Say You Swear

The drive to Oceanside is usually a peaceful one, but my brother, Mason, and his two best friends, Chase and Brady, came to an unspoken agreement last night that “one more,” meant one more twelve-pack. So out they stayed, saying drunken goodbyes to our classmates at the very last summer party to be had in our hometown.

My girl Cameron and I knew better than to party hard the night before a drive, so we headed home early to finish packing for our final trip to the beach before college life begins.

A trip that should have taken no more than three and a half hours, yet we’ve already been in this damn SUV for five. We learned years ago that long drives with pouty, hungover man-boys are not fun, but here we are again, willing yet slightly annoyed participants in the ‘how many times does one man have to stop to piss’ experiment.

The answer is seven. We stopped seven times already thanks to Brady’s baby bladder.

At least they seem to have sobered up in the last fifteen minutes, finally allowing us to turn the music up loud enough to where we can actually hear it.

Honestly, I shouldn’t complain.

Group car rides are pretty much the only time I get to feign innocence when I lean a little further into the star player of my fantasies, more commonly known as my brother’s best friend.

‘Play but don’t push’ is the game I’m forced to settle for and I’m good at it. Probably because I’ve had the better part of six years to perfect it.

See, the day Chase and his family moved in across the street, I saw him first. It was as if an invisible stamp came down and pressed across his forehead, a big fat red label that screamed mine.

Sure, I was only in junior high, but I’d seen The Boy Next Door. I understood the power of obsession and mine started the minute I laid eyes on him. Granted, mine wasn’t the murderous sort, and watching that movie gave me hardcore, unachievable body goals, but all that’s beside the point.

Chase Harper had arrived in the neighborhood, and I was determined to be the one to show him around it, so I pressed the brakes on my bike at the edge of his lawn, gaining his attention.

The minute his brace-face smiled at me from across the yard, my twin appeared out of nowhere, something he’s inconveniently good at.

Mason rushed him, tackled him to the ground, and when he stood, he fed Chase a line I sometimes wish he’d choke on.

He growled, “Stay away from my ‘little sister!’”

In horror, I watched as Chase hopped to his feet, literally, like some sort of spider monkey shit. I held my breath, readying for the fight I suspected to follow—yeah, my brother was known to knock a kid out when it came to me—but then Chase laughed and we all fell silent.

The brown-haired, green-eyed boy turned to my brother with grass in his mouth, a grin curving it, and asked Mase what football team he played for. He was looking for one to join.

I huffed and rode off, because I knew with that single question asked, Mason and Brady had a new best friend, and I was, once again, colored in red, an invisible back slashed circle painted across me.

In the span of five minutes, my brother’s duo grew into a trio, and our house became their hangout spot of choice. I never understood the whole forbidden fruit thing until then, how not having something only made you want it more.

It’s a bunch of bull if you ask me.

Unfortunately for me, no one did, so I sat back, forced to watch as the jocks of junior high became the hotties of high school.

Every girl wanted a bite, but who could blame them?

They were model students, star athletes, and undercover bad boys. No matter a girl’s type, one of the three was sure to fit the bill.

I like to joke that they’re every shade of Dwyane Johnson since he seems to be different, yet extremely fit regardless of the role. Brady would definitely be the WWE version.

No, but really, all three were gifted with good genes. Mason, my overprotective twin, is tall and trim, and could literally stunt double for a slightly younger Theo James. Brady’s a bulked-out Ken doll, and Chase is, well, the epitome of perfection.

Unfortunately for me, every girl agrees.

He has the same height and build as Mase, but his brown hair is a few shades lighter. His eyes, vivid and upbeat, are a mix of grass and seaweed. He’s kind, strong and confident. Almost as bossy as Mason and Brady, but out of the three, he’s the only one who cuts us girls some slack from time to time.

I’ve convinced myself it’s his way of differentiating himself from protective older brother to a man with eyes and hidden desires, but I’m known to be a wishful thinker.

Nine out of ten times, I’m thinking about the man beside me.

It’s the oldest cliché in the books to want who you can’t have. Unrequited love for your brother’s best friend, a brother who is insanely protective, and, yeah, admittedly slightly psychotic when it comes to those he cares about. He can’t help it though. As soon as we were old enough to learn how my dad lost his baby sister, Mason made it his mission to shadow my every step. Combine that with the death of our friend Payton’s boyfriend a couple weeks ago, and he’s a pile of paranoia.

The fact that Chase was passed out for most of the drive today likely saved me from a solid dozen glares through the rearview mirror. Pretty sure that’s why Mase insists I sit in the middle every time we ride together, so he can keep eyes on me at all times.

It’s sweet how my twin takes his ‘big brother’ role so seriously.

It’s also really annoying.

Had we stayed on track this morning, we would have rolled into town around eleven, but here we are, turning into the long driveway of the beach house at a quarter to one.

Mason barely has time to put his Tahoe in park before Cameron is throwing her door open and hopping out. She runs halfway up the steps, and spins on her bare feet, throwing her arms out with a smile. “Come on you guys! Time’s already ticking!”

“We have the rest of the month!” Mason shouts out his open window.

“And we’re already down half a day!” Cam fires back.

I smile, patting my brother’s shoulder. “Come on, Mase, we’re a half-day down,” I tease, and my brother grumbles as I slip out the door, following Cameron along the wrap-around deck.

She beams, hopping up to sit on the edge of the banister, so I join her, and Brady’s stepping up in the next second.

“This is fuckin’ insane!” Cam shakes her head, eyeing the area.

“Fuck yeah, it is.” Brady faces the ocean with a grin.

Heavy footsteps behind us let us know the other two have walked up, and together, we spin.

The five of us stand there a moment, silently breathing in the fresh seaside air as we stare into the floor-to-ceiling window of the beach house.

Of our beach house, as of a month ago.

Mine, Cameron, and Brady’s mom have been best friends since college, and before they even married our dads, they bought a beach house together. As the years went by, marriage and us kids followed, they kept that place as a spot to always come. Then, when we were young, I guess there was a crash in the housing market, and all our parents were lucky enough to snag vacation homes along the beach, and ever since then, this is where our families spent every school holiday. We never understood why, but they never did sell the original home they purchased, and that’s the house we’re about to enter, but it looks nothing like the place we saw as kids.

They had it gutted, parts torn down, and not only rebuilt, but also added onto. It’s completely renovated.

Coastal blue in color, the place is huge. It has a massive wrap-around patio, leading to a massive back deck, the one we’re currently standing on, and a private pathway, leading to a beautiful dock surrounded by California Poppies. There’s even a full sound system with speakers embedded into the corners of the walls, patio, and wood paneling every few dozen feet—there isn’t a single spot in or around the place the music can’t reach. Being on the opposite side of the condo strip, it’s more secluded, so the sound doesn’t bother others who are trying to have a more relaxing vacation.

It’s the perfect escape, a palace on the water.

And it was just given to us.

To all five of us.

Our parents surprised us at our graduation party, handing us a deed to the place, all our names listed as equal owners. They said they decided to do this for us years ago as a way to try and keep our crew close, no matter where life may take us after college, as the place did for them afterward.

Splitting it equally among us meant no one can decide to sell without the others, and should life take us away at some time, we’d always have this place to come back to at any point.

To say we were excited is an understatement, but for me, it also brought a hint of dread. It was sort of a depressing conversation, to be honest. I’m not so naive to assume that our lives would stay the same, that it would be us five for always, but it is kind of terrifying to consider the alternative.

New people will come into our lives, I know this.

Some might be for the better, others for the worse.

But what happens if one of our worlds is flipped upside down?

What if we drown from the capsize?

If we lose each other along the way, who will be there to pull us from the water?

Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but it’s a real possibility. A shitty one.

Less than a month from today, the future begins.

My brother and the boys will head to Avix University for the official start of their college football careers, and Cam and I will drive home to pack, getting ready to meet them on campus a few days before orientation.

Leaving home is as real as it gets.

It’ll be the first time my brother won’t be a door away. While it’s slightly terrifying, it’s also a beautiful thing how the football house is on the complete opposite side of mine and Cam’s dorm. Meaning, Mason won’t be able to “check in” on us as often. That alone is going to be worth celebrating on move-in day.

I love my brother but damn. Sometimes he needs to back off. He’s lucky I didn’t pick a college across the country.

He also knows there is no way I would have.

I don’t do well without family being nearby. Some might call that being codependent.

I simply call it a twin thing.

“So, we’re still good with how we picked rooms a couple weeks ago, right?” Mason breaks the silence. “Girls upstairs with the joining bathroom, leave the spare room, a spare, and us downstairs?”

“Mom decorated our rooms when she came to check on Payton and stocked the fridge last week so—”

“No take-backs!” Cam cuts me off with a smile.

The boys laugh and then Mason takes a deep breath, pulling the key from his pocket.

“No take-backs.” He grins. “We ready for a do-over? No parents, no rules.”

“No one left under eighteen this time around.” Brady playfully shoves me and Mason, since Brady, Mason and I became legal three days ago.

I look to Chase, who happens to glance my way at the same exact time. He smiles and I match his with one of my own.

“Oh shit,” my best friend teases. “Things are about to get real up in here!”

I wish I knew how true Cameron’s statement would become then, but I didn’t have the slightest clue.