{WATTYS 2021/2022 SHORTLIST}{Editor's Pick} {Featured Story}
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One girl. Two boys. An impossible choice.
Stella LaFever, a theatre student from California, can't wait to spend a summer in Newport, Rhode I...
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Chapter Song: Hey Girl by O.A.R.
The following day passed in a blur. Between worrying about my grandma—who Leona convinced to schedule a follow-up appointment with a doctor after her sudden dizzy spell, and worrying about my role understudying for Belle—which involved binge reading the script, I'd been well and properly distracted.
I barely had time to think about West, except for those stolen, indulgent moments just before falling asleep when my tired brain would inevitably conjure up his face.
Or the feel of his lips against my arm.
Or the way we moved together in the darkened restaurant, our hips rolling together.
Luckily, I had a distraction from West, too.
Tuesday evening, Leona and I met Spencer and Graham at Second Beach, dressed in strappy sundresses and sunglasses.
"Girl, your man looks tasty. You should skip dinner and eat him up back at the RV."
"Stop," I said around a laugh as we approached the beach. Smacking her arm. "And he's not my man. This is casual, remember?"
"There ain't nothing casual about him. I'm just saying if that camper's shaking later—I won't be mad at it."
I didn't have time to reply before the four of us were face to face. Graham had this carelessly handsome look about him. All blue eyes and suntanned skin. A perpetual shit-eating grin on his face.
His parents weren't orthodontists, as I originally suspected. Leona had told me the McGilvary's were one of the richest families in New England, and owned the Newport Yacht Club.
Spencer, on the other hand...well...Spencer looked exactly like the kind of guy who could make you orgasm from text message alone. My gaze drifted from his penetrating green eyes to his thick fingers.
I knew his family was old money, but I hadn't asked my grandpa to tell me anything more about the Fredericksens. Maybe because I was afraid of what I'd find out.
"Hey, you."
His voice teasing, and his smile naughty. I bit my lip and let him wrap me in a hug.
He smelled like warm vanilla sugar and expensive leather couches. His linen button-down was pushed up at the sleeves, and his khaki shorts hugged all the right places.
"I hope you two like fried oysters and french fries," Graham announced as we followed them to a quilted blanket stretched out in front of a small fire pit.
"Oysters?" Leona replied. "You're not trying to seduce us with aphrodisiacs and wine, are you?"
"Am I that transparent?" Graham lifted an oyster to Leona's mouth.
Live reggae music from a small, outdoor stage played while the four of us got settled. Spencer handed me a plastic glass before filling it with white wine.
