Back The Beach House
Chapters (16)
  1. Cover
  2. Chapter 1
  3. Chapter 2
  4. Chapter 3
  5. Chapter 4
  6. Chapter 5
  7. Chapter 6
  8. Chapter 7
  9. Chapter 8
  10. Chapter 9
  11. Chapter 10
  12. Chapter 11
  13. Chapter 12
  14. Chapter 13
  15. About the Author
  16. What’s next onyour reading list?

Noah wouldn’t be staying the whole time: he was leaving two days earlier than the rest of us with his dad to check out the Harvard campus. They were flying to Massachusetts while we stayed behind.

I hated that things had to change. Growing up, I’d thought we’d always have the beach house. That no matter what, every summer we’d go there—and for just a couple of days, we could act like kids and just hang out. Even when we’d gotten older, and Noah drifted away from us to go to parties on the beach in the night or make out with random girls who fawned over him, he’d always come back to hang out with us. Because there, with the sea and the sand and nobody else around, none of us cared what anybody thought. Summer at the beach house meant everything was different, but different in the best kind of way.

Except this year, I wasn’t so sure.

I blinked, looking at Lee and pulling myself out of my thoughts.

It didn’t matter if I was cool with Rachel coming with us or not—she was Lee’s girlfriend. I had to be okay with it, for him.

It was lucky I liked her.

“Yeah, of course I am,” I answered him. “When did you say she’s coming down?”

“Monday,” he told me. “And her family is picking her up on Thursday afternoon, on their way to visit some relatives.”

“Okay.” I nodded and grabbed a pair of pants from the floor, folding them up.

“Elle, are you sure you’re okay about—”

“Yes!” I laughed to reinforce my words. “Yes, I’m okay about it, Lee, for the billionth time already! Besides, it’ll be nice for your mom and me to have some female company for a change. There’s only so much of you we can handle, you know.”

“I did catch on to that,” he said with a smirk. “Given how little time we’ve spent together over the past few years.”

Both of us laughed, and I grinned at Lee.

“Go on, get your butt back home and start packing!” I shoved him off my bed. “If you forget to pack your trunks again this year, you are not borrowing one of my bikinis. I do not need a repeat performance of that!”

At six-thirty the next morning, I was at the top of the stairs, ready to haul my suitcase down to the porch. A knock sounded on the front door and Lee opened it, stepping inside.

“Whoa, watch it!” he exclaimed, and was suddenly leaping up the stairs to take my bag from me before I got past the third step. I’d been gripping the banister hard to keep myself from toppling over—my suitcase weighed a ton.

“Thanks,” I said.