Waking Up to Boys Page 7

  Chelsea McCormick was going to arrive at the pool party that night dressed like a girl even if it killed her.

  She reached into one of the many shopping bags littering the surface of her bed and pulled out a tiny brown bandeau-style bikini she still couldn’t believe she had really just dropped eighty dollars on. She slipped off her clothes and carefully stepped into the new swimsuit, making sure it fit one last time before finally removing the tags.

  For the first time in her life, Chelsea had forced herself to check out some fashion Web sites and magazines, which gave her a bunch of advice she found essentially useless. But they also told her a few important things, like that brown and teal were “in” this season. So, to complement her brown swimsuit, she had bought a simple turquoise necklace and a pair of matching earrings. She had also bought a short, sheer, cream-colored sarong to wrap around her hips. She was sure that wearing just the tiny bikini would make her feel like she was running around the party in her underwear.

  Chelsea went to her computer and pulled up the Web page she’d bookmarked on “Effortless Sexy Hairdos.” With a mouthful of bobby pins, she began the arduous process of creating a bun that looked like it had been haphazardly thrown together in a matter of seconds. I can’t believe I’m doing this, she thought, wincing as she jammed another bobby pin into her head.

  She had even bought herself a tube of mascara at Sephora. Waterproof, of course. After all, it was a pool party.

  And then there were the shoes. Teenvogue.com had said that espadrilles were a great starting point for someone without a lot of experience wearing heels, plus they were totally cute for the summer. So Chelsea had found herself a pair that laced up the ankle. The woven rope heels were of a livable height, so she hoped she wouldn’t go pitching forward into the pool.

  Chelsea looked in the mirror, fully prepared to face a laughably grotesque impression of a gawky girl playing dress-up. But the woman who stared back at her was anything but gawky. Chelsea’s new look was everything the fashion Web sites had promised…and more. The bikini looked great on her long, slim athletic body. The bandeau top made the most of her small chest, and the bottom scooped low to expose her firm stomach, with the sarong adding a touch of flirtiness and covering up her butt. Tendrils of hair curled out of her loose bun, softening her features, and the dangling turquoise earrings and touch of mascara drew attention to her eyes, which seemed larger and bluer than ever before. Her legs, which she normally considered her best feature anyway, seemed endless in the espadrilles, which gave her just enough lift to clearly define her muscular calves and thighs.

  Chelsea had to admit to herself that she looked better than just “feminine” or “fashionable”—she looked hot!

  Hopefully, everyone else would realize it, too. The skirt had worked for her at the barbecue the night before. Maybe now everyone would stop calling her nicknames that made her sound like a kid.

  The clock on her nightstand read 12:27, and the party was supposed to have started at midnight—getting ready had taken longer than she had anticipated. Chelsea’s stomach fluttered as she stepped quietly out of the house and down the dark path. As she approached the spa building, she was glad to see that the pool had steamed up the big glass windows. There was dim light emanating from within, but that was normal, since the safety lights around the pool stayed on all night. She was also pleased to note that if there was music playing, it wasn’t loud enough for anyone outside to hear. So far, the staff were keeping their promises.

  Chelsea glanced around quickly before opening the door, but the area around the spa was deserted. The only sound was the slight sighing of the pine trees in the wind. Most of the tourists had left that afternoon, piling into their SUVs with their faces red from too much sun and their children clutching fake souvenir arrowheads, already begging to come back. That left retirees and honeymooners for the most part: the former returning to their cabins early to sleep and the latter returning to their cabins early to not sleep.

  Chelsea gasped as she entered the spa—it was almost as transformed as she was. Tiny votive candles burned all around the large kidney-shaped indoor pool, and a few even floated on its still surface. Aside from that, the only light in the building came from the pool’s built-in underwater lights, which gave the room a ghostly blue glow and sent wavy shadows dancing across the ceiling. Leo had set up a bar in the corner and was busy mixing drinks behind it, and Death Cab for Cutie played softly through the embedded speakers.

  Even the summer staffers seemed artfully arranged, standing in small groups on the mint-green tiles or lounging, drinks in hand, on the chaises surrounding the pool. Although small hand-printed signs reminded everyone to be quiet, occasional exclamations and peals of laughter burst loose and bounced around the room. But as Chelsea closed the door and everyone looked up to see who had joined them, the room went strangely quiet. Everyone was looking at her in surprise: Nina, Mel, and Sienna from the pool; Joel, Ted, and Leo over by the bar; and Todd just emerging from the guys’ locker room. What was he doing there? How dare he show up to the party he’d been bad-mouthing for days?

  Suddenly feeling like an exotic zoo animal, Chelsea waved. Several people waved back before returning to their conversations, while Chelsea gratefully headed across the room to get a drink. Her legs felt about a million miles long in the wedges, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that people were still scoping her out from the corners of their eyes. What was really unnerving was that she couldn’t tell if they were checking her out in a good way or not. Were all those staring eyes going, “Wow, Chelsea looks hot,” or, “Oh dear, what is Chelsea thinking?” She sneaked a glance back toward Todd and was surprised to see his eyes still glued to her, an unreadable expression on his face.

  Chelsea approached the bar and noticed Sara leaning against it, staring at her through slitted eyes. Maybe she looked awful after all….

  “Nice swimsuit.” Sara narrowed her eyes even further. “It kind of looks familiar. Where’d you get it?”

  Chelsea’s blush turned from rose to crimson. Without meaning to, she’d gotten a suit almost identical to one she’d secretly tried on from Sara’s collection. Sara probably thought she’d borrowed it without asking. Not a far cry from the truth when Chelsea thought about the skirt from earlier. Chelsea had already put the skirt back where she’d found it, though there was still a tiny smudge of red near the hem that Chelsea hoped Sara wouldn’t notice later. “I g-got it at Macy’s in the Meadowood Mall in Reno. It’s BCBG,” Chelsea stammered. “Does it look okay?”

  The moment Chelsea mentioned the designer, Sara’s face relaxed into a smile. Chelsea was glad she’d remembered that Sara’s own suit was Calvin Klein. And she was relieved that Sara wasn’t wearing it that night, having opted instead for a flirty pale yellow string bikini that made her killer tan glow in contrast.

  “It looks great on you.” Sara’s voice was warm and sincere this time, and Chelsea felt a pang of guilt. She turned toward Leo, who was working the bar, and ordered a drink.

  “You want the pool party special?” Leo winked as he poured a brilliant blue cocktail into a plastic cup and handed it to her. The beverage was cool in her hand as she eased away from the bar and went circling the pool in search of Sebastian.

  “Hi, Chelsea,” a voice behind her said. Chelsea froze in her tracks and turned to face Todd. Even as he flashed his trademark lopsided smile, his blue eyes looked icy. “I see Daddy’s little girl got all dolled up for the big party.”

  “What?” Chelsea asked, annoyed. She suddenly felt extremely…exposed. “It’s a pool party. I’m wearing a bathing suit. What’s so weird about that?”

  “You call that a bathing suit?” Todd asked. “I think those things are illegal in Utah.”

  Chelsea’s cheeks blazed as her mind raced over the girls she had seen Todd with over the past few summers. Half of them had worn bikinis just as skimpy as hers out on the lake, so it wasn’t like he had any right to judge.

  “And pool partie
s are illegal at Glitterlake, too—as you have pointed out numerous times now,” she spat back, putting one hand on her hip. “Yet here you are, Todd. What’s up with that?”

  Todd’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he looked down at the floor, and Chelsea thought to herself that she totally had him there. Next step: Toss him in the pool when he’s not looking.

  “I, uh…wanted to see if Leo could pull it off,” he mumbled.

  “Ahem,” Sebastian interrupted, joining them. Chelsea was positively mortified to see that he had opted to wear black Speedos instead of the baggy swim trunks or board shorts favored by every other guy on the resort staff. Granted, his slim, taut body looked unbelievably hot in them, but he was wearing less than she was. “You mean Leo and his faithful party consultant, Sebastian.”

  “Oh, you helped?” Todd tried to hide a smirk behind his cup, but Chelsea noticed it.

  “The candles were my idea,” Sebastian asserted. “What do you think?”

  “They’re beautiful,” Chelsea assured him, taking his hand. “This place looks great.”

  “Thanks.” Sebastian put his arm around her. “You look pretty good yourself. Want to hit the Jacuzzi?”

  “Sure,” Chelsea said, eager to get away from Todd’s intense gaze.

  Sebastian waved good-bye, and the two of them headed toward the hot tub.

  “I can’t believe you’re wearing a Speedo,” Chelsea whispered, giggling as she untied her espadrilles and eased her way into the foamy water, leaving her sarong in a pile with the shoes.

  “Why?” Sebastian seemed genuinely puzzled. “This is what we wear at home.”

  “But nobody wears them here,” Chelsea pointed out.

  “So?” Sebastian shrugged. “This is what I’m used to, and I’d rather be comfortable than wear something I don’t like, just to fit in.”

  Sebastian’s words hit dangerously close to home as Chelsea looked down at the wavy lines of her bikini through the hot tub’s frothy surface. Was that what she was doing? She didn’t exactly feel comfortable, but having people tell her she looked hot was a refreshing change.

  Just then Todd appeared above them on the Jacuzzi’s edge, a cold can of beer in his hand.

  “Hey.” He stepped into the water. “Mind if I join you guys? The hot tub seemed like a good idea.”

  Chelsea’s heartbeat sped up as Todd slipped onto the bench next to her. What was he doing? Did he know something was going on with her and Sebastian? The strong drink in her hand was starting to make her head spin. She slid it away, thinking she had probably had enough, especially given the way her body temperature was suddenly rising. She couldn’t tell if it was from the Jacuzzi’s heat or from being between Sebastian and Todd in such a small place—and while wearing so little clothing. She’d never felt so exposed…and the strange thing was that some part of her liked it. In a weird, nerve-racking way.

  “So how’s it going, Sebastian?” Todd leaned slightly over Chelsea to direct his question. “How are you adjusting to American life?”

  “It’s nice,” Sebastian said, sounding strangely guarded. “So far, everyone I’ve met has been really friendly.”

  “Yeah, has Chelsea been showing you around a lot?” Todd persisted. “I mean, she’s the best person to get to know here at Glitterlake, since she’s the owners’ kid. You knew that, right? Mark McCormick, Patty McCormick, and Little McCormick here.” He put an arm around Chelsea’s shoulders, spiking her body temperature even more. What was going on?

  “The whole McCormick family has been very sweet to me,” Sebastian replied neutrally. His hand found Chelsea’s under the water, and he squeezed it tightly. “And I’ve been very lucky to have Chelsea around.”

  Todd removed his arm from around Chelsea’s shoulders to reach for his beer, and Chelsea let out her breath slowly. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding it.

  Sebastian seemed finished with Todd. He turned away from him and leaned in toward Chelsea. “Hey, Chels, c’mere,” he smirked, glancing at Todd out of the corner of his eyes. “I want to tell you something.”

  “What?” Chelsea caught Todd rolling his eyes as he sipped his beer. She felt really weirded out by the dynamic between the guys. It was almost like Sebastian could read her mind about Todd—and didn’t much like what he saw.

  “This.” Sebastian leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips, taking another sly look in Todd’s direction. Chelsea’s eyes flew open just wide enough to catch the shock that registered on Todd’s face. Chelsea panicked for a minute and then just became annoyed. Why did Sebastian have to kiss her in public like that? It was just so, so…

  So like she and Sebastian were actually, officially dating, she realized as Sebastian’s strong arms wrapped around her back. And if Sebastian was her boyfriend for real, then who cared if Todd saw her kissing him? It wasn’t like he never kissed those flirty tourist girls—it was perfectly fair for Chelsea to get a little action, too. She closed her eyes and melted into Sebastian’s kiss. Gently, she opened her mouth a little and let her tongue touch Sebastian’s. He moved in closer, breathing a little heavier as he held Chelsea around her bare waist.

  Suddenly Sebastian stiffened in her arms and quickly tried to pull away. A white-hot light flashed behind her eyes, and Chelsea opened them quickly. All the lights in the building were on, the music had stopped, and dead silence rang out over the tiled spa. She pulled away from Sebastian and saw the very last thing she wanted to see right then: her father.

  Chapter Twelve

  What. Is. Going. On. Here.” Anger blazed in Mark McCormick’s eyes as he spoke slowly and evenly. Chelsea gulped hard. She felt the eyes of the entire room on her—and not in the admiring-from-afar way they’d all been checking her out earlier. She could tell that as much as they wanted to be somewhere else at that moment, her fellow summer staffers were equally glad that they weren’t her.

  She would have liked not to be herself right then, too. She couldn’t believe she had disappointed her dad: the one person in her life she had always tried to make proud. What exactly was it that had made her think the pool party was a good idea?

  Chelsea knew she had to say something: This was all her fault, and she had to own up to it. She was about to speak when a voice other than hers burst in and answered her father. Sebastian hurried to join her. “It’s not what it looks like, Mr. McCormick,” he said. “A few of us just happened to be walking by and—”

  Chelsea winced and grasped Sebastian’s arm, hoping to quiet him. She knew that as much as her father hated people breaking his rules, he hated being lied to even more.

  “I don’t want to hear another word from you!” Mark McCormick roared. “Not after watching you molest my daughter in the hot tub. I’m half inclined to send you packing back to Brazil right now, no questions asked.”

  Anger burned the back of Chelsea’s throat. As angry as she was at herself, she couldn’t believe that her dad would say something so rude to Sebastian in front of the entire staff. Suddenly she stepped forward.

  “Sebastian was not molesting me,” she said through the fire in her mouth. She could feel her cheeks positively glowing with rage and embarrassment, but she couldn’t stop. She’d gotten everyone into this mess, and there was no reason for Sebastian to take the blame. “We were kissing—that’s all.”

  Her dad’s eyes narrowed as she continued, and she realized that one of the few good things about never having had a boyfriend was never having had to deal with the awkwardness of bringing one home to her strong-willed, protective father.

  “Just kissing,” Chelsea repeated quietly. A note of pleading crept into her voice. “Dad, I’m sixteen. It’s normal.”

  “Normal?” her father asked incredulously. “To be doing it in a Jacuzzi? Past midnight? And wearing that?”

  The entire staff gasped, and Chelsea felt her knees go weak. She had never felt more miserable, embarrassed, or just plain exposed in her life.

  “And what about the rest of you?”
Mark asked fiercely, glancing around the room at the guilty revelers. “As staff, I’m sure you’re all aware that the spa building closes at nine p.m. on Sundays. It seems to me that being here after normal hours would be a really big mistake.”

  Chelsea gulped hard. Oh yeah. There was that, too. She wanted to be anywhere else in the world right then, but she forced herself to look her dad in the eye. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We wanted to have a party here, so I took the keys. I knew it was wrong and I did it anyway. We had a plan to clean up and everything, but that doesn’t make it right. If you want to ground me, I understand.”

  Her dad shook his head slowly. “No. Cleaning it up doesn’t make it right,” he said. “Chelsea, I’m disappointed in you. You know how devastating it would be for me and your mother if something happened to this building or any of you in it—and at the height of tourist season, too.”

  “I know,” Chelsea said quietly. Now her father had switched from anger to disappointment, and that made it even worse. She couldn’t bear to look in his eyes.

  “Excuse me, Mr. McCormick.” Chelsea’s stomach turned when Todd stepped forward. “This wasn’t all Chelsea’s fault. It’s true that she took the keys, but…well, some of us kind of talked her into doing it. I feel bad saying that, Mr. McCormick, but it’s true. So if Chelsea gets in trouble, we should all get in trouble. At least, people like me who have been here for a while and know the score.”

  The very last thing Chelsea expected was for Todd to come out and defend her. And at risk not only to himself, but also to the rest of the staff—when he himself had warned them not to do it. But all around the room she heard people murmuring their assent.