Daring the Bad Boy (Endless Summer)(52)

“When you almost blew my eardrums out with the whistle?” I laughed and so did she. “Oh yeah, I remember.”

“I was so mad that you’d fallen asleep and so irritated with you just…in general. It felt really good to wake you up like that,” she admitted, glancing over at me.

“Yeah, well, I thought it sucked. Though I also noticed that day you were really pretty.” Her eyes went wide and I smiled. “You’re especially pretty when you’re mad.”

She laughed again, though the sound was nervous. “I don’t know if you really want me mad at you all the time.”

“I don’t,” I said, reaching out to touch her. I couldn’t help it. Her hair was soft and the moon shone down upon it, making the blond turn silvery in color. I tucked a thick strand behind her ear, tracing the curve before my hand fell away. “I like you much better like this.”

“Like what?” she asked in the barest whisper.

“You seem…I don’t know. Happy. Relaxed.” Our gazes locked, and I started to lean toward her, but she averted her head before I could actually kiss her. I slumped back against the seat, discouraged.

“Presley told us she asked you to sit with her tonight,” she said conversationally, like it was no big deal she just dropped that bomb in my lap.

I sat up straight. “I tried to let her down easy. I didn’t want to make her mad, but I didn’t want to say yes, either.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself. I know she said that just to bother me.” She glanced over her shoulder at me, looking so pretty she made my entire body ache with the need to touch her. “Besides, Kyle asked me to sit with him and I said no. Then he said he’d ask Presley instead, since he hadn’t kissed her since they were eleven.”

Her teasing smile was a distraction until what she said finally sank into my Annie-fogged brain. “Wait a minute. Kyle asked you to sit with him?”

“Well, yeah. I thought you assumed that.” When I sent her a blank look she continued. “You were glaring at us in the dining hall earlier.”

“Oh. Yeah.” I’d been overcome with jealousy and ready to tear him limb from limb.

“I didn’t want to sit with Kyle,” she admitted softly.

“No?” I was so glad to hear her say that.

She shook her head. “I don’t really like him anymore.”

“I’m glad.” I started to lean in toward her, but Annie turned away from me.

“I never did tell you my secret,” she murmured, her head tilted back. “About what happened to me when I was four.”

Ah, shit. I didn’t want tonight to take a dark turn. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I started, but she shook her head, took a deep breath, and I shut up.

“I want to tell you,” she stated firmly. “I trust you.”

Those three words warmed my chest, and I waited for her to continue.

“I was four and at a pool party with my parents and my…my baby brother.” Her voice faltered, and I frowned. She’d never mentioned a little brother before. “I don’t remember much about it, just little bits and pieces in my memory, but I’ve heard the story many times before, so that’s what I’m telling you.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Anyway, everyone was outside. It was hot and the party centered by the pool at first, but when the sun went down, the temperature dropped. They all moved away from the pool and over to a giant deck that overlooked the city. The house was in the country, on a hill, and it was big. Sprawling everywhere, with gardens and a hot tub and the pool.” She kept her gaze firmly on the sky, as if she were telling the stars her story. “I remember my brother kept running away from me. He was barely two, maybe not even two yet. I went chasing after him and we ran around the pool again and again. I remember he kept laughing and so did I. But then he fell in the pool and I—I jumped in to grab him. I don’t know how long we were in there together but we were both pulled out about the same time and I survived. He didn’t.” She turned to face me, tears shining in her eyes. “His name was Rory.”

Ah, shit. I didn’t know what to say, what to do. “Come here,” I told her, opening my arms to her, and she fell into me, her body pressed close to mine, her face nestled in my neck. “I hate that you went through that experience, but I’m glad you survived.” I didn’t want to tell her I was sorry. I’d heard enough of those two words to last a lifetime and it never felt adequate, especially when it came to my mom.

So I just held her as she trembled in my arms, her breath warm on the sensitive skin of my neck, her hair in my face. I ran my fingers through the silky soft strands until she lifted her head away from my neck, her face so close to mine I could feel her breath feather across my lips. “It’s not something I talk about a lot,” she confessed softly.

“I can understand why.”

“I felt guilty for a long time. Like, why did I survive but he didn’t.”

“Do you still feel that way now?”

She slowly shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t want him to feel guilty if he was the one who lived and I died.”

“Is it wrong for me to admit I’m really glad you’re alive?” My gaze roved over her face, not sure where I should look—in her pretty dark blue eyes or at her sexy, full mouth? I wanted to kiss her so badly I could practically taste her.