She’d entertained thoughts of some massive prank where they’d cut off her hair or throw her in the pool fully dressed. But Taylor and Heather had wrapped her hair in hot rollers for a while, then brushed makeup across her cheeks until she didn’t recognize herself in the mirror. When the hot rollers were pulled free, her hair fell in thick curls down her back, dark tendrils that looked like they belonged to someone else.
And then the party started, and they seemed to forget she existed.
The night was pitch-black now, the torches blazing against the sky. It was too cold to brave the pool, but a dozen students were crowded into the hot tub including Kara, who had to be on her fourth wine cooler by now. Layne had tried to talk her out of the second one, but Kara had screeched to stop being such a goody-goody.
Everyone had laughed.
That’s when Layne had found a place in the dark.
She’d tried mingling, but she didn’t know anyone here, and every time she approached a group, they stared at her in this confused way, like she was a random stranger who’d just wandered in off the street. At first she tried to join their conversations, hoping the awkwardness would dissipate. But she didn’t know much about sports, she didn’t go to parties every weekend, and she wasn’t on any of the committees these girls seemed to care about. Fall formal? Yearbook? Yeah, right.
Hey, guys, want to talk about the social dynamics in the Brontë sisters’ novels?
She might as well throw herself into the pool.
Taylor was staggering around somewhere. Layne had already seen her puke into the bushes at the edge of the property once.
Not like Layne really wanted her company. Despite the curls, despite the rah-rah-sisterhood shtick, she still didn’t trust Taylor.
Especially since Gabriel hadn’t even shown up.
Maybe this was the joke. Maybe the older girls had strung her along with empty words. But . . . if this was a joke, there didn’t seem to be any punch line. It wasn’t like Taylor was mocking her for sitting alone.
And Layne would be lying if she said her head didn’t turn every time a new person stepped out onto the pool deck. She thought she’d seen Gabriel at one point, but his face wore an easy smile, and he was laughing with the athletic blonde attached to his arm.
Nick. No way Gabriel had gone from sullen and brooding to easy laughter in one afternoon. No way he’d show up with some other girl, when Taylor had said he was coming for her.
Unless that was the joke?
Layne’s thoughts were giving way to traitorous doubts when some other guy by the grill called out, “Nick! Hey, man.” And then they did that whole guy high-five-handshake-shoulder-hug thing.
Relief.
Until she reminded herself that Gabriel still wasn’t here.
And she was still alone.
Layne stared up at the tiki torches lining the pool deck. Small flickers of flame snapped within each. Some boy across the pool had pulled one out of the holder and was using it as a fiery lance to jab at his friends.
“Idiot,” she muttered.
“He is an idiot,” said a voice behind her. “He still thinks he’s in middle school.”
Her head snapped around, her heart begging for it to be Gabriel, though her brain knew that wasn’t his voice.
It was a guy, though, someone she vaguely recognized, though she couldn’t place him. Not cute, but good-looking in that stocky jock way, the kind of guy who’d probably be smashing beer cans into his forehead in college. Dark hair, close cropped, with rounded features. It was too dark to make out the color of his eyes.
He nodded at the kid across the pool, who was now swinging the tiki torch like a sword. “I’d bet money he’s quoting one of the Star Wars movies right now.”
That made her smile. “‘ Luke,’” she intoned. “‘ I am your father. ’”
He grinned back. The firelight caught his eyes and made them shine. “A girl who knows her Lucas.”
She shrugged, feeling her cheeks warm. “I have a brother.
That’s the only line I know.”
He gestured at the chaise lounge beside her. “Is anyone sitting here?”
Her cheeks burned hotter, and she hoped he couldn’t tell.
“No. Plenty of room.”
Ugh. Why did she say that?
But he sat, and he didn’t smell like alcohol or smoke like most of the people at the party. “Who’s your brother?” he said, casting a look around. “Is he here?”
She snorted with laughter before covering it with a cough.
The only thing more awkward than herself at a party would be Simon at one. “No. He’s a freshman. He plays basketball, but he’s on JV.”
“Yeah?” His expression brightened. “I’m on JV. What’s his name?”
She hesitated, wondering how this would play out. “Simon Forrest.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Simon is your brother?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He smiled and looked away. “Nothing. Simon’s all right.”
Then he glanced back, a wolfish look on his face. His voice was kind of dark, kind of intriguing. “I’m just surprised he has a hot sister.”
Yeah, her face was on fire. “I’m sure he’d be surprised to hear that, too.”
“Enough about him. What’s your name?”
He seemed closer suddenly, and she could feel sweat on her neck under the spill of hair. He hadn’t mocked Simon, and she’d been prepared for it. Simon’s all right. He’d dropped the words easily. Maybe her brother was starting to build a niche for himself.
And then the party started, and they seemed to forget she existed.
The night was pitch-black now, the torches blazing against the sky. It was too cold to brave the pool, but a dozen students were crowded into the hot tub including Kara, who had to be on her fourth wine cooler by now. Layne had tried to talk her out of the second one, but Kara had screeched to stop being such a goody-goody.
Everyone had laughed.
That’s when Layne had found a place in the dark.
She’d tried mingling, but she didn’t know anyone here, and every time she approached a group, they stared at her in this confused way, like she was a random stranger who’d just wandered in off the street. At first she tried to join their conversations, hoping the awkwardness would dissipate. But she didn’t know much about sports, she didn’t go to parties every weekend, and she wasn’t on any of the committees these girls seemed to care about. Fall formal? Yearbook? Yeah, right.
Hey, guys, want to talk about the social dynamics in the Brontë sisters’ novels?
She might as well throw herself into the pool.
Taylor was staggering around somewhere. Layne had already seen her puke into the bushes at the edge of the property once.
Not like Layne really wanted her company. Despite the curls, despite the rah-rah-sisterhood shtick, she still didn’t trust Taylor.
Especially since Gabriel hadn’t even shown up.
Maybe this was the joke. Maybe the older girls had strung her along with empty words. But . . . if this was a joke, there didn’t seem to be any punch line. It wasn’t like Taylor was mocking her for sitting alone.
And Layne would be lying if she said her head didn’t turn every time a new person stepped out onto the pool deck. She thought she’d seen Gabriel at one point, but his face wore an easy smile, and he was laughing with the athletic blonde attached to his arm.
Nick. No way Gabriel had gone from sullen and brooding to easy laughter in one afternoon. No way he’d show up with some other girl, when Taylor had said he was coming for her.
Unless that was the joke?
Layne’s thoughts were giving way to traitorous doubts when some other guy by the grill called out, “Nick! Hey, man.” And then they did that whole guy high-five-handshake-shoulder-hug thing.
Relief.
Until she reminded herself that Gabriel still wasn’t here.
And she was still alone.
Layne stared up at the tiki torches lining the pool deck. Small flickers of flame snapped within each. Some boy across the pool had pulled one out of the holder and was using it as a fiery lance to jab at his friends.
“Idiot,” she muttered.
“He is an idiot,” said a voice behind her. “He still thinks he’s in middle school.”
Her head snapped around, her heart begging for it to be Gabriel, though her brain knew that wasn’t his voice.
It was a guy, though, someone she vaguely recognized, though she couldn’t place him. Not cute, but good-looking in that stocky jock way, the kind of guy who’d probably be smashing beer cans into his forehead in college. Dark hair, close cropped, with rounded features. It was too dark to make out the color of his eyes.
He nodded at the kid across the pool, who was now swinging the tiki torch like a sword. “I’d bet money he’s quoting one of the Star Wars movies right now.”
That made her smile. “‘ Luke,’” she intoned. “‘ I am your father. ’”
He grinned back. The firelight caught his eyes and made them shine. “A girl who knows her Lucas.”
She shrugged, feeling her cheeks warm. “I have a brother.
That’s the only line I know.”
He gestured at the chaise lounge beside her. “Is anyone sitting here?”
Her cheeks burned hotter, and she hoped he couldn’t tell.
“No. Plenty of room.”
Ugh. Why did she say that?
But he sat, and he didn’t smell like alcohol or smoke like most of the people at the party. “Who’s your brother?” he said, casting a look around. “Is he here?”
She snorted with laughter before covering it with a cough.
The only thing more awkward than herself at a party would be Simon at one. “No. He’s a freshman. He plays basketball, but he’s on JV.”
“Yeah?” His expression brightened. “I’m on JV. What’s his name?”
She hesitated, wondering how this would play out. “Simon Forrest.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Simon is your brother?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He smiled and looked away. “Nothing. Simon’s all right.”
Then he glanced back, a wolfish look on his face. His voice was kind of dark, kind of intriguing. “I’m just surprised he has a hot sister.”
Yeah, her face was on fire. “I’m sure he’d be surprised to hear that, too.”
“Enough about him. What’s your name?”
He seemed closer suddenly, and she could feel sweat on her neck under the spill of hair. He hadn’t mocked Simon, and she’d been prepared for it. Simon’s all right. He’d dropped the words easily. Maybe her brother was starting to build a niche for himself.
