Waking Up to Boys Read online

  The thought of Sara trying to learn wakeboarding made her skin crawl. But the thought of her learning from Todd was even worse. Wakeboarding was the one thing that Chelsea had left, the one area where she would always be better than Sara. She fervently hoped that Todd wasn’t serious—if so, it was almost like he was doing it just to hurt her. Chelsea might have been a strong, kick-ass chick on a wakeboard, but that obviously didn’t extend to matters of the heart.

  Chapter Seven

  What’s so great about Sara anyway? Chelsea asked herself as she trudged along the path home. So she knew a lot about plants—Eugene Fitzgibbon from Chelsea’s freshman biology class had known a lot about invertebrates, and it wasn’t like the whole world went falling all over the place over him. Usually knowing a lot about something dorky like plants was a good way to get people to make fun of you, not act like you were the coolest thing to happen to Glitterlake Resort since Todd showed up to start the water sports program. Todd. Chelsea sighed.

  Deep down Chelsea knew that the way people reacted to Sara had nothing to do with her expertise in local flora. People liked Sara because she was nice, and laughed a lot, and always had fun. But mostly, people (especially guys) liked Sara because she was pretty, and well-dressed, and acted like…well, like a girl.

  Chelsea unlocked the door to her house and climbed the stairs to her room. Nobody ever came right out and said that being good at all that girly stuff was what made guys really like you, but that was obviously the way it was. Between her experience with the girly girls at school and now her sister, Chelsea felt like she stuck out like an overgrown third-grader.

  She plopped down on the end of her bed. It was probably only a matter of time before Sebastian, too, would see that she was a sporty, competitive, too-tall tomboy and lose all interest. What did he see in her anyway?

  After tossing and turning and generally wallowing in frustration for about as long as she could take it, Chelsea decided to go wakeboarding after all. She knew it would make her feel better to get in a solid hour before dinner.

  But as she passed Sara’s room, she saw the stained shirt that Sara had discarded on the floor before the plant walk through the open door. And beyond that Chelsea could see her closet, with the doors wide open showing beautiful, feminine summer clothes made out of silk and linen and soft brushed Egyptian cotton. Chelsea couldn’t even imagine the expense that had gone into amassing that wardrobe, let alone the hours and hours of shopping and trying on clothes that must have accompanied it. Most of her own clothing came from stores and Web sites that also sold things like carabineers, tennis rackets, and surf wax.

  So she couldn’t quite understand why she was suddenly entering Sara’s room, gliding over to the closet, and running her hands along the rows of skirts, blouses, and sundresses. Or why her hand lingered on a flimsy silk shirt the exact color of the lake first thing in the morning, rubbing the tissue-papery sleeve between her fingers. Or why she took the blouse off the hanger and held it up against herself, the fabric cool and light against her bare arms.

  Chelsea was usually fairly aware of her motivations for doing things, but she couldn’t quite explain what drew her to slip the shirt on over her lime green Roxy tank top with the built-in bra—or why, when she saw the way she looked in the mirror, all she could do was stand there staring at the way it seemed to soften her features and bring out the blue in her eyes.

  The thud of footsteps coming up the stairs jolted Chelsea out of her trance. She quickly stashed the top back in the closet and practically leapt out of the room. Sara was coming down the hall.

  “Did you need something?” Sara asked her.

  “No, thanks, I’m good,” Chelsea stuttered. Then she pushed past Sara, down the stairs, and out the door. She ran along the paths connecting the buildings, her breath settling into a regular rhythm. Her Pumas crunched against the gravel, and beads of sweat started to pop out on her forehead. What had she been thinking, snooping around like that? Since when did Chelsea care about clothes? She felt stupid and clueless, like she just wasn’t herself anymore.

  Chelsea ran past several honeymooning couples and a few families straggling back up from the resort’s private beach, dragging towels, half-empty sodas, and industrial-sized bottles of sunscreen. She even passed the McCullough family and ignored Matt completely when he yelled after her, “Where ya goin’, Chels? To meet your boyfriend?”

  Where am I going? That was a good question. And then she realized she was running down to the lake. For her, the lake had magical healing properties. Whenever she was on the water, her troubles fell away and she could finally be at peace.

  As she reached the dock, she slowed down to a jog, wondering if she should take out one of the boats and give herself some real peace and quiet. That’s when she saw Todd, tying off a boat as he said good-bye to a middle-aged guy whose wetsuit stretched thin around his sizable paunch. The man was thanking him for a great lesson. “You’re a real slave driver and you’re harsh, man, but you’re the best coach I ever had,” the man was saying, standing so close to Todd that his hair dripped onto Todd’s Chaco sandals. “You sure know how to whip a guy into shape. Think you got time for another lesson tomorrow?”

  “Maybe. You can check with the front desk for my schedule,” Todd said, shooting the man his twenty-million-dollar grin as he shook his hand. The guy walked off to the locker room, briefly smiling at Chelsea as he passed. Looking after him, Todd noticed Chelsea and waved. She wondered if she should have turned around, but it was too late now.

  “Hey, want to take the boat out?” Todd asked. “I’m dying to ride. And it looks like you are, too.” He always seemed to read her mind, though she could never read his.

  Chelsea was annoyed that her emotion showed so obviously on her face, but the thought was beyond tempting. Landing the whirlybird 540 she’d been working on for the past week would make up for all the weird things that had happened that day, and Chelsea was aching to give it another shot. Even if it meant being around Todd.

  “Definitely,” she said, heading toward the locker room on the side of the boathouse where the staff kept their gear. “Just let me change.”

  Chelsea slipped into her wetsuit in the comforting dankness of the locker room and started to feel better. The embarrassing incident with Sara still lingered in the back of her mind: She really hadn’t meant to sneak into Sara’s room—it felt strange. But all of that was now eclipsed with the delicious, tingling anticipation of a long late-afternoon ride on the lake with Todd.

  His sexy lopsided grin met her as she emerged from the boathouse, and Chelsea was floored. Was it possible that his biceps had gotten even more defined in the week since he’d arrived at the resort? His hair was certainly lighter and his tan darker from being out on the water all day. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, and she hurried to toss her board in beside him and untie the rope that tethered the boat to the shore.

  “So, Chels.” Todd maneuvered the boat into the open water, his hand loose on the throttle.

  “So, Todd,” Chelsea mimicked flirtatiously, feelings rising and falling in her chest. Being with him felt so right and natural, and at the same time very awkward and wrong.

  “Do you really think Sara would be into learning how to wakeboard?” he continued.

  The beginnings of Chelsea’s buoyant mood deflated. “How would I know?” she snapped.

  Todd shot her a quizzical look from under his thick eyebrows. “I dunno—maybe because she’s your sister?”

  “Half,” Chelsea corrected.

  But Todd just shrugged. “Wow, you’re testy,” he observed. “Get out of the boat and into the lake before you bite my head off.”

  He was right. The only thing that could make her happy at this point was landing that damn jump. Chelsea grabbed her board, slid her goggles on over her eyes, and leapt off the back of the boat, letting the towrope go taut in her hands as she stood on the board.

  The nothing-else-matters feeling washed
over her the moment the delicious flying sensation kicked in, and she laughed into the wind. Oh yeah. Wakeboarding is good. No matter what else happened, she would always have this.

  She warmed up with a few simple handle passes in and out of the wake and built up to a couple of 180-degree jumps and spins that had her body buzzing and her brain focused 100 percent. She realized she would work things out with Sara somehow. And Sebastian, too. He was a good guy.

  Chelsea flung herself into a 360-degree flat-line spin, rotating her body over the rope and landing on her feet, laughing into a face full of foamy spray.

  She thought she could see Todd raise his eyes in surprise in the rearview mirror, but she couldn’t be sure from eighty feet away. Well, if he thought that was impressive, she would show him. She took a huge, clarifying breath as she built up her momentum. Chelsea navigated way outside the wake and then gathered speed coming back in. She bent her knees deeply and launched her body high into the air. She rotated for half a turn, then a full one and then, for the first time ever, she completed another half turn before the lake rushed up toward her. She made a quick save and planted her feet. Yes! She landed triumphantly in the calm center of the wake and did a quick 180 handle pass so that she was facing the boat again. This time there was no mistaking Todd’s look of awed reverence in the mirror…even from the full eighty feet away. Chelsea pumped her left fist above her head, yelling, “Hell, yeah!” in her best I-rock-the-world battle cry. Then, exhausted but elated, she maneuvered her way up the towrope.

  “I can’t believe you landed that jump!” Todd said excitedly when she climbed back into the boat wet and triumphant.

  “Why?” Chelsea grinned as she squeezed out her ponytail. “Didn’t think I had it in me?”

  Todd sapphire eyes flickered. Was that doubt, envy, or something else entirely? As familiar as Chelsea was with how his body moved, with all those summers spent together on the lake, she could never seem to read his mind. But she wasn’t going to let it get her down: not after landing that whirlybird 540!

  “Eh, you’re just having a good run.” Todd zipped up his wetsuit and got ready to go out on the water.

  “Whatever,” she laughed. “Let’s see what you can do,” she said, reaching out to tousle his hair—without even thinking about it. His hair was surprisingly soft and fine between her fingers.

  “Well, your handle pass at the end was a little sloppy,” Todd said sulkily.

  “Let’s see if you can top it then, champ.” Chelsea reached over and tousled his hair one more time. Just because it felt too good not to.

  Chapter Eight

  Chelsea was high on life during dinner that night. She’d landed her best jump to date. Todd was jealous. It was exactly what she wanted. Well, that and maybe to feel his soft hair in her fingers just once more. As she chewed the last of her broccoli, she felt something nudge her foot. Sebastian, who’d sat down across from her, was apparently trying to play footsie with her. She smiled at him but felt weird. They were in the dining hall—not exactly a turn-on. Plus, anyone might see. He was chatting with Sienna, who sat to his left, but he kept looking at Chelsea.

  As soon as she finished her frozen yogurt, Sebastian gave her a sly wink from across the table before he got up to leave. She knew what that meant. Twenty minutes later they were on the cool grass behind the tennis shed and Chelsea was sighing softly as Sebastian’s expert tongue circled her ear.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered before moving down to plant a series of soft, slow kisses on her neck. She closed her eyes and ran her hands through his hair, which, despite the clean, soapy scent that had become so familiar to her, was surprisingly rough and dry compared with Todd’s.

  Stop thinking about Todd! she commanded herself. You’re kissing Sebastian—who happens to be a total hottie, in case you haven’t noticed.

  Still, she couldn’t strike the image of Todd in the middle of the water, his jaw squared and his hair fluttering in the wind as he straddled the wake.

  Thinking about Todd while she was making out with Sebastian felt weird, but once she started, it was hard to make herself stop. Why did he have to look so good but act so distant? Was he as good a kisser as Sebastian? Maybe he was even better.

  “What’s wrong?” Sebastian removed his hand from around her waist and lay back on the grass, grasping her hand in his.

  “Nothing!” Chelsea exclaimed. “Where’d you go?” Chelsea leaned over, trying to get them kissing again.

  “I don’t know,” Sebastian said, resisting. “You seem a little…preoccupied.”

  Chelsea thought about all the things that had been preoccupying her: how she had made Mikey McCullough cry, Sara’s clothes, and the boat ride with Todd.

  “Let me guess,” Sebastian said, playing with her hand. “You’re jealous because Sara is getting so much attention, and you feel like you can’t live up.”

  “What?” Chelsea yelped. Was that how it looked? She didn’t feel like going into it with Sebastian. She would rather be making out.

  “Is being a teacher harder than you thought?” Sebastian prodded. He was hitting all her sore points.

  “That’s mainly it,” she said, relieved to finally be talking to someone—even if it was only about one of her problems. “I had these two boys today and…well, I made one of them cry.”

  “Ouch,” Sebastian said. “Do you think you’re being too hard on them?”

  “I was just trying to help!” Chelsea protested. “You wouldn’t believe what murder these kids are. They won’t listen to anything I say. I’m trying to teach them, but my butt is on the line if they get hurt.”

  “Just don’t freak out about it so much.” Sebastian moved closer to her. He took her into his arms and started smoothing her hair. “If you make it fun, they’ll be on your side.”

  “Thanks. I know,” Chelsea muttered. She couldn’t imagine ever actually being on Matt McCullough’s side. Nor could she figure out how to make the boys annoy her less so she could even think about how to make things fun. She broke away from Sebastian’s caress and turned over to face him, giving him a weak smile. “Now, enough talking.” She reached for him again and lost herself in the blissful feeling of his lips. Sebastian pulled her down on top of him, and Chelsea prayed that he wouldn’t stop again.

  Chapter Nine

  You don’t need to be so scared of the water,” Chelsea urged Britney, the sweet-tempered twelve-year-old who was that morning’s wakeboarding lesson. Chelsea chuckled a little at how different Britney was from the McCullough brothers she’d had the day before. “All you have to do is go out there, keep your feet on the board, your knees bent, and hold on to the rope.”

  “But what if I fall?” Britney’s big brown eyes widened with worry.

  “You’re not going to drown,” Chelsea assured her. “You have a life vest on, remember?”

  “Are you sure I’ll be okay?” Britney asked.

  “I promise,” Chelsea assured her. “I wouldn’t let you go out there if something was going to happen to you.”

  “But my bindings feel loose….”

  Chelsea sighed again as she leaned down to look at the bindings on Britney’s rented board. She frowned. The bindings were as tight as they’d go. “They look fine to me,” she assured Britney. “Why don’t you just give it a try, okay?”

  “All right.” But Britney still sounded dubious. Chelsea helped her out of the boat, calling after her to crouch down low until she was sure she had her balance. She wasn’t even positive that Britney heard her as she paddled out until the rope was slack.

  “All right, now crouch low, low, low, and then stand up and turn around!” Chelsea screamed over the noise of the boat’s motor. Britney looked panicked. Her head bobbed up and down in the wake as she struggled to hang on to the towrope. She screamed something, but Chelsea couldn’t hear her.

  “What, Britney?” Chelsea yelled. The little girl hollered something incoherent again as she struggled in the water.

  “
Just get your weight on top of the board!” Chelsea called.

  “I can’t do it!” Britney wailed, very loudly and clearly this time.

  Exasperated, Chelsea jumped off the side of the boat and paddled out to where Britney was floating in the water. “All right, I’m here,” she said. “Now, I’m going to hold on to you and I want you to focus on getting all of your weight on the board.”

  “Noooo, I can’t do it!” Britney sputtered again helplessly.

  “Just try it one more time.” Chelsea tried to sound calming. “We’re going to do the exact same thing, only this time don’t lean forward so much. Are you ready?” She put her hands back on Britney’s waist.

  “No!” Britney said, wriggling free. “I want to go back on the boat.”

  “Come on, one more time,” Chelsea coaxed. “Don’t be a quitter, Brit. Give it another shot, okay?”

  “I am not a quitter!” Britney insisted, treading water.

  “Then try one more time.”

  “All right,” Britney said. But she didn’t look happy about it. Not one bit.

  Chelsea squinted in the bright sunlight and moved in toward her again. She put her hands on Britney’s waist and counted off. “One, two, three, go!” Chelsea said, a little gentler this time.

  This time, instead of pitching forward, Britney leaned back too far and plopped backward into the wake on her butt.

  “That’s it!” she screamed when she resurfaced. “I don’t want to do this anymore. Let me get back in the boat or I’ll tell my dad you kept me out here and he’ll sue you for reckless endangerment.”

  “Okay, fine,” Chelsea said. Since when did twelve-year-olds know so much about lawsuits and reckless endangerment? She swam back to the boat with Britney and helped her climb in, even wrapping a towel around her shoulders.

  “You seemed a little scared out there,” she observed as they headed back to shore. She meant to sound sympathetic, but Britney took offense.