I click and make it my wallpaper.
God, I love his green eyes. They pop from his tanned face. He is really good-looking. He’s got such an intense face that seems to say whatever the shit is I’m above it and somehow he doesn’t look jerk-like.
He’s superior and cool and not jerk-like.
I slap my laptop closed and set it on the floor. Crap, I should have probably ask Bobby if it was OK to put the surf clip on YouTube, but I’m not feeling generous toward him right now.
He’s got such a hot body.
He sure can kiss.
And, fuck, he ditched me today for Caroline.
CHAPTER 7
I pull into my usual parking spot at school and wait. Crap, I’m too early again. There are only a few cars here and the only person I see walking around is the janitor. I should have left the house at a reasonable hour. Hell, I should have skipped today.
I open Zoe’s text from first thing this morning and read it again.
Zoe: WTF did you do yesterday? Bobby is pissed. We’re hitting the gym and then I’m driving to school with him. Heads up.
My palms begin to sweat as I hold on tightly to the steering wheel. The only thing I did yesterday was the YouTube video. Why would he be pissed about that?
I’m annoyed that I’m worried. Annoyed that it matters. And doubly annoyed that I hightailed it out of the house to get this over with first thing rather than have it drag through the day waiting for me.
It was just a freaking video. Straight up surf footage. It wasn’t like my Kaley’s World videos where I make fun of just about everyone in my life. Faculty. Students. Whoever.
No harm, no foul.
He shouldn’t be pissed.
Not like that Starbucks barista I covertly filmed, cutting the footage in with my demented burned Barbies on strings who host my mock shock talk show. I called that episode of Kaley’s World “How to Train Your Barista.”
Yep, it’s a classic. Over fifty thousand views. That’ll teach that girl not to be rude to customers after sloshing coffee all over their arm. Really, how hard is it to remember to put the green tab in the drinking slit before handing it out the drive-thru window?
It’s not like I did that to Bobby.
Why is he pissed?
Cars start to arrive and I search the parking lot, committed to cutting Bobby off at the pass before he can pounce on me. Throw him off his game.
No hiding for this girl.
The best defense is a strong offense.
Crap, I’m waylaying him first.
I search and search and search and don’t see him. For all I know he’s parked next to me. I can’t believe I don’t know what kind of car he drives. Or his class schedule. Or who he hangs out with at school.
Sure, we just reconnected two days ago, but I could have gotten all that stuff from the Pacific Palisades loop. Spied on him the way everyone else spies on each other here.
It would have been useful today.
What the hell kind of car does he drive?
My passenger door opens. I jump as I see Bobby sliding into the seat beside me.
“Hey,” is all he says as he shuts the door behind him.
I turn my body to face him. “Did I say you could climb into my car?”
“No, but then again I didn’t ask.”
“What’s your problem?”
He looks amused—and angry with me.
“I was about to ask you the same thing, Kaley.”
I shrug. “I don’t have any problems other than uninvited people in my car this morning.”
I glance over my shoulder and see Zoe waiting outside by the trunk, no doubt listening to every word.
“Why did you cut out on me yesterday?” he asks. “I went for a food run, got back to the beach and you were gone. Not cool, Kaley. You don’t just cut out on someone that way.”
What?
My cheeks flush.
“I didn’t cut out on anyone. I had to go home. It had nothing to do with you, Bobby.”
“You should have told me you weren’t sticking around. Exactly when did you decide you had to leave?”
I arch a brow. “About the time you took off with Beach Barbie Bimbo.”
Oh fuck, I didn’t intend to say that. My face is now burning.
He stares at me. “Caroline? Are you kidding me? You took off because I went on a food run with her?”
That makes me sound—possessive? Irrational? Crazy?—nope, don’t want to try to put a definition to that.
I stare at him coolly, crossing my arms in front of me.
“Rude, Bobby. Really rude to go off with her in front of me. I’ve already told you. I’m not into the fucked-up games of the male population. Nice knowing you. Can you get out of my car now?”
Our gazes lock in silent battle.
He leans his head back against the passenger window, closes his eyes and groans. “Fuck, you’re a frustrating girl. I invite you to the beach. You don’t answer my call. You just show up. I think it’s all good. Then you take off on me, leaving me staring at an empty towel and holding an extra meal. Are you thoughtless or do you just get off making people look like idiots?”
My eyes fly wide.
Invite me to the beach?
Before I can say anything, he starts back in on me again. “I don’t know why I even bother trying to start something with you.” He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You’re like a porcupine. All needles. Ready to strike and ask questions later. And just when I decide you are not worth the trouble to get to know you do something cool like that video.” His eyes open. The expression in them makes my heart shimmy. “It was really incredible work. Fuck, you’re one hell of a filmmaker.”
My breath hitches, my thoughts and emotions racing off in a hundred directions. “I am not a porcupine,” I counter pointedly. “I don’t strike at anyone. And you did not call me.”
He leans in to me and holds out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
He’s sitting too close now—pinning me with his eyes—so that I feel surrounded by him and everything inside me sharply readjusts. His hair is damp, and he has that smell of having showered at the gym after a workout. I don’t know what it is about gym soap but it smells so good. At least is does mixed with Bobby.
We both just stare at each other for several seconds, and out of nowhere I remember what it feels like to be pressed up against him. I want to kiss him, like that, out of nowhere.
I turn my face away and stare through the windshield. “No. This is stupid. I’m not giving you my phone. I’m not letting you look at my private shit.”
“Then check it later if it makes you feel better not to have me see you be wrong,” he says challengingly.
“I’m not wrong,” I snap hotly.
He shake his head at me. “If you want to be my girlfriend start acting like it.”
What?
I raise an eyebrow to match his expression. “I’m not your girlfriend.”
He studies me for a second, then shakes his head again. “I asked you to hang out with me.”
“So?”
His gaze narrows like he’s trying to figure out if I’m being a bitch or stupid.
“Christ, don’t you know anything about anything?” he asks, exasperated.
The color is moving down my face to my throat. “No. Apparently I don’t. Enlighten me.”
I widen my eyes because he’s widened his, and square off with him with my gaze this time.
I watch as Bobby inhales a slow breath, then looks directly at me. He looks really annoyed. “I thought you understood. I don’t date. I don’t hook up. I can’t stand girls who think it’s a turn-on to drop to their knees in the first five minutes and offer me a suck or a fuck. I’m not into the high school social scene. If I like you I ask you to hang out and that’s it. Together. No bullshit. No drama. No games. You said yes when I asked if you wanted to hang out. That makes you my girlfriend.”