis, then back to the guard. He’s clearly not in the mood to
screw around.
Something about this situation feels so symbolic of this
whole summer. There I was, about to plunge into that film
internship in New York. Or go to Paris with Jade. Or maybe
the acting camp. I hadn’t really decided. Either way, I was
ready to start living and get out of Nowhereville, Ohio. And
what happens?
Mom and Frank get the crazy idea to rent a beach house in
Massachusetts. And because Frank can work remotely with his
finance job, they don’t rent it for a week like a normal family.
They rent it for the entire summer. And of course, they insist
on dragging me and Eddie down with them. To sit on my butt
all day and to go to garden luncheons.
“Where are the two guys I saw you with?” the guard calls out.
Cameras. Of course there are cameras. The beam of the flashlight cuts from me to scan the yard. Travis’s whole body tenses, and a wash of guilt passes over me. As much as I initially wrote
him off as a rich jock, I actually kind of like the guy. He’s been
cool and willing to play along with my ridiculous little shenanigans. I can’t let him suffer serious, long-lasting consequences.
Meeting Travis’s eyes, I mouth the word “go” and then wave
to the security guard with both arms. “It’s just me, big guy. Me
and my lonesome.”
The flashlight snaps up to me. My pulse races. What I’m
doing, I’m not exactly sure. But the recklessness feels good.
“I thought I saw someone else,” the guard says.
He starts to pull the light away to search the yard. I have to
act quickly. Drawing in a breath, I pull my sundress over my
head and toss it on the patio. For a single, humiliating moment,
the guard’s flashlight illuminates my red bra and underwear for
all the world to see. Travis better be halfway home by now.
The guard’s voice is calm but laden with warning. “Miss…”
“Last one in the water’s a rotten egg!”
Drawing in a breath, I give one good bounce on the diving
board, leap into the air, form the perfect swan position, and
plunge into the water.
Chapter 2
Cassandra
ew things can compare to the humiliation of standing
F
on your doorstep at 2:00 a.m., dripping wet, with a
security guard holding your arm. As he knocks, I’m suddenly
not sure which is worse, facing jail time or Mom’s wrath.
In a rare stroke of luck, it’s Frank who answers. He’s blinking
groggily, his hair mussed from sleep.
“Cass?” he says, frowning with confusion. “What is this?”
The guard releases his grip on my arm, presenting me for the
slaughter. “Your stepdaughter thought it would be a fun idea to