I see red, and without thinking about it, I yank back my arm and punch him directly in the face. We both cry out in pain at the same time. I shake my hand from the sting of the bone-on-bone impact against his teeth. For his part, Creed has stumbled back, a new cut in his lip with fresh red blood running over his chin.
“Fucking bitch,” he growls, and then spits out the blood on the pavement.
“You’ve got a little something…” I motion to my chin to indicate his. He spits out more blood, tenderly touching his lip.
Just then, the rumble of the work-truck engine echoes off thepalm trees, and I look up to see Shawn approaching. Although Creed looks like he’d love to hit me back, he moves away instead. His pride is wounded more than his face. Also, he wouldn’t mess with Shawn.
As the truck glides to a halt in front me, I glance over to the valet, who is trying to hold back his smile. Shawn rolls down her window, tilting her head to look out. She glances at Creed as he spits more blood on the ground. I walk over and climb into the passenger seat.
“You do that?” Shawn asks me.
“Yep.”
She nods. “Pro move,” she replies easily.
Creed is incensed, and he turns his anger on the valet. “Where is my fucking Jeep?” he shouts, like a child throwing a tantrum.
Luckily, before the valet has to answer, the white Jeep comes rolling up next to us. The other valet hops out good-naturedly and tosses the keys to Creed. He doesn’t catch them, and they bounce off his chest before hitting the ground with a rattle. It’s… embarrassing.
Creed snatches the key ring from the ground, the lower half of his face covered in blood, and stomps his way toward his vehicle. “No tip!” he yells, pointing at the valet stand. But the workers are already gossiping. His tires squeal as he leaves the resort parking lot.
As if she’d been waiting for him to leave, Jordan comes waltzing out of the lobby. She’s wearing a sundress over her bathing suit. She says nothing to the valets as she passes them and crosses to the truck. They, however, seem completely stunned when Jordan opens the passenger door.
“Move over,” she orders. I slide into the middle, next to Shawn, and Jordan gets in and slams the door shut.
As Shawn starts out of the driveway, Jordan glances over to the valets, who are watching in awe, and presses her finger to her lips as if asking them to keep a secret. They smile in return.
As we wait for the bail bondsman to finish the paperwork, charging Jordan’s credit card for the amount, the three of us are silent in the small office. The transaction was straightforward, although it helps that the clerk is friends with Shawn’s grandfather.
Jordan sits between me and Shawn, tapping out texts and liking social media images, as if oblivious to where we are. Shawn peers over her shoulder.
“You’re always on that phone,” she tells Jordan. “You should just get it implanted in your brain, that way you won’t get that crooked pinky finger.”
Jordan immediately checks her hand, stretching out her fingers, before turning to Shawn. She smiles in return. “My hands are just fine,” Jordan says, although she’s amused.
“They are,” Shawn replies. “They’re beautiful hands.”
Jordan is looking at her phone again, but her lips are upturned, a slight flush on her cheeks. I’m fascinated as I watch them, and when I notice the brush of Shawn’s hand against Jordan’s on the chair, I’m stunned that I didn’t see it sooner.
“You two?” I accuse. “Really?”
“Don’t be classist,” Shawn says, but then winks at me.
“How long?” I ask with a laugh. “And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“Hello, I’m still sitting here,” Jordan says, although she’s not looking at either of us.
“Whatever,” I tell her, but now I’m starting to get a little mad. “How could you still hang out with those Collective pricks when you’re hooking up with Shawn?”
Jordan gives me a stern look, as if telling me to lower my voice. But I have a good point, and she has to answer for it. She’s made our life hell.
“I wanted her to keep it undercover,” Shawn says for her. She nods,as if telling me to chill. I’m stunned to realize that Shawn is invested in this relationship—I can tell that she really likes her. This isn’t one of the usual beach romances.
“But you don’t tell me?” I ask, kind of hurt.
Shawn tilts her head, apologetically. “I would have,” she says. “I wanted to. Tech doesn’t know either. I was just… waiting for the right moment. But, there’s always a storm in Cape Hope. And lately…” She doesn’t even have to start on the rest.
Although I’m hurt that Shawn didn’t tell me about this relationship, thinking about it, there were definitely signs. Some missed late-night hangouts, a few moments where Jordan seemed to defend Shawn, even last night at the fight.
