The Palms (5 page)

She blinked at him. “Looks like carbs to me.”

“Come on, Gumdrop. It won’t blow your diet to eat one.”

She stepped back and folded her arms. ‘“Gumdrop? Did you just call me Gumdrop?”

His jaw turned slack. “Oh, my God. Well, I...”

“Gumdrop? I haven’t heard that name in forever,” she continued, and anger simmered underneath her words. “Not since...” She took a gulp of wine, and followed with another small step back. ‘“You can’t—”

“What? I mean, that’s what I called you. Gumdrop.”

Lauren recoiled once again at the nickname. How dare he call her that? After all this time? Unacceptable.

“Jesus, Lauren, I didn’t think...”

“No, you didn’t, did you?”

“It’s just that—”

“Stop. Just stop.” Her voice rose and a nameless, faceless partygoer standing nearby glanced over. She disregarded it, not caring to stay polite. “You can’t just call me that out of nowhere.”

Trent glanced at the others in the crowd before he replied. “It’s habit... because...”

“Get away from me.”

The words came out fast. She knew in that instant she didn’t mean it, but she didn’t back away from the point she tried to make. He’d left
her
all those years ago, not the other way around.

“I
hate
you.”

A deep frown marred her Italian beauty, and she scowled at him, disgusted. Crawford women all shared the same wide eyes, long black hair, and olive skin, but it looked the best on Lauren. Nothing should ever take away that beauty — least of all him.

“I hope you don’t hate me,” he said softly as he ran a hand through his hair. “I really hope you don’t.”

“It may not be hate, but you’re an asshole.” Exasperated with herself, but still angry, she revised her words again. “Or, at least, you used to be. You were an asshole to me.”

She expected he’d laugh, just the way he did as a kid when people insulted him. He didn't. Instead, the truth stood out like a festering blister. In her mind, he
was
an asshole to her. A big one. And she had every right to think it.

Over her shoulder, Trent saw Madeline walk across the courtyard. He didn’t think she’d seen the two of them yet, but it wouldn’t be long. He had to do something — or face another encounter with Lauren’s annoying cousin.

“I want to talk to you about some stuff, Lauren,” he tried, frantic. “But probably not here. Not like this.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not the kind of conversation you have in public.”

“I don’t care about this party. I just came because I was curious.” Her eyes searched his face for something else and didn’t find it. “And because I still had questions.”

“Good.” Trent waved his hand toward the exit. “We can leave. Let’s take a walk. Come on. We don’t need all this.”

“Why should I go anywhere with you? We can just talk right here.”

He looked over at the courtyard, packed now with partygoers and members of the social set. “We could talk here,” he conceded, not happy with the idea. “But I don’t prefer it.”

“Anything you can say to me, you can say right here.”

“Look, I sure could, but I’d rather talk in private.” He sighed. “Maybe you shouldn’t go anywhere with me. I get it.” He set his glass down on a passing waiter’s tray. “But at least give me a chance to explain, okay?”

She demurred, and he pressed onward. “Let’s go for a walk outside. Please.”

“I don’t know—”

“Please,” he repeated. “Just a couple of minutes. That’s all.”

Curiosity took over inside her. Again. This time, she just resigned herself to it. "Just for a few minutes.”

8:45 PM, Hibiscus Avenue

 ice night,” Trent said about three minutes after they stepped out on the sidewalk and headed east. He looked up and gestured to the sky. “That moon is pretty clear right now. Amazing.”

“It is,” Lauren replied as she slowed her hurried walk to a stroll, and he followed her lead, hopeful. Even if this conversation turned awkward and contentious, they could enjoy the fresh air, at least.

Trent sized up her body language. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and hunched her shoulders. She looked closed off, but at least she no longer frowned. And of course, she still radiated sex appeal in that outfit. He had to be careful. He might devour her before she got a chance to say no. She tempted him more now that she ever had. Must be the fact that she hated him.

The two walked for another half block and then Trent turned north. He figured they’d walk through the center of town and not near the beach. No, not near the beach at all. Too many memories there. Good ones and bad.

“You have every reason to hate me,” he said. “And you should. Sometimes I hate myself.” His words cut through the quiet night air. This might be the start of the high season on the island, but traffic had not yet increased the road.

Lauren uncrossed her arms. “You know, I wondered about you over the last couple of years. A lot.”

He put his hands in his pockets. “I wondered about you, too.”

“It’s not like you couldn’t have found out. You could have asked my brother.”

“No. I couldn’t have.” Trent twisted his lips.

She looked over at him, watching his expressions now more than she watched the sidewalk. “Why did you leave the next day? After that night on the beach?” She’d stopped talking to him, and mainly just muttered the questions to herself. “Who does that? Who just leaves someone? With no goodbye?”

He’d hurt her a lot, and he knew it for sure now. Trent heard the pain in every syllable of every word Lauren said.

They crossed the street and kept walking past the large houses and beach getaways. On a normal night, they might have admired how many of the houses resembled expensive cakes, with immaculate wrought iron and trimmed bushes as frosting. During this walk, they hardly gave the scenery a glance.

Trent exhaled once the awkwardness of the moment bothered him enough. “It’s complicated. No— it was complicated back then.”

“Complicated?” She sounded unsatisfied, and he heard the crisp clearness of her disappointment. “Seemed pretty simple to me. Boy meets girl. Boy pursues girl. Boy sleeps with girl. Girl was a virgin. The boy leaves. Never calls her again.” Lauren dissected their failed relationship in a sharp, shrill staccato.

Trent stopped on the sidewalk. His eyes searched her face as he ran another hand through his hair, and all he saw was pain and regret. For a moment, he couldn’t figure out how to explain it all. “It wasn’t like that, Lauren.”

“At least you’re not back to calling me Gumdrop.”

Trent pursed his lips. “Okay. What do you remember about me?”

“Besides the fact that you’re a jerk?” She rolled her eyes.

He sighed, willing himself to stay patient. He had to get through this conversation, no matter what. He just had to do it. Trent owed it to Lauren, and he owed it to himself. Maybe if he prompted her, she’d lead herself to the answer and the truth wouldn’t be so painful. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Lauren. I mean before... before that summer. What do you remember?”

9:00 PM, S. County Road

Lauren took a seat on the concrete bench by the sidewalk. The bench sat at the perimeter of a small park with pruned trees, rose bushes, and ivy. They’d come a decent way in their walk, and it made her sad for a second that she hadn’t even noticed. He sat down next to her, even though she didn’t offer. The two of them had enough room on the cold concrete.

“You always teased me as a kid. Every summer and Christmas that we came here.”

Trent laughed. “Yeah, I did. I teased you a lot.” His laughter stopped. “Because I thought you were pretty hot, even at twelve.”

“And there was that one time you guys buried me in sand and the left me on the beach.”

“Yeah, we did do that,” Trent remembered. “I hope you know that was Spencer’s idea.”

“Oh, I know it was.” Lauren looked down at her sandaled feet and then at the car coming down the street. “You were some fifteen-year-old spoiled brat, though.”

He answered her with a gesture that showed her he agreed. “I had stuff I needed to learn.” He waved his hand at the road and the large beach house mansions that dotted the street. Each one of them had a groomed lawn with nothing out of place. Trent thought the houses looked like facades of a movie set, like something a director would arrange to create the perfect beach town.

“A lot of stuff I needed to learn, Lauren. Growing up here didn’t always help with that.”

“Spen—Spencer told me to stay away from you.” She opened her clutch, reached in, and pulled out a hair tie. She pulled her long hair off her shoulders and tied it into a messy ponytail. “Especially that summer — back in 2002. He said all you did at college your junior year was sleep with girls.” She paused. “And drink cheap beer.”

Trent smiled. “Amherst. That’s pretty much what it was for me.”

“Still like cheap beer?”

Trent wrinkled his nose. “A couple nights with my head in the toilet changed that.”

“You had a way that summer.” She sighed. “I liked it a lot. Something about you.”

He leaned back on the bench. “God, that summer was great.”

“So when you did the same thing to me — screwed me and left — I just figured I’d been the stupid one and that I should have listened to my brother.”

Trent put his lips up to her ear. “You might not believe this, but it wasn’t that way with you. You weren’t some girl I fucked.” He shook his head out of disgust with himself and pulled away. “Sorry. Not to use that word— but that wasn’t what it was.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No. Not even for one second.” He looked down at her hand before pulling his eyes back to her face. He could only see the outline of her features in the darkness. “I think that night with you on the beach was one of the best nights of my life.”

She glanced at him, skeptical. “But I didn’t know anything about sex. There’s no way I...”

“It didn’t matter. I was with you. That’s all I wanted. That was all I ever wanted. ”

“I think the best part was all the sand I found in my hair the next day,” she replied, remembering it all. “The bottom of the shower looked like it could be its own beach.” She looked down. “Of course, when I woke up you also weren’t—I mean it was—”

“I’m sorry,” Trent interrupted. He seized the moment, unable to control his feelings any longer. “Jesus, Lauren—” Trent wanted her so much that the need overwhelmed everything. He wrapped his hand around her jawline, brought her lips to his, and savored their kisses as his lips brushed hers.

She pulled away once one kiss turned into three, tearing herself away just as the moment deepened. She narrowed her eyes at him, allowing her frustration to creep into her voice. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t just do something like that!”

“Like what?” On purpose, Trent ignored the tone of her voice and puller her closer for another kiss. This time he was gentle and more controlled, but still no less pleading.

She gave in for a second, but then forced herself to pull away from the embrace. “You can’t kiss me after years and years and act like everything is okay.” She struggled to find the words, still unhinged by the sudden twist in the moment between them. “It’s not.”

“I know it isn’t, but I can’t...” Trent tucked his hand under the back of her neck, at the end of her hairline. “I just want us to go back—”

He broke off and pulled her toward him again; this time his lips covered hers with more force. He kissed her with abandon; his lips willed her to give in and mold her body to his. A soft moan escaped her throat, and he took it as a sign she didn’t want him to stop. His lips searched hers, his teeth chewed on her bottom lip, and his hands tangled her hair. All the years of pent up passion threatened to break free from inside him.

She didn’t want to like it, but she did. A whole lot. As their kisses deepened, her right hand moved from the coarse grit of the concrete bench to the smoothness of his chin. She cupped his face and brought him even closer to her. One kiss became two. Two kisses turned into six. With each kiss, a small part of the wall she’d built around her heart crumbled.