Snared

3

Lindsay woke to sunshine, the fear of the night forgotten. A wedge of golden light fell through the window, cutting a swath across the room and the end of her bed. Her parents moved around in their room at the other end of the hall. She heard their footsteps and their voices. Her mom giggled, and her dad made a growling noise. Lindsay did her best to ignore them. She felt great. Rested. Clear-headed. She wanted to pretend she was alone in this house and shared the beach with no one but the boy next door.

Lindsay rolled over and snuggled deeper into the quilt. He would be hot, she decided. No way did he listen to that hippie music. He would be young and cool and totally into extreme sports. A guy didn’t get a body like that by playing video games all day. He was probably at the beach to surf. So cool. And he wouldn’t be one of the immature guys she met at school. He’d be an adult, but not too old. He’ll be perfect, she thought. Just perfect.

When she finally left her fantasy behind and got out of bed, she powered up her laptop and cast a glance out the window. No one moved in the yard or behind the windows of the rundown house. Disappointed, she grabbed her robe and put it on. Downstairs she found her parents in the kitchen again, only this time they weren’t macking all over each other. That was a relief.

They exchanged good mornings and her dad, still smiling, asked if she’d slept well.

“Pretty good,” she replied, heading directly for the coffeepot.

“It’s the sea air.”

“Mmmm,” Lindsay replied, already deeply involved with her first cup of bean.

“I’m fixing pancakes,” her mom said.

“Mom,” Lindsay said, “you know I don’t eat breakfast.”

“You’re on vacation.”

“Try to convince my thighs,” Lindsay said. “Thanks anyway. Coffee is fine.”

She took her coffee upstairs and carried it to the window seat. After getting situated with her computer in her lap and her coffee next to her hip, she opened her email, but the house next door kept distracting her. She read a line of one of Trey’s messages, looked down at the window, read another line. Kate sent an email telling her that Nick Faherty—only the hottest guy at school—was definitely going to be at her party and…OMG, do you believe it? He’s bringing his older brother who looks just like Tom Welling. I wish you could come. I’m going to be a total head case.

Yes, you will, Lindsay thought. She looked through the window, thought she saw movement across the way, but the boy didn’t appear.

Lindsay clicked the Reply button so she could tell Kate how happy she was for her. Nick and Ian Faherty were quite a party coup. It was epically unfair that Lindsay wouldn’t be there to hang with them.

Before writing the note, she again looked out the window and was startled to see two men looking up at her from the backyard of the unpleasant house. The sight of them was unnerving. They just stood there, staring. But what really got to her was the fact that they were the same guys she’d seen at the grocery store wearing black parkas and holding huge umbrellas.

Today they wore black T-shirts and gray shorts. Both men seemed to be several years older than her dad but in infinitely better shape. The day before, she thought they were exact opposites, one skinny and one fat, but now she could see their muscle through their tight shirts. The short one was so buffed it looked like his shirt would tear open if he moved his arms at all. The tall one was narrower but ripped.

Lindsay looked away, hoping she hadn’t stared too long. It was freaky enough to have them looking at her; she certainly didn’t want to get caught staring back.

A thought began to emerge as she gazed at the blank email template on her screen. Maybe the boy next door had two fathers. He was the son of a gay couple. How cool would that be? Her friend Rachel had two moms, and they were really nice.

Maybe the boy was adopted. That made him even more exotic. Another thought tried to creep in—a thought about the boy being something other than a son to these two men—but she pushed that away quickly. Life just couldn’t be that unfair.

She threw another quick glance outside. The shorter man was pointing at the base of the house and talking to the taller man, who stooped to hear. The tall guy nodded his head. In the window, thirty feet from where these men examined the rundown house, the boy appeared.

Lindsay’s heart raced, and she looked away to her computer screen. Let him see you first, she thought. Don’t let him catch you staring. He’ll think you’re a major freak. Just be cool. Pretend he isn’t there and write back to Kate. Flip your hair just a bit, but don’t look out the window. Smile like you’ve just thought of something brilliant. Drink some coffee. Hold the mug at your chin for a moment. Look up like your brilliant thought is totally deep. Put the mug down. Casually look out the window, and…

The boy was gone. The two men in black T-shirts stared up at her from the backyard. Both looked pissed off.

Feeling uncomfortable under their gaze, Lindsay lifted her laptop and carried it with her to the bed so she could write back to Kate.

Lindsay waited for her parents to leave for the flea markets before taking her shower and cleaning up for the day. She stood in front of the chest of drawers looking at the tops and the shorts she’d packed and didn’t like any of them. All the clothes looked like something a little girl would wear, all pinks and yellows and whites. This always happened to her. Every time she needed to look good, she just couldn’t find anything to wear. Most of her clothes were brand-new, but somewhere between the store rack and her uncle’s house they’d lost their appeal. None of her outfits looked special enough. What if she ran into the boy outside? She didn’t want to look like some Hicksville teen. Crap. These things were all she had, though. Something from the drawer would have to do. Finally she chose a pair of yellow shorts and took a white blouse from the closet.

Once dressed, she returned to the window for a moment to look down, but the boy wasn’t there. She wandered downstairs and onto the porch of her uncle’s house. The sky was clear and blue and the day hot, though the breeze off the ocean cooled her skin. Not far up the beach, she noticed the crowds. Dozens of people lay under the baking sun, walked over the sand, soaked in the ocean. She looked south and saw a handful of people there as well.

A car engine sputtered into life, and Lindsay backed toward the door. The noise came from behind the house next door, and she imagined the two old guys were going out for a drive. She walked into the house through the den and dining room to the kitchen door. She opened it, but did not step outside. Instead, she leaned on the jamb, making sure she was hidden from the driver’s view.

She heard the car back out of the drive. Once she was certain it was far enough down the road, she poked her head out and saw the back of a long silver sedan. Sunlight glinted off its trunk as it rolled to the north. Satisfied that she could not be spotted, Lindsay walked onto the porch all the way to the rail.

On a whim, she walked to the side and looked over the rail down the length of the house to the window where she first saw the boy. From this angle, she couldn’t see anything.

Lindsay walked back inside and up the stairs. In her room, she went immediately to the window seat and pressed her face against the glass, looking down at the boy’s room.

And there he was.

He stood in the window. His head was lowered, looking at the band of sand separating his house from her uncle’s. Lindsay pulled the binoculars from under the green cushion and quickly put them to her eyes. It took way too long for her to adjust the lenses, but finally the boy came into focus.

Excited, she waited for him to look up from the sandy ground. When he did, her throat closed up tight and her heart raced.

He was hot. As she expected, he was only a little older than her. Seventeen, maybe eighteen. His black hair jutted in wild spikes from his head. His thin face, flawless and beautiful, wore a sad expression that made Lindsay’s heart flutter. His eyes were as blue as the sky. His frowning lips were full, and she suddenly wanted to kiss him, which was totally weird because she didn’t even know him. But she found herself thrilled by the wonderment of what his lips might taste like and feel like against her own.

Lindsay spun from the window, clutching the binoculars to her chest. What was she going to do now? It wasn’t like she could just go over to his house and say, “Hey, my parents dragged me out here from the city, and I got bored and was looking through my uncle’s binoculars and thought you were hot, so why don’t we date or something?”

She could sit in the window seat for a while and pretend to write on her laptop. He might see her, but then, he might not.

Her cell phone rang, yanking Lindsay from her thoughts. She checked the caller ID.

Kate.

“Perfect timing,” Lindsay said as she answered the phone.

“What? What’s going on?”

“Nine-one-one.”

“More scary umbrella men?”

“Noooo,” Lindsay said. “Jeez, live in the now. It’s male-related.”

“Beach hottie?”

“Way hottie. I mean, he’s staying in the house next door. I saw him through the window last night, and I thought he might be cute, but then I saw him again today, and he totally is. He’s at his window right now.”

“Is said hottie age-appropriate?” Kate asked.

“Duh.”

“Any sign of female interference?”

“What? Like a girlfriend? I don’t think so. The only other people I’ve seen at the house are a couple of old guys. I think they might be his parents.”

“Both of them? Like Rachel’s moms?”

“Pre-xactly like that. They’re both buff, full-on groomed, and wear matching outfits.”

“Sounds totally same-sex to me.”

“I know,” Lindsay said. “Progressive, right?”

“Do they really wear identical outfits? I mean, is it like they order from the same J. Crew catalogue or is it matching leather diapers or what?”

“Kate, come on.”

“Okay,” Kate said. “Is he still at the window?”

Lindsay leaned forward just enough to see the boy in the neighboring house. “Yes.”

“Well, what are you going to do?”

She thought about it for a moment and came up with a plan. It was simple and cool. It made her smile. “We’re going for a walk,” Lindsay said.

“I can’t,” Lindsay said, standing on the sand behind her uncle’s house.

“Well, I know I couldn’t, but you can,” Kate said. “You can do anything. Besides, it’s no crisis. You’re just talking on the phone, wandering around the yard. No big deal. You don’t even know he exists. It’s a total coincidence. Now, set to steppin’. I have a bazillion things to do before the party.”

“I’m so pissed I can’t be there.”

“I know,” Kate said. “It’s totally lame. There’s no way I can pull this off without you here. I mean, what if we run out of beer or something? Or what if Matt starts a fight? Crap. I should just cancel.”

“You can’t cancel. If you’re worried about the beer, just have Matt’s brother pick up a couple of extra cases. Put them in the bathroom off the kitchen, in the tub, and cover them with ice. As for Matt, he isn’t going to start a fight, because his mother threatened to yank him off the basketball team if he caused any more trouble. If he gets all weird, just remind him of that.”

“I will,” Kate said. “You’re right. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“I promise I’ll take a ton of pictures and post them on my website. It’ll be kind of like being there.”

“Uh-huh.” And watching the Oscars on television was kind of like being Colin Farrell’s date. “Now, I’m about to make contact.”

Lindsay shook out her free hand to relieve a bit of stress. She rolled her head on her neck and then stepped onto the band of sand between the two houses. Though she tried to resist, she threw a quick glance at the boy’s window. Catching herself, she looked away quickly before she could even tell if he was there. Instead she looked down and noticed for the first time that her uncle’s house didn’t rest on the ground. It stood three feet above the sand on wooden supports. In the shadows under the house, tufts of tall grasses grew.

“That’s weird,” she said.

“What? Is he gross close-up?”

“No,” Lindsay said. “We’ve come to my uncle’s a bunch of times before, and I never noticed that his house is built up off the ground.”

“Yeah, fascinating,” Kate said, her voice thick with sarcasm. “Architecture is hot. What’s the boy doing?”

“I haven’t looked over there yet. Should I?”

“Yeah, but let me say something funny first. That way, he’ll see you smiling.”

“Okay.”

“On the count of three,” Kate said. “Ready? One, two…”

Lindsay began to turn, hoping the boy would still be in his window when she completed the turn.

“Three,” Kate said. “Michael Chandler.”

Lindsay broke into a wide smile at the mention of the name. Last year, Brett Underhill had dragged Kate into the boy’s locker room as a prank, and she’d seen more than a couple of the boys undressed, including Michael Chandler. Chandler was a big mean jock who liked to beat up the younger kids, and Kate got a full monty look at him. In her words, his unit was like a pencil eraser in a nest of black thread. But Michael Chandler wasn’t the point. The point was, Lindsay completed her turn with a huge grin on her face.

And the boy was in his window, looking out at her. She froze, absolutely froze solid when she saw him.

“Did it work?” Kate asked. “Lindsay? Hey? Is he there?”

“Um…uhm-hmm.”

He was definitely there. The boy smiled back and lifted a hand in greeting.

Lindsay tried to return the wave, but her arm felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. He was just so good-looking. He looked like a movie star, only better because he was real and present and separated from her by nothing but a piece of dirty glass. Through the binoculars, she thought his eyes were the color of sky, but they were lighter than that, so light. So amazing.

“Lindsay? What is going on?”

“I’ll call you back.”

“What? Hold on—”

Lindsay killed the signal and put the phone in the pocket of her jeans. The boy next door lifted a finger in the air: one second. He disappeared for a minute, bending down like he was putting something away, then reappeared. He stood up. He was so tall. Lindsay noticed that like the men she saw in the yard that morning, he too wore a black T-shirt, but his was way too big on him. It hung like a tent from his shoulders. He was way too tight-bodied for such a mammoth shirt. Nervous, she looked up and down the band of sand, to the back of the houses and then to the front and the beach and ocean beyond. People were gathered on the sand in front of her uncle’s house. Towels and chairs sat beneath a dozen different people, but none of them mattered. Not now.

She looked back at him.

He was waving for her to come closer.