Free Tracing Holland (NSB Book 2) by Alyson Santos Page B

Eli, and Sweeny do us a huge favor by ripping off
their shirts and plunging into the water. Casey and Callie pull to a stop, and
I’m not at all surprised that Casey jumps to join them. He drags Callie after
him as she screams, laughing and trying to smack him away at the same time.
    “Oh my gosh , they are so adorable,”
Holland observes.
    I glance over, basking in the momentary warmth of watching
the happiness of my two closest friends.
    “They’re for real,” I say.
    “Almost gives you hope, huh?”
    My stomach drops. I can’t even respond, and she studies me
hard, confusing me with all kinds of emotions. I’ve completely forgotten about
Wes. So has she.
    “Hope is a complicated word,” I manage finally.
    After another long silence, she nods and focuses back on our
companions.
    “Come on guys! You need to get in here! The water is so
warm!” They’re calling to us, waving us in from the shore.
    Holland laughs. “We should. Let’s go!”
    She pulls off her top and starts slipping out of her shorts,
exposing a body that makes my mouth go dry. I can’t stop staring, any earlier reservation
completely gone. As soon as she started moving, so did Wes, and he’s in the
water on his way to the group before she even finishes dropping her shorts and
tank a safe distance from the water’s edge.
    I still haven’t budged by the time she returns, and she gives
me an annoyed look.
    “You’re still dressed!” she whines, hands on her hips.
    I laugh. “You go. I’ll guard our stuff.”
    She glares at me, making it clear that’s not going to work
for her.
    “Not a chance.”
    She grabs the hem of my shirt and starts pulling it up my
chest.
    “Hey! What are you doing?” I cry.
    “Stripping you so you have fun for five seconds.”
    Shocked, amused, and completely turned on, I stop resisting
and let her yank it over my head. The humor fades as she stills, inches away,
our bodies close, but totally off-limits to each other. She’s at the right
angle that I can see her eyes through her sunglasses now, tracking every detail
of my form, and I’m sure I hear her suck in her breath a bit.
    “My god,” she whispers. “Seriously?” She searches my eyes
and I can sense every ounce of her sudden fascination. My blood pounds, my
heart racing. She wants to touch me. It’s all over her face, her body language.
She even glances at the others, testing her limits, and I follow her gaze. I’m
sure I feel the same pain of frustration she does at their attention.
    We’re on stage.
    She lets out an awkward laugh and takes my hand instead,
pulling me toward the waves as if nothing had happened. I have to force a smile
to hide the volcano erupting inside me, and nearly wince as we step into the
surf. The water may have been warm for ocean water, but it feels like ice
against my burning skin.
    The others laugh and splash in the distance, but my gaze is
glued to Holland. I love everything about the joy on her face as she joins in
the fun. The fact that someone so deep and introspective is
also able to let go so completely. It’s captivating, magnetizing. I’ve
never been able to do that, not without the assistance of substances that could
totally abduct my brain and mask my consciousness. I don’t regret getting clean
for a second, but I do miss those moments of stepping outside my own saturated
existence. It gets exhausting being me.
    “Luke, get over here!” Holland yells.
    “Yeah, come on, grumpy!’ Callie echoes, and I roll my eyes.
    “Ok, I’m coming,” I concede, fighting the small waves as
they crash against my knees. I have to jump to avoid being slapped in the face
by a few more, but finally reach the three of them hovering a few feet beyond
the breaking point. The rest of our group is a hundred yards away, diving into
the ripples, and I understand their position much better when I notice a cluster
of bikini-clad women setting up nearby at the water’s edge. It’s only a matter
of time before that party