I scream and turn back, laughing, shoving Aubrey’s shoulder.
“Would you stop? You’re a child. I hate you. Do you want me to be a virgin forever?”
Piper’s still grinning as she makes a “zip the lips” motion to a more subdued Aubrey, who just winks at me. I take another deep breath and sweep my hair over my shoulder, going in for the kill, but as my cheek touches my shoulder, it’s not Hunter I see.
My bottom lip draws between my teeth as everything around me goes silent. It’s like two hands are holding the sides of my face, locking me into place—right onto the boys from the wrong side of everything.
I haven’t seen them around since that first day, but I also haven’t forgotten any detail either. I bet everyone that was there remembers. It’s impossible to forget. It was the most exciting thing to happen in St. Simeon since forever.
Those boys driving on Main Street were a greasy smudge on a high tea white dress. A Wednesday tainted by inconvenience in the elitist eyes that followed them down our fancy tree-lined streets.
Streets chock-full of French bakeries like St. Honoré Boulangerie and picture-perfect window displays. All worthy of a magazine spread. All unwelcome to them.
But here they are, thirty-six days since they made their debut driving down that street, standing on the basketball court on our side of town.
“He’s smiling, Sutton,” Aubrey whispers.
I swallow, eyes ticking toward Hunter, because I know that’s who she’s talking about, before slingshotting right back to where they shouldn’t be.
They don’t look like any boys I’ve ever seen. Not even the ones from the side of town I’m not allowed to visit—their side. Two of them look older, but one seems about my age. Are they brothers? No. There’s zero family resemblance.
My eyes roam over them, their backs to me, wondering if any of the boys I know could ever grow up to look like that.
The one that’s hot in a “street” kind of way—lean with an angular jaw and black shaved hair—like a guy that would be in a fight club, laughs loudly while taking a practice shot. My eyes follow him as he jogs toward the ball, laughing as he easily fights off the one who looks my age.
That guy seems easy in charm, armed with a dimple that would make you drop your panties on the first date, and long cross earrings. Nothing about him screams religion, so that’s definitely for looks. He lifts his cap, exposing tousled honey-brown, curly hair before twisting it backward. The motion makes his bicep flex as he snugs it back onto his head.
Damn. Hello Vinnie Hacker look-alike.
I’m mesmerized, caught in the moment, staring at them until Baseball Cap calls, “Calder,” toward the sideline. My eyes shoot to the profile I haven’t stopped thinking about—the driver. He turns, giving me his whole face. Dark lashes imprison stormy blue eyes laid out for adoration on smooth tan skin.
Suddenly, my throat is dry, like dying in the desert kind of dry.
Even from here, I feel the same thing I felt standing on that sidewalk—tingles up my spine. My heart rate picks up when my eyes lock on Calder, my lips quietly forming the word, cementing that name to that face.
I bite my lip as Calder swipes a water bottle from the asphalt, highlighting the veins in his forearm. His head swings sideways toward Hunter’s group as he twists the lid, and I can’t help but shift my focus to Hunter, wondering how he’s reacting.
Oh. He’s pissed, arms crossed, facing Calder with a look that can only be described as wrong neighborhood.
It is the wrong neighborhood. There are courts over the tracks. But Calder commands attention like he’s entitled to it, and I guarantee he doesn’t give a fuck about who’s watching or from where they’re doing it. That much is obvious.
This should be interesting.
Calder winks at him, tipping the water bottle back, dismissing Hunter like he doesn’t matter. Don’t laugh, Sutton—not that I would…well, maybe a little—but I’m too busy watching Calder’s Adam’s apple dip as he gulps, making me do a slow blink. Jesus. H. Christ.
My gaze stays locked on him as he tosses the empty bottle in the trash before dragging his black T-shirt over his head. My thighs squeeze together, watching his muscles ripple as he exposes the black band of his boxer briefs that peek out from under his basketball shorts.
“Skins,” he bellows, tossing the shirt to the ground.
Calder’s painted shoulders are broad but not bulky, more like defined. He looks built for aggression, not gentleness. Even his hands seem as if the softest touch would leave a mark.
That thought makes me shiver, but also, something about it makes me want to stare longer.
“Sutton,” I hear Piper say.
Before I can answer, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the pavement invades my ears. The basketball beats against the pavement with a thunderous force, sounding a lot like my heart right now.
“Sutton,” she presses, but I’m lost to watching them play.
No. Watching Calder play.
The longer I stare, the more time begins moving in slow motion. I can hear my blood pumping through my veins as all the thoughts in my head die.
Calder’s glistening, sweat-beaded body penetrates my focus. He jogs backward, his long fingers flicking at the bottom of his black Nike basketball shorts, tugging them up to his muscular thighs as he crouches, ready to defend his side of the court.
My tongue darts out to wet my dry lips, and I swallow, rocking forward on the wall, fingers digging into the concrete. He’s—So. Fucking. Hot.
My entire body feels tense and achy as Calder steals the ball. He runs it down between the guys for a lay-up, landing back on his feet and combing his hand through the top of his sandy undercut.
What would it feel like between my thighs? I bet it would tickle my—
“Oh my God, Sutton,” Aubrey cackles. “You are so horny for the town criminal.”
I blink quickly and turn my head, embarrassed. “Do you ever shut up?”
Aubrey’s eyes grow wide, amused that she’s right, as Piper links her arm to mine, looking in the guys’ direction.
“Sutton,” Piper teases, making me grin, “the only thing you’re getting from boys like that is a felony record and an unwanted pregnancy.”
“Mmhmm—” I answer absentmindedly. “You guys are snobs.”
I feel a harmless pinch to my arm from Aubrey. “Sutton…Piper. Seriously. Stop staring. People will see. Plus, Hunter’ll think you’re uninterested.”
I linger one last glance at Calder dunking the basketball before settling back on Aubrey’s annoyed face, tossing her words from earlier back at her for fun.
“I thought choices were the key ingredient to a happy life?”
She laughs and sticks her tongue out at me, reaching up to tug a piece of my hair.
“Very funny. But I meant good, excellent, non-‘possibly’ criminal choices.” I roll my eyes as she bends down for her bag, saying, “Ooh, that reminds me.”
I shrug, looking out at the trees.
“Don’t you wonder about them? They’ve lived here for a month, and they’re such a mystery—what does anyone even know?”
Piper shrugs. “Other than they make you want to make bad decisions? Nothing, I guess. But they’re Eastsiders. What do we know about anyone that lives over there?”