Meet Me at the Boardwalk by Erin Haft

Author:Erin Haft [Haft, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Young Adult
ISBN: 9780545231855
Publisher: Point
Published: 2008-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Jade

I swear I wasn’t really all that drunk. I mean I don’t even know what drunk feels like, because I’ve never been drunk before.

What I do know is this: About three minutes after we left, Sean Edwards remembered that he didn’t have the keys to the Roths’ house. Well, he had the keys to the greenhouse, but not the mansion. And if we were going to watch this movie, he needed said keys. What I also know: Sean Edwards wasn’t nearly the loser tourist I’d thought he was. Maybe it was the rain or his scruffy new look (he sure wore the whole bohemian thing way better than Turquoise), but he’d actually managed to charm me. Environmentalism? Conservation? A year ago, I would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that the guy didn’t even know how to spell those words.

“We’ve got to get the keys from Megan or Lily-Ann,” he whispered.

“But how?” I asked.

“Well, I’m sure Megan will give them right up, because she was the one who said we should watch the movie in the first place on the Roths’ fat TV screen.”

He meant to say flat. We both cracked up.

I wrapped my arm around his waist as we tiptoed back to my house. The rain made his T-shirt cling to his chest; I could see his smooth chest and abs underneath. He definitely had something going on. He might not have been a gorgeous rock star, but…

“Jade, are you sure you’re not drunk?” he asked out of the blue.

“Of course!” I cried. I led him around back, across the patchy lawn—where Miles’s skateboard still lay, now soaked by the rain—to the screen door that opened onto the beach. We stumbled a bit in the sand. His fingers interlocked with mine, tightening my hand on his hip.

Where the hell was this going?

I stopped short when we reached the screen door. Somebody had knocked it off track; it hung sideways like a picture that had fallen out of its frame. Not only that, somebody had blown out the bug-repelling candles in big scented buckets I’d strategically placed by the door (okay, maybe the rain had extinguished them, but still, I wanted to blame the tourist kids), so now there were flies buzzing into the house.

Dad would just love this.

The music thumped from inside. I heard shrieking and laughter and I didn’t recognize a single voice.

Sean let my hand go. “Wow,” he said. “I hope your place doesn’t get too trashed tonight. It was really cool of you to throw this party.”

“It’s Turkey’s party now.” I crept under the hanging door—and instantly spotted Megan’s white skirt in the mudroom, tossed haphazardly onto our old worn couch. There were a lot of skirts down here. Everyone must have been out by the pool. Or upstairs.

I glanced toward the ocean and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the sliding glass door. (At least that wasn’t broken.) It served as an unpleasant reminder that I was wearing a yellow overcoat and a bikini, one I’d swiped from Turquoise no less.

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