She’s not wrong. He looks great, I almost didn’t recognise him at first.
“Hey,” Daisy says as she dips her hand into her pocket to take out her vibrating phone. “Sorry, I need to dash off. I promised my mum I’d help her with my grandma this morning.”
“It’s okay. Thanks for meeting me. I needed to get this off my chest.”
She cups my arm and pulls me into a hug. “You’ve got this. Summer is going to be good. Focus on yourself.”
“Of course.”
“See you tomorrow for the party?”
“Most definitely.” I lean down to scratch Rufus’ damp ears. “See you later.”
I wave and prepare myself to head home.
CHAPTER 8
JJ WOODFORD
“What do you say…” Finn swats me in the chest as I chug down a glass of milk. “Party, tonight?”
“Sure,” I nod. “People you know from school?”
He shrugs. “Pretty much. Will be nice to see old friends. I can introduce you; it will be good for you to know a few familiar faces.”
“Right,” I say as I place down the empty glass. “Where is it?”
“On the beach.” He gestures in the direction of the sea. “Bring your own beers. Why have house parties when you have an endless beachfront?”
I can’t say I’ve ever been to a party on the beach, considering I’m a city boy, but I guess there is a first for everything.
“What time are we heading out?”
“Around eight,” he says as he grabs his phone and punches out a text. “You wanna go into town beforehand? I can show you all the decent pubs with good beer gardens.”
“Sounds good to me.”
When we get home a few hours later, Finn orders that we start to get ready, and he takes longer than any girl I’ve ever met, so I start thirty minutes after him.
Once I’m ready and dressed in an oversized hoodie and shorts, I adjust my nose ring and brush a hand over my buzzed hair.
Music blasts from Finn’s room as I step out into the hall. The door to the bathroom between my room and Finn’s opens. My eyes latch onto Ivy as she strolls out wearing nothing more than an olive-green towel that showcases her pale skin. Her champagne-blonde hair brushes the edges of her shoulders, droplets rolling down her arms.
She hasn’t seen me yet; her eyes are glued to her phone between her hands.
“Are you going to the party tonight?”
Ivy’s body jolts, and her phone almost slips from her hand—worse—her towel almost slips from her body. She clutches her arms to her chest in an iron grip that makes her knuckles turn white.
“Jesus—” she hisses, staring up at me through damp lashes. Her nose wrinkles, with the freckles over her fair skin on full display. “You scared me half to death.”
My lip twitches into a smirk as I fold my arms over my chest. “I see that.”
She scowls at me, and it’s infuriating that she looks pretty doing it. I’ve never really been into the mean-pretty thing because some girls are actually spiteful, but this is different.
“Why does it matter if I’m going to the party?” she asks with a tight expression.
“Because I’m wondering if I’m going to see you there.”
