PULLED UNDER

(Kill Devil Hills #3)

SARAH DARLINGTON

PULLED UNDER (KILL DEVIL HILLS #3)

Copyright © 2015 Sarah Darlington

Cover Design by Sommer Stein of Perfect Pear Creative Covers

Editing by Kamaryn Kretz

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, and events portrayed in this book are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced throughout this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

To my wonderful husband, the boy I fell in love with at sixteen and the man I’m married to today. Still can’t get enough of you.

CHAPTER 1:

2 and a half years ago…

SYDNEY

Today was officially the worst day of my life. Call me melodramatic, but I thought I was going to die. Was it possible to die of heartbreak? I think maybe it was because the pain in my chest was insurmountable—like a giant boulder sitting on my heart, smashing it into a flat pancake.

Ironic, too, because John had made me pancakes for breakfast this morning. I’d woken up hopeful and excited, given that today was my sixteenth birthday. Today I was a woman…or at least that was what I’d always thought my Sweet Sixteen was supposed to feel like. John, my big brother and my guardian, had surprised me with breakfast. Homemade pancakes with blueberries—exactly the way our Nanny Kristen used to make for us when we were young. They were wonderful pancakes, surprisingly, since John was a horrible cook. Then I’d headed off to school.

And it all started off as a regular enough day—complete with Honors classes that were admittedly over my head, lunch with my favorite teacher, Ms. Whittle, and kids who didn’t know nor care what my name was. Needless to say, I was about as irrelevant at my school as irrelevant comes. But life was good. Because there was Ben.

Ben was that boy at our high school. Arguably the most handsome, most athletic, and most popular guy among a sea of frogs. The boy whom girls like me dreamed about and the one other boys wished they could be. And…he knew my name.

Just last Friday in our chemistry class he’d asked me, and I quote, “Hey, Sydney, what did you get for number three?”

Oh swoon. Be still my beating heart.

Ben had amazing, sparkling blue eyes that were framed by long, dark lashes. He had dark brown—almost black—hair that was a little wavy and always perfectly disheveled—like a young, American Hugh Grant. Sigh. I could stare at him for hours. On my first day at Kill Devil Hills High School, two years ago, I’d fallen instantly in love with him. There was something about him. Somehow I knew; I knew with every ounce of my being that he was the guy for me. This wasn’t some imaginary infatuation in my mind. There were moments—small moments where I would think he felt it too. Like this past March, for example.

Sam Butler had bumped into me on the walk between English and Art. I’d been carrying a giant case of colored pencils, and Sam didn’t even notice me. I tripped, and I’ll never forget the sound of those pencils rolling in a million different directions. Not a single student in that hallway helped me. Everyone brushed past, stepping over the pencils, while shooting me snarky looks. It was beyond embarrassing. People laughed. I could feel my cheeks blaze red hot. Only one person did something—Ben. He quickly bent down to help me collect all the pencils. And afterward he said, “I’m Ben.”

And I said, “I know.”

It felt like a moment out of a Meg Ryan movie. He reached out to hand me my case of colored pencils, our fingers brushing slightly, and it was like ‘magic.’ My heart skipped and I swear Ben had felt it too.

Too bad he had a girlfriend. But I didn’t care. I loved him still. Maybe one day he would grow to love me, too. He’d realize she was all wrong for him and that I was right. A girl could dream. There was no harm in dreaming. I’d watched enough movies to know that dreams sometimes came true. Sometimes the nerdy, shy girl won the heart of the popular boy. It could happen. I had hope.

Until today…when my hopes and dreams had been smashed. Or, more accurately, pounded.

I’d forgotten my gym clothes in my PE locker. I always brought them home to be washed on Fridays and I never forgot—because who wanted smelly gym clothes? Not me. So after my final class, I’d hurried across the school to grab them. But Ms. Whittle had stopped me on my way—she’d brought another one of her favorite romantic comedies from home to let me borrow. We’d started talking about movies, and I lost track of time.

By the time I reached the locker room, it was deserted but, luckily, not locked. I tiptoed my way through the empty, musty-smelling room. It freaked me out being in there alone—it was too quiet without the usual sounds of gossip and giggles. Then I heard a moan. Like a sex moan! Not sure what I was doing or why I felt compelled to look, but I peeked around the corner, searching for the source of the moan. When I found it, my eyes saw the most horrific sight imaginable.

Sonya Fletcher. God, she was beautiful. Everything I wished I could be. Soft blonde hair, tiny frame, button nose, and perfectly perky breasts. Half the boys at our school worshiped her. Worse still, she was Ben’s girlfriend. And I saw her cry out in pleasure as a toned white butt pumped against her naked form. Her tan, lean legs were spread wide and locked around the waist of…Ben.

Unfortunately, it was Ben’s white naked butt and his penis that filled her vagina.

And it was my heart that hit the floor.

“God, I love you,” he grunted and pounded into her harder, both of them oblivious to the fact that I was watching. Then Ben pulled out, flipped her around, pushed her stomach against the white tile sink, and slid inside her from behind.

Oh my goodness!

A squeal left my lips, my virgin eyes bugging out of my head, and then I ran. I ran as fast and as hard as I could, tears streaking down my cheeks, the entire world around me suddenly duller than it had been before. What had I just seen? I texted John and told him a ‘friend’ was driving me home. I’d long since missed the bus. Lamely, Ms. Whittle ended up driving me home.

Reality was a bitch and today she’d slapped me across the face. And I hadn’t even grabbed my gym clothes…

Somehow in my mind, I’d never realized Ben and Sonya might be intimate like that. Especially like that. And now the image was burned into my brain. Meanwhile, I’d never even been kissed before. How lame was I? How could I ever compare to Sonya? I’m not sure I even wanted to anymore.

So…that had been earlier, and now here I sat at Chancy’s Claw. Birthday dinner time, woo-freaking-hoo. I didn’t know how I was going to get through this meal without barfing all over the table. The image of Ben and Sonya was still fresh in my mind, eating my brain like a starved, rabid zombie.