Lorelie vs the Life of Summer Rose

Chapter 8

 I'm starting to put two and two together now. It was mentioned very, very briefly, that James had a rocky relationship with his parents due to their rocky relationship with each other. James' dad had been unfaithful in the past and his mum never recovered from it, even after they married. I always felt bad for her. While her husband was out doing whatever it was he did— I doubted it was work— she was always depicted to be tending to her flower garden, making dinner for a family that was always missing one, keeping her head down to please her husband. She didn't deserve any of it. Hence, she was the angel, the one Summer came to for romantic advice and trust issues, the one that always made her cookies when she came over and took awkward, non-subtle pictures of her and James in their cutest moments. Angel.

But what I didn't know was that there was a different narrative known by her step-children. Children of another mother, an affair, the affair. Devil.

"How far away is the beach?" I ask, wriggling into one of the jackets and wedging myself between their seats. Gray has his feet propped up on the dashboard and Beck lounges in his chair with one hand on the wheel. Surprisingly, he's a good driver. I half-expected him to crash into bins or fences or maybe even a lost cow, but his turns have been smooth and so far he's stayed within the speed limit. So far. I don't want to jinx it. "We've been on the road for a little while."

"Not far at all," Gray says. "Pass me some chips?"

I do. "How often do you guys sneak out like that?"

"To the beach?"

"In general, I guess."

"To be honest, not usually," Gray says. "We have no reason to fight our way out of the house when we're with our mum. But we can't stand it here— that woman makes my head hurt just thinking about her."

"She can't be that bad."

Gray gives me a funny look. "I'd say, 'have you met her?' but you haven't. So just be thankful that you haven't."

"But—"

Gray shoves a handful of chips into my mouth and covers it. "Shhhh."

Interesting. So it's a really sensitive topic. Beck and Gray share a look like they know exactly what I'm thinking, and I quiet it immediately, afraid of that flash of seriousness in their separate expressions. I don't think they'll kick me out of the car or anything, but I also don't know what they would do if I push too far. Things are easy right now. Things are fun. I'd like it to stay that way for as long as it can.

Plus— I'm in the middle of nowhere at night. They're my only sense of direction and I doubt there will be people willing to get up and help me when it's dark and anybody could be roaming around, mixing up trouble.

So maybe sneaking out wasn't my best idea.

"So..." Gray starts, twisting in his seat to look at me. Mentally, I cringe. I hate small-talk. Then again, I can't hate him for trying. "Ever been to the beach before?"

"Only when I was little," I say. "I'm actually super squeamish, now. I've got a massive fear of things moving in the sand and also all the germs in the seawater from people and fish pissing and shitting there. And I don't like fish, full-stop."

Gray laughs, surprised. "Good thing we're going to the beach."

"Amazing."

"Why'd you say yes? We could've gone somewhere else."

"Like where?" I shoot him a deadpan stare. "I wouldn't know."

"Well, we would have made it work." Gray hands me another chip, but dodges me when I try to take it from him. I frown. Then I smother my smile as I lean forward and open my mouth. "There's all sorts of places in Yorkshire. Cliffs. Creeks. Abandoned areas. You name it."