by Amity Hope
I slammed the drawer shut.
How messed up was I? The boy was blackmailing me.
I blamed it on hormones. Stupid, traitorous hormones.
I let out a growl of frustration as I darted over to the closed door that was off his bedroom. It opened into a closet.
There were enough clothes in here to fill a small boutique.
“Unbelievable,” I whispered. Everything was arranged meticulously. Long-sleeve button downs arranged by color, then short-sleeve button downs arranged by color. Next came sweaters, again, arranged by color followed by shirts of a more casual nature. At the end of the line were at least a dozen suits and…yes, two tuxedos.
I wasn’t sure if I was impressed or appalled.
The boy owned more shoes than any one boy should be allowed to own.
A small table stood just inside the door. Two crooked piles of books were stacked on top of it. I assumed the eclectic pile was tucked away so as not to mar the perfection of his bedroom. He had Moby Dick, several titles by Stephen King, and what looked like a wide variety of everything in between.
A copy of Little Women had a blue highlighter sticking out of it.
Perplexing, but not exactly blackmail worthy.
I backed out of the closet, disappointed by its lack of secret hiding places.
“Whatcha doin’?”
I shrieked.
“You scared me,” I scolded as I twisted around. “I was looking for the bathroom.”
He held a serving tray in his hands. He motioned with his head toward the door that led off from the sitting area. “It’s that way.”
“Right. Okay.” I backed the rest of the way out of his closet and pulled the door shut.
I couldn’t bear to look at him as I crossed the room and disappeared behind the bathroom door. Once inside, I rested against it. I pressed my hand against my thundering heart, willing it to slow down.
I wasn’t sure what I had been hoping to find. I was pretty sure he wasn’t a pothead. Everyone had made it clear he was some kind of star ball player. Steroids maybe? If I found them, would I even know what I was looking at? Or maybe he’d cheated on Jaclyn. Or tests. Maybe he’d cheated on tests. It didn’t seem fair that a guy that looked like him, was as athletic as he was, and lived in a house like this should also have brains to boot.
Maybe he had a stash of purchased homework somewhere.
I knew I wouldn’t find anything in his bathroom. They undoubtedly had a housekeeper. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to keep anything incriminating in his room.
So maybe on his laptop?
Or his phone.
I flushed the toilet for show, and then scrubbed my hands on principal.
By the time I emerged from the bathroom Luke had settled on the couch. He balanced a plate in one hand while peeking at his phone with the other.
He hadn’t left the phone in his room when he went to the kitchen. How was I ever supposed to get it away from him? Besides, it was probably password protected. Come to think of it, his laptop was likely protected as well. My earlier determination began to fizzle into a state of dejection.
He patted the spot on the couch next to him. “Dinner’s served.”
It sure was.
I was momentarily speechless. I’d expected something along the lines of chips and salsa. Instead he’d taken the time to make sandwiches. Crusty croissants layered with ham, cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. Spears of pickles rested on the plate.
“I figured if you like root beer, you like root beer floats.”
“Love them almost as much as hot chocolate.”
He nudged me and widened his eyes in mock-surprise. “We have another thing in common. I love them almost as much as cookie sundaes.”
I shook my head. “Thanks for dinner. You really didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”
“You said you were hungry, and I can always eat.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what you like on your sandwich. I brought up mayo and honey mustard. If you want something else, I could probably find it for you.”
I settled in next to him. “No. This is good. I’m not picky.”
“Look at you, being all agreeable,” Luke teased. His knee playfully bounced against mine. “I think you might be starting to like me, at least a little.”
I thought maybe he was right.
Chapter Nine
Luke
“What can I get you?” The woman behind the counter let her gaze bounce between Meg and me. Common Grounds was only a few blocks from school. It was a coffee shop with a full bakery. It got a lot of business this time of day.
It was the perfect place for us to make an appearance.
“Two cookie sundaes,” I said. The woman tapped the order onto the screen. “And two large milks.” Can’t have cookies without milk.
I paid and we waited at the end of the counter for our food. Moments later two plates were handed to us. Each held an enormous chocolate chip cookie buried under two scoops of ice cream. Hot fudge oozed down the sides, creating a molten pool around the entire dessert.
Meg moaned theatrically. “That looks so good. I bet it’s worth all the calories.”
“It is,” I assured her. I grabbed both plates, and she grabbed our milk. “It’s my favorite dessert in the world.”
“Is this booth okay?” she asked.
“Sure.” It was near the front door, the best place to make ourselves noticed.
I set our plates down but didn’t drop into my seat. Meg’s shoulder bumped mine as she put our milks on the table. Not a single day had gone by that I didn’t notice the perfume she wore. When she got out of my SUV, her scent lingered. Standing this close to her, it was all I could do not to lean in to get a good whiff.
Meg’s animosity was starting to fade. I didn’t think sniffing her was a good way to win her over, but damn, the girl smelled good.
“What kind of perfume do you wear?” The words shot out of my mouth. I slid into the booth and grabbed my fork, trying to pretend I wasn’t dying to hear her answer.
She already had a fork in hand, a gooey bite lifted halfway to her mouth. She lowered it as she narrowed her eyes at me. Apparently she didn’t appreciate the question.
“Why?” She immediately sounded defensive. “Is it too strong? Does it smell cheap? What’s wrong with it?”
I held up my hands in surrender. “There’s nothing wrong with it. Whatever it is, it’s the perfect scent for you. It’s sweet but not too sweet. It has an edge of zing to it.”
“Zing?”
“Kinda sweet, yet spunky.”
“It’s apricot vanilla.”
“Yeah it is.” Now that she said it, I totally knew what it was. “I like it.”
“Thank you?”
“You’re welcome. I like having a girlfriend who smells good.”
“You smell pretty good yourself.”
Her eyes quickly flicked away from mine. Her cheeks reddened. I was pretty sure she wished she could take back her words. I knew I could razz her about this, or I could maybe gain some points by letting it go.
It was enough that she liked my cologne.
Okay, so maybe blackmail wasn’t a great way to win someone over. But I had no choice. I wondered if I’d met her under different circumstances if she would still think of me as a spoiled jock.
Luke Prescott, spoiled rich kid. Meg’s words echoed through my mind far too often.
I didn’t want her to think of me as a spoiled anything. Least of all a spoiled Prescott. If I had my way, I’d have nothing to do with my family name. Part of me wanted to tell her that. The logical side of my brain won out. Jumping into that explanation would tear the cover off a whole crate of issues I didn’t want to discuss.
The bell over the door jingled. Meg corkscrewed her neck trying to see who entered. I knew she was hoping it was Francesca. She had asked if her friend could join us, and I didn’t have a good reason to tell her no. Again, maybe I was trying to gain some points with this chick.
>
It wasn’t Francesca who strolled in. It was several of my teammates. They all called out a greeting. A few greeted Meg as well. She gave them a tentative smile.
“I need to talk to you about something.” I leaned across the table. I wanted to toss this out there before her friend showed.
“Okay?”
“Next Friday night you’re meeting my parents.”
I was met with a wide-eyed look. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. There’s an event I need to attend. It’s a charity ball. Down in Sapphire Bay. Mom is being given an award because of the fundraising she’s done. I’m required to go, and I’m expected to bring a date. Since you are my girlfriend…” I let the unfinished sentence hang in the air.
This was non-negotiable—unlike the art gala—which I was actually relieved she turned down because boring. Not that I anticipated the ball being anything less than torturous, but I needed her there.
“A charity ball?” She shook her head so hard a few strands of her ponytail came free. “There’s no way. That’s just…not my kind of thing. Count me out. I agreed to spend some evenings with you. I agreed to show off our relationship at school. I never agreed to events involving parents.”
My parents’ presence was exactly why I needed her to go. I couldn’t let her talk her way out of this. I had too much riding on it. I leaned across the table, keeping my voice low. “Are you forgetting the deal we made? If I say you’re going, you’re going.”
She seemed to wilt under the forcefulness of my words. I hated playing hardball, but she wasn’t giving me a choice.
“And if I refuse?” Her tone was icy.
“Pretty sure you know the answer to that.”
“You’d turn me in,” she said flatly.
I gave her a pointed look.
“I can’t believe I was actually starting to think you were a nice guy.” She shoved her dessert away.
“Meg.” She refused to look at me. “I don’t know why you’re so pissy. We had a deal.”
“Yes.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me. “Thank you so much for the reminder.”
I glanced around. My teammates were a few tables away.
“People are going to think we’re fighting.”
“Maybe because we are.” She didn’t relent. “I know we had a deal. But that doesn’t mean you get to use that arrogant, entitled tone with me. Whatever happened to asking nicely?”
“If I’d asked nicely, would you have agreed?”
Her clenched jaw was my answer.
“Yeah. Didn’t think so.”
I burned with frustration. Meg had finally started to warm up to me, but now her animosity was back full-force. So much for gaining points with her today. I’d just shoved us back to square one. And I had no one to blame but myself. In that moment, I reminded myself of my dad. I’d just bullied her in order to get my way, proving I was the spoiled kid she accused me of being.
I didn’t want to be that person.
My whole life I’d fought against being that person.
“Look,” I said in the most reasonable tone I could scrounge up, “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should’ve asked nicely. It’s just that I need you to go, and I was sure you’d say no.”
She eyed me suspiciously. “Are they expecting you to bring Jaclyn?”
“Mom didn’t say that, exactly,” I hedged.
“But she assumes?”
I shrugged. “How should I know what that woman is thinking?”
“That woman? You mean your mom?”
“We’re not exactly close,” I admitted. “She told me to bring a date. That was pretty much the end of the discussion.”
“It’s a ball? Like with actual ball gowns?”
Ball gowns? “I don’t know. I guess. I mean, yeah, the ladies all wear dresses.”
She reached over, picked up her spoon, and began swirling it through the melted ice cream.
“So, are we good?”
She lifted her gaze to mine. Her expression was blank.
“If by ‘good’ you mean to ask if I’m going to do what you say, then sure. What choice do I have?”
“Meg, I really don’t want it to be this way.” How could my dad stand to have so many people hate him? Having this one girl pissed at me was enough to drive me crazy.
“Meg!” Francesca exclaimed as she slid into the booth. Her hip bumped Meg’s, nudging her over. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I was FaceTime-ing with Nate and lost track of time.” She turned to me. “Hey, Luke. Oh my gosh.” She eyed up my sundae. “That looks divine.”
“I’ll go get you one.” I slid out of the booth before she had a chance to protest. I needed a breather. It was no secret that Jaclyn was high maintenance—and proud of it. When I first put my plan into motion I never would’ve guessed that Meg would be even more so, in a completely different way.
Jaclyn clung to me like a barnacle on a ship.
Meg was like one of those wild horses insistent on fighting me every step of the way.
Her assessment of me ate away at me. I was determined to win her over, make her see I wasn’t the jackass she thought.
I leaned against the counter, waiting on the dessert.
Meg was speaking animatedly with Francesca, her hands flying in the air.
The words “ball” and “hoity-toity” floated over to me. The rest of the conversation was lost.
The waitress handed me a plate. The girls’ jabbering faded as I neared the table.
“Thank you,” Francesca said.
“No problem.” I sat down to tackle the melted mess that had been my dessert.
Meg continued to pick at hers.
I tried to strike up a conversation with Francesca. “How’s Nate these days?”
She looked at me in confusion as she hurriedly swallowed the bite she’d stuffed into her mouth. “Good. You know Nate?”
“Yeah, we worked on some stuff together last summer.”
“Stuff?” Meg echoed.
I evaded her question. “Nate’s a great guy.”
Francesca smiled. “He really is.”
“Hey, Prescott.”
The three of us turned to a table clear across the room. My teammates were crowded around it. Their table was littered with empty plates and half-filled glasses.
“What’s up, Darren?” I called back.
“We were thinking about heading over to the batting cages. You in?”
“Nah, I’m busy.”
Meg reached across the table and placed her hand over mine. “You should go.”
“Yeah, you should.” Colton chortled. “Listen to your girl, Luke.”
The guys got up from their table in a cacophony of screeching chairs, pressing me to join them.
“You don’t mind?” Mind? She was still fuming. I knew she was anxious to be rid of me but we had an audience that didn’t know better.
She gave me a sweet smile that almost looked real. “Not at all.”
I smirked. “Of course you don’t.” I turned to my group of friends who were now standing next to our table. “I’m in.”
“Awesome,” Colton said.
“That girl’s a keeper.” Darren ruffled Meg’s hair. “I like her.”
“So do I.” I leaned across the table, framing her cheeks in my hands as I gave her a loud, obnoxious kiss.
The guys groaned.
Francesca scowled.
Meg blushed.
Mission accomplished.
“If we’re gonna do this, let’s jet.”
…
“Lucas.” Dad bellowed, stopping me in my tracks.
The batting cages had been the perfect stress reliever. I hadn’t been home two minutes and I felt as if every muscle in my body was taut enough to snap. I owed that to the man stomping down the hallway.
“Yeah?” I twisted around on the staircase and descended the few steps I’d climbed.
“Anything you want to tell me?”
“Not
really.” My belligerence was met with a red-faced scowl.
“You got a B on your Trig test.”
“It was a B-plus,” I corrected. I really hated that our school had grades available online. It seemed Dad checked them hourly.
“It’s unacceptable, that’s what it is,” he shot back. “You want to play ball this spring? You best not let that happen again. You need a parent’s signature to play. I won’t sign if I think your grades will be affected.”
My spine stiffened. Dad used baseball as leverage every chance he got. And why wouldn’t he? It was the one thing he knew would always work.
“If I don’t get another B this term, can I go to the camp in Colorado?”
He huffed in contempt. “Not a chance. You know how I feel about wasting my money on that nonsense.”
“I don’t need your money! I just need your signature,” I argued. “What’s so bad about sending me to a training camp?”
“I’ve told you. It’s a waste of time. You need to start concentrating on your future.” He turned and walked away from me, the conversation apparently over.
I glared at his back. I was concentrating on my future. A future different than the one he had planned for me.
Chapter Ten
Meg
I had spent days fretting over the charity ball. Francesca and I had looked up last year’s ball online. Where was I ever going to find an appropriate dress? Francesca suggested the clearance racks. I knew what clearance racks were like. They were flooded with extra-extra smalls and extra-extra larges. The sizes most people didn’t quite wear. I already knew I was going to stand out like, well, like a leather-clad biker chick at a black tie art gala. I shoved the worry aside. There would be plenty of time to stress over it later.
Right now I wished it was my biggest concern as I stared at the poster on the wall. The school was plastered with them. Brightly colored pages boasting a reward for any information that led to…me.
I shuddered.
“Meg?”
I twisted around, feeling insanely guilty.
Miss Perez’s eyes widened. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” I clapped a hand over my heart. “You just startled me.”
