Perfectly Damaged - Page 34/85

“What? No. I eat. I’m just not hungry.” I want to kill Charlie right now. She looks over at me, and her smile instantly disappears. She mouths, “Sorry.”

Everyone digs in to their plates, except for me and Logan, who’s still leaning against the counter all good-looking and cool, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It’s annoying. I feel awkward now. Out of place. I let out a deep breath, force a small smile, and make my way out the back and toward the dock.

“I’m really sorry, Jenna. You know I wouldn’t say anything to make you feel bad, especially about yourself. Right?” Charlie grips my shoulder. I look up at her.

“Yeah, I know. It’s fine.”

She smiles gently. “We’re all going to take a dip in the lake and play a few games. You should join us. It’ll be fun. Maybe it’ll take you out of this little slump you’re in.”

“I’m not in a slump.”

“Look, I know you don’t want to be here, but can you at least pretend? You’re acting like the antisocial kid right about now.”

“I am the antisocial kid.”

“Well, can you not be today? Let’s have fun today.”

I let out a draining breath, pause, then nod. We head for our bedroom and change into our swimsuits.

When we exit the house, there are several people hanging around in the back area—more than just the guys and us. There are girls in bikinis and guys in swim trunks that I haven’t seen before. Some are on the deck, sipping on drinks. Others are by the grass. There’s a net set up, so some are playing volleyball. There’s a table set up with aluminum containers filled with food. My stomach growls, and I cover my belly with my hand. “I’m kind of hungry,” I whisper to Charlie.

“I bet. You haven’t eaten. Let’s grab a quick bite then we’ll head for the dock.”

We step down the deck and walk over to where the food is. We both grab a plate. I prepare a burger while Charlie fills her plate with all sorts of things. When I look in the direction of the lake, I almost drop my food. Logan is there, wearing nothing but wet swim trunks that hang deliciously from his hips. I knew he was in great shape by the way his clothes fit him, but I wasn’t expecting a GI Joe physique.

“Whoa. Check out your man. Did you expect to find that under his shirt?” Charlie says, pulling me out of my ogling session.

“He’s not my man.”

“Does he know that? Oooh. He’s on his way over here. He must’ve spotted you.” Oh shit. I look at Charlie, scared shitless. She smiles. “Don’t be scurd.” She winks. This is no joking matter. I can’t handle him, especially while he’s half naked.

“I’m not scared.”

“I wonder how he’s packing.”

“What?”

“You know.” She lifts a squirmy hotdog in one hand. “Weiner?” Then she reaches for something else. “Or large corn on the cob?” She wiggles her brows as she shakes both items. My face flames at the thought.

“Can you stop it? He’s getting closer.”

We both look his way. You know how when you’re told not to look at something you automatically look at it? Yeah. I’m trying my hardest not to look down, but I can’t help it. I take a gander below his waist, at his trunks pressing against his…junk. Oh my God. I blink and face Charlie, embarrassed. Did he see me checking him out?

“Oh, yes, definitely large corn on the cob. He’s a keeper, Jenna. Go get ya man!”

“Shut up!”

She laughs. Logan is now standing in front of us. “Hello, ladies,” he says.

Oh my God. Don’t look at his junk. Don’t look at his junk. Don’t look at his—dammit I looked. Again. Breathe. Maybe he didn’t notice. I straighten my shoulders and meet his eyes. He’s smiling brightly. A little too brightly. Oh God. He totally caught me. Great. “Hi,” I manage to get out.

“Want to play football with us? We play in the lake.”

“Oh, tackle football in the water.” Charlie nods with a big smile. My eyes widen, silently telling her no. She ignores me and nods again, making the decision for the both of us. “We like playing football, and it’s a very touchy-feely game. Count us in.”

“Great. After you girls fuel up”—he nudges his head to our filled plates—“we’ll get started.” Logan leans into my ear and whispers, “You’re on my team.” He grins then walks away.

“All right, these are the rules for the game,” Bryson shouts from the water. I’m standing by the edge of the dock with my arms crossed, listening and trying to figure out how this is going to work. All of the guys are in the lake already. They’re all taller than I am, so the water reaches just above their waists. For Charlie, who’s tiny, it’ll probably reach her chest, and for me, mid-stomach.

As Bryson goes on about the rules, I look around. Logan, Santino, Charlie, and I are on the same team. Logan and Santino are in the water about four or five yards away from the dock. Their arms are crossed as they listen to Bryson. Charlie’s in her bikini, sitting Indian style on the dock beside me, her cover-up thrown carelessly beside her.

I’ve never played a sport in my life. Well, if you consider baseball in the backyard at the age of five a sport, then I guess I’ve played some kind of sport. But I’ve never played football. And although the rules Bryson’s calling out aren’t exactly pro-football rules, I’m still keeping my ears open to every single detail.

Bryson stretches his arm to show us our “touchdown” marker, which is a tree farther down the side of the lake. When he turns back around to face us, his face lights up and he yells out, “Babe!” I zoom in on him as his gaze focuses behind me.

Logan scoffs. “Great.”

My instant reaction is to turn around and see Bryson’s “babe” for myself. As if my life isn’t interesting enough, the antagonist of my very own horrifying chick flick—Blair Bitch—is treading her way toward me. Blair Bitch, whom I spent four terrible years of high school with, is the same girl that I punched in the face, which led me to the principal’s office, which led me to meeting Eric—the one and only love of my life.

Her green eyes go from squinty—as if she’s trying to place my familiar face—to bulging out of their sockets once she figures out who I am. My stomach turns as she rushes over to me with her arms spread wide. Then her features twist sympathetically. I’m both shocked and frozen as she wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a very, very tight hug.