The Shore Page 3

  To her relief, Avery laughed. “Believe me, you’re not the first person to notice that Curt is a little dark. He takes a while with strangers, but once you get to know him, he’ll lighten up. After all, we’re all just here to have fun, right?”

  Polly smiled back. “Definitely. So you haven’t seen any of the other guys who will be living here, have you?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I hope they’re nice,” Polly confided. “And tall and strong and gorgeous. Of course, also sweet and gentlemanly.”

  “So, uh, let me guess,” Avery teased good-naturedly, “you’d like to meet someone?”

  Before Polly could answer, they were interrupted by knocking on the front door. Polly went to open it. Outside was a good-looking, bare-chested guy with long, bleached-blond dreadlocks, a bright red surfboard under one arm, and a very large bong under the other.

  “Hey.” He had an easy smile. “This the rental house?”

  “Yes,” Polly said, staring incredulously at the bong.

  “Looks pretty good.” The blond guy gazed over her head into the house.

  “You’re . . . renting here too?” Polly asked.

  “Sure am,” he said. “I’m Lucas Haubenstock.”

  “Polly Prentice,” Polly replied, thinking, Two down, one to go. The prospects were dimming quickly. He might have been good-looking in a laid-back California kind of way, but the dreadlocks and bong were definitely not her thing.

  “Think I could come in?” Lucas asked. “This stuff’s getting heavy.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Polly moved out of the way. Lucas stepped in. As he did, the skeg of his surfboard bumped Polly, and she jumped back in surprise.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to clip you,” he said.

  “That’s okay” Polly said, giving him a closer look. He was wearing board shorts and Tevas. His bare chest was bronzed and thin, but muscular. She found herself starting to look where she shouldn’t have, then swallowed and forced herself to look away. On second thought, she might not be crazy about the hair and bong, but the rest of him wasn’t bad at all.

  Once inside, Lucas put the board and bong down and looked around. Avery came out of the kitchen, and Polly introduced them.

  “Nice house,” Lucas said. “Would either of you know where the owner is?”

  “Right here.”

  They turned to find Fred coming in carrying an armload of pillows. He dropped them on the couch and offered his hand to Lucas. “I’m Fred.”

  “Lucas Haubenstock.”

  “Right. From Princeton.” Fred glanced at the board and bong and frowned. Then he looked back at Lucas. “Isn’t there some economist up there with that name? I think I read his book in college.”

  “People have asked me about that before,” Lucas said. “He might be some kind of distant relative or something.”

  Polly listened to the exchange with interest. Not only was Lucas good-looking, but he seemed easygoing and nice and had an unusual aura of confidence that she found appealing. Like Avery said, you couldn’t always trust first impressions. Maybe Lucas was worth taking a second look at. She’d just have to see.

  Fred took Lucas to see his room, and Polly turned to Avery. “Thirsty?”

  “Yeah, actually,” Avery said. She and Polly went into the kitchen. It was apricot colored and cheerful. An island in the center provided extra counter space. On the refrigerator were a few colorful magnets holding menus from places that delivered. One showed a slice of pizza with legs and arms dancing with a can of soda and proudly proclaimed: “Even the pizzas are partying at Pop’s!” Avery had a feeling she would definitely be dialing that phone number.

  Since her mom had died Avery had spent a lot of time in kitchens and she moved through this one easily. There were six cabinets, and she opened all of them before she found the glasses. She handed one to Polly and grabbed one for herself. They filled them up with tap water and raised them toward each other in a toast.

  “To a great summer,” Avery said.

  “The best ever.”

  They both drank, then made faces.

  “Not the best tap water I ever tasted,” Polly said.

  “We better add bottled water to the shopping list,” Avery agreed.

  “Think I could have a bedroom downstairs?” they heard Lucas ask Fred.

  “How come?” Fred said.

  “I’d rather not have to carry my board up and down the stairs,” Lucas explained. “And there’ll be less chance of dinging your walls.”

  Considerate, Avery thought. She sometimes wished Curt would be more like that.

  “Okay, you can take the second room on the ground floor,” they heard Fred tell Lucas.

  “Sweet,” was Lucas’s answer.

  In the kitchen, Avery leaned close to Polly. “How long until Fred asks Lucas about the bong?” she whispered.

  Polly grinned.

  A moment later, as if Fred had heard her, they heard him ask nervously, “You’re . . . um . . . not planning on using that thing in the house, are you?”

  “The bong? It’s just for show. Artwork, you know?” they heard Lucas reply.

  “Somehow I doubt that,” Avery said under her breath.

  Polly looked at her with eyes wide. “You think!?”

  In that moment, Avery realized that Polly was even more naive than she looked.

  “Didn’t look like any artwork I’ve ever seen,” Avery whispered.

  But from the sound of things, Fred was satisfied with the answer because he and Lucas moved on to other subjects.

  “He seems awfully nice for a stoner,” Polly said in a low voice, not that she’d known many stoners in her life.

  Avery nodded. “You never know.”

  The front door opened, and a girl walked in carrying a large blue backpack and a guitar case. She had long, straight black hair framing a pale face, and a silver nose stud. Her eyes were heavily mascaraed, and she wore a tight-fitting black shirt, high black lace-up boots, and striped leggings under a black skirt cropped to reveal a belly button piercing.

  “It’s Morticia from the Addams Family,” Polly whispered, and Avery giggled.

  The new girl had not yet noticed Polly and Avery in the kitchen. Inside the front door she put down the guitar case and unslung the backpack. “Hello? Anyone here?”

  Avery watched as Fred left Lucas in his room, dashed across the living room, and greeted the new girl. “Hi, I’m Fred, the landlord,” he said.

  “April,” the new girl said, and offered her hand.

  “Here, let me help you.” Fred reached for her backpack. “Whoa!” It must have been heavier than he’d expected because he nearly fell over backward trying to pull it on.

  “Tell you what,” April said, taking the backpack from him. “You carry the guitar.”

  Avery and Polly watched as Fred escorted her upstairs.

  “Only one roommate left,” Avery mused out loud.

  “I thought there were two more,” Polly said. “I counted three girls and two guys.”

  “You missed Sabrina. She left before you got here.”

  “What’s she like?” Polly asked.

  Avery had some ideas, but wasn’t willing to go public just yet. “Uh, she’s got really pretty clothes.”

  “And?” Polly asked with a frown.

  “And she’s pretty,” Avery said awkwardly.

  Before Polly could press her any further, Fred came back downstairs.

  “Well, it looks like a great group of people,” he said, his voice sounding strained. “I’ve gotta go. Now, remember, if there are any problems with the house—any problems—just give me a call. My number’s on the fridge.”

  Fred excused himself and exited the front door. Avery and Polly were just finishing their water when the front door swung open and Curt strolled in carrying a six-pack of beer in his left hand and a half-empty bottle in a brown paper bag in his right.

  Avery narrowed her eyes. What is this new deal about drinking in the middle of the aft
ernoon? And what happened to the rehearsal? Still, she was determined not to say anything that would get him mad. Not now, at the beginning of their summer together. Curt came into the kitchen, gave Polly a look, then pecked Avery on the cheek and deposited the six-pack in the fridge.

  “How’d the rehearsal go?” Avery asked.

  “Eh.” Curt shrugged. “Guys took off for the beach. We’re never gonna get anywhere if they don’t get serious.”

  “Well, it’s the beach and it’s new,” Avery said. “Maybe in another week it’ll be easier to get them to stay outside.”

  “Excuse me,” Polly said. “I’m just curious. Was that beer yours, or for everyone?”

  “Mine,” Curt answered with a scowl. “Oh, you want one?”

  “No, thanks,” said Polly. “I was just wondering how it’s going to work.”

  “How what’s going to work?” Avery asked curiously.

  “Well, like whose stuff is whose and what’s what,” Polly explained.

  Curt frowned at Avery as if he didn’t know what Polly was talking about.

  Avery had to admit that she wasn’t certain either.

  “Maybe we should set up regular roommate meetings,” Polly continued, “starting tonight so that we can all get to know one another and set some house rules. Most of us are here right now. We could get Lucas and April down here and discuss it.”

  “Lucas and April?” Curt repeated.

  “Two of our new roommates,” Avery explained.

  Curt rolled his eyes and put down his empty beer. Then he opened the refrigerator, grabbed a new bottle, and twisted the cap off. He tossed the bottle cap onto the counter and took a long swig. Avery watched uncomfortably and didn’t say anything. Meanwhile Polly stared at the bottle cap and the empty bottle and then back at Curt.

  It was obvious to Avery that Polly wanted Curt to clean up his garbage. Frankly, it seemed a little anal that she expected him to do it right away. And, anyway, Curt didn’t appear to notice. Polly let out a big sigh, grabbed the bottle cap, and tossed it in the trash. Then she picked up the empty bottle with two fingers and rinsed it out in the sink before setting it aside, presumably for recycling.

  Curt smiled ruefully, and Avery felt embarrassed. “So, uh, what exactly do you propose discussing?” he asked.

  Avery knew he was being sarcastic, but Polly mistook it for genuine interest.

  “Recycling, for one,” she said. “We should ask Fred where the recycling bins are.”

  Curt glanced at Avery and smirked. Avery braced herself. Sometimes when he drank he could get a little mean. Especially when he was frustrated with the band.

  “And we need to discuss care and upkeep of the house,” Polly continued. “Divide up chores. We need to all pitch in to keep the place neat and clean as a courtesy to others. We should also establish rules for the kitchen and food sharing. I figure we can each get half a shelf in the fridge for our own stuff, and community stuff can go in the door.”

  Curt opened the refrigerator and gestured toward the six-pack sitting in the middle of the top shelf. “Me and Ave’ll take the top shelf.”

  Avery winced. He was starting to sound a little drunk. What a great way to kick off their summer.

  “Okay, good,” Polly said. “I’ll take the left side of the middle shelf.”

  “Wonderful,” Curt said with feigned enthusiasm. “I’m so glad we got that out of the way.”

  A door closed, and they turned to see Lucas come out of his room. He’d put on a bright yellow T-shirt with a picture of a surfboard on it. He saw Curt in the kitchen and came over to shake his hand. “Lucas Haubenstock,” he said.

  “Curt Wilson.”

  “I’m glad you’re here, Lucas,” Polly said. “We’re just having a roommate discussion.”

  “I’d really like to stay, but I have to get over to the surf shop,” Lucas answered. “My shift starts in ten minutes. Maybe someone could fill me in later?”

  “Gnarly, dude,” Curt said facetiously.

  Lucas scowled at him, then waved good-bye. “Catch you guys later.”

  Polly looked disappointed, and Avery felt sorry for her. She was trying to do something good for all of them, but not getting very far.

  “Go on. What else?” Avery said, giving Polly some encouragement and ignoring the dirty look that Curt fired her way.

  “I think we should also discuss parties, noise levels, quiet hours, that sort of thing.” Polly had to raise her voice because of some sort of commotion outside—shouting and laughing. It sounded to Avery like a group of rowdy guys out on the street—maybe getting an early start on their partying. They didn’t pass by, though. Instead, they got louder as if approaching the front door.

  The front door swung open, and in walked a guy wearing a white Abercrombie polo shirt with the collar turned up and khaki cargo pants. He had dark brown hair, a beer in one hand, and seemed to be leading the group, gesturing grandly and waving his arms around as the others filed in behind him. Suddenly there were a dozen people in the living room all talking and laughing.

  “These your new digs?” someone asked him.

  “Is right,” he answered as he surveyed the living room.

  “Hey, nice,” said someone else.

  “Where’s the stereo?” asked a third.

  “There a CD player anywhere?”

  Polly, Avery, and Curt watched from the kitchen.

  “You know any of these people?” Polly asked Avery and Curt, who shook their heads.

  A husky, broad-shouldered, football player type with a diamond stud in his ear came into the kitchen and looked in the fridge “Got any ice?”

  “Who are you?” Polly asked.

  “Martin, who are you?”

  “I’m Polly and I live here, do you?”

  “In this dump? No way.”

  “Can I ask what you’re doing here?” Polly said.

  Martin gave her a strange look, then gestured at the crowd. “What’s it look like?”

  Just then two guys came in the front door carrying a half keg of beer.

  “Hey, where’s the keg go?” one yelled.

  “Ask Owen.” The guy named Martin pointed at polo shirt guy.

  “This is ridiculous!” Polly declared. Avery watched with surprise as she marched up to the guy named Owen. “Are these your friends?”

  “Who wants to know?” Owen asked with an amused look.

  “I do.”

  “And you are?”

  “Polly, and I live here.”

  “Hey, roomie!” Owen grinned and raised his hand for a high five. “I’m Owen, and guess what? I live here too!”

  Polly didn’t high-five his hand. “So these are your friends?”

  Owen squinted at the crowd. “Well, let’s see. Some of them are . . . I think. Some of them I never saw before in my life.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit . . . rude . . . to bring them all here without asking?”

  Way to go, Polly, Avery thought, impressed.

  “Rude?” Owen scowled at her. “Who are you, my mother? Whoa, loosen up, honey, you need a drink.”

  “But I don’t—” Polly’s protest was cut short by loud catcalls. All around the room the festivities momentarily paused while heads turned toward the front door. Sabrina Morganthal had just entered the house.

  Two

  It was morning. Lying in bed, Sabrina realized that she had a headache at the same moment that she realized the sun must be up. She opened her left eye a slit and confirmed that the sun was indeed shining on her. The brightness seemed to make her head throb more. She tried to remember the events of the previous night. All that came back to her, though, was being in her new summer rental house and a party going full blast. Hadn’t there been some cute guy . . . ?

  She opened her eyes wider and momentarily stiffened as she realized she didn’t recognize the room. But then she relaxed. Oh, of course, she was in the new house. She wasn’t used to the room yet. She winced, the thoughts buzzing inside he
r brain only making her head pound more loudly.

  Her mouth tasted like a gutter, and her stomach felt rocky. Hangovers suck, she thought.

  An unexpected groan startled her. Sabrina turned her head to find a short mop of unruly brown hair. A guy? In my bed? Horrified, Sabrina instantly inched all the way to the edge of the mattress. What is he doing in my—? No, wait! She looked around. This wasn’t her new room! This room was much smaller than hers and had a yellow comforter instead of the dark blue one she’d brought from home. She slid out of bed, only to realize that she was naked. She yanked the yellow comforter off the bed and wrapped it around herself.

  The guy slept through it all, his face partly covered by the pillow, and shoulders bare, but the rest of him tangled in a sheet. Thank God! Who in the world? What did I do? Think, she wracked her brain. Think. But her head throbbed, and thinking hurt.

  She couldn’t remember. Oh, this was awful. Completely humiliating. She had to find her clothes and get out of there! But first she had to know who he was. Gingerly, she leaned forward and carefully lifted the pillow off his face. She saw dark, tousled hair, and a strong jaw covered with a little stubble.

  Owen? Oh, no! Not Owen! She remembered a little more of the previous night now. No! I didn’t! I couldn’t have! Not with him! Not with one of my roommates!

  Just then Owen rolled over lazily and yawned. He opened his eyes slightly and caught sight of her as she was wrapping the blanket around herself more tightly. He grinned. “Hey, wuzzup? What a night, huh?”

  What a night? Sabrina thought. Doesn’t he mean, what a nightmare!?

  She wished she could remember what had happened. She took another look at him. He wasn’t bad-looking with his dark hair and hazel eyes—she must have found them attractive the night before. This morning, though, the sight of him was unbearable.

  She clutched the blanket tighter. Her head throbbed, but she had to figure a way out of this. She just had to! If she didn’t, it would be all over the house in no time. Everyone would be talking. Oh, crap, this was so NOT the way she wanted the summer to start!

  Then she had an idea. “What am I doing here?” she asked, pretending to be genuinely puzzled.