Before You Read online

  Javier drives down the highway, Spanish music blaring. Wind whips through my already unruly hair. Stings my skin. Feels like a thousand tiny fangs biting me.

  As we close in on our destination, we spot surfboards clinging to the tops of cars. As expected, the beach is busy. The sky is a crystalline blue. Cloudless.

  It takes us fifteen minutes to find parking. The sand is off-white and burns my feet when I remove my sandals. Towels freckle the ground, the face of the beach a quilt of many colors. We stop to check out girls near us. I’m not as into it as I would like to be, which only confirms that Faith has taken root in me.

  Mis amigos jump up to go after a group of girls walking down la playa, leaving Javier and me alone.

  “What are the chances they’ll get those chicas to come back with them?” Javier asks.

  The girls seem out of their league, but maybe the guys can be smooth. I have no real way to know.

  “Fifty-fifty,” I say.

  Javier pulls a loose string off the corner of his towel. “I’d give it more like thirty percent,” he says.

  Sure enough, the boys return a minute later, complaining about how the girls weren’t feeling them. Doesn’t matter, though. Day like today, beautiful people stretch as far as the horizon. The boys will move on as quickly as the tide turns.

  A random thought intrudes, like an unexpected houseguest.

  Make Faith jealous.

  I never claimed to play fair.

  “What time is she comin’?” Javier asks, voice low. The others don’t hear.

  “Should already be here,” I answer.

  I adjust my cheap sunglasses. They do little to block the light, which blares like a bullhorn.

  “Ready?” my cousin asks.

  No.

  Yes.

  Part of me wants to go to Faith. Explain. Have her drop the mask. Live in the States. Fit in. The other part wants to run home. Chance it. Stick with what I know.

  It’s like I belong to two different worlds.

  Or neither.

  “Yes,” I answer. I’m not sure if it’s a lie.

  We get up, tell the others we’ll be back soon. I double-check my cell. A text from Melissa.

  Meet me at Jet Ski cabana. F’s in water.

  “This way,” I tell Javier.

  The Jet Ski rental cabana is easy to spot. Its old straw roof slouches like hunched shoulders. Melissa waits, one hand leaning against the makeshift cabana, the other on her hip; she’s smoking a cigarette. Her pink bikini leaves little to the imagination.

  But all I can think about is Faith.

  My cousin almost stumbles, his steps stuttering.

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Diego?” he says. “Faith’s friend is hot.”

  “You should talk to her,” I suggest.

  Melissa sees Javier watching and flashes a grin. A weapon of hers, I assume. Probably one of many in her arsenal.

  “Hey, boys,” she says. She pauses to check out Javier. I laugh. The girl oozes confidence. Javier looks nervous. I would be, too.

  “I’m Melissa,” she says, extending her hand to Javier.

  “Javier,” he says, meeting her grip. A moment too long, if you ask me.

  “I assume you know what’s going on,” Melissa says to Javier before directing her attention to me. “So I’ll get down to business. Faith is attempting to catch a wave, which isn’t going to happen since the ocean is flatter than the surfboard she’s on. I’d give it ten more minutes before she comes in. She knows nothing. Catching her off guard is your best bet. I’m sure you can understand why.”

  Melissa looks directly at me, and I understand then that there are some things she won’t talk about. She thinks I know enough. I do. Faith is wearing her mask again. Becoming what everyone expects her to be.

  But her best friend ultimately has her back and won’t divulge too much. She’s leaving it to me to crack Faith’s mummified exterior. If I want answers, I have to peel away the layers myself.

  I kind of admire Melissa. She loves Faith, but hates what she’s doing to herself. Enough to invite us out here, but not enough to betray secrets. The perfect balance.

  “Ten minutes, boys,” Melissa says. She turns to Javier. Drags a fingertip down his arm, leaving grains of sand like a bread trail, marking a route. Perhaps to visit later. With a wink, she splays herself across a towel nearby.

  Javier is speechless.

  I grin. “Man, those best friends are trouble,” I say, meaning every word.

  Jealousy is an avenue that I hardly walk. Though it has its advantages. It’s quick. Cuts to the heart of things. But it’s also messy. One wrong move, one wrong turn, and you accidentally sever an artery.

  But if it goes smoothly, jealousy can be the fastest way to get what I want. Which is why I go for it today.

  I can’t seem to reach Faith at school. This is different territory. No watchful eyes. That was Melissa’s reason for suggesting the beach; this is where Faith is free.

  We walk back to our spots. The boys grab a football and ask us to join. We move closer to the water. Throw to each other. Girls take interest. Two of them, identical twins, are staring. One approaches me. She’s fifty miles of legs and not much else.

  “Hi,” she says.

  “Hi,” I reply, grinning. I couldn’t have asked for a better setup.

  Her twin approaches Javier. In the background, mis amigos complain in Spanish about how Javier and I get all the girls. But that’s not entirely true—a couple of the twins’ friends are hanging back, waiting to be approached.

  “I’m Allison,” the girl says.

  “Diego,” I reply.

  Not that names matter. I’ll be forgetting you by tomorrow.

  Javier, who’s talking to the other twin, waves us over. He wants to take it to the water. I glance to where Faith should be, back on her towel. Empty.

  As I approach the salt water, I see why. Faith is treading the current, heading toward the shore, a purple-and-white surfboard like a flower in bloom under her arm. A forest-green bikini hugs her skin. Tiny beads dangle from the triangle top. I have an urge to run my fingers across them, like a breeze through wind chimes. Her body is defined legs and stomach muscles—slim but sexy. Her hair tangles wetly over her shoulders.

  Dios mío.

  Tattoos? I ask myself. Faith has tattoos?

  I squint. Try to make out the designs. Can’t.

  No idea she had it in her. She looks nothing like the Faith she pretends to be.

  She’s smiling, as if the water makes her happy. I wish I could make her happy.

  Faith hasn’t spotted me. I flirt with the twin. I purposely line myself up where Faith will see me as she exits the ocean. Caught in the crossfire.

  Water laps between my toes, licking my feet. The girl next to me squeals.

  “I hate the feel of the bottom of the ocean,” she says, a smile on her face, one leg kicking back like she is posing for a postcard. I imagine it saying something like: “Welcome to Florida!” or “The Sunshine State! Where paradise is home!”

  Home my—

  The girl squeals again. Annoying. Piercing. Takes all I have not to let her tumble into the ocean and let the sloshing water quiet her.

  But her squeal gets Faith’s attention.

  “Hop on,” I say, winking at the mujer.

  She jumps onto my back, holds on tight. Legs wrap around my waist. Arms pull me close.

  Faith is seething.

  She needs this, though. To be pushed. To make decisions that scare her. Just like she did at the club.

  I don’t bother to wipe the grin off my face. Faith accidentally drops her surfboard. Bends to pick it up. I nearly lose my resolve. She straightens, her board once again under her arm. Her mouth opens as if she’s going to speak. I don’t give her the chance.

  I do exactly what she did to me. I brush past her.

  Without a word.

  27

  faith

  Diego is here. Three breaths. Two se
conds. One shock.

  “What’s he doing here?” I ask Melissa.

  My best friend is lying on her beach towel, sunglasses covering her eyes, a frozen virgin strawberry daiquiri next to her, melting faster than she can drink it in the heat.

  “Probably the same thing we are,” Melissa says. “Enjoying the beautiful weather isn’t a crime, you know. Why so hostile?”

  I sigh, frustrated. Diego swims in the ocean. Some girl on his back. She’s borderline perfect. I hate that.

  “I’m not hostile,” I say.

  Melissa laughs. “Sure.”

  “What? I’m not.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  I wring out my hair. Drops fall. Land in the sand, clumping it together.

  “I don’t care,” I reply, knowing my lies are fooling no one.

  “Then why are you staring like you want to kill that girl?”

  I am staring, aren’t I?

  I can’t look away.

  “It’s okay, Faith. It’s me. You can talk to me.”

  I simmer. “It’s hard to see him like that,” I admit.

  Melissa props herself up on one elbow. “So go to him. That’s what he wants. To make you jealous.”

  I consider. But what if . . .

  “Maybe not. Maybe he’s actually having fun.”

  “Trust me. He’s trying to make you jealous,” Melissa replies.

  My eyes slide over my friend. She very poorly hides a grin.

  “How do you know?” I ask.

  Melissa picks up her daiquiri and takes a sip. “I just know.”

  If he is trying to make me jealous, he’s doing a good job.

  “You should go to him quickly, though,” Melissa suggests.

  “Why?”

  “ ’Cause he may like you, Faith, but he’s still a guy. See the way she’s all over him? There’s only so long that a guy can resist that stuff,” Melissa says.

  “He should be the one coming to me,” I say.

  Melissa shakes her head in what I can only guess is exasperation. “He did come to you,” she says. “Several times. And if I remember correctly, you pushed him away, just like you will if he approaches you today.”

  She’s right.

  “No one knows we’re here. It could be a secret, Faith, if that makes you feel better. Steal him away. It would drive him crazy.”

  Her suggestion makes me smile. Tempting. But I would have to remove my mask completely. In front of Diego—and his cousin, no less.

  “I can’t. You know that,” I say. “Plus, he’s having fun.”

  “Fine. How about this? Flaunt yourself in front of him. If he doesn’t bite, I’ll let it drop. Never say a word again,” Melissa promises.

  She is one hundred percent serious.

  “Big gamble. Never is a long time,” I say. “You seem confident.”

  “That’s ’cause I am. You should’ve seen the way he looked at you when he first saw you in the water. I’m so not wrong.”

  I braid my hair to one side. Shake off the residual water that prunes my fingertips.

  “And what would I do out there in front of him? I’d look ridiculous,” I say.

  Melissa smiles.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she says.

  “Liar.” I scowl.

  She tugs down her sunglasses, letting them rest on the tip of her nose. Humor graces her mouth and eyes. “I’m happy to see you admit that you’re crazy about Diego.”

  “I never said those exact words.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  With the flick of a finger, reflective lenses cover Melissa’s eyes once again. I reach into my bag, pull out ChapStick. My lips drink in the moisture.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask.

  My best friend puts her hand on mine, her face sincere. “ ’Cause I want to see you happy and I think Diego is a good start.”

  “I wish it were that easy.”

  “It could be,” Melissa counters. “What better place to forget? Go to him.”

  I’m considering doing exactly that when Melissa says something that throws me off.

  “Maybe then I can pull that girl off Javier.”

  “What?” I laugh. “Since when do you know Javier?”

  “Since recently,” Melissa replies. Something is off about her statement. I study her face. Like a childhood picture, I know each detail by heart.

  “You like Javier.” It’s a statement. No question necessary.

  “Not the way that you like Diego,” she says. “I don’t know Javier, but he’s hot. Could be fun.”

  Might work better. I wouldn’t have to face Diego alone.

  “We should probably go in soon,” Melissa says and points to the ocean.

  My heart seizes. The girl is pressed against Diego’s chest like a starfish.

  “I can’t take this,” I say and stand up. Melissa follows.

  By the time Diego looks at me, I’m up to my waist in water. I can’t read his expression, but I’m sure he can read mine.

  Melissa treads water behind me. The girl doesn’t know I’m there yet.

  “What the hell, Diego?” I say, angry.

  Diego smiles lazily. “Oh, hey.”

  One hand slips down the girl’s back, disappearing under the water. I want to dive deep, find that hand, and break it.

  It lands somewhere that makes her giggle. She turns toward me.

  “What’s up?” Diego asks. The tips of his shaggy bangs are wet, ink-like. Tattoos and scars are exposed in the area his shirt normally covers.

  “What are you doing?” I ask through clenched teeth.

  “Having fun,” he says dismissively.

  “Who’s she?” the girl asks. Her arms rest loosely on his shoulders. Pale and silky. A rainbow aura surrounds the two of them where sunscreen has leapt from skin and landed on the water’s surface, oil gleaming in the light.

  I try to hold it together. She obviously isn’t going to let him go easily. I don’t blame her. If I were brave, I wouldn’t, either.

  “None of your business,” I say.

  Diego says nothing.

  The girl grins, sensing my jealousy. Her arms tighten around Diego’s neck. She leans into him.

  “Why don’t we go somewhere else?” she suggests, whispering into his ear, but making the words loud enough for me to hear. My fists ball. “We have a condo on the beach. I’d love to have you over.”

  I’m sure she would love to have him over. All over.

  “Back off,” I warn.

  She scowls. “You back off.” She turns to Diego. “Seriously, who is she?”

  “His girlfriend. Who are you?” Melissa says, getting in the girl’s face. She doesn’t let anyone talk down to me. I do the same for her.

  Javier clears his throat. “Girlfriend?” he says.

  Not true. But this chick doesn’t have to know that. Diego just looks smug. I tread closer. The girl lets go.

  “Jerk,” she mumbles to him, and swims away. The sister clings to Javier, refusing to give up her prize. One look from Melissa changes her mind.

  With the twins gone, I turn my wrath on Diego.

  “Have some respect,” I say, angry.

  Diego walks toward the shore. Mute.

  Like I should learn to be.

  Without thinking, I follow. His strides are giant scissors, cutting through the tide. I catch up as he hands money to a Jet Ski rental employee. The guy pushes the Jet Ski into the water.

  “Diego,” I say.

  He doesn’t stop to talk to me. Maybe Melissa’s wrong. Maybe he did like that girl.

  “Wait,” I say.

  He straps on a vest, moves into the water. Says something to the guy, who’s handing him keys.

  “Are you going to talk to me?” I ask.

  Finally Diego looks at me. His eyes are dark, hard.

  “What do you want from me, Faith?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit.

  What do I want? Him?

&
nbsp; I make it clear that Diego cannot have me, but I’m obviously not okay with him having anyone else.

  The Jet Ski attendant returns with a smaller life vest. Hands it to Diego. Diego looks at me. Extends the vest. “Hop on,” he says.

  The vest hangs in my hand like a limp rag doll. What if someone sees us?

  “Now or never,” he replies as he starts the engine. Water bubbles behind it.

  I put the life vest on quickly. Stand, undecided.

  Diego revs the throttle, ready to leave without me. At the last second, I jump on. My landing is wobbly, a dice unsure of which number to land on, teetering back and forth. A solid, tattooed hand steadies me.

  I wrap my arms around his lower waist. Skin and muscle and warmth. I hold on tight. Diego speeds up. Jets out into the deep blue unknown. Wind whips stray hairs around my face, stinging me with each whack. No turning back. Diego drives farther away from shore.

  Leaving behind all that complicates us.

  28

  diego

  Faster, I think.

  I want to feel Faith as close to me as possible. I push the throttle to the max. She tightens her grip to the point of pain, squeezing the life out of me. It’s a good pain, though. The type that reminds me I’m alive, living in the moment.

  Making sure the coast is clear, I close my eyes for a brief moment. I want to remember this: the sting of salt water, Faith’s thighs squeezing me tight, her face nuzzled into my neck. When I cut the engine, the picture-perfect image will shatter like glass. Words will fly, hurling each broken piece in a different direction.

  I’ll never see them again.

  But not now.

  This moment is mine.

  “Watch out,” Faith says, fracturing my concentration.

  I open my eyes. A piece of driftwood bobs ahead. I swerve. When I look back, the shore is miniscule. Buildings like tiny blocks. I slow. Faith loosens her grip. I cut the engine in the middle of the ocean.

  I wait for Faith to let go of me before I withdraw the key and turn. It’s more difficult than I thought to move on a Jet Ski without dumping us into the water, but I manage. Water sloshes on our lower legs, helping to lessen the scorch from the sun.

  I take off my vest. Too bulky and awkward. Faith does the same. I hang them over the handlebars. Faith looks at my body. Her lips part slightly, her eyes skip from feature to feature. I watch her, too. Her ink, especially. It’s beautiful. Images that wisp around her hips and up her ribs like smoke, stopping just beneath her underarms.