Logan is a few years older than us, but I’m instantly on alert. Because not only is he a little too California surfer boy for my tastes—with the dark tan and bleach-blond hair—but he looks very much like Tyler.
“Hey, it’s really nice to meet you.” He stretches out a hand to shake mine, sees the cast, fumbles, then shakes Penn’s hand instead. “It’s gonna be great to have the two of you on board.” He’s all dimples and a goofy grin and immediately my hackles go down.
“Penn will be with you on deck here at the pool, but I’ve set Sloane up over at the activities counter until her cast comes off,” Ms. Evans confirms. She points to a tiki hut out near the beach, not far from the pool. “Logan can arrange your scheduling needs and will also get you set up with uniforms. Unless you have anything else, it was a pleasure to meet you both. Welcome to the Echelon.” She hands us each a business card, then clicks away in her heels.
“Wow, I’m so glad I wore my nice swim trunks. That must’ve been what sealed the deal.” With a look that’s all boy, Penn watches the retreating form of Ms. Evans as she disappears back into the lobby. Fighting the urge to shove him into the pool, I follow Logan into the back office.
Armed with our new attire, Logan gives us a tour, including the shack where I’ll be working, and introduces us to a few of our fellow coworkers back out by the pool.
And that’s when I see him.
Stretched out on a lounge chair a few feet away, Finn is reading a magazine, occasionally smiling at the many girls at the pool who are trying to get his attention. But then he zeros in on me, like he somehow felt me looking his way. He’s sitting next to a bottle blonde with a barely-there bikini and miles and miles of tanned, gorgeous skin, slick with suntan oil. She tilts her head down a bit, and I can tell by the way she narrows her eyes that she’s staring at me over the rim of her sunglasses.
Yeah, you should so be worried about all this, I think as I stare down at the bulbous monstrosity of a cast on my arm.
Logan looks in the direction I was staring. “You two know each other?”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Before I can explain, Finn is already up and on his way over. I can’t stop staring at his tattoo…or his bare chest. Hell, it’s like my eyes are magnetically connected to the well-defined hip bone just above his swim trunks.
“Hey, you. I texted you this morning. Thanks for the reply.” He places one hand over his heart in mock heartache and shades his eyes with the other.
“You did?” I pull out my phone and see I missed two texts from him, another few from Tyler, and one from Mick. “Oops, sorry. Guess it’s been a little bit of a busy morning.”
“I guess so.” The corner of his mouth twitches ever so slightly. “How’s it goin’, Penn?” He slaps hands with my brother like they’ve been friends forever. I’ve always been amazed how guys can do that. “So what time are your swim lessons with Luce today? Maybe I’ll bring her over.”
“We’re on for one this afternoon. You in need of a lesson, too?” He laughs, and it makes my stomach shift in a way it hasn’t done in years.
“I think I’m good, but I’ll let you know if that changes.” He eyes the uniforms tucked under my arm, then those under my brother’s. “Hold up, don’t tell me the two of you are working here?”
For a second, I think he’s giving us a hard time for getting a job, and it makes my face flush. “Why, what’s wrong with working here?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. But I think this summer just got a lot more interesting. A lot more.” He starts walking backward, that devilish grin now more present than ever. “I’ll see you this afternoon. Oh, and, Sloane, you still owe me a chicken rematch. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.” He taps the side of his head before he turns and walks back to his chair. And I feel my heart actually skip a beat. Like I’ve never talked to a cute boy or something.
We weave in between hotel guests as Logan leads us back out to the lobby. “Any idea what that was all about?” I ask.
He laughs and I get the feeling I’m not going to like what I’m about to hear. “Oh, you don’t know? Finn’s dad is the owner of the Echelon. He lives here.”
“Huh, no shit.” I glance over my shoulder one last time at Finn, who’s lying back on his chaise lounge. He doesn’t even try to hide the fact he’s watching me from over the top of the magazine he’s picked back up. I can even see his smile from here.
Of all the hotels in all of Waikiki, I pick the one where Finn is a permanent resident.
And now I work for his father.
I stare at Mick’s name in my in-box, but can’t get myself to open up the e-mail, let alone read it. I hover over the delete key, then press enter. Thirty seconds later, I go to my trash and retrieve it, filing it away in Mick’s folder. I’ve been at my mom’s for a little over ten days now, and I can’t believe it’s already been that long since Mick and I were standing in the park and she was unleashing her monsoon of crap.
I’ve read a few of her texts, but for some reason, I can’t get myself to open up and read any of her e-mails, or letters for that matter. She’s already sent me three of those in the mail. They’re sitting, fat and unopened, in the top drawer of my desk.
I’m not sure what it is that makes her e-mails or letters seem that much more intimate, more personal, than a stupid text. Nor can I explain why I can read the ones from Tyler, but not the ones from Mick. Maybe deep down inside, the betrayal hurts more coming from her, because she knows me better than anyone else. She knows every last detail of what makes me tick and somehow it feels like she took advantage of that. Advantage of me. Whatever it is, all I know is that whenever I see her name in my in-box or her handwriting on the outside of an envelope, it literally makes me want to fold myself into tiny confetti-sized pieces and hope a giant gust of wind will blow me away.
I glance at the clock. Three A.M. It’s moved only two minutes since the last time I checked, even though it seems like it’s been well over an hour.
I hate McKinley. I hate everything she’s done and how she’s changed my life. But I also hate Tyler. From his many messages, I know he’s trying to pin this on her, like he had nothing to do with it. And based on what I’ve heard from Penn, our friends have all but abandoned her, like she’s carrying some form of the Ebola virus and not a child. How cruel and quick the unfriend button can be.
What’s worse is knowing what that’s going to do to Mick. As if it weren’t bad enough already that she’s pregnant, seventeen years old, and about to start her senior year of high school. If everyone’s bailing on her, leaving her to deal with it all by herself, I can only imagine what this is doing to her. She must be freaking out. But then part of me thinks she deserves everything she’s got coming her way and I shouldn’t feel sorry for her at all.
But I do.
Because Mick and I have been through so much together, and I’ve always been there for her, no matter what.
Like the time she asked me to help her with the Justin Donovan “situation.” For months, Justin wouldn’t leave her alone, and she’d begged me to get him away from her. Begged. So I did what was needed. Granted it all didn’t quite go according to plan thanks to a little too much liquid courage on my part. But when Mick ended up slapping Justin for trying to stick his hand up my shirt while I was passed out, it had all been worth it. Because Justin never bothered her again. Or me, for that matter. Later that night, she even held my hair back as I puked something nasty into the hedges.