Chapter 9

She's not my type

Age Sixteen

It's fucking freezing, and I'm desperately in need of a drink. Whose brilliant idea was it to hang out at the beach in September, anyway? This bonfire isn't keeping me warm at all. My skin shivers as I lift my head, scanning the beach for a head of dark curls. I squint, struggling to see in the darkness, and let out a harsh breath when I don't see him.

Where the hell is he?

I pull out my phone to check the time, flinching when I feel a hand wrap around my leg. As soon as I turn, I break out into a smile when I see Chris looking down at me. His fingers start to move slowly across my bare skin, just above my knee, leaving a trail of goosebumps. I keep my eyes on his fingers, trying to figure what he's spelling out.

You ok?

I nod, smiling up at him. "I am now that you're here," I say, loving how his smile widens at my response.

"Are you sure?" he asks with a smirk. "You're shivering."

"Just a little cold," I admit. Kinda wish I'd thought to bring a sweatshirt or something.

His eyes travel down to my bare legs, and he shakes his head in mild exasperation. "You're wearing shorts," he points out, arching an eyebrow. "Of course you're cold. You need more layers."

I roll my eyes playfully, reaching over to snatch the navy baseball blue cap off his head and place it on mine. "There. Layers," I say with a smirk. "I'm keeping this, by the way."

He lets out a chuckle. "Fine by me."

"Where were you?" I ask him. "I've been looking for you for hours."

"Debating whether or not to come," he replies with a sigh, brushing his hair back. "Almost stayed home."

When Nate invited me to the bonfire tonight, it was a no-brainer to invite Chris, so the thought of him almost staying home makes my heart sink. My lips pull into a frown. "Why?"

He shrugs, and my eyes drift to his throat, watching it bob as he swallows. "This kind of thing isn't really my scene," he says. "Besides, the only person I talk to is you."

"You know that's not true," I say, arching an eyebrow. "You know other people here besides me."

He sighs, a smirk playing on his lips. "Fine. Let me amend that. The only person I want to talk to is you."

My cheeks heat up, feeling a warmth spread through me that has nothing to do with the bonfire, and I let out a laugh, nudging his shoulder with mine. I take his hand and place it on my lap, tracing my fingers across his palm.

Me too.

I shoot him a grin when I'm done, and he presses his lips together, pulling his hand back. "Don't think that's true."

"No?" I ask, furrowing my brows.

His expression falters for a moment before he smirks, shaking his head. "I think you forgot someone," he says, glancing behind me.

I turn around and see my boyfriend walking toward us. "Oh," I mutter. "Right."

"Fuck, it's cold," Nate says, dropping down on the sand beside me. "You want a drink, babe?"

The wind blows my hair across my lips, and I brush it away, glancing up at him. I hate when he calls me ‘babe.' I don't know why. I should like it. He's my boyfriend, after all. "Sure. Thanks," I reply, forcing a smile.

I reach out, grabbing the beer can, and crack it open. I have no time to take a sip before his lips land on my neck. I make a noise, trying to move away, but his hand wraps around my waist, keeping me in place as he kisses my neck and jaw. "You look so hot today," he murmurs.

I let out an awkward laugh, painfully aware of Chris sitting right beside me. I attempt to break it off, pulling away from Nate. "You say that every day," I say, trying to keep the discomfort out of my voice.

"Well, you do." I freeze as Nate leans in again, his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses on my neck. His hand begins to wander towards my inner thigh, and I shift uncomfortably.

"I need a drink," Chris announces, rising from the sand and making his way towards the cooler deeper into the beach. He settles into a beach chair and cracks open a can.

I spot a girl walking towards Chris, her blonde hair catching my eye. Taylor . She gestures something to him, and he nods before she takes a seat beside him. I squint, observing their interaction. Chris runs a hand through his hair as they talk, and she laughs, reaching out to touch his arm, and I force my eyes away.

"I'm cold."

Nate moans, his lips trailing to my jaw. "What?" he murmurs, clearly distracted.

"I'm cold," I repeat, my skin shivering.

He groans, annoyed. "Who the fuck cares?" he says. "You smell good," he grunts against my skin, grabbing a handful of my thigh as he resumes kissing my neck.

My skin prickles with discomfort, and I pull back, swatting his hand away from my thigh. "Can you stop?" I snap, furrowing my brows in frustration. "We're in public."

"So?" Nate scoffs. "Half the people here are making out."

He moves in again, but I pull away again. "Well, I'm not in the mood."

Nate lies back on the sand, letting out a groan as he buries his head in his hands. "You're never in the fucking mood," he mutters bitterly.

It's obvious he's pissed that I haven't put out since we slept together over a month ago. But honestly, the idea of going there with him again makes me tense up.

My first time wasn't the best, and I hoped it would be different with someone else. When Nate and I started dating a few months back, I held off on sleeping with him, even though he made it clear he didn't want to wait. I just didn't want to rush things or end up regretting it, again. But when I finally caved and gave him what he wanted, it was...bad. I don't know if it's me or him, but ever since then, I've been finding excuses to avoid sleeping with him again.

My eyebrows shoot up, taken aback, and he shakes his head. "Come on, Gabi. You can't expect me to wait forever. What's the point in having a girlfriend?"

Dick . "And what's the point in having a boyfriend when you don't even care about me other than getting in my pants?" I fire back, feeling my blood boil. "I said I was cold, and you said ‘who the fuck cares.' You didn't even offer me your jacket."

"Oh my god, you're so dramatic," he grunts, rolling his eyes in frustration. "What good would it do if I gave you my jacket?" he snaps back. "Then we'd both be cold." His eyes dart behind me, and he gestures with a nod of his head. "There's a jacket right there. Put that one on."

I turn my head, spotting Chris's black zip-up hoodie lying on the sand beside me. With a shake of my head, I push myself up from the ground, brushing the sand off my legs. "I need a drink."

He lifts his arms in frustration. "I literally just brought you a drink."

I toss the can of beer onto the sand. "Oops. Slipped," I say with a shrug. "Guess I need another one."

"What the fuck?" Nate murmurs, irritated as he wipes the spilled alcohol off his jeans.

I turn around, grabbing the jacket Chris left behind and throw it on before zipping it up, and fix the cap on my head.

Stepping over the chairs and blankets scattered on the sand, I make my way into the beach, heading towards the cooler sat right behind Chris and Taylor.

Bending down to grab a beer from the cooler, I lift my head at the sound of Taylor's giggles and see Chris smiling back at her.

He's smiling at her.

I've never seen him smile like that, at least not with anyone else.

I thought he only smiled like that with me.

Apparently not.

Taylor leans in closer, whispering something in Chris' ear, and a strange sensation settles in my stomach. I furrow my brows, watching them intently, feeling my heart pound in my chest. He said he wasn't interested in her last year. So, what changed?

I glance back at them, my gaze fixed on Taylor. Her figure has definitely changed since last year. Her boobs are bigger, her waist is thinner, and her blonde hair frames her tanned skin perfectly.

Is that what Chris likes? Girls who wear short skirts, with blonde hair and big boobs?

The can I reach for clanks against the others, and I curse silently as Chris and Taylor turn around, noticing me.

"Hey," Chris says, furrowing his brows. "Did you get lost?"

"No, I came to get a drink," I reply, holding up the can, my eyes shifting between them. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Actually—"

"No, of course not," Chris interrupts, flashing me a smile as he runs his hand through his brown curls. "We were just talking."

"I...I think I'm going to go find my friends," Taylor says, her gaze lingering on Chris. "See you later?"

"Yeah, sure," Chris nods in response.

She lifts off the chair, making her way towards the bonfire to meet up with her friends, and I turn to face Chris, sitting on the beach chair beside him. "I stole your jacket," I tell him with a smirk. "It's mine now."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "You didn't steal it. I left it for you."

My brows dip. "Why?"

Chris smirks, his eyes fixated on his jacket draped over my body. "You were cold."

My stomach flutters. Chris didn't even hesitate to take off his jacket for me without me asking, unlike Nate, who's supposed to be my boyfriend, who acted like it was the end of the world.

"So...Taylor, huh?" I ask, raising my drink to him.

Chris turns to face me, taking the can out of my hand and takes a sip without hesitation. We share everything. Always have. "Yeah," he replies with a nod, handing me back the can. "She kind of ambushed me when she saw me sitting here."

"And here I thought the only person you wanted to talk to was me," I joke, my lips twitching into a smirk, though my stomach sours at the thought. "Taylor seems nice, though."

"I guess," Chris replies with a shrug.

I take a sip of my drink, feeling the alcohol burn my throat. "She also seemed interested in you," I add.

He blinks in surprise. "You think?"

"Yeah," I tell him, swallowing the knot forming in my throat. "Are you ?"

My heart thuds loudly in my chest, and I can't explain why. Taylor is nice. She's always been nice to me, and she really is beautiful. So why does the thought of them dating make me feel sick?

I watch as the muscle in his jaw ticks, and he blows out a breath, lifting his shoulder in a shrug. "I don't know."

My stomach churns again, and I figure I must be coming down with the flu or something. "Really?" I say, handing him my drink again.

"You sound surprised," he says, taking another sip.

That you're interested in her all of a sudden? Yeah, I'm surprised . "She just...really isn't your type, is all," I say instead.

Chris chuckles, raising an eyebrow at me. "And what's my type?"

I blink up at him, furrowing my brows in thought. "I don't know," I admit. "You don't really talk to me about that kind of stuff."

A fleeting thought crosses my mind. Am I his type? I quickly dismiss it. What am I even thinking? Chris is my best friend.

Chris shrugs. "It's just not something I usually talk about."

I look up at him, a hint of uncertainty gnawing at me. Chris has been my whole world for years, the person I've always relied on and thought I knew inside out. But now, looking at him, it feels like there's a side of him I've never seen.

"So she is your type?"

He swallows, his gaze locking with mine, and then he blows out an agitated breath, running a hand through his hair. "You were making out with your boyfriend the whole time, Gabi," he says, his brows furrowed in frustration. "You can't blame me for hanging out with her."

"Well, I'm here now," I reply with a shrug. "You can hang out with me."

He blinks at me, a hint of concern in his eyes. "What about your boyfriend?" he asks.

I shrug, taking a sip of beer. He won't be my boyfriend for long . "Don't worry about him," I say, waving a hand. The truth is, I don't think I even like Nate that much, and it seems like the only thing he wants from me is the one thing I don't want to give him. "I'd rather spend time with you."

The corner of his lips curl into a soft smile as his eyes meet mine. "Yeah, I'd rather spend time with you, too."

My heart does a somersault at his words, and I return his smile, feeling a rush of warmth as he lays a blanket over both of our legs. I lean my head on his shoulder, loving the comfort I feel whenever I'm with him. "So, you don't want to hang out with Taylor anymore?" I ask.

"Nah," he replies, glancing at me. "She's not my type."