What Happens Over Spring Break: A Short Story Anthology Read online

  “Of course, she’s hungry,” boomed Easton. He reached over and ruffled my hair. “She’s Droolia.”

  I smacked his hand away. “My name is Julia, for God’s sake.”

  “Like I said.” He swaggered over to Jackie, sliding several pancakes onto her plate. “There you go, Miss Jackie.”

  After breakfast, Aveline and I met Mateo and his friends on the beach. All Alpha Deltas, they were staying in the vacation house beside ours. I’d texted Jay, letting him know we were hitting the beach, but by noon he had yet to show.

  I didn’t mind much. Despite the cooler temperatures, the sun was bright and the sand soft. Contraband alcohol flowed from the boys’ coolers. We played volleyball with a group of sorority girls Jackie knew from UGA, lazing around the shallow water when we got too hot.

  “I’m gonna order a burger from that place we saw up the street,” I said, pulling my phone from my bag. Several local restaurants used delivery services that brought food right to the beach. “Want anything?”

  “Do they have onion rings?”

  Fifteen minutes later, my phone buzzed. “It’s here. Be right back.” Hurrying across the now scorching hot sand, I scanned the street, looking for the minivan my delivery guy was driving.

  He pulled up to the curb, handing me the food and waving goodbye in one swift motion. I rooted around the bag, stealing a French fry and making sure they’d gotten the order right. They had, but Aveline loved ketchup and they’d skimped on that.

  Darting across the street, I let myself into the house and headed for the kitchen. Though not as crazy as the night before, the good times continued. Oodles of scantily clad co-eds filled the patio, drinking and floating around the pool on giant pool floats that looked like donuts. A pair of twins with creamy, freckled skin and long, red hair posed near the hot tub, taking a selfie.

  I grabbed the ketchup and headed back to the beach, where the boys were all over one another in a match of touch football. Aveline cheered as Mateo tackled Keith, tumbling into the water.

  I sat beside her, handing over the greasy paper bag. “Your onion rings are in there.”

  “Mm, thanks.” She reached inside, digging around. “No more ketchup?”

  “Almost forgot.” I gave her the bottle I’d stowed in my beach bag. Just then, a football fell from the sky and hit my arm with a violent smack. I gasped in pain. “Ouch!”

  “Sorry!” yelled Easton—of course. “Keith can’t throw!” He gestured impatiently for me to throw it back.

  Standing, I lobbed it back with all my might, sending it past him and into the water. He jogged after it, sending a frustrated glance back.

  “Man, that got you good,” Aveline said, rubbing the red mark on my arm. “Wish we had something to put on it…”

  “Forget that.” Jackie sidled up to us, pressing a travel mug full of purple slush into my hands. Judging by the smell it was strong, and judging by her turned-up twang, she’d already started indulging. “This’ll make ya feel better, baby girl.”

  The ball sailed over the net. I went for it, returning it with ease. Jackie’s juice had me going, but even drunk, I knew my way around a volleyball game—I’d played all through high school.

  “Nice, Jules!” Aveline yelled from the opposing team, doing a little dance.

  “Very nice, Drools,” said Easton, holding his hand up for a high five. I left him hanging. We were on the same team, but he’d always be the enemy.

  We played for a while, beating the other team’s ass in an increasingly intense match until Mateo lobbed a beautiful serve from the other side. I moved toward it, wanting to get it before Easton did, but he had similar plans. We collided in mid-air, heads cracking, toppling to the sand in a tangle of sweaty limbs.

  Pain bloomed across my head, and I closed my eyes. “Woah.”

  The cheering and shit-talking faded. Jackie screamed my name, but I suspected that had more to do with how much special slush she’d downed than actual concern.

  “Shit.” Easton shifted, his eyes all lit up like sea glass. “You okay, Julia?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He got to his feet, watching me closely as he extended a hand. “You don’t look fine.”

  Hyper-aware that everyone was watching, I let him pull me to my feet. My forehead throbbed. Wonderful—if there wasn’t a bruise, there would be. “What about you?”

  “My head hurts,” he said.

  “Yeah, well.”

  Mateo wandered over, clearing his throat. “You guys know you’re on the same team, right?”

  Easton flipped him the bird, then glanced back at me. “Why don’t you sit it out for a while?”

  “What? No?” Scoffing, I brushed sand from my butt. “Let’s go.”

  “You sure, Julia?” Mateo jerked his chin at me. “You have a big knot on your forehead. Huge.”

  “Yeah…it looks pretty bad. I’ll walk you back,” Aveline said. “I have something for headaches in the room.”

  Realizing this was a losing battle, I relented. My head really did hurt. “Fine.”

  “I should’ve left after the football incident,” I joked as we waited to cross the street. Destin felt even busier today than it had been, as more students flooded into town.

  “Aw, I’m sorry,” cooed Aveline, linking her arm through mine. “We’ll fix you up. Get some makeup on that bad boy.”

  “Is it really that bad?” I asked, touching the bump gingerly.

  Back at Sunnyside Up, things had gotten rowdy again. Music streamed through the house and onto the patio, where a group of Alphas were grilling burgers. Meanwhile, in the sanctuary of our room, Aveline gave me an ibuprofen.

  I winced as she dabbed at my forehead with make-up, trying to conceal the bump. “Sorry, sweet pea,” she murmured. “All right. That’s a bit better.”

  I glanced in the mirror. It was better, but it would take time for the swelling to go down.

  Jay finally texted back around six, only to say he’d spent the day with friends over in Miramar Beach. We weren’t together, so I didn’t care where he went, but waiting till now to respond to my text felt rude.

  It was nearly nine—and I was on my third margarita—when he made his appearance, tanned and tall and sexy. Forgetting I was irritated with him, I stood and waved, but one of the red-headed twins who’d been at the pool earlier was all over him.

  Jackie smacked my butt, annoyed I’d tune her out during a Keith story. “Um, halloo…”

  “Hold on.” Leaving Jackie mid-sentence, I made a beeline for Jay, edging the redhead out.

  “Julia,” he said, lips curling into a pleased smile. He gave me a smoldering once-over, lingering on the hem of my short-shorts.

  “Thor,” I purred, trying not to slosh my drink.

  He tugged me closer by the belt-loops. “What’d you do all day, pretty girl?”

  “Guess you’ll never know.”

  “What d’you mean?” He laughed, sliding his hands into my back pockets.

  “I mean you could’ve called or something.”

  “Or something,” he echoed. We found a quiet corner in the living room and fell onto it, his tongue in my mouth before my ass had even hit the couch. He was a good kisser, if not a little aggressive.

  A massive cheer rose up from outside. Breaking away from Jay, I caught sight of the patio table, which had been cleared to make room for body shots. We pushed through the crowd in time to see Easton slurp tequila from a giggling, nearly-naked blonde girl. Several more bottles of tequila appeared. I took a shot off Aveline, and then Jay did one off me.

  Easton sauntered over, wielding a bottle of his own. “You down, Droolia?”

  “Oh, no,” I said, giggling as I tried to sit up. Everything spun. Everything was hilarious. “Forget it, Easton!”

  The crowd around us cheered, yelling for him to do it, do it, do it. Cracking a brilliant smile, he drizzled tequila onto my stomach and dipped down to drink it. His mo
uth was soft and hot and wet, sending a shudder deep through my core. Gasping, I sat up. Giving me a saucy little smirk, he squeezed my thigh and disappeared into the crowd.

  Things got a little blurry after that. There was dancing, and drinking, and swimming. I found myself in the hot tub, squeezed in between Jackie and Keith—who were making out—and Easton, who’d been abandoned by some of his buddies. “Hey, Julia,” he said, when I bumped into him.

  “You called me by my name,” I slurred, leaning my elbows on the side of the hot tub. I wasn’t sure which felt better: being in the steamy hot tub or out of it. “Miracle of miracles.”

  “How’s your head feel?”

  “Ugh. Don’t remind me,” I said, touching it.

  “Still hurts, huh?”

  “Doesn’t yours?” I made a face. “Never mind; your head’s so hard, it probably didn’t even bruise.”

  “There’s a pretty nasty bump,” he said, pointing to the side of his head. “You just can’t see it.”

  “So, my bump is on the front of my face, but your bump is hidden by hair.” I slouched lower into the bubbling water. It was so damned hot. “I hate you.”

  His eyes glimmered. “Do you, now?”

  I looked around, wondering where Jay had gone. He’d disappeared somewhere between body shots and the pool.

  “Are you okay?” asked Easton.

  My eyes drifted shut. “Why’re you always asking me that?”

  “You look like you’re about to pass out,” he said.

  “I’m a little hot,” I admitted, swaying.

  “Probably time to get out,” he said, pulling me out of the water. Wrapping a towel around my shoulders, he sat me in a chair while he dried off.

  I sagged gratefully, enjoying the crisp night air. “Feels good out here.”

  “What are you up to, now?” asked Easton, wrapping his towel around his waist.

  “What do you mean? I’m chillin’.” He stayed quiet. I opened one eye, only to find him watching me. A fuzzy flashback of his tongue on my stomach flickered through my mind. “What?”

  “Come on.”

  “Come on what?” I asked, but I followed him to the kitchen, where he gave me a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “No more alcohol for you tonight,” he said, taking a long swallow of water himself.

  “Maybe you haven’t noticed,” I said, scoffing. “But you do not have a say.”

  “Maybe you haven’t noticed,” he said with a laugh. “But you’re trashed.”

  Well, that was true. Shrugging, I tore into a bag of gummy bears on the counter and pigged out for a while, keeping them from Easton until he took them by force. A sloppy, loud bunch came in from the pool, and Jay was with them, arm slung around the redhead from earlier. They walked right out the front door, whispering and groping each other.

  My head spun, hours of tequila catching up to me. Grabbing what I hoped was my water bottle, I stumbled from the kitchen and found the stairs. I made my way to the second floor, dodging a group of giggling girls on their way back down.

  “You okay?” asked Easton, who’d apparently followed me upstairs.

  I leaned my head against the door, mustering the energy to go in. “You said it—I’m trashed.”

  “I meant about Jay.”

  I paused, considering the question. Seeing Jay with that girl stung, but right now, I was just drunk and tired. Maybe tomorrow I’d be more upset. Why did Easton care? “Guess I didn’t give it up fast enough.”

  “Guess not.”

  I wrinkled my nose, turning away.

  “Hey, it’s Spring Break,” he said. “Things get crazy.”

  “Whatever. He’s an asshole.” Yeah, I was a little pissed off. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What are you doing right now?”

  “Leaning against this door, trying not to pass out.” I finally looked at him. That stupid white towel he’d wrapped around his hips did nothing but accentuate his abs and obliques. His shoulders were wet from the hot tub, droplets of water glistening like jewels on his smooth skin. I blinked. He looked good; good enough that it wasn’t just the tequila. Ugh.

  “Come upstairs with me,” he said, jerking his thumb up. “I have something that’ll help.”

  “I thought the top floor was off limits to plebes like me.”

  “Not right now, it’s not.”

  “This isn’t some creepy ploy to get me alone, is it?”

  But he’d already gone up the steps. Sighing, I let myself into the room. I wasn’t going anywhere in these clingy, wet things. Changing into my sleep shorts and trusty hoodie, I edged back into the hall…and hesitated. Easton loved to tease, and it would be embarrassing to have him turn me away.

  People were coming, their voices drifting up the stairs. I shot across the hall and up one flight, darting into the one door that was slightly open. Easton stood at the desk, typing something into his phone. He’d changed too, pulling on a black t-shirt and trading his swim trunks for sweatpants.

  “There you are.”

  I yawned. “Against my better judgment.”

  “Have some fruit,” he said, nodding toward an enormous fruit basket on the desk. “It’ll make you feel better.”

  I wandered over, grabbing an orange and a handful of grapes. “Did this come with the room?”

  “Yeah, and a box of chocolate. I already ate that, though.”

  “What did you want to show me?” I asked, looking around. His room was a calming blend of greens and blues, like the ocean.

  “Patience, patience,” he said, taking one of the blankets off his bed.

  I ate a grape. “Well, I’m sleepy.”

  “You’re uptight.”

  “I’m really not.” I followed him through the sliding glass doors, onto the balcony. I’d expected to see the pool down below, but we were on the opposite side of the house. “Not usually. You seem to bring it out of me.”

  Easton’s balcony was huge, maybe three times the size of ours. A brisk, steady wind blew off the ocean, and I stood at the railing for a while, eyes closed. It felt good up here.

  There was a daybed in the corner, and Easton had sprawled onto it, hands folded beneath his head as he gazed up at the stars. “So, tell me why you hate me so much.”

  I ate another grape, sitting beside him. It sounded worse when he said it. “I don’t...”

  “No, no, don’t spare my feelings.” He winked at me. “I can handle it.”

  I took a deep, cleansing breath, deciding to go for it. I might not have gotten another chance. “Why do you call me Droolia?”

  He was so quiet I glanced back to meet his gaze. “It bothers you that much?”

  “You know I hate it.”

  “Yeah, I do know,” he admitted, eyes crinkling as he laughed. “But it’s too easy, getting a reaction out of you.”

  “That’s why you do? To get a reaction out of me?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  So, Easton knew he was a pain in the ass. Snorting, I shoved him. “You’re something else. What am I even doing here?”

  “Feeling better, hopefully.” He nudged the blanket toward me.

  I took it, taking stock of how I felt. The fresh air felt fantastic. My nausea had passed, and as for Jay, well, maybe that was a dodged bullet. He was obviously a jerk who’d wanted me for one reason, and one reason only. “Actually, I do. Thanks.”

  “Any time.”

  We fell into silence. Well, as silent as it could be with a party going full throttle a couple floors down. I peeked at Easton’s profile, wondering what he was thinking. I wasn’t used to having charitable feelings toward him and I didn’t know what to say.

  “Why’d you dye your hair?” he asked suddenly.

  I wrinkled my nose. “Because I wanted to.”

  “You know it looked fine before, right?”

  There was the Easton I knew, tactless as hell. “Thanks?”
r />   He smiled a little. “That was a compliment.”

  “I couldn’t tell.”

  He stretched up, touched the ends of my hair. It was mostly dry now, curly from the pool. “Why’re you so prickly, Julia?”

  My heart skipped a beat. I pulled my hair from his fingers. “Why do you tease me all the time?”

  He stared up at me, his eyes searching mine. “I tease everyone.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

  He nodded, trying valiantly to subdue a smile. “Okay.”

  “What?”

  “Is that it? Why you hate me?”

  “Fine, Easton, I don’t hate you.” I huffed, twisting so I could see him. “But you…you’re inconsiderate. You park in other people’s spaces, you and your friends. You leave shit in the hall. And you’re loud at night. It’s like a damn revolving door. I party, but not like you. How are you passing school?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Sounds like you know a lot about me.”

  My face flamed. He was right, and I hadn’t even realized it until this second. “You don’t exactly blend into the background, Easton.”

  “Can you please call me East?” He tucked a wayward curl behind my ear. “Nobody but my great Granny Sawyer calls me Easton.”

  “Fine.” I swallowed, pulse fluttering at his nearness. “As long as you call me Julia.”

  “Deal.” The wind picked up, whirling around us.

  Maybe Aveline was right; maybe East wasn’t so awful. He’d been around tonight when I’d needed someone, and I was grateful for that. I turned, meaning to thank him, but he’d sat up, too.

  “I’m sorry if my teasing gets out of hand,” he said. “We’re neighbors. I don’t want you to feel like you have to avoid me.”

  I hadn’t expected that. Swallowing, I nodded. “Okay.”

  Our eyes met, and then our lips met. My heart skipped a beat. I thought he’d take it further, but he retreated, cocking his head.

  “Guess I’m forgiven,” he teased, but I sensed vulnerability where there hadn’t been before.

  “As long as you don’t park in my spot.”

  He pressed another kiss to my mouth. “Scout’s honor.”