Flirting with Boys by Abbott, Hailey (freda ebook reader TXT) 📗

her feet. His arm stayed around her waist, and she felt his breath on her face. His teeth flashed very white against his tanned skin.

Suddenly, Celeste saw a blur of white polo shirt out of the corner of her eye and just managed to yell, “Trav—”

before the blur hit Nick across the back with blinding force.

Nick let out a startled “ooof ” and staggered before catching his balance. He straightened up just in time to catch Travis’s fist landing on his jaw. He reeled backwards, crashing into a lounge chair.

“Travis, stop!” Celeste screamed, catching at her boyfriend’s arm, which felt like a bar of steel under her hands.

Travis didn’t even look around. “I’m sick of this slime following you around and hitting on you all the time,”

he yelled, his face red and shiny. “It’s ridiculous. He needs to go back to L.A. , where he belongs.”

By now, Nick had gotten to his feet and was standing in front of Travis, breathing heavily, his cheek showing the bright red mark of Travis’s fist. “Whatever, Celeste,”

he said tightly, his eyes fixed on Travis. “If he wants to think I was hitting on you, then fine. Let’s do it. Let’s get all this out right now.” He clenched his hands.

Travis turned and rushed Nick. The two fell to the deck, grappling with each other.

“Stop! Stop right now!” Celeste screamed. “This is stupid!”

Neither of them paid the least attention. They rolled over on the deck, dangerously near the edge of the pool, and Celeste saw Nick sock Travis in the eye before Travis grabbed Nick and rolled over again so that he was on top. Celeste could see what was about to happen. “No, Travis!” she screamed.

He didn’t even seem to hear her. He drew his fist back.

“What the hell is going on here?” a voice roared from behind Celeste.

Celeste’s dad stood at the pool gate, his hands on his hips and his eyes blazing. Startled, Travis sent his punch awry, bouncing off Nick’s shoulder instead of his face.

Nick saw Travis’s attention distracted and seized his chance. He threw his weight upward and grabbed

Travis’s shirt, ripping it down the front. The two rolled over again—right into the pool.

A huge splash soaked Mr. Tippen, the deck, and part of Celeste’s shirt. Travis and Nick surfaced immediately, staggering to regain their balance in the shallow end.

Their hair was plastered to their heads, and Travis’s shirt was torn away from the collar, hanging around his neck by a few shreds like a ridiculous halter top. Nick’s cheek was already swelling up, making one half of his face look distinctly chipmunky.

Celeste realized that she was still clutching an armload of folded towels. Shaking a little, she carefully set them down on top of the towel station, smoothing them out and lining up the edges, just as she had always been taught. She cast a furtive glance at the other guests and cringed. Everyone had put down their newspapers and magazines and was staring in horror and fascination. The dark-haired swimmer had stopped her laps. As Celeste watched, the woman cast the boys a disdainful glance.

Then she climbed delicately from the pool and turned her back on the group, padding to the opposite end of the deck. Damn. This could be bad. Nothing like a good old bar brawl to really lend an air of class to the place.

Mr. Tippen stood at the edge of the pool, his hands on his hips. He stared down at the boys with a gaze that could have fried an egg. For a moment that lasted about twenty years, he just stared in silence. Then he spoke.

“Nick, I certainly will expect proper behavior from you this summer as a guest at Pinyon. Don’t let this sort of thing happen again. Travis and Celeste, I’ll see you both in my office in ten minutes.” With that, he spun on his heel and disappeared out the gate.

Not looking at the two boys, Celeste collapsed slowly onto a lounge chair and rested her head on her knees.

She must have been on crack earlier when she’d been thinking that everything might actually work out this summer—that Nick would behave himself, that Travis and Nick wouldn’t rip each other’s arms off, that her dad would actually see that Travis wasn’t the moron he thought. Celeste cradled her head in her arms. Yeah.

Definitely not the summer she’d imagined.

Chapter Thirteen

For a minute, no one spoke. Celeste stared at the towels on the towel station. Then, with a giant heave, Nick climbed out of the pool. His white shirt clung to his chest and back, and his shorts hung heavy and dark with water. “Well, that was fun,” he said. “Maybe we can do again it sometime. See you around, Celeste,”

he said, and sloshed away, leaving a line of puddles behind him.

Celeste whirled around to face Travis, who was still standing in the waist-deep water. “What the hell were you doing?” she hissed. “Get out of the stupid pool—

you look like an idiot.”

Travis climbed from the water obediently. “Sorry about that, babe,” he said, looking down at his ruined T-shirt.

“Yeah,” Celeste said. “You should be. Now you’re in huge trouble with my dad.”

“But he was hitting on you,” Travis pleaded, taking a step toward Celeste. She stepped back.

“Don’t touch me—you’re all wet. And he wasn’t hitting on me. He was talking about dancing for his party.

It was what us grownups call a conversation. You’ll notice that I still have all my clothes on and that, even if he was hitting on me, I’m not exactly just going to start accidentally making out with him. A little trust might be nice.”

“But—”

“Whatever.” Celeste turned away disgustedly. “We better get over to the office. My dad’s waiting for you.”

They gathered quite a few curious glances from guests as they headed toward the office, but Celeste was too upset to care. How could Travis do this? she thought furiously. Once again, he’d proven that he had no idea that his actions actually had consequences—for