Lilly: A Kensington Family Novel

by Allie Everhart

  "Are you making this up? Because I've never heard this from anyone else."

  She shrugs. "My mom told me. She could be wrong, but I actually think she's right about this."

  "I don't believe it. The reason I react that way to Reed is because he's someone I know I shouldn't date. It's the excitement that comes with wanting something that's forbidden."

  She smiles. "So you admit you want him."

  I smile back. "Maybe. Okay, yeah, I do."

  "So ask him out."

  "I can't. My family would kill me."

  "Why? Because he's not rich? Are you from one of those families where the rich can only date other rich people?"

  "Yes and no. If my mom had her way, then yes. She's obsessed with money and status and the right last name. My dad used to be like that too, but he's not anymore. He doesn't force me into that high society world."

  "Then what's the problem? It sounds like you can date whoever you want."

  "My family wouldn't approve of a guy like Reed. Not because he doesn't have money but because he looks like a guy in a rock band. He even has a tattoo. They'd say he's not right for me."

  "Are they that shallow? They'd judge him before getting to know him?"

  Would they? Maybe not. Maybe I'm just assuming they would. I know Jade and Rachel would give him a chance. It's my dad and brother I'm worried about, but they don't approve of any of the guys I go out with.

  "Well, maybe part of my family would give him a chance, but my mom definitely wouldn't approve of him. She expects me to be with a guy like Preston. Clean-cut. Wears nice clothes. From a rich family. That's the other thing."

  "What?"

  "Reed's family. That's an even bigger problem than his appearance. Aside from my mom, the rest of my family could probably get over the tattoo or how Reed wears his hair or how he dresses, but his mom could be an issue."

  "What's wrong with his mom?"

  "Don't tell anyone this, okay?"

  She nods.

  "Reed's mom is an alcoholic and has been for as long as he can remember. It sounds like she also did drugs. I don't think she still does, but I don't really know."

  "So what does this have to do with you dating Reed?"

  "If reporters found out I was dating some guy who has an alcoholic mom who's been in and out of rehab, the story would be all over the news. I'd be on the cover of the tabloids and so would my family."

  "You guys are really that famous?"

  "My dad is. He's interviewed on TV all the time on those business programs."

  "Yeah, but the people who watch those shows aren't people who would care who you're dating."

  "A lot of people outside the business world know who my dad is. And a lot of people know Garret because he was on a reality show."

  "Yes!" She bolts up from her chair. "I knew I recognized him from somewhere. Prep School Girls, right?"

  "How did you know that? You would've been like five years old when he was on that show."

  She sits down again. "They replay the old episodes all the time. I haven't seen them forever but as soon as you said your brother was on a reality show I remembered him. He hasn't aged much. He's actually hotter now than he was back then."

  "Can you stop saying how hot my brother is? It's weird. Anyway, he wasn't even on the show. They just taped video of him at school with his girlfriend and turned it into scenes. But he still got tons of publicity from it."

  "Didn't he go all crazy after that? Like trashing hotel rooms and cars and stuff?"

  "Yeah, which is why my family is so well-known. Even today, everyone remembers that, and now they're waiting to see if Pearce Kensington's daughter will rebel and go off the deep end, just like his son did."

  "But you're not going to do that."

  "No, but the media will say I'm going out with a bad boy from a bad home and then they'll make up lies about me. They'll say I'm drinking and doing drugs. And then they'll get my family involved, asking them questions and following them around with cameras."

  "I think you're worrying too much. Reed isn't a bad boy. He's going to an expensive private college. He's polite and responsible. And he said he doesn't drink. So there's no story there. Nobody will care about his mom."

  "I guess that's true. But I'm still worried about it."

  "Don't be. If you want to date Reed, then do it. But what about Preston?"

  "I'm done with him. That's why I left the party. He was being a total jerk, groping me in front of everyone after I told him not to. Oh, and then he tells me he loves me, probably to get me to sleep with him." I roll my eyes. "He was drunk and being obnoxious and then he left to go play poker with his friends."

  "Did you tell him it's over?"

  "No. I told him we'd talk later, when he wasn't drunk."

  She yawns. "I'm tired. I didn't sleep well last night."

  "You should go to bed. It's late. I need to get to bed, too. Reed's showing up here at ten tomorrow."

  "For what?" She yawns again as she gets up.

  "He's taking me somewhere and we're going to spend the day drawing."

  "The entire day?"

  "That's what he said. I'll stop by your room when I get back."

  "All right. I'll come get my chair tomorrow. I'm too tired to carry it back. Goodnight." She waves as she leaves.

  The next morning, just before ten, Preston calls. I shouldn't have answered but I did and now it's too late.

  "Hi, Preston."

  "Hey, what happened to you last night?"

  "I left. I told you I was leaving."

  "You did? I don't remember you telling me that."

  "So you went home last night not knowing where I was?"

  "I assumed you made it home."

  Why would he assume that? If he cared about me, he'd be worried and try to find me. For all he knew, I could be dead in a ditch somewhere.

  "Anyway, when will you be back from that art thing you're doing today? I found this great restaurant up the coast but I need to make reservations. What time do you want to go?"

  "I'm not going."

  "Why not? We planned this the other day. We said we'd go to dinner Saturday night."

  "I know, but I changed my mind." I pause. I don't like breaking up with guys. I always feel bad, even when they're jerks. "Preston, I don't want to keep doing this."

  "Doing what?"

  "This. Us. It's not working out."

  "We just started dating. You have to give it time."

  "I don't need time. I know this isn't what I want."

  "What do you mean? What did I do wrong?"

  Now I feel bad. It's not that he's a bad guy. He treated me well part of the time, but last night I saw a different side of him. A side I didn't like. I'm sure some other girl would love to have him as a boyfriend. He's just not for me.

  "Lilly, tell me what I did wrong. Did it happen last night? I was drunk and I do stupid things when I'm drunk. Whatever I did, I promise I won't do it again."

  "It's not one specific thing. It's just—" I stop when I hear knocking on the door. It's ten, which means Reed is here. "Preston, I have to go. I'll talk to you later." I hang up before he can say anything.

  I open my door and see Reed there, wearing faded jeans and a t-shirt. It's just a plain white t-shirt—no fancy logo, no designer label—but Reed looks better than Preston did last night in his very expensive designer clothes. Reed has a more muscular build than Preston—bigger shoulders and arms—and he's a few inches taller. I'm guessing Reed's 6'1 or 6'2. Today his hair is slightly wet, like he just got out of the shower, and he has a layer of stubble on his face, which I think is intentional because it's always the same length.

  A light, happy feeling replaces the heaviness I felt just moments earlier when I was talking to Preston. It's like what Willow described. The good and bad nervous. With Preston, I feel anxious, the bad type of nervous. But with Reed, I get this rush of excitement that tickles my stomach, or as Willow would say, the good type of nervous.

>   "Hi," I say. "You're right on time."

  "Yeah. Do you have your stuff?" He has his messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

  "Yeah." I go to my desk and get my backpack. "It's packed and ready to go."

  He takes it from me, slinging it over his other shoulder.

  "You don't have to carry that," I say as I lock my room.

  "It's a long walk to the car." He holds the door open as we leave the dorm. "You're in the freshman lot, right?"

  "Yeah." I'm thinking maybe I should just ride with him instead of taking my own car. I feel like I can trust him now that we know each other better. "So are you going to tell me where we're going?"

  "It's a spot along the ocean. You have to hike to it." He checks my shoes, which are flat sandals. "Those should be fine. It's a short hike."

  "And what's so special about this place?"

  "I've never been there, but apparently it has great views. It's just a quiet place to draw or observe your surroundings."

  "How did you find out about this?"

  "The professor I work for told me about it. She said I should check it out and spend the day there."

  "I didn't know you had a job."

  "Just a few hours a week. I help set up the classroom, get supplies, and whatever else needs to be done."

  We're at an intersection and he takes my hand as we cross. It makes me laugh.

  "What's so funny?" he asks.

  "You, taking my hand whenever we cross the street. I'm an adult. I can cross the street without assistance."

  "Maybe I'm the one who needs help crossing."

  "You do?"

  "Yes," he says in a serious tone. "I have a fear of crossing streets. If I didn't hold your hand, I wouldn't be able to cross."

  "I don't think that's true."

  "It's true. I'm from LA. Nobody walks in LA. We're always in a car. If you make us walk somewhere, we don't know what to do. We panic. And crossing a street is even more terrifying."

  I smile. "I've seen you cross the street without holding anyone's hand."

  "Fine. You caught me." He gives my hand a light squeeze, then lets it go as we reach the sidewalk.

  "So why do you hold my hand?"

  "Do you always question people's motives?"

  "Yeah. My dad and brother taught me that. They don't trust people. So what's the reason?"

  He glances at me, smiling. "You never give up, do you?"

  "Nope."

  "The answer is that I feel the need to protect you from oncoming traffic. People don't always follow the traffic rules."

  "Well, thanks for looking out for me."

  "I might also like having an excuse to hold your hand. Maybe. I'm not saying that's true. It's just a possibility."

  I slip my hand into his, threading our fingers together.

  He looks down at our hands. "What are you doing?"

  "I heard that sidewalks can be just as dangerous as intersections."

  He smiles. "I heard that too."

  He rubs his thumb back and forth over mine and my heart beats faster. I take some breaths, trying to slow it down, but it doesn't work.

  Maybe Willow is right. Maybe my racing heart is a sign, telling me how much I like this guy.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  When we finally reach the parking lot, Reed says, "Which one's yours?"

  "We can just take one car."

  "Are you sure?"

  I look him up and down. "Yeah. You look harmless. But if you turn out to be a psycho I have weapons in my backpack."

  "Then maybe I should be the one who's worried." He walks over to a black Jeep. "It's this one." He opens my door for me and tosses our bags in the back.

  It's a short drive and when we get there he parks in a public lot that has access to the beach. But instead of going on the beach, he leads me to a narrow trail that goes up the side of a hill. It's kind of a steep climb. Reed is behind me holding our bags, along with the sleeping bag he brought to put on the ground.

  "You okay?" he asks, as my foot slips on some rocks.

  "Yeah, I'm fine." But just as we reach the top, I slip again.

  He catches me around the waist. "I got ya."

  My heart's pounding at the feel of his hands on me, my body backed against his chest. I don't move as he gently lets me go. "You good?"

  "Yeah, thanks."

  "Sorry, I should have told you to wear different shoes." He sets our bags down. "Well, this is it."

  We're on top of a small, rocky hill overlooking the ocean with the beach just below us. We're not that high up but we're high enough that we can see for a long ways. There are some trees above us, filtering the hot sun.

  "What do you think?" He spreads the sleeping bag out.

  "It reminds me of my brother's house. He lives on a cliff overlooking the ocean."

  "So this isn't that great for you." Reed sounds disappointed.

  "It is. I like it." I glance around us. "And I like this little alcove of trees. It's like our own little tree house."

  "I just wanted a quiet place where we could draw. Campus is too loud. It's a lot quieter here. And I like being up high like this." He turns and heads back toward the trail. "I'm gonna go get the cooler from the car."

  "Do you need some help?"

  "No," he calls back. "I'm not going to risk you falling down the hill in those shoes. I might have to carry you down when it's time to leave."

  "Yeah, you're funny," I call back, but he can't hear me.

  He returns with a small blue cooler and a grocery store bag. He sets them behind me on the ground, then opens the cooler. "Help yourself."

  I look in the cooler and see bottles of fruit punch and Cherry Pepsi next to his Mountain Dew.

  "Thanks," I say, taking a Pepsi. "You got my favorites."

  "Only for drinks. I didn't know what you'd want for lunch, so if you don't like what I brought we can go out somewhere when it's time to eat."

  He has sandwiches in the cooler that look like they came from a deli.

  "They're just turkey and cheese," he says. "And I have chips." He opens the grocery store bag, which has potato chips, a package of cookies, some candy bars, and licorice.

  It's all stuff I like. Just basic picnic food. If I were here with Preston, he'd probably bring brie and fancy crackers and grapes and a bottle of wine. A guy I dated in high school did that. He was rich and his parents owned a winery. He kept trying to get me to drink the wine, thinking if he got me drunk I'd have sex with him. I figured out his motives and got up and left before I even tasted the brie.

  "This is great," I say. "Thanks for getting lunch."

  "Sure." He sits down, leaning back on his hands and breathing in the salty ocean air. "God, I needed this."

  "Needed what?" I lean back on my hands, mimicking him.

  "A place to relax. Take some deep breaths. Calm down."

  "Why?" I remember the call he got last night. "Is something going on at home?"

  He looks at me and smiles. "Back to the personal questions?"

  I shrug. "You knew that about me before you got here. You shouldn't have brought me here if you didn't want to be asked."

  His hand slides over and touches mine. "I wanted you here. I feel relaxed around you."

  "Why?"

  "I don't know. I just do." He puts his hand back where it was as he looks out at the ocean.

  "So what's going on at home?"

  He sighs. "My mom tried to get out of rehab last night. They called me and wanted me to drive down there and deal with her, but I wouldn't do it."

  "So what happened?"

  "I called her brother. My uncle. He took care of it."

  "What did he do?"

  "He got her to stay."

  "If she was that determined to leave, how did he get her to stay?"

  "He has his ways." Reed shakes his head. "I shouldn't tell you this."

  "I won't tell anyone. I swear."

  He hesitates. "My uncle's a cop. He's kept my mom out of jail. Sh
e's done shit she should've been arrested for. Drugs. Shoplifting. Drunk driving. My uncle's caught her doing this stuff, but he hasn't reported it. He tells her he'll put her ass in jail if she doesn't clean up her act. That's how he gets her into rehab and how he got her to stay there last night. But his threats are becoming less effective because he never follows through on them. So now she's getting harder to control. I can almost guarantee she'll get out of rehab and go right back to drinking. I should stop forcing her into rehab. It's a waste of money. The place is freaking expensive."

  "Who pays for it?"

  "I do," he says, gazing out at the ocean. "I also pay her rent. Otherwise she'd be homeless. She can't work. She's too messed up."

  "How do you pay for all that?"

  "I use the money my dad gave me."

  "But that's for college."

  "I know, but I have to help my mom."

  "Can't her brother help her?"

  "He doesn't have the money. He's married with two kids, and cops don't make a lot."

  "Why doesn't your dad help her?"

  "He doesn't care about her. My parents never had an actual relationship. It was just sex. And then I was born and they ended things. When I was younger, my dad came over to see me sometimes, but he had no interest in my mom. He thinks she purposely got pregnant to get his money. That's why he put my college money in a trust fund she couldn't touch."

  "Does he know you're spending the trust money on her?"

  "God, no. He'd kill me if he found out."

  "But you still have enough money for college?"

  "I have enough for this year, but I had to work to pay for it. My mom nearly drained my account. I'm trying to replenish it so I don't have to take next year off. I could go to a cheaper college but Camsburg has a really good art program and I've always wanted to go here. Plus, it's only a few hours from LA so I can go check on my mom." He turns to me. "I don't want to talk about this. I'm here to relax. And draw. Let's get our stuff." He reaches for his bag and starts taking out his supplies.