by Lyla Payne
I’ve been doing what I can online, but not all professors are amenable to the histrionics of their female students. Which maybe means feminism is working, so yay?
“Hey,” I gasp, out of breath. Not that hurrying would have changed my outcome one way or the other. “Are you busy?”
Blair glances down at her gray shorts and green tank top, white bra straps peeking out on both shoulders, then gives me a look like I just answered my own question.
“Right. Um, do you want to go to a party?”
“Not really.” She casts a look at her accounting book that could set it on fire, then sighs. “What kind of party?”
“A baseball party, I think?”
“It’s February.”
“I know. They’re getting ready to start their workouts next week, so this is like their last weekend of abusing their bodies with toxins or whatever.” I bite my lip. “Please? Sebastian’s insisting I go because I told Cole we were going on a date tonight, and he says we have to follow through on things because—”
“Fucking breathe, Audra. I’ll go.” She rearranges her face into a stern expression. “But only because I’m still not convinced I should leave you alone with him.”
“You and Cole both.”
She snorts, sliding off the bed and disappearing into her closet. “Yeah, I bet that went over like a lead balloon.”
I step into my own walk-in closet, thumbing through clothes trying to decide if I own anything that says I’m into pervs and sociopaths. Maybe just a black dress.
“It would have been a lot worse if Ruby hadn’t been there,” I say, loud enough for her to hear me through the wall. “Cole couldn’t exactly get all macho in front of her, plus before I got there she’d had some kind of talk with him about respecting my boundaries.”
The dress slides into place, comfortable but clingy, and I slip into a pair of zebra-print heels before stomping out of the closet and doing a twirl.
Blair gives a nod of approval as she watches me in the mirror, her eyes open wide while she swipes on eyeliner. “That’s got to be a first for you, right? I bet you didn’t even know you were allowed to have boundaries when it comes to your brothers.”
“You’re hilarious.”
“It’s funny because it’s true.”
I smile and bump her with my hip, shoving her sideways so there’s room for both of us to put on our makeup in front of the mirror. “It did feel kind of amazing, though. Standing up for myself, even if it’s not because I want to go out with Sebastian.”
“I’m sure it did.” She passes a tube of lip gloss over her mouth, pinches her cheeks, and calls it good. “Don’t confuse flying high about cutting your own little piece of the Stuart pie with feeling good about dating Sebastian. You’ve got to remember this is a setup, A.”
That makes me roll my eyes, smudging my fresh mascara. “I know that. You don’t seriously think I’m going to end up falling for him, do you?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
“I don’t know about that.”
We finish getting ready and Blair texts Kennedy to invite her and Toby to come along—they’re living together off campus now, speaking of strange things that have happened.
“They’re going to come here. Ten minutes.”
By the time we put on the final touches—jewelry, perfume, sweaters—and make it downstairs, Toby’s Jag is idling by the curb. I swing open the door and make a retching sound that encourages them to untangle and resettle in their own seats.
“I feel like I could get pregnant breathing the air in here,” Blair quips as Kennedy climbs out to let us into the back.
She gives me a sheepish smile. “Hey. Glad you’re back.”
She doesn’t ask any questions, but girls with pasts like Kennedy’s usually don’t. They spent too long avoiding answering them. It’s one of the things that makes her a good friend—but ensures she’ll never be too good of a friend. Her instincts and willingness to get close to people improve every day, but aren’t quite there yet.
“Thanks. It’s good to be back.” I return her smile, happy to see her so happy. And sober.
Toby twists in the driver’s seat, flashing an easy, dimpled smile at the two of us. “Ladies. Where can I squire you this evening? Aside from to your doom, at least in your case, Audra.”
“You told them?” I groan, glaring toward my roommate.
She shrugs, her dark eyes full of exasperation. Her eyebrows go up in a silent question: Do you want to dive in headfirst or don’t you? “I told her we were going to the baseball party because you were meeting Sebastian. It’s just the truth. Don’t get mad at me because everyone hates your new boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Well, this is all very interesting girly talk, but do you have the address?” Toby puts the car into drive, then pulls out of the sorority house parking lot after Blair gives him the address. His soft gaze finds mine in the rearview mirror. “For what it’s worth, Audra, you do want to step carefully. The guy’s a mystery at best, a budding serial killer at worst.”
“I know. I’m not going into this with blinders on.”
He and Kennedy exchange a glance and irritation heats my face. The two of them were the biggest hot mess in the history of hot messes less than a year ago, and now they want to act as though I’m wandering into a disaster zone with no clue? They’ve got nerve.
No one says anything else during the ten-minute drive to the baseball players’ off-campus house. It’s a traditional Florida two-story, white with black shutters, and like most property owned by Whitman students or their parents, too nice for someone who can’t legally drink yet.
The landscaping in the front is professional, holly bushes perfectly trimmed and bright, bright green. I follow my friends up the slate path to the front porch as my heart speeds up and my palms slick with sweat, which works in my favor if anyone is looking for the girl nervous about meeting Sebastian for a date.
In reality, my nerves result from the idea of not just tonight, but of this whole agreement. At dinner with Cole, while it was still a theory, it puffed out my chest. Empowered me with false pride. Now, standing in the face of putting the plan into practice, my future is less shiny.
I’m going to walk into that house and spend at least a couple of hours with the guy everyone on campus would name Most Likely to Have Bodies Hidden in His Freezer. No competition.
Not only that, but I’ve got to convince those same people that I like him.
This is a job for someone with Ruby’s acting skills, not mine. I haven’t declared a major yet, but theatre isn’t even on the list—that’s Cole’s thing. Panic rises inside me, thickening my blood until it slows in my veins. I can’t do this. What was I thinking?
Blair grabs my arm, her unpainted nails digging into my flesh. “You guys go ahead.”
Kennedy and Toby trade another look, the kind shared by couples who have spent enough time together to pass an ESP test, but don’t argue. Their joined hands swing slightly between their bodies as they amble through the half-open front door.
“You’re freaking out.”
The pain in my arm from her tight grip anchors me, snaps me back to reality. This is a game. I’ve got to play it or my life at Whitman is going to get even more uncomfortable. “I’m okay.”
Her dark eyes meet mine, skeptical. “Can I give you some advice?”
“Advice on how to con people? From experience?” I’m teasing her, but my interest is piqued. Ever since the truth about her father came out, that part of her life has fascinated me.
She doesn’t like to talk about it, even though it’s easy to sense that sometimes she misses the excitement.
Maybe because sometimes she misses the excitement. Like she’s an addict who stays away from bars in order to avoid the temptation.
“Whatever. Yes. Here it is.” She tries to thwart a smile without much success. “You’re in control. You’re the one with the knowledge—with access t
o the truth. You decide what to feed the idiots lapping up the gossip.”
Blair’s words sink in, thinning my hysteria until it’s easy to breathe again. Until my blood feels slick in my veins. “I’m in control.”
“They might have their suspicions, and people are going to come up with all kinds of theories about why you left and why you came back and whether Sebastian had anything to do with it and also maybe that you’re insane.”
“Thanks.”
“But they don’t know anything. Remember that.”
“I got it. They believe what I tell them.”
“Own your story.”
“I feel like you’re going to smack my ass and tell me to ‘get in there now’.” I laugh, a sound that’s too tight. Not quite mine, but getting there. “Isn’t that how you Americans follow up your pep talks?”
“Maybe if I was a professional football player.” She shakes her head, still smiling. “Ready?”
“Yep, let’s do it.”
My spine is straight, my palms drier now as we hike through the front door. An empty foyer greets us but the thumping of bass and chattering murmur of a roomful of people pull us through the kitchen and into the backyard. It’s not much in the way of a party, at least not the way television channels like the CW would have people believe college looks—no twinkle lights or little lanterns, just a fire pit, a keg, and a bunch of overly attractive kids.
They got the last part right, anyway.
The back of my neck tingles as I turn from the keg and find Sebastian’s dark eyes lingering on me. I take a gulp of beer, then another, and head in his direction.
It’s time to pay the sleazy, blackmailing piper.
Chapter Five
Sebastian
She looks so pretty it tightens my fist on my flask, pushing a surge of relief through me that her back was turned. The last thing I need is for her to pity me—like maybe I asked her to take part in this whole charade because of some silly schoolboy crush.
I have never been silly, and the schoolboy role has been an ill-fitting second skin since kindergarten. Classes aren’t hard for me, but caring about grades—arbitrary marks from professors who barely know how to relate to other human beings, never mind instruct with any enthusiasm—is. The ones who are upbeat annoy me even more, usually because they’re overly involved in student gossip and have a likeminded grudge against me.
Audra swings around, her clingy black dress swirling around her very nice legs. The tanned bodies most of the girls flaunt in Florida turn me on, but ever since Logan showed me those videos, slim, soft-looking skin invades more and more of my fantasies.
She starts toward me and I swallow hard, wondering if there’s some way to sate my baser appetites with others while we’re pretending to date. I’m going to have to figure out something or my balls are going to be the bluest at Whitman by graduation day.
I’ve got things under control by the time she steps to my side, her smile a sexy reminder that we have a secret. Her citrus perfume washes over me, clinging to the inside of my nose.
“Glad you made it.” I nod toward her friends. “I see you brought reinforcements.”
Blair Paddington eyes me from her spot by the keg. She’s listening to something Kennedy Gilbert is saying, no doubt about how Audra has lost her fool mind, going out with me. They hauled Toby Wright along for their estrogen fest, a guy who might be one of my better shots as far as a job in politics. His father is up for reelection next year and probably has a southwest regional headquarters, since they’re from North Carolina.
Not to mention Wright has a hero complex the size of Canada, taking on the full-time job of dating Kennedy. With a smile and a ready boner, no less. The girl might be healthier and still on the wagon—my sources tell me she hasn’t shown up at any of her old haunts, other than AA—but the kind of problems she has never leave empty closets.
Just ask my mother.
“I didn’t want to show up alone.” She shrugs, looking more comfortable with this whole thing than expected. “Besides, if this were an actual date, you’d pick me up, right?”
“For the purposes of this experiment let’s say yes.” Blair and Kennedy wander away as Toby turns toward a couple of the baseball players, probably to discuss something uninteresting and macho like sports. The girls head our way and I pull out my flask, taking two giant swallows of my favorite rye whiskey. It burns, but not as much as the humiliation I’m about to suffer. I nod in the direction of the girls. “Get your game face on, Red.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, that’s original.”
“I’ll work on it.”
“Sebastian.” Blair looks almost amused. Almost. As though we’re sparring partners and she’s about to hurt me accidentally on purpose. “I’d like to say it’s nice to see you here, but you know. I’m not a liar.”
“How exactly does a professional con man manage that?”
“First of all it’s con woman, you misogynistic prick, and second, that’s all behind me.”
“Right, the boy.” A sneer twists my lips out of nowhere but there’s no point in checking it. Instead, I change my focus. “Kennedy.”
“Sebastian,” she replies softly, her eyes wandering back to Toby. “How are you?”
The question takes me aback, almost as much as the fact that Audra looks as good in that black dress as she does in nothing. I shift closer to her, slipping an arm around her waist and hugging her against me in an attempt to distract them all from my discomfort. “No complaints.”
Audra stiffens but her smile stays in place. “Who is Toby talking to?”
“Oh, some baseball players. About our soccer team’s chances in the spring or some other nonsense.” Kennedy flutters a hand, dismissive. “So, how long have you guys been dating? How did it start?”
We haven’t discussed details which, in hindsight, perhaps should have been done before our public debut. I knew after the website came down Audra would feel one hundred percent stuck in our arrangement, but she’s moved faster than anticipated, outing us to her brother and Ruby Cotton already.
I realize she’s not talking. Which means she’s waiting on me to come up with a decent story, an assumption proven by the expectant, slightly desperate expression in her emerald eyes.
“We were both at that porn movie house downtown and saw each other on the way out.”
Blair’s mouth falls open and even Kennedy startles.
Audra heaves a giant sigh and elbows me in the ribs harder than necessary. “He’s lying. We ran into each other in line at an actual movie—that new Nicholas Sparks romance, which he refers to as tragedy porn—and ended up seeing it together. He even brought a handkerchief.”
“I always carry a handkerchief,” I mutter, exasperated by her attempt to emasculate me in front of her friends. “It wasn’t because of the movie.”
She smiles, sugary sweet and annoying. “Well, either way I was thankful.”
“That’s an … interesting story,” Blair says, the doubt in her sharp gaze pricking me.
The need to extract myself from their scrutiny increases until my feet move without my permission. “I’m going to get a beer.”
It’s cooler away from their collective disdain and the heat of Audra’s body, and by the time I’m ten steps away my lungs fill and release air with more ease even though everyone knows I would never drink beer from a keg.
It’s a party, though, so standing around alone isn’t an option. There are always angles to work, conversations to overhear, plots to hatch while pretending to listen to vapid chit-chat swirl around me.
As I spot Toby again, it occurs to me there might be an even more productive option.
“Hey,” I greet him, insinuating myself into his conversation with the baseball players. For what it’s worth, he looks like he’d rather scoop out his eardrums with a melon baller than keep listening to them ramble.
Relief crosses his all-American face. Not that he’s typically glad to see me or anything, but we’
re brothers and, at least in public, the other SEAs treat me like one of their own.
Unless I’m fucking with one of their girlfriends.
“Seb! What’s up?” He gives the baseball guys, who resemble the statues of Neanderthals in the Museum of Natural History, an apologetic look and turns his back, dragging me a little ways away. “Thanks. They were going on and on about the statistics of every goddamn pitcher on the team and my eyes felt like they turned to glass. They called me dude.”
“No problem. I was being ambushed by a rabid group of half-drunk Kappas, so you’re helping me, too.” I take a nip off my flask and Toby chugs half his plastic cup of watery beer.
“I have to say, it surprised me that you’d be here. Not much in it for you, hanging out with athletes.” Toby nods toward my flask. “You’re not much of a beer drinker.”
“Oh, come on, Toby, you know any party holds more intrigue than sitting home alone. Why don’t you say what you’re really thinking—that you’re surprised about Audra and me.”
“I won’t be the last.” He finishes his beer and tosses the red plastic cup in the nearest trash can, not bothering to refill it. The antithesis of the frat boy in several ways, Toby’s not a big drinker. Wasn’t even before he fell in love with a recovering alcoholic, but now he’s even more careful about it.
“Well, I’d say it’s no one’s business, but given that I’ve made a college career out of sticking my nose into other people’s there’s probably not much point.”
That makes him laugh, a little bit of tension falling out of his shoulders, and when he opens his mouth again the subject has changed. “Have you got any ideas for the philanthropy fund-raiser?”
“No. I mean, we can go with the same old, same old big party thing, but I think something different would be more effective.” My wheels have been turning on the subject, just to have something to do other than bide time until graduation, but the problem is that college kids don’t give a shit about what cause they’re supporting, only that they get to drink while doing it. “I’ve been trying to brainstorm an event that would bring the attention back to MS, but it might be a losing battle.”
