On Tuesday, I set my alarm for sunrise and make a point of heading out for an early morning jog before everyone else wakes up. Tiffani’s words about the tight dress are still echoing in the back of my head, so I venture further than the neighborhood, tracing a route down to the coastal highway and back again, pushing my body to its limits. I’m dismayed to discover that the beach has a layer of fog covering it, but the air is still warm. By the time I get back to the house, Dad is awake and brewing some coffee.
“Nice jog?” he asks as I enter the kitchen.
I heave a sigh, pressing my hands to the edge of the worktop and catching my breath. “Yeah,” I say, but it’s closer to a pant. “Almost four miles. It was super foggy down by the pier.”
“I’d pass out after the first,” he jokes. “Oh, the famous fog. It’s called the June Gloom. Coffee?” He holds up the jug.
“I’m good.” I might love coffee, but 7AM is just too early. The only thing I could do with right now is a long, hot shower. “Anyone else awake?”
“Ella’s getting dressed,” he says, turning back around to fetch a mug, “but the guys are still sleeping.” After my abrupt remark on Saturday night, he has lightened up and is trying his hardest to be overly nice at every chance he gets. He knows now that I haven’t forgiven him, that I’m still upset with him for leaving us. He has a lot of sucking up to do.
“Does she have work to go to or something?” Yesterday she didn’t seem to have a job. When Dad left for his, she simply cleaned the house, made small talk with me, argued with Tyler a little, and then drove Jamie and Chase to wherever they needed to go.
Dad gives me a small smile. “Ella’s a civil rights attorney.”
I blink. I wouldn’t have taken her for an attorney—she seems to lose every argument with Tyler, giving up after only a few minutes. “Shouldn’t she be at an office or something?”
“She’s on a career break,” Dad says, but he doesn’t give me any opportunity to press the subject further before he asks, “You said you’re going to the beach today, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” I say, “with Rachael.” And Tiffani and Meghan, but I doubt Dad cares about every single detail.
“If you need a ride there, Ella will take you,” he offers, which is ridiculous, because I only met her four days ago and am far from comfortable enough to be asking her for rides.
“Rachael’s already giving me a ride,” I say. “Thanks, though.”
“Alright.” He takes a long swig of his coffee, then tucks his shirt into his suit pants and adjusts his tie. “Right, I’m going to head off and try to beat this LA traffic. Some mornings I win, others I lose.”
“Why the shirt again?”
“I’m the supervisor.”
“Oh.” Finally, an answer to why this house is so luxurious. Dad’s been a civil engineer since before I was even born, and the years of experience must have finally landed him a better-paid position. Obviously.
“I’ll be home at six,” he says, and then gives me a two-finger wave as he passes me.
I roll my eyes and head over to the faucet, pouring myself a glass of water, and then I make my way up to my room. I hear Ella swinging open the master bedroom door as I walk down the hall, so I quickly dart up the staircase before she can see me. However, there’s still no sound from Tyler, Jamie and Chase’s rooms.
I grab a shower—a long, hot one, long and hot enough to relax my muscles and leave my body feeling great again. I remember to shave my legs this time.
“Eden,” Ella says as she enters my room without knocking, leaving me desperately clinging onto my towel. “Sorry—I—”
I tighten my grip on the fabric and offer her an awkward smile. “It’s fine.” Although, I think, it’s really not fine. I’m half naked in front of a stranger.
Ella clears her throat, dropping her eyes nervously to the floor and keeping them fixed on the carpet. “I was wondering if you’d like any breakfast. Or did you have some with your dad?”
“I’m good for now,” I say. “I’m not that hungry.”
Ella smiles, nods, and then leaves. At least she’s making an effort. I was expecting her to be like a stereotypical wicked stepmother. But so far, she hasn’t handed me any mops.
With my hair damp, I braid it and then slip back into bed. I’m not going to the beach until the afternoon, and I can’t stop myself from yawning after waking up so early, so a quick power nap is the only way to go.
“Tiffani and Megs are already there,” Rachael says the second I get inside her car, five hours later. She arches her eyebrows and looks me up and down. “You look like you just woke up.”
“I did,” I say. “Twenty minutes ago.”
“Okay, I get that it’s summer but waking up at—” she taps the clock on the radio “—12:20PM is a little lazy, don’t you think?”
I roll my eyes, working my fingers through my hair to ensure I’ve fully undone the braids. I’m left with mermaid waves—perfect for the beach and up to Rachael’s standards. I pull my floral kimono tighter around my body. “I was up super early.”
“Why?”
“I went for a run.”
Rachael snorts. “Okay, my earlier statement is now dismissed. Have you been to the pier yet?”
I slip on my sunglasses and turn to face her, watching her closely as she focuses on the road. “The thing with the Ferris wheel? I saw it this morning. I jogged down the highway.”
“Yeah, that’s the pier,” Rachael confirms. “We can check it out later if we have time.”
It’s extremely hot out today, with only a slight breeze finding its way in from the Pacific, but it’s refreshing so I don’t complain, especially now the fog has been burned off. Portland isn’t exactly a city known for its beaches, mostly because it has none. There are the odd few so-called “beaches” by lakes or along the Willamette River, but nothing on the scale of the beach here. It runs along the edge of the city for miles before meeting up with Venice Beach, and has a constant flow of visitors.
Rachael finds a parking spot in the lot by the pier, and I grab my bag and step out. It took me ten minutes back at the house to convince myself to even put a bikini on, and now that I have I know it’s the worst decision I’ve ever made. While Rachael fetches her towel and speakers from the trunk, I make sure my shorts are tight and my kimono is fully spread over me. There’s absolutely no way I’m taking my clothes off.
“Okay,” Rachael says as she walks around to meet me at the front of the car, her sunglasses pushed up as she squints at her phone. “Meghan says they’re by the volleyball courts next to Perry’s, sooooooo they’re over there somewhere.” She points off to the right. It must be difficult to find the people you are looking for on a beach this big, but thanks to technology the struggle is minimized.
I follow Rachael from the lot onto the sand, my flip-flops flapping around my feet in the most uncomfortable of ways, and we walk for a good five or so minutes before finally spotting Tiffani and Meghan. It’s hard not to—they’re on their feet and waving their arms around like maniacs.
“Guys!” Tiffani calls. “You just missed some cute guy ask Meg for her number.”
I glance over at Meghan, and she sheepishly drops back down to the sand again, color flooding to her cheeks. “He’s from Pasadena,” she murmurs, biting her lip.
As Tiffani settles back onto the sand too, I follow suit with Rachael by laying down my towel and getting comfy. I cross my legs and smile. The beach really is huge, with rows of tiny stores behind us and cycle routes and guys hurling volleyballs at one another.
“So Rach,” Tiffani says, raising a brow from behind her sunglasses, “what happened with you and Trevor on Saturday?”
Rachael smirks, rolls her eyes, and then looks away. “Nothing,” she says, but she’s still smiling.
“Nothing my ass,” Meghan shoots. “I’m guessing third base this time, because a home run two weeks in a row isn’t your thing. Am I right or am I right?”
Rachael stays silent for a long moment and then finally whispers, “You’re right,” before laughing. She pulls off her lace cover-up and tosses it to the side, lying down on her back and getting comfortable. I notice how perfect her figure is, how long her legs and how flat her stomach. The perfect body to compliment her mint bikini.
“Eden, what even happened to you at the party?” Tiffani asks, and I’m so distracted by Rachael’s legs that it takes me by surprise.
“What?”
“Where did you go?” She sits up her equally perfect body and looks at me from behind her shades. “Who’d you go home with? What’s his name?”
I almost choke on my own saliva. “Nooooo,” I say, shaking my head. “I didn’t feel that great. Dean took me home.” How many more times am I going to use the sickness excuse?
“Couldn’t handle the tequila?” She grins, laughs, and then gets onto her knees to straighten out her towel. “By the way, the guys suggested heading outta town tonight. Maybe Venice or into the city, but Dean also thought about heading out to Hollywood so you can see the sign, Eden, because you can’t come to Los Angeles and not see the Hollywood Sign up close and personal. We’re all going.”
“Hollywood’s a good idea,” Rachael says. “I’m in the mood for some illegal trespassing.”
I’m a little skeptical about the whole idea. “Illegal?”
All three of them offer a small smirk, then Tiffani continues to speak, albeit mainly to Rachael at first. “We’re only going to take three cars to make it easier, so wherever we decide to go, Jake’s gonna pick me up and Dean said he’ll get you and Meg.” She tilts her head in my direction. “And you can go with Tyler, because you’re leaving from the same house, anyway.”
I stare at her. In fact, a laugh almost escapes from my lips, but I somehow manage to suppress it. Sure, Tyler and I sharing a car may seem convenient, but putting the two of us in a confined space for longer than a minute is bound to get my blood heated.
“How about a Perry’s round?” Meghan asks. She reaches for her purse.
“Get me a caramel Frio,” Rachael says.
Meghan shifts her eyes to me. “Eden?”
“Um,” I say. I’m not quite sure what sort of store Perry’s is, and I’ve never heard of a Frio in my life. “What is there?”
“Just get her the same as me,” Rachael cuts in as she leans back and props herself up on her elbows, tilting her face up to the sun. She leaves no room for argument.
Meghan heads off with Tiffani by her side, leaving Rachael and I alone to bask in the sun while they get drinks for us all. At least I’m assuming it’s drinks. I have no idea. It could be ice cream. Either way, I’m not looking forward to it.
Clearing my throat, I decide to distract myself. “Okay, I think I’ve got this right,” I say, crossing my legs and turning to face Rachael. She sits up to listen. “You guys are best friends, right?”
“Right . . .” Rachael agrees, but her tone is cautious as she waits to see where I’m going with this.
“And then Tyler and Dean and this Jake guy are best friends too?”
She thinks about it, pursing her lips as she carefully considers her answer. “Kind of,” she says. “There’s a little tension between Tyler and Jake, but they ignore it most of the time.”
“Why’s there tension?” I remember talking to Jake at the party, and despite his awful conversation skills he seemed pretty friendly.
“Because Tyler started dating Tiffani in freshman year and back then Jake had this huge crush on her and there were arguments and fights, but he got over it,” Rachael explains. She rolls her eyes. “Immature stuff. They still sort of hate each other, though.”
“This tension aside,” I continue, “you guys are all, like, one big group of friends? That’s what it seems like, so I just wanna know if I’ve picked this up right.”
“You’re right,” Rachael says. “We’ve all been friends since—hell, I have no idea—seventh grade or something. We all went to middle school together. Now come on!” She throws her hands up in the air. “Let’s create some tan lines.”
“I’m kinda fine just sitting here,” I say, and I smile as wide as I can to discourage her from saying anything more. But it doesn’t work.
“Oh, shut up,” she jokes as she lies back down again. “You’re not gonna tan that great if you’re sitting there with half your skin covered up.”
I glance down, tightening my grip on my kimono and holding it closer to me. “No, really, I’m fine.”
“Got your Frios!” Tiffani announces as she creeps up behind us, and I’m thankful for her interruption. Leaning over my shoulder, she hands me a plastic cup with cream overflowing from the lid and then hands another to Rachael, tossing the straws at us afterward.
I stare at the cup for a few seconds. It looks like the most fattening beverage to ever exist. The cream just makes me feel queasy, so it’s almost impossible to smile up at her. I must look so ungrateful, but I just can’t help frowning. I wait until they’re all looking at me, and then I slip the straw into the drink and take a sip of the iced beverage, ensuring that they notice. Smile and nod, I think. So that’s exactly what I do. I pretend that it’s the best damn thing I’ve ever tasted in my entire life, and then the second they look away, I lay it aside. Later, when it’s melted from the heat of the sun, I’ll dramatically act as though I completely forgot about it.
“The creepy dude who always serves us gave us a discount,” Meghan says as she settles down onto her towel, crossing her legs. She scoops up some cream from her own drink with her index finger and slowly tastes it. “Only because Tiff flirted with him.”
“I did not flirt with him!” Tiffani objects with a sharp gasp.
It’s then that I rummage around in my bag for my earphones, untangling them once I find them and finding a decent playlist. I lay down and stare up at the sky. Earphones in, music loud, shades on, drink to the side, pretty girl chitchat out.
We spend around five hours at the beach and decide against a small trip onto the pier, so by the time Rachael and I get back to Deidre Avenue, I’m starting to get hungry. Thankfully, Ella has dinner under control.
“Your dad’s going to be a little longer tonight, so we’re having it later,” she tells me when I get home. “Did you have a nice day at the beach?”
“Yeah,” I say, and that’s as far as our conversation goes. I also leave a trail of sand behind me as I dart upstairs to shower again and get ready for Venice, LA, or Hollywood. Tonight’s itinerary has yet to be decided.
So now I’m fully showered and dressed and ready to go. When I’m double-checking my winged eyeliner in my mirror, I hear my dad’s voice from somewhere downstairs. He’s home, which means dinner should be ready right about now. I make my way downstairs, and as I get closer to the kitchen I realise that Dad’s voice is raised.
“Do you want to know what I just witnessed?” Dad asks, and his voice is so gruff that it’s obvious he’s super mad.
I edge toward the kitchen arch, hanging back behind the wall and peering into the room. Ella’s standing by the oven, Dad opposite her, with Tyler right bang in the middle of them.
“So here I am,” Dad yells, “heading down to Appian Way to drop off some paperwork on my way home, and guess who I happen to spot at the beach?”
Ella throws Tyler a glance. “I told you not to leave.”
“So I think, ‘Hey, he’s grounded,’ and I head over there to ask him what he’s playing at,” Dad continues, “and he’s sitting around some table with these guys who looked ten years older than him, and I stood there and WATCHED him toss ten-, twenty-, fifty-dollar bills onto this table.”
Ella’s eyes narrow. “Tyler.”
Tyler only shakes his head, smirking in disbelief. “This is bullshit.”
“Shut the hell up,” Dad snaps, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and loosening his tie. “So I’m standing right there watching him gamble and throw away cash, and guess what happened when he lost the bet?” Dad pauses for a moment. “He started swinging.”
“That asshole was cheating,” Tyler mutters, gripping the worktop and leaning back against it. His eyes are dark. “I wasn’t gonna let him get away with it.”
“Do you want to get arrested for assault?” Dad steps forward to fix him with a glare. “Spend your life in juvenile hall? Is that what you want?”
“Tyler, you have to stop all of this,” Ella says quietly, pressing a hand to her forehead and heaving a sigh. She looks more upset than angry. “I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
“This isn’t Las Vegas,” Dad cuts in. He steps even closer into Tyler’s personal space, his cheeks flushed red. He’s furious enough for the both of them. “What the hell were you playing at?”
Tyler presses his lips into a firm line. “Live a little.”
“I’m done with you,” Dad states, shaking his head. He throws his hands up in defeat as he turns around and heads outside through the patio doors, perhaps to get a breath of fresh air.
Ella opens her mouth to speak, but Tyler chuckles before she can say anything and then makes for the hall. I step back into the corner as he storms past, hoping that he doesn’t notice me. But, of course, he does.
He spins around, halting as he studies me. “I’ve gotta give you a ride, right?”
I’m not sure getting a ride from someone with behavioral issues like him is a good idea. He’s most likely a reckless driver, ignoring speed limits and running over the occasional child. “I think so.”
“I’m leaving right now,” he says, his tone still harsh from the argument, “so either come or stay here.” With his eyes still narrowed, he exhales and makes his way to the front door. Ella calls after him, warning him not to leave, but he ignores her and heads outside.
I glance back into the kitchen. Ella appears on the verge of tears and Dad is pacing the back yard. The two of them don’t seem like very good company for the evening, so there’s no chance of me choosing to stay here. Sighing, I briskly jog over to the front door and catch Tyler’s attention just before he reaches his car. “Wait up!”
The dinner’s ruined by now, anyway.
