The Good, the Bad, and the Gwen | ✔️

14 - Inside Out

"Ladies! It's about time you got here," Sully announces as we walk through the gate. A warm breeze accompanies him, carrying with it the scent of freshly showered skin. "You've got some catching up to do. Can I get you a drink?"

"I'll take a double shot of vodka." Hartley eyes me closely. "Do you want anything?"

I shrug. "Water?"

"One water and a double shot coming up." Sully dashes off toward the cooler while we wave to Melanie from across the yard.

"Why do you always drink vodka?" I ask. "Don't you like beer?"

She pulls her hair into a loose ponytail with the hair-band wrapped around her wrist. "I love beer, but there's way fewer calories in vodka," she says. "Plus, it gets the job done a lot faster. And after today, I plan to get wasted. Are you sure you don't want something stronger than water?"

I shake my head. "Alcohol tastes gross."

She gives me a lopsided smirk. "That's one thing I admire about you, Gwen. You stay true to yourself. That's pretty brave, if you ask me."

It's fear that motivates me, not bravery, but I bite back that response. "If you plan to get drunk, does that mean we're not going running in the morning?" I'm desperate for a break. Every day begins with the Death Dash, which is what I've not-so-secretly dubbed our morning routine. Getting the chance to sleep in sounds like a little slice of heaven.

Hartley sinks into a patio chair and I follow suit, a canopy of leaves rustling above our heads. "Oh, no. We're still going to run. You're not getting out of it that easily."

"Well, we don't have to do it every day," I reason. "After all, this is summer vacation."

"I know it's summer vacation, but you came here with goals. And me—being the awesome and dedicated friend that I am—promised to help you meet them. You'll thank me when you're a supermodel-skinny, French-kissing pro."

"Who's a French-kissing pro?" Sully reappears out of nowhere and hands over our drinks.

Hartley takes an enormous swallow and doesn't even flinch. "You," she says. "I was just telling Gwen how accomplished you are. Maybe you could critique her technique sometime?"

Heat rushes over my cheeks and I stare at her murderously, but she only gulps down what's left in the red plastic cup.

Sully plops into the seat next to me and pulls back the tab on his beer. "I doubt Gwen needs any pointers. I'm sure she's kissed plenty of guys."

He looks at me as if expecting a response. And I swear, if the earth could somehow open and gobble me up, it would be none too soon. My lips part, searching for a comeback, when something across the yard grabs his attention. But all I see is a group of kids, loitering near the pool. The ripples in the water glow from a series of underwater lights.

"I'll be right back," he says and sets down his beer.

Sully takes off and my body goes stiff. He's heading right toward Dean, the jerk I met my first night in town. Even from where we're sitting, I can clearly see two purple bruises circling his eyes. And judging from the rigid body language, they're in a heated conversation. Hartley and I exchange a look as they head our way.

My chest tightens when they stop in front of us. "Do you have something you'd like to tell Gwen?" Sully asks.

The boys swap scowls. And oh my God. Is he actually making Dean apologize?

"I, um ..." Dean pushes a hand through his dark hair as a few onlookers creep closer. Sully gives him a sharp jab. "I'm getting to it!" he snaps back, his narrowed eyes dropping to the ground. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said."