Blinded: A High School Bully Romance (Del Sol High Book 1) Page 6

  “People don't finish?”

  She shrugs. “Not everyone. Depends on the water. And if anyone is dumb enough to go out there while they're drunk.”

  “That doesn't seem terribly smart,” I say.

  “Juniors have to act as lifeguards,” Mercy says. “We haven't lost anyone yet.”

  I look at each of them. “Are you guys doing it?”

  “Shit, no,” Mercy says, shaking her head emphatically. “I don't like the water that much when the sun is out. No way I'm going out there at night.”

  “I'm not,” Brooke says. “I've already had too much to drink and I'd probably just float to Hawaii.”

  “I am,” Dylan says, sliding off the kitchen counter and flexing her arms like a strong man.

  “With who?” Brooke asks.

  “Mitchell Moceri,” Dylan answers. “If we win, I might do him. At least, that's what I told him. I need a motivated partner.”

  We all laugh again.

  “Wait,” Mercy says, looking at me. “Are you thinking about doing it?”

  I consider that for a moment.

  “I didn't bring a suit,” I say.

  “That is not a problem,” Dylan says. “Because we all go in our underwear, anyway.”

  “What?!”

  All three of them nod.

  “Swim as you are,” Mercy says. “Those are the rules. You can wear your clothes, but they'll just get heavy.”

  I look down at my clothes. I can't imagine swimming in my outfit, much less my underwear. Why am I even thinking about this? It seems insane to even consider.

  But I know why I'm thinking about it.

  Because I don't want to back down.

  I remember sitting on the plane, leaving Florida to come to California. I had a window seat and I was just watching the ground pass below us, not knowing what my grandparents were like or what was waiting for me in California. But I knew that it was an opportunity. I didn't have to be the old me. I could be a new version of me. And that meant not being afraid or staying quiet or letting other people make decisions for me.

  Or backing down.

  “Nola,” Mercy asks. “What are you thinking?”

  I look at her. “I'm thinking I'm glad I wore cute underwear.”

  Chapter 16

  The walk down to the beach is terrifying.

  Not because I'm afraid of what's waiting for me.

  It's because the walk itself is actually against the side of the cliff and fucking terrifying.

  We see people start to leave the house and the girls lead me out of the back of the house to the huge deck. The stars are twinkling in the dark sky above and moonlight glimmers against the ocean out in the distance. We make our way around the edge of the infinity pool to a small grassy area off to the right, then to a narrow path that seems to lead to the very edge of the cliff and then go nowhere.

  But it does. There is a set of steep wooden stairs that descend downward from the path and then start to wrap around the side of the cliff. The wooden steps disappear and now we are on dirt path that seems like it was just created by people walking on it. It's only about three feet wide and I'm leaning hard to my right against the side of the cliff because I'm afraid if I lean too much to the left, I'll go tumbling down the hillside and fall to my death on the sand below.

  My heart hammers inside my chest as we all snake down the side of the cliff like one giant centipede. I'm trying to concentrate on the fact that no one in front of me has fallen and that's a good sign that it's a safe way to get to the beach. I'm trying to be rational and reasonable, but that's difficult when you feel like you could take one step in the wrong direction and plummet to the ground.

  We finally reach the sand and I've never been so happy to have my feet hit solid ground. There's lots of milling around and cheering and laughter as the group swells in size on the beach. Butterflies swarm inside my stomach.

  The beach itself is a crescent-shaped swath of sand, curved tightly around a large inlet that's most protected on both sides of the cliff that houses Archer's home. It doesn't look like there's access to the beach from either the north or the south unless you come down the way we did. It's a private, secluded beach.

  I look at the water. The waves pinch in as they enter the inlet, rising a little higher and rushing in faster as they're compressed. The sound of the crashing water is magnified by the cliffs behind us, creating a sort of echo chamber. Out beyond where the waves are rising out of the water, I can see a bright red buoy dancing on the surface of the ocean.

  The buoy I'll now have to swim to.

  It looks impossibly far and I'm not sure how I can make it that far, much less swim through the waves that are pounding the shore.

  “I think I actually see the urine,” Reese says. “In your pants.”

  I turn toward her voice. She's standing on the sand to my right, once again smirking at me. She's already stripped off her clothing and she's standing there in a tiny black bra and underwear. I hate to admit it, but her body is incredible, and she looks like she can swim for days.

  And she knows it.

  “Don't swim close to me,” she says, pulling her hair back into a tight ponytail. “I don't want your piss getting on me.” She smiles. “Assuming you actually get in the water. I think it'll actually be more fun to see you try to talk yourself into getting in and then bailing at the last second. I'm gonna need someone to record that.”

  She turns and walks down toward the water.

  “Don't listen to her,” Mercy says. “She's awful to everyone and she's trying to get in your head. Don't give her the satisfaction.”

  Easier said than done.

  “And you really don't have to do this, Nola,” Mercy says. “I know I've already said that a bunch, but you don't have to prove anything to anyone. Especially her.”

  But I know that I do.

  “I'm doing it,” I say before I can come up with ten reasons not to. “I want to.” I look at her. “I need to.”

  She looks at me for a moment, then smiles. “Okay. I hear you.”

  I'm not sure if she really does, but she's at least pretending to and that's all I need from her at the moment. Someone who is at least trying to understand that swimming isn't really about the swim itself. It's about way more and even though Mercy doesn't know what that means, she's being supportive without understanding.

  And that's what a real friend does.

  “Orleans,” Archer says. “Are you with me?”

  I turn around and Archer is standing there. His T-shirt is gone and he's just wearing the blue board shorts. His chest and arms are corded with muscle and his hair is blowing in the breeze.

  He pushes the hair back off his forehead. “You are, aren't you?”

  I try to catch my breath. I look away because if I keep staring at him, I might try to lick his chest. Jesus.

  “I wasn't lying,” I say, kicking off my sandals. “I'm not a great swimmer.”

  “But I am,” he says.

  “So you've said,” I tell him. “But I don't plan to just attach myself to you and let you drag me through the water.”

  He smiles. “Really? No attaching? That's what I was most hoping for, Orleans.”

  “And if you call me that one more time, I will drown you out there myself,” I tell him. “Do you understand that?”

  He chuckled. “Sure. I understand that.”

  I wait for him to say it again, but he doesn't.

  “I'll meet you down at the water,” I tell him.

  “Just come down with me now.”

  “Give it a rest, Arch,” Mercy says. “She'll be there when she's ready.”

  He frowns. “Don't bail on me.”

  “I won't,” I say. “Just give me a minute and I'll come down there.”

  He stares at me for a moment, like he's trying to figure something out, then turns and walks down toward the water, disappearing into the crowd.

  I look at Mercy. “I didn't want to strip my clothes off in front of
him.”

  She laughs. “I know. I knew what you were thinking.”

  Dylan and Brooke come up the sand to join us. Brooke is still dressed, but Dylan is already down to her underwear and walking around as if it's totally normal.

  I wish I had her confidence.

  “Mitchell is all jittery now,” Dylan says, rolling her eyes. “He really thinks we can win so I'll do him.”

  “Well, you promised him,” Brooke says.

  “I was just trying to motivate him,” Dylan says. “We can't win.”

  “What if you do?” Brooke asks.

  Dylan thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. “I've done worse.”

  We all laugh.

  “Are you going with Arch?” she asks.

  I nod. “Yeah. I told him I would.”

  “Yeah, sister!” she says, holding up her fist.

  I bump her fist with mine. “This is probably a bad idea.”

  “You'll be okay,” Dylan says. “Just have fun.”

  I look at the dark, rolling ocean. It looks like anything but fun.

  I take a deep breath and pull off my clothes. The breeze picks up just as I drop my clothes to the sand and I shiver against it. Even though I'm in my underwear, I feel naked, exposed.

  “Ready?” Dylan asks.

  “No,” I answer.

  Mercy gives me a quick hug. “Good luck. We'll be here when you get back.”

  “Warm and dry,” Brooke says. “Give Reese an accidental kick in the face if you can.”

  Dylan pulls me through the people scattered on the sand and down to the shoreline. The sand is cold and hard-packed, rough beneath my bare feet. The breeze is stronger at the water's edge, blowing in across the top of the ocean.

  “If you get tired, float on your back,” Dylan advises. “Or just hang on to Arch. He might be an asshole, but he won't let anything happen to you.”

  I nod, the butterflies going to work in my stomach. I'm thinking I should've just stayed home and not let Mercy talk me into coming out. Now I'm standing at the edge of the Pacific in my underwear, about to swim out into it, toward something I can barely see.

  “Yo, Dylan,” a guy says coming up next to us. “We need to talk strategy.” He's taller than both of us, with short blond hair, brown eyes, and a small scar across the bridge to his nose. There's a small star tattooed on his left shoulder and he looks strong enough to lift both of us with one arm. “We're gonna win this thing.”

  Dylan rolls her eyes. “Cool your jets, Mitchell.” She points at me. “Nola, this is Mitchell. Mitchell, Nola.”

  He gives me a quick once over, but not in a gross way. More like he's trying to figure out if he knows me. “Hey.”

  “Hi.”

  “Are you swimming?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “With who?”

  “Archer,” I tell him.

  Mitchell frowns. “Shit. Really. Are you a good swimmer?”

  “Not really,” I say shaking my head.

  He rubs at his chin. “He probably figures he can win no matter what.” He looks at Dylan. “So we definitely need to talk strategy.”

  Dylan shakes her head, but looks at me. “Okay. You good? You can find Archer?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I'll find him. Go ahead.”

  She wraps me in a big hug. “Good luck. I hope you beat me because I really don't want to fuck this guy.”

  I can't help but laugh.

  “What?” Mitchell asks, frowning again.

  She lets go of me and takes him by the hand. “Nothing. Come on, Triton. Let's go make a plan.”

  “Triton?” he asks, as she pulls him away. “What's a triton?”

  I turn and look around. There are plenty of couples standing on the sand in their underwear and bathing suits, pointing at the water and talking to each other. I walk past them until I see Archer. He's standing on the sand, hands on his hips, staring out at the water.

  “I'm here,” I tell him.

  He looks at me, smiling. “I knew you would be.”

  “Did you now?”

  He winks at me. “How could you turn all of this down?”

  I'm not sure if he means him or the contest or what.

  “You've swam in the ocean before, I assume?” he asks.

  “I've stood in the ocean,” I tell him. “I've never been out past the waves.”

  He squints at me. “For real?”

  “Why would I lie?”

  He looks at the water again. “Okay. The hardest part is getting out past the break. If you hold on to me, I can get you out there.”

  “I don't need to hold onto you,” I tell him.

  “It sounds like maybe you do,” he says.

  “I'll be fine.”

  He looks at me. “I'm not losing this. So if I have to drag you through the water, I will.”

  “You chose me,” I tell him. “So whatever happens is your fault. And if you pull me like some caveman, you will fucking regret it.”

  He laughs. “At least you're a fighter. I like that.”

  “I'm not saying it for you to like,” I tell him. “I'm saying it because it's true.”

  He holds up his hands. “Got it, got it.” He extends his arm, pointing out toward the water. “Okay. You see the buoy?”

  I scan the horizon until I see it bouncing in the dark water. “Yeah.”

  “We both have to touch it before either of us can head back in,” he explains. “So it makes no sense for me to rush ahead of you. We're better off swimming together to get out there.”

  “Okay.”

  “If you stay right behind me, you can drag off of me,” he says. “Meaning, the water I swim through will be calmer for you if you're right behind me. You'll see people trying to swim side by side.” He shakes his head. “That's dumb.”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  “When we hit the buoy, we just make a U-turn and head for home,” he says. “Now, assuming we get out there first, that means we have to swim through the people behind us to make it back. Just keep your head up and watch you don't take a skull from someone. We'll go side by side on the way in. People will stay clear of me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I'll fucking drown them if they get in my way,” he says. “Use the waves to carry you in when we make it inside the break line. Winner is first team standing on the sand together. If I'm ahead of you—and I will be—swim as hard as you can and then run your ass to the sand.” He grins at me. “Then we can celebrate.”

  I'm not sure what he has in mind for celebrating and I'm afraid to ask.

  I look at the water ebbing and flowing a couple of feet in front of us. “How cold is it?”

  He grabs me by the hand and before I can resist, he pulls me forward into the water. The icy water washes over my feet and I jump up and down like I'm standing on snakes.

  “Holy shit!” I say. “It's cold!”

  He laughs. “Yeah. It's the Pacific. Even when it's warm it's cold.”

  Goose bumps pop all over my arms and I shiver.

  “Too cold for you?” he asks. “Do I need to find another partner? Someone who can handle...cold water?”

  I'm not sure how he's already figured out how to push my buttons, but he has. I can't stand it when someone challenges me or suggest I'm too scared to do something. It's led to some dumb decisions in the past, but it's who I am. It's a surefire way to get me to do something and Archer Hays has already figured that out.

  I walk into the water, ignoring the cold temperature, and when it's about knee high, I dive under it. My entire body spasms against the cold, but I pop up, and walk right back to him.

  I push the wet hair from my face and look him right in his gorgeous eyes. “Let's do this.”

  Chapter 17

  By my count, there are fifty people standing on the shore, poised to charge into the water. A guy in red shorts and a long-sleeved T-shirt is standing ankle-deep in the water, facing us.

  “Don't move until the whistle,” he shouts, ho
lding the whistle up for all of us to see. “We can call you back if we need to and then you're fucked.”

  “Just blow the fucking whistle, Tom,” Aidan barks. “We know the fucking rules. Blow it and get the fuck out of the way.”

  He's on the other side of Archer with some girl I don't recognize.

  “Alright, alright,” Tom says. “Everyone ready?”

  A roar goes up from the crowd behind us on the sand.

  “Remember,” Archer whispers. “Behind me. Grab my ankle if you need to and I'll pull you out.”

  I nod, knowing there's no way I'll grab onto him. I'll either do it my way or we won't win. Period.

  “Three!” Tom shouts. “Two!” Then he sticks the whistle between his lips and the high-pitched shriek pierces the night air.

  I charge toward the water and Archer is already two steps in front of me, his legs carrying him down the sand and then seemingly on top of the water before he dives forward and disappears into the ocean. I sprint as hard as I can and dive just as he pops up in front of me. The shock of the water isn't as jarring the second time and I come back to the surface without my lungs aching. I take a second to shake the water from my eyes, spot Archer stretched out several yards in front of me, and start swimming.

  I may not be a great swimmer, but running keeps me in shape, so I'm focusing on using my legs to kick as hard as I can to carry me through the water. My arms are thrashing through the water and I'm sure I look like someone who has no idea what they are doing, but I'm moving forward and Archer isn't leaving me in the dust, so whatever I'm doing, it's working.

  The water around me is like a boiling pot as the others cut through the water, everyone aimed at the same target. My lungs start to burn, but I keep kicking and paddling, making sure I don't lose Archer. I catch him looking back at one point and I paddle harder, determined to stay with him. If I'm going to lose, I'm going to lose on my terms.

  The buoy starts to grow larger and it's not taking nearly as long as I think it might to get out there. Fighting through the waves is the hardest part, just like Archer said, and two of them pound me right in the face and send me beneath the surface. But I never stop moving and I finally get past them. Archer is a bit further in front of me, cutting through the waves like a knife, but not by a crazy amount. My eyes sting from the salt water and my toes are cold.