Stealing for Keeps (Frost Lake High Book 1)
Stealing for Keeps: Chapter 15

The schools are bigger and nicer in Frost Lake than my old ones back in Arizona, the dances more elaborate, the funding for sports much more substantial. The houses are larger, vehicles nicer, and the girls hotter, but I’m glad that one thing seems to be universal: teenage parties mean booze and loud music, and the promise of hooking up.

Rowan rode over with me, but he’s already found the center of the party and is thriving in it. I walk through the living room to the dining room and kitchen area. There’s a game of flip cup happening on a long, wooden table with a big-ass chandelier hanging over it. Others are gathered around the island with drinks in hand, talking and laughing.

I spot Sophie and her friends and take a sharp turn into another room. She’s a cool girl, but she seems to think we’re going to be something more than friends, and I just don’t see that happening when there is a cute blond I can’t get out of my head.

A cute blond who’s standing in the corner with Lacey and another girl I recognize as a cheerleader.

I catch Claire’s eye as I enter the room. She smiles and cocks one brow in a teasing, flirty way. Something shifted between us the past week. We’ve become friends…at least when we’re alone. I made a truce with Vaughn, and I don’t plan to break it, but remembering why is getting more difficult the more time I spend with her.

Instead of going over to her like my feet want, I wink at her and keep walking. I circle back through the party, and I replace that my teammates are gathered in the living room, Rowan included.

“There you are,” he says, tipping his chin up at me. “I thought you left already.”

“Got lost,” I joke.

“His grandparents own the paper mill in the town over,” Blake says. “You should see the pool in the backyard.”

It’s cool out tonight, rained on and off all day, but by unspoken agreement, we head outside anyway.

“Do all these people go to our school?” I mutter, more or less to myself, though the guys chuckle.

The pool, as promised, is impressive. It’s lit up with multicolored lights along the edge, and the water sparkles under the moonlight. Everyone in Arizona had a pool in their backyard, but this is a spectacle. It has two lanes roped off for lap swimming, a diving board, and a swim-up bar.

No one is braving the pool tonight, but a few girls are sitting on the edge, letting their toes dangle under the surface. In warmer weather, I can see how this pool gets a lot of action. Not that Frost Lake gets a lot of warm weather, a month or two tops. Seems like a waste of money, but something tells me these people aren’t worried about saving a few hundred grand.

All around the giant pool, people stand in groups, drinking and talking. Off to the side of the pool is a grassy area with a firepit and chairs gathered around. It looks like they’re playing some sort of game, because shots are being knocked back by several as the others laugh and cheer.

But the main attraction in the backyard filled with my classmates (and then some) is the hot tub. It’s built next to the pool, and steam rises from it. Girls are stripped down to their bras and panties, and guys are in their boxers. I can practically see the pheromones in the air.

“I love high school,” Rowan says, clapping me on the shoulder and heading that direction.

“That hot tub for sure has bodily fluid in it of some kind.” Blake grimaces.

“Definitely,” Vaughn says.

I recognize more people than I don’t after a quick appraisal. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the size of Frost Lake. And still, everyone seems to know everyone.

“Yo, Keller.”

I turn at the sound of my name, and some guy from my English class tosses me a beer. I catch the lob pass and tip my head to him in thanks.

Blake is next to me with an already open beer and another in his free hand. “You want this?” I ask him.

“You don’t?”

“Nah, man. I’m driving.”

“Stack me up.” He holds out the hand with the closed beer, and I put the other on top. “Fuck it. You know what?” he asks no one in particular. “What’s a little bodily fluid gonna hurt? The hot water probably kills anything too gnarly.”

“Don’t get pregnant!” Vaughn calls after him. He shakes his head, then glances back at me and Hunter. “You guys want to kick the ball around?”

“Where?” I ask.

One side of his mouth lifts. “You’ll see.”

* * *

In a side yard that’s nearly as big as the backyard is a small soccer field. Goals with nets and all.

“Why does he have this?” I walk onto the field in amazement. There are even lights around the perimeter, like the designer considered after-dark games.

“He was on the soccer team freshman year,” Hunter answers. “We used to come over here on the weekends and play until all hours of the night.”

“I’d never leave if I had something like this.” I’m still amazed. My parents put up with me kicking the ball and using laundry baskets or whatever else I can replace as a makeshift goal and only complain when I’m too noisy (kicking the ball against the side of the house) or break something (a window or two or three).

Vaughn and Hunter peel off their button-down shirts, and the three of us kick the ball around, warming up, taking shots at the goal to get used to it. It’s obvious that they’ve played here as much as they said, because they move around the smaller space with an ease that takes me a few minutes to achieve.

Before long, we’ve attracted three others, and we’ve got a game of three-on-three and a crowd forming to watch.

It feels good to play, even like this, with guys who love the game as much as I do. We’re competitive, and there’s no taking it easy on one another, but we laugh and chirp, and it’s just fun.

Well, mostly fun. Neither Vaughn nor I can resist a challenge. It’s me and him, back and forth. I’ve learned his game. I’m ready for him to push his forearm against my chest and extend his body away from me. I’ve gotten quicker, and I love seeing the lines of frustration on his face.

When I glance over at the sideline, Claire has joined the crowd. She and Lacey stand off to the side. I’m not the only one who’s seen her. Vaughn stands taller and peels off his undershirt. I thought the guy was unflappable, but it’s clear he has at least one weakness: Claire.

Smiling to myself, I take off my shirt as well. We toss them to the sidelines.

“You want me to stop taking it easy on you now?” I ask.

“Bring it on.”

“I don’t want to embarrass you.”

“You fucking wish, Keller.”

The fire that is lit under him from my words and Claire’s presence is almost enough to make me wish I’d kept my mouth shut. But it’s so damn fun to go up against him like this. Scrapping and pushing and cheap shots. No holding back.

He tackles me off a pass, and our feet get tangled up, both of us going down. I elbow him, and he makes sure he pads his fall with my body. I glance over at Claire. Her gaze goes from me to Vaughn, which is how I realize he’s also staring at her.

“Do you need some water?” Sophie appears at my side as I stand.

I take the cup from her, drink half of it, and toss the rest over my head. Claire and I lock eyes again. Her gaze lowers like she’s tracking the drops from my face to my stomach. Her eyes on me feel like being struck by a lightning bolt. I toss her a wink when she finally lifts her gaze, but not before I notice the blush creeping into her face.

Her response is to turn and leave. The disappointment I feel is swift. I like it when she watches me. I like it when she’s around, period. Maybe I shouldn’t flirt with her, but I just can’t help it. I want her. There, I’ve admitted it. Now what the fuck do I do about it, knowing Vaughn will have the team turned against me in a flash if he replaces out?

The game continues. People slowly lose interest, and eventually, the noise from the party starts to die down.

“Shit. It’s almost one. I gotta get home.” Hunter grabs his abandoned shirt and then walks over to me and outstretches a hand. “Nice game.”

“You too.” We slap hands.

“I should go too,” Vaughn says. He leans over to get his T-shirt, then wipes his forehead with it. He puts his nicer shirt on, leaving it open and his bare chest and stomach visible. Some of the girls who are still sitting around and watching giggle and ogle him, but he’s oblivious again now that Claire is gone. “Are you free tomorrow after practice?” he asks. “I thought we could work on some speed drills. If you still want.”

Even though things have been cool between us since the truce, he hasn’t offered to help me again. The pranks have stopped, and the guys don’t seem to have it out for me anymore, but I’m well aware that one nod from Vaughn, and I might be right back to looking over my shoulder.

“Yeah. That’d be cool.”

“I’ll text you.” He scans the side yard, giving the girls no more than a second of his attention before heading out the gate to the front.

I head back to the main yard. The party stragglers are gathered around the firepit, and a few couples are in the hot tub, but they’re making out, and people seem to be giving them a wide berth. I don’t blame them there.

I spot Rowan in a chair in front of the fire, so I start toward him. He has a familiar blond sitting next to him. Claire.

They’re sharing a chair. She’s perched on the very end, a cup of something that I’m guessing isn’t water in one hand. Her smile is wide, and her body language is loose. When they all start laughing, I can pick hers out even though she’s not the loudest.

She must feel my eyes on her, because she turns, and we stare at each other from across the yard. Her lips curve higher, and she has this sort of sassy, flirty shift in her that lets me know instantly that she’s not sober.

My thoughts are confirmed when I get closer, and she stands and stumbles toward me.

“Did you win?”

“Should have stuck around to replace out,” I say.

She rolls her eyes. “Please. You have a big enough fan club without me.”

“Is that right?” I enjoy her fiery attitude more than I should.

“Yep. I just have to keep an ear to the ground at all times to know your location, outfit, and actions. The girls in this school are obsessed with you.”

“Not all of them,” I point out. Not the one I want to be, even though I know it wouldn’t matter.

“You’re talking to me in public,” she says too loudly. “Does Vaughn know? Would he approve?”

Her tone is mocking but playful, and luckily no one except Rowan is paying us any attention.

“Probably not.” I grab both of her arms to keep her steady. “You good?”

“Great.”

I start to remove my hands, and she wobbles again.

“How much have you had to drink?”

“This is only my second,” she says, looking down at her mostly empty cup.

“I know you’re good at art, but maybe math isn’t your strong suit.” There’s no way she’s this drunk after two drinks.

Rowan steps closer.

“She’s a lightweight,” he says in a loud whisper, like he’s trying to be funny.

“As opposed to a lush like you,” she snaps back at him.

“Fair point, Crawford.”

Claire suddenly looks tired, like the alcohol has flipped a switch from tipsy and fun to drunk and needing to pass out.

“I think it might be time for you to go home.”

“I think it might be time for you to go home,” she mocks back.

“Wow,” I mouth to Rowan and twist the bill of my cap from front to back.

She thrusts her cup at him. “Here. I don’t want any more.”

He downs it in one gulp.

Lacey joins us. She doesn’t seem quite as bad off as her friend, but judging by the giggly way she approaches us, I’d say she’s drunk as well.

“Do you want to go in the hot tub?” she asks her friend.

“I think I want to go home.”

“No!” Her friend grabs on to her arm. “You have the whole night for once. We’re going to stay up until dawn and then get French fries and milkshakes, remember?”

Claire winces and puts a hand to her stomach, then her face pales.

“Are you…” Lacey doesn’t finish the question before Claire’s eyes widen in panic.

“I don’t feel so well.”

“Did she drive?” I ask Lacey.

“No, I brought her. We were going to catch an Uber after the party.”

“Can you catch a ride with someone else?” I step closer to Claire and wrap an arm around her waist. She leans into me like she’s thankful not to be holding herself upright. “I’m heading out now, so I can take her home.”

“I’ll Uber with you,” Rowan tells Lacey.

Lacey nods at me. “Maybe I should go with her.”

“I’m okay,” Claire tells her. “I just need to sleep.”

Her friend comes forward and hugs her. “Love you, Claire Bear. Text me when you get home.” She then looks at me. “If something happens to her, I will shove a glitter bomb up your—”

“Oooo-kay.” Rowan takes Lacey by the shoulders and pulls her close to him, then drapes one arm around her. “We’re good here.”

With a nod of appreciation to Rowan and a weary smile at Lacey, I take more of Claire’s weight and start toward the side gate to the street.

She’s quiet as I help her into the passenger side of my Jeep. I go around the front and slide behind the wheel. The music is blasting from my drive earlier, and I turn it down and glance over at Claire. She hasn’t budged, so I lean across her to buckle her seat belt. The movement puts us close—too close. She smells like cotton candy and rum. Her eyes lock with mine, and when she glances down at my mouth, I realize if I leaned forward even an inch, our lips would touch.

I’ve thought about kissing her again every day since the first time. I wonder if she’s ever thought about kissing me again.

“How are you feeling now?” I ask, not recognizing my own voice. It’s deep and sounds like I chewed on gravel. I pull away and start the vehicle, only daring to look at her again when I pull out onto the road.

“Better. I think. My stomach doesn’t hurt anymore.” She offers a weak smile. “I probably won’t puke in your car.”

“Reassuring,” I say dryly, focusing on the road. It’s dark out, and there are only a few streetlights. I still don’t know my way around yet, and the last thing I want is to get lost so Claire can have time to start feeling bad again and vomit on the floorboard. I do not do well with the smell of vomit. Just thinking about it makes me queasy.

She laughs a little. “You’d deserve it.”

“For what?” I ask, looking over at her. Her eyes are brighter now, more alive, sparking with their usual heat and playfulness.

“You know what.”

I clamp my jaw shut.

“What did Vaughn say exactly anyway?” she asks.

I guess it was too much to hope she’d forgotten about that, but she hasn’t brought it up in weeks. I don’t want to talk about Vaughn.

“It must have been pretty bad, because you went from not caring what he thought to avoiding me like the plague only a few hours later.”

“I’m not avoiding you now,” I point out, then add, “It wasn’t bad. Vaughn has never said anything bad about you.”

She doesn’t look convinced. She turns in her seat, angling her legs toward me. “It’s okay. I can handle it. What did he say?” Silence follows, then she says, “I bet I can guess. Did he say I was a distraction that you didn’t need? That you were better off not getting involved with me? Or maybe that since my injury, I just don’t understand what it takes to be an elite athlete in the same way.”

He didn’t say any of those things to me, but now I’m wondering if he said them to her. What a fucking idiot. Does he really think those things, or is Claire just trying to con me into talking? I don’t know, but I can tell she isn’t going to drop this. I make a wrong turn and curse myself. Could I make this drive any longer or more painful?

“Austin,” she says my name softly. I think it’s the first time I’ve heard her say it without mocking me, and I want her to do it again.

I let out a long breath. I don’t see how I could make things any worse at this point. “He said things were complicated between you two, and he implied that you’d end up back together.”

Actually, now that I’ve said it out loud, I wonder if it’s true. Does she want that? Maybe I’ve misread her signals. Am I a decoy in her plot to get back with Vaughn? The idea makes me feel nauseous.

Claire is quiet, and I wish I hadn’t said anything. Although if she’s going to end up with him anyway, maybe it’s better she knows. They can work shit out, and I can go back to not being distracted and focusing on soccer.

Laughter spills out of her while I’m still muddling through my thoughts and assuring myself I won’t be jealous or care at all if she and Vaughn get back together.

I roll to a stop at a light. Inside the city limits, the lighting is better, and I can see the warm pink of her lips and the way the purple strap of her dress slides down off her shoulder.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said.” She’s taken with another fit of laughter. “Complicated? Ha!”

“So you’re not getting back together?” I ask, then hold my breath while I wait for her answer.

She stifles her laughter and hits me with those multicolored eyes. “Why? You’re not interested in me, so does it matter?”

I start to tell her that I never said that, but I can’t tell her what I really want to, so what’s the point of clearing up that I’m very interested in her? I have just enough self-preservation to know when to hold my tongue.

I manage to replace her house without taking any more wrong turns.

“Don’t pull into the driveway,” she says, so I pull up to the curb.

“Is anyone home?” I ask, wondering if it’s okay to leave her alone. She seems less likely to be sick, but she’s still very drunk.

“My mom and sister, but they have to get up really early for a dance competition, so I don’t want to wake them.” She fumbles for the door handle and goes to step out, but the seat belt stops her.

She laughs as she realizes her error.

“Do you need any help?”

“I got it.” She pauses on the sidewalk next to my car and takes off one sandal. She lets it dangle from her fingertips. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Thanks for not puking in my car.”

We stare at each other for a beat. She doesn’t shut the car door, and I don’t put it in drive.

“Okay. I should go now.” She still doesn’t budge for another few seconds, then steps away. She attempts to shut the door but doesn’t quite get it.

I lean over to shut it myself, watching her walk up to the front door. She’s stumbling and laughing. There is zero chance she’s not waking up the whole house.

I keep watching as she fumbles around in her purse.

“Don’t do it, Keller.” I grip the steering wheel. I tell myself she’ll be fine. So her mom wakes up and sees she’s drunk. It’ll be fine, right? Ugh. Dammit.

I kill the engine and get out of my car. I jog up quietly, joining her at the porch.

“Hey,” she says too loudly. “I can’t replace my key.”

“I’ll help you,” I whisper. Taking her purse, I rummage around until I replace a key ring. There are several on it, with color-coded rubber rings. “Which one?”

“Yellow.” She sighs. “Yellow for Mom’s house, green for Dad’s. I’m saving the pink one for my house someday. I want to live in a pink house.”

One side of my mouth lifts as I slide the key with a yellow rubber ring into the lock. “A pink house?”

When I push the door open, she stumbles ahead of me without answering. The house is dark. There’s some dim lighting along the bottom of the cabinets in the kitchen and a lamp at the bottom of the stairs that glows in the corner.

She heads for the stairs before I get the door shut. Her footsteps are heavy, and she’s humming. My palms start to sweat as I ease the door closed and hurry after her. I catch her about halfway up.

“Why are you following me?” she asks loudly.

“Shh.” I whisper, placing a hand at her back when she leans back too far. If we don’t fall down and break something, I’ll be shocked. “I’m just making sure you get in your room.”

“I’m fine.” She wobbles again, and I catch her around the waist.

“Yep. I can see that.”

I hold on to her as we walk up the remaining steps. She’s still humming and generally just totally unaware of how loud she’s being. Does she always walk this loud? I mean, I know the boot is noisy, but it’s like she’s hammering into the hardwood floor with every step.

Thankfully, this house doesn’t creak as we walk. I guess it’s too new and fancy for that. I note the closed doors as we navigate to her room.

“And I made it.” She throws up her hands and spins in a circle, somehow not falling down. I bet that’s a move she did a million times in figure skating.

“Even with a boot, you’re graceful.”

She laughs again, still not quietly.

“You’re gonna wake up your mom.”

“Unlikely. She’s probably got her white noise machine going.”

I don’t know how to tell her she’s way louder than any white noise.

“Well, I’m here. Safe and sound. Thank you for bringing me home.” She tosses her purse onto the end of her bed and then reaches around behind her back.

“You’re welcome.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait. Can you help?” She turns around and lets her arms fall to her sides. “I can’t get the zipper.”

“Yeah.” I take two steps to her. The small zipper runs along her back. My fingers brush against her bare skin as I grab ahold of it. I’m suddenly very aware of how good she smells, how alone we are, and how fast my heart’s beating.

She’s quieter than she’s been since we entered the house, and it’s more unnerving than her stomping around. I step back when the material falls apart and clear my throat.

“Okay.”

She turns to face me, holding her dress to her chest so it doesn’t slip off her. “Thank you.”

“Yep. Get some sleep. I’ll, uh, talk to you later.”

I turn to go, but she moves forward and grabs my arm. “Wait.”

My body vibrates with how much I want her. When I turn, she releases her hold on me, and we stand inches apart, staring at each other.

Reaching forward with one hand, I let my fingertips brush against her thigh.

My brain is yelling, Not the time, asshole, but weeks of being near her, thinking about her, dreaming about touching her, have all led to this moment, and I can’t stop.

We’re both silent as my fingers glide over her smooth skin. Her eyes are locked on mine, and time seems to stand still. I think about kissing her, not for the first or even the hundredth time tonight. She’s so beautiful.

My hand lifts to the side of her face. My knuckles brush against her skin, and I drop my thumb over the bow of her lips. They part, and I slide my thumb to the corner. Her head tips back in clear invitation.

To hell with all the reasons I shouldn’t; the reasons I should feel far more important right now.

“Austin,” she whispers my name. I don’t know if it’s a warning or a reminder that I’m me and she’s her and that we’re about to cross a very big line.

I’m seconds from leaping over it, really. I don’t just want to kiss her. I want to kiss her until the sun comes up.

I swallow thickly as my heart continues to hammer in my chest. She lets her dress drop to the floor. “I dare you to kiss me.”

My heart jumps in my throat, and all the blood rushes south.

I feel her inhale a breath as my fingers drop lower to the swell of her breasts.

A door creaks open somewhere in the house, but the noise is slow to register. I’m focused on Claire’s perfect pink lips, the way her heart beats in sync with mine, and the smell of cotton candy.

Suddenly, footsteps in the hallway cut through the moment. We both freeze, eyes wide with panic. Claire lets out a yelp and jumps back from me.

“Oh shit.” Her voice is a whisper. She looks around the room, then grabs on to my arm and hauls me backward with her into the closet.

We’re chest-to-chest in the small space. My back is against the shelving, and she presses into me. I don’t know why she’s hiding, but I can’t bring myself to question it out loud. Her body molded against mine feels so good.

“You smell nice,” she says. “You always smell good. Like sunshine in the middle of the forest.”

“I—”

Footsteps continue. I can’t tell if they’re coming closer or not.

“Is it your mom?” I ask.

“Or a ghost,” she says, then starts to giggle.

I place a hand over her mouth and fight my own laughter despite the situation. I can feel her lips moving under my palm. She then wiggles her body to get free and trips on my feet. I catch her a second before her mom calls out, “Claire? Are you home?”

She squeaks, a tiny little noise. I haul her to me. Now her back is to my chest, and she’s crushing me into the hangers and shelves. We hold still, listening closely. Our cover is definitely blown.

“What do I do?” she asks, turning her head.

“Tell her you’re changing.”

“Good idea.”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Claire yells. “I’m just changing.”

She starts to giggle again. My heart beats so fast in my chest. The last thing I need is to get caught in this closet with a half-naked Claire by her mother.

My hand drops to her side, and I lean my head back to keep from eating her hair.

Everything is quiet, and then the closet door is wrenched open. Claire’s mom stands with her arms crossed and a death glare aimed right at me. Oh shit.

“What is this?” her mom asks.

We stumble out, and I’m very aware of how bad this looks.

“I give you a little bit of independence, and you bring some boy back at two o’clock in the morning?”

“It’s not like that,” Claire says.

“I was just helping her up to her room,” I say, running a hand through my hair.

“Helping?” her mom asks, incredulous.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She steps closer to Claire and sniffs. “Have you been drinking?”

I’m caught between wanting to sprint out of here and staying to make sure Claire doesn’t get in too much trouble. But the looks her mom is giving me make it clear that my presence isn’t helping.

“I should go,” I say, glancing at Claire. “Are you going to be okay?”

She nods tentatively.

“You shouldn’t be here to begin with,” her mom says coolly. “Do your parents know you’re sneaking into drunk girls’ houses late at night to take advantage of them, or should I give them a call tomorrow?”

“Mom!” Claire’s voice rises, and her eyes widen with disbelief. “He didn’t. He wouldn’t.”

“No?” Claire’s mom waves a hand in front of her daughter’s half-naked body. “So you’re not drunk, and he wasn’t just feeling you up in the closet?”

Claire blushes and pulls a pillow from her bed to hold in front of herself. She looks a lot like her mom, but where Claire’s features are soft and inviting, her mom’s are hard and harsh.

Her mom narrows her gaze on me and points. “If I catch you anywhere near my daughter again, I will call your parents and the school. And maybe the cops.”

Claire shoots me an apologetic look as I head toward her bedroom door.

I think I mutter “sorry,” but I don’t know which one I’m apologizing to.