Waiting for the Storm (12 page)

Without a word, he bent, cupping my face gently in his hands. He brushed his lips over mine, and even though it was a light touch, it made my insides turn to mush. His lips were warm and soft—everything I’d been trying to avoid daydreaming about.

He met my eyes briefly before pressing his lips back to mine, harder this time. Sweet and soft with a kick of heat, it was everything a first kiss should be. It was the best first kiss I’d ever had, and it made me forget about all the other kisses I’d had, and all the other boys I’d done the kissing with.

When Ezra pulled away, I felt dazed. It took my eyes a second to focus, and when they did, the soft smile on his face liquefied what was left of my insides.

“Good night, Charlotte,” he whispered, his lips brushing mine again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I nodded dumbly, and his smile brightened. He pressed a kiss to my cheek and walked slowly from the porch, casting glances over his shoulder every few seconds. When he reached his back door, he motioned for me to go inside. I waved and stepped into the house, relieved there was no sign of Dad in the living room.

I climbed the stairs slowly, my legs still a bit wobbly after that amazing kiss.

“Well, well, look who’s stumbling in so late…or should I say early?”

I just barely contained a cry of surprise as I whirled around to face Ella. She was smirking at me, and I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, Ella, not even
you
can ruin my night.”

“It’s
Gabriella
,” she snapped. She was leaning in the doorway of her room, arms crossed. I was surprised to find her in her nightgown, face makeup free, and hair loose around her shoulders. She looked so young, and it reminded me of how she used to look as a little girl—back when we still considered each other best friends, before things got complicated. I was starting to soften toward her until she said, “What would Mom think of you spending the night out with a boy?”

I knew she was trying to goad me, and I refused to take the bait. “I don’t know,
Gabriella
, what would she think of the things you’ve been doing lately? I have nothing to be ashamed of. Can you say the same?”

Ella stepped forward, her arms falling to her sides where her hands bunched into fists. “How dare you, you bi—”

“Bitch, yeah, yeah I know,” I interrupted tiredly. “Try to come up with something more original, would you?”

Before she could respond, I stepped into my room and closed the door, amazed and relieved that my happy buzz hadn’t been killed by my sister.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The sun was streaming in my window when I opened my eyes the next morning. My first thought was
so much for the rain Ezra predicted
, and my second thought was simply
Ezra
. Ezra, who shared secrets with me last night and held my hand and kissed me. Ezra, who understood the pain and anger and fear.

I smiled and closed my eyes again, stretching in my bed before rolling to the edge and sitting up. I’d fallen asleep about an hour after I got home, while the sky was still dark and the stars still burned. It was just after ten now, and I could hear hammering from outside, so I knew Ezra was working.

After a quick shower, I got dressed and finger-combed my hair, deciding to leave it down and let it air dry. I bounded down the stairs, glad there was no sign of Ella, and made my way into the kitchen. A note from Dad was stuck to the fridge, and I plucked it free.

Gone to the bookstore to pick up a special order. Ella’s out with friends. There are smoothies in the fridge for you and Ezra. Be back by noon. Dad

“Aww, Dad,” I murmured to myself. I opened the fridge and smiled as I pulled out the smoothies, taking a sip as I made my way through the living room and out the back door.

Ezra was hard at work on the new porch, measuring and cutting boards. His light-blue t-shirt was drenched with sweat and stuck to his back. Dark-blue cargo shorts rode low on his hips, and he wore a hat to protect his face from the sun. His back was to me, so I took a minute to enjoy the view, watching the muscles ripple under his shirt.

He turned and met my gaze, an amused grin lighting his face when he caught me staring. “Hey,” he said, his smile warming the longer he looked at me.

“Hey yourself.” I handed him one of the smoothies, and he took it gratefully, instantly sucking down a quarter of it.

“God it’s hot,” he commented. “I hate people who point out the obvious and talk about how hot it is in summer, but most of those people probably don’t have to work directly in the scorching sun.”

“Probably not. They get to sit in air conditioned offices or houses, then complain because they have to walk from the building to the car.”

“Exactly. See, you get it.” He set the smoothie down and took off his hat. His damp hair was plastered to his head, and he ran his hand through it, sending it in a million different directions. He tossed the hat on the ground and pulled his shirt off, revealing tanned skin and more lean muscle.

I swallowed hard.

“Do you have any idea how bad I want to just run and jump into the lake right now?” He tossed his shirt next to his hat and dug in his cargo pockets for a small bottle of sunscreen. He looked sort of embarrassed when he caught me staring once again. “I’m kind of fanatical about applying sun screen,” he explained. “I put some on before I started this morning, but I swear I’ve sweat most of it off. And now that I’m going to be shirtless…”

He applied sunscreen to his face, arms, shoulders, and torso. I tried hard not to watch, instead concentrating on my smoothie as if it held the secrets of the universe.

“Would it be weird to ask you to do my back?” he asked after a few minutes.

I met his gaze, and I was sure he knew exactly what I was thinking. Or trying to avoid thinking. I held out my hand for the bottle and twirled a finger for him to turn around. With his back to me, I squirted lotion on my hands, rubbing them together before applying it evenly over his back. I realized suddenly that I was holding my breath, and I let it slowly, wondering how red my face was.

“Thanks,” he said when I finished, holding his hand out for the bottle.

“Wait.” I squirted a little more lotion onto my fingers and told him to turn around again. “You know the day we met? You were out here working and I could see that your neck was getting burned, but I didn’t have the courage to tell you. It seemed too…” I didn’t want to say the word intimate, but that’s what came to mind.
This
felt intimate, touching him like this even though it was completely innocent. Well, innocent on his part—I was glad to have an excuse to touch him. “Anyway, now that we’re…well, whatever we are, I can not only tell you, I can make sure you’re covered.”

I finished rubbing the lotion into his skin and could have sworn he shivered slightly as he turned. “Thanks,” he said again. “I’m glad you have my back.” He laughed at his own lame joke, and I joined in, shaking my head.

“The, uh…‘whatever we are’ part…” He pulled his hat back on and fidgeted with the bill. “I don’t really know. I mean, I know I like you, and I know I want to be more than friends…”

He looked so uncomfortable, I held up a hand to silence him. “It’s okay, Ezra. I don’t really know, either. We don’t have to put a label on it. We can just be…whatever we are…and see where things go.”

He nodded, looking relieved.

“As long as you keep kissing me,” I told him.

His lips quirked into a crooked grin. “I can do that.” He closed the distance between us, cupping my face in his hands. He smelled of sweat and sunscreen with a lingering hint of shampoo. When he pressed his lips to mine, the sun seemed to beat much hotter, scorching my skin and electrifying my nerves.

He eased back but didn’t release my face. “I’m on the clock, and I don’t know if I should be kissing the boss’s daughter right on the front lawn.”

“The boss isn’t here,” I told him. “But I do prefer a more private setting.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw a car drive by, and I thought I could hear voices from a few houses down. “Later?”

“Absolutely,” he promised. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” I reached up on my toes for one last, quick kiss, and headed in the direction of the garage.

“Where are you going?” he called after me.

“Gonna take my bike and my little pink helmet down to the library,” I told him, walking backwards.

He grinned. “I’m glad to see you’re embracing the little pink helmet. It looks cute on you.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. I waved and continued on to the garage, pulling out the bike and fastening my helmet in place.

It didn’t take me long to wish I’d stayed home in the cool house. It was too hot to be out under the baking sun exerting myself by riding a bike I still wasn’t quite used to. But then I remembered Ezra’s words, and I thought if he could work in the sun all day, I could make it another few minutes and get myself to the library.

Entering the cool, quiet building was a relief. I waved to Shelley, who was looking slightly frazzled as she dealt with a line of six people. The wheeled cart she used to restock shelves was sitting beside her, overflowing with books.

I wandered further into the library and noticed the Volunteers Wanted sign was still pinned to the bulletin board. No surprise there. I headed into the stacks, keeping an eye on the front desk and waiting for a lull. When Shelley had finally checked out the last person, I went over.

“Oh, Charlotte.” She slumped over on her desk, taking a few deep breaths, then grabbed a nearby water bottle and took a quick swig. “It’s been bedlam in here today. The one volunteer I managed to get called in sick. There was children’s story time at nine, then a mad rush of people asking where books were and then checking out. I love my job, but if I don’t get help soon, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“I want to volunteer,” I told her.

“You
do
?”

“I do.” I hadn’t come here with the intention of volunteering, but I could see she was desperate, and I needed something to fill my days. Talking about my fears with Ezra last night hadn’t made them suddenly disappear, but I felt better, like I was ready to start facing them. And I figured with a slight aversion to strangers and crowds of people, the library would be a good place to start.

“You’re a lifesaver!” Shelley jumped up from her chair and nearly tripped on the cart of books. “Can you start right now?”

I told her I could, and she showed me how to shelve the books. It didn’t take long for me to get the rhythm of it since I’d always paid attention to how the books were organized in the library back home and at school. After awhile, Shelley drifted away, leaving me to my task and returning to the front desk.

The only person I talked to while working was a girl a little younger than me who asked if I could recommend any good contemporary romances for teens. I took her over to the young adult section and showed her a few of my favourites, and she made a list on her phone before taking two to check out.

I smiled to myself, pleased I’d been able to help someone with similar interests. I watched her walk to the counter, and while Shelley was checking out her books, the girl pointed in my direction. I ducked into the next aisle and continued my shelving work.

Shelley came to find me a few minutes later. “You’re a natural.”

“It’s not that hard as long as you know the alphabet,” I joked.

Shelley chuckled. “No, at recommendations. Erin, the girl you helped, was thrilled with your choices. She just got into reading this past year, so it’s still fairly new to her.”

“I’m glad I could help.” I slid the last book into place and stood back to survey the full shelves.

Shelley leaned against the cart and studied me. “I think you should contribute to the library blog,” she said. “You could have your own special feature on young adult books. ‘Charlotte Recommends’ or ‘What Charlotte’s Reading’. You could do reviews or articles or recommendations.”

I looked down at my flip flop-clad feet and mulled it over. What if nobody read it or they thought my recommendations sucked? Today might have been a fluke. I’d wanted to start my own blog, but that was slightly less pressure than contributing to an already-established blog, especially one Shelley had previously told me got a lot of traffic.

I remembered telling Ezra last night that I used to take chances. I could hear his voice in my head now, mixed with one that sounded like my mother’s, telling me to go for it. Baby steps. It might seem like no big deal to other people, but for me it felt strangely like learning to do things all over again. Learning to be social and build my confidence and take chances.

Besides, what did I have to lose?

“Okay,” I said before I could change my mind. “Tell me what I have to do.”

*****

An hour later, with a folder of information, guidelines, and the registration process for the Angel Island Library blog, I stepped back into the hot July sun.

I was just about to climb on my bike when Lilah walked out of the general store and waved to me.

“Hey there,” she called, striding over. She reminded me of my mom—they were about the same height and build, and she radiated a motherly warmth, even though Ezra had told me she didn’t have any kids of her own.

We exchanged pleasantries, and then she said, “I’m glad I ran into you. I was going to stop in and see you later on my way to Ezra’s. I’d like to invite you over for lunch someday next week.”

“I’d like that,” I told her.

“Great. Now…I’d like to invite Gabriella too, but…well, I met her the other day when I was visiting Ezra, and she didn’t seem too receptive once I told her who I was.”

I cringed. I didn’t even want to think about what Ella had said or what kind of attitude she’d given Lilah. This woman was a link to our mother and I was grabbing onto it, while Ella didn’t seem to want anything to do with any part of Mom’s memory.

I wanted to tell her how Ella hadn’t had much to do with Mom once she got sick, and that she’d made her own life and her popularity a priority over our dying mother. But even now—even after all the horrible things Ella had said to me and the crappy way she’d treated me—it felt like I’d be betraying her. Lilah might have been one of my mom’s best childhood friends, but I didn’t know her that well yet. I hoped to, and maybe then I could open up to her, but for now…

“Sorry about that,” I said instead.

Lilah waved off my apology. “Maybe later in the summer,” she said. “But I’d still love to have you over. I found those old pictures I was telling you about, so we can look at those, have lunch, maybe take a swim in the pool. Your mom told me about your aversion to open water, so I thought a swim in a pool might be something you’d enjoy, especially in this heat.”

I smiled. I’d wondered previously how much Mom had told Lilah about us while they made arrangements for the house, and now I guessed she’d told her a fair bit. It would explain why Lilah didn’t ask questions about Ella not being receptive to her.

We made arrangements for Lilah to call me later in the week to figure out a day, and I started toward home. I’d just turned onto my street when I noticed Kennedy and Miranda lying in lawn chairs in bikinis on Miranda’s front lawn.

They waved me over, so I angled into the driveway and parked my bike.

“You should come lay out with us,” Kennedy called. “You could use some sun.”

And hello to you too
, I thought as I made my way across the grass. It was turning brown from the lack of rain combined with the high temperatures we’d been having lately.

“It’s too hot to be out riding a bike,” Miranda commented, lifting her sunglasses and looking up at me. Her dark skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, and a faint smell of coconut oil filled the air.

“I realize that now,” I told her, taking off my helmet and using my forearm to wipe my brow. I regarded the two of them in their tiny bikinis, and couldn’t imagine it was a whole lot cooler sitting in the direct sun and frying their skin.

“Where did you go?” Miranda asked.

“To the library. They needed some help, so I volunteered.”

Kennedy groaned. “You’re going to make us look bad. We still haven’t gotten jobs yet. Our parents will start bugging us any day now if they find out you’re volunteering.”

“What she means is ‘good for you’,” Miranda said, sliding Kennedy a pointed look before lowering her sunglasses over her eyes. “I was thinking of getting a job at the diner. Maybe the night shift. I hear it’s pretty quiet then.”

“It is,” I agreed without thinking.