“Are you friends with Madison?” Adrian looked taken aback, but it took him only a second to compose himself. “I’ve never seen you spend time with her.”
“We have a lot of the same classes, and we’re both student tutors,” she said. “I’m not exactly friends with her, but I know she cares about Oliver.”
“Logan didn’t mention her, but since Oliver’s only seen his immediate family, I’m guessing that doesn’t include Madison.” Adrian clasped his hands in his lap. “Anyway, Oliver’s expected to make a full recovery, so everyone’s grateful for that. But as I mentioned, Logan and I had a heart-to-heart this morning. After the scare he had with Oliver—especially in that first week, when the doctors weren’t sure if he was going to make it—he apparently had a ‘revelation.’ He said he was hypocritical in judging my family, especially when Oliver has more troubles than any of you, and apologized for breaking off our partnership.” He paused, glancing at Brett. “Logan said his snapping point was that black eye you gave Oliver before the midnight ribbon cutting—”
“Oliver was being a dick,” Brett said, clenching his fists. “If you knew what happened, you would have wanted to punch him, too.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Adrian chuckled. “But that’s no way to work through a problem, and Rebecca was right to have grounded you for the rest of summer. I’m just glad there haven’t been any reoccurrences of that behavior.”
“It’s the only time I’ve ever punched someone,” Brett said. “I think my hand was as bruised as Oliver’s face.”
“I don’t suppose you want to share why you punched him?”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Courtney jumped in. “It happened months ago. It’s over.”
No way was she telling Adrian about Oliver’s bet to sleep with her and her sisters before the end of summer—and that he’d succeeded with Peyton and had been trying to make moves on Courtney, too.
“Well, I hope you’ll work past your differences with Oliver,” Adrian said. “Or at least be civil with him. Because Logan’s revisiting the idea of us collaborating for the super hotel in Macau. If this goes through—which, judging from the way he was talking about it, it seems like it will—it should be our most successful hotel to date.”
“That’s amazing.” Courtney smiled. She’d felt guilty about what had happened last summer, but she’d figured there was no fixing it, so she’d stopped dwelling on it. Now, relief flooded her veins that she hadn’t messed everything up after all.
“Yes, it is,” Adrian said. “We’ll have two things to celebrate tonight—Savannah’s offer from that agent, and the new hotel in Macau. Anyway, I have some phone calls to make, but I’ll see you at dinner at eight at the Five Diamond.”
“Sounds good,” Courtney said.
“Congrats again,” Brett added. “When you talked about the plans for the hotel last year, it sounded like it’ll be awesome.”
“It certainly will be.” Adrian stood and headed for the door, flashing them one last smile. “Now I’ll let you get back to that studying.”
Once he was gone, Courtney let out a long breath and leaned back on the couch. “That was close,” she said. “What was Peyton thinking, sending Adrian in here without warning us? I’m seriously going to strangle her.” She stomped over to her bag and grabbed her cell, her chest heated.
She immediately saw two missed calls and three texts, all from Peyton.
1: Adrian just came over here and wants to talk to u! I told him ur at Brett’s studying...so be sure ur STUDYING! ;)
2: PICK UP YOUR CELL!! I tried to delay him, but he’s going to Brett’s and I know ur prob NOT studying!
3: If you get caught, this SO isn’t my fault.
“What happened?” Brett asked. “You’re staring at your phone with the same horrified look you get whenever a zombie pops out on The Walking Dead.”
“I am such an idiot!” Courtney threw her phone onto the couch and paced around the room. “I let my guard down, and we almost got caught. What if Adrian had come in here without knocking? Do you know how much trouble we would be in?”
“Relax.” He stood and held her hands in his, steadying her. “Adrian and my mom always knock. It was close, but we were fine. He believed the studying cover-up.”
Courtney glanced guiltily at the flash cards. “It shouldn’t have had to be a cover-up,” she said. “Because we have that quiz in AP history about our winter-break reading, and I’ve barely reviewed for it. I needed to spend the afternoon studying. Instead, you talked me into watching that TV show.”
“I thought we were having fun hanging out,” he said softly. “I wasn’t trying to mess up your studying.”
“Well, we didn’t get any studying done, and now we have that dinner tonight that’ll probably take forever.” She gathered her flash cards and textbook and shoved them into her bag. “You can ace a test by cramming the night before, but I’ve never been able to do that. And we’re about to start second semester junior year. I can’t let my grades drop. Especially since my PSAT scores weren’t as high as I wanted them to be.”
“Courtney.” Brett wrapped his arms around her from behind. “You’re right. If you want to study now, we’ll study, okay? I don’t want to distract you from doing well in school—I know how much your grades matter to you.”
She closed her eyes and relaxed into his arms, wishing they could go back to ten minutes ago—before Adrian had almost busted them, when she wasn’t thinking about anything except wanting to be with Brett. But she couldn’t do that. So she spun to face him, gathering the courage to say what she needed. “It’s more than my grades,” she said, forcing each word out. “You heard Adrian—that big hotel deal with Logan is back on again. I can’t mess it up for him a second time.”
“We won’t mess it up,” Brett said, his gaze steady. “Because this whole thing with Adrian and my mom not wanting us to be together is stupid. We care about each other, and no matter how much they don’t want us to feel that way, we can’t ignore it. We shouldn’t have to pretend anymore.”
“So what do you want to do?” she asked.
“Tell them the truth.”
“Just like that?” She shook her head, amazed by how easy he made it sound. “I know we were planning on telling them eventually, but now that the hotel deal is back on again, it changes everything. And I can’t get distracted this semester and let my grades drop.”
“What are you saying?” He dropped his arms to his sides. “You don’t want us to be together anymore?”
“After trying to keep my distance from you last semester, I know that won’t work,” she said. “But I do need time to think. And to study. Alone.”
“Are you sure?” He reached for her, and before she could process what was happening, he was kissing her again, so softly, as if begging her to stay.
Her heart jumped, and she kissed him back, but only for a few seconds before pulling away. When she looked into his eyes, so full of how much he cared for her, she wished everything wasn’t so complicated. But her family was counting on her—to be responsible, to get good grades, to follow the rules, to be the good example. And more important, she expected those things of herself.
“I’m sure,” she choked out. “But I don’t trust myself to get any studying done if I stay here, and I need to be ready for that quiz. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He traced her cheek with his fingers, and it took all her willpower not to lean into him and kiss him again. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
“Okay.” She zipped her bag closed, picked it up, and headed for the door. When she turned to have one more look at him, he still stood there, watching her, as if waiting for her to change her mind.
Part of her wanted to throw her stuff on the ground and resume where things had left off before Adrian interrupted them. But the bag of textbooks wei
ghed on her back, reminding her about how much studying she had to do before dinner.
“See you tonight,” she said softly, letting herself out. The door closed behind her, and she leaned against it, taking in a deep breath.
Even though they would see each other tonight, nothing could happen, because it would be a family dinner. Meaning they would have to pretend that everything between them—the depth of how much they cared for each other—didn’t exist at all.
chapter 3:
After getting back from Savannah’s celebration dinner, Peyton lay down on her bed and glared at the calendar pinned on her wall. There were less than twenty-four hours until the end of winter break. Sure, the Goodman School wasn’t as torturous as Fairfield High, but she still didn’t like sitting in classes all day or want to be there. Especially after all the fun she’d had in Italy.
She clicked on Dante Lazzaro’s Facebook page for the hundredth time since returning home and scrolled through the pictures they’d taken together. Dante was the son of the owners of the resort they’d stayed in while in Tuscany. He was gorgeous and only a year older than her, and they’d hit it off immediately. But he was only a vacation fling. She’d been with him mainly to help her get over Jackson—her bodyguard, whom she’d fallen for over the past few months, and had stupidly managed to get fired because she kept pushing him to give in to his feelings for her.
It had all gone to hell on Thanksgiving Day, when she’d found out about her mom keeping the secret about Courtney’s twin sister, Britney. Peyton had gone to Jackson to talk. Once he saw how red her eyes were from crying, he’d taken her to a dive hotel on the Strip, where no one should have known who she was, so they could talk privately. They’d ended up admitting their feelings for each other, and some tourists had taken pictures of them having a clearly romantic conversation while drinking beers.
Adrian had seen the pictures, fired Jackson, and told them they couldn’t see each other anymore. Jackson had gone back to his home in Nebraska. The last Peyton had heard from him was that he “needed space so he could get his life back on track.” She hadn’t wanted to be clingy and force him to talk to her, but it had been almost a month, and she missed him so much that it left a hole aching in her chest.
Not knowing what else to do, she’d tried getting over him by spending time with Dante in Italy. But Dante didn’t look at her the way Jackson did—like he could see through her protective shield and straight to her core. Dante was supposed to help her get over Jackson, but he’d made her miss Jackson even more.
She shouldn’t do it—she would only be torturing herself—but she typed Jackson’s name into Facebook and clicked on his profile. She’d added him about two weeks ago, and his page still taunted her with the box that said Friend Request Sent. She slouched over her computer, staring hopelessly at the screen. His page had such intense privacy settings that all she could see was his profile picture of him and his family hanging out at a lake.
Maybe she should send him a message. She bit her lip, hovering her mouse over the message button. She just wanted to make sure she hadn’t completely wrecked his future. If she had, and if he never wanted to speak to her again, she would rather he tell her. It would be better than this awful silence.
Then someone knocked on her door, and she clicked off his Facebook page.
“Peyton?” Courtney opened the door a crack. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” Peyton shut her laptop and pushed it to the side of her bed. “What’s up?”
Courtney walked inside, clutching a red pocket folder to her chest, and sat down on the bed. She chewed her bottom lip, a telltale sign that she was nervous.
“What’s in the folder?” Peyton prompted.
“A college application for UNLV.” Courtney gingerly placed the folder down, unable to meet Peyton’s eyes.
Peyton heaved a giant sigh and pushed her hair behind her ears. “I’m not going to college,” she said. “Shoving forms in my face and asking me to fill them out won’t change my mind.”
“I’m not asking you to do anything,” Courtney said. “I filled it out for you. It’s all saved online—I made you an account—but I printed it so you can see what I did.”
“You did what?”
“I filled out a college application for you,” she repeated. “For UNLV. I knew you wouldn’t do it yourself, and your SAT scores from when Adrian and Rebecca forced you to take the test were good.”
“My SAT scores were average,” Peyton said.
“Slightly above average,” Courtney corrected her. “And UNLV is a good school, but it isn’t Harvard or anything, so above average is fine, especially since you don’t need a scholarship. And your grades have improved at Goodman. With a good essay, they might accept you.”
“I knew there had to be a catch.” Peyton laughed, stretched her legs out, and leaned back into her pillows. “I’m not writing a college essay today. Or ever.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Courtney said. “Like I said, I completed the application for you.”
“You wrote my essay?” Peyton smirked. “Isn’t that breaking some kind of rule?”
“Don’t tell anyone.” Courtney took a deep breath and glanced at the door, as if afraid someone would overhear. “But yes. I wrote your essay. And it’s pretty good.” She pushed the folder closer to Peyton. “At least take a look. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
Unable to resist, Peyton picked up the folder and opened it. One side held the boring form with all her information filled out, and the other held an essay. She took it out and skimmed through it.
It was about how switching to Goodman, where she received individualized attention from teachers who cared, opened her eyes to the “joys of learning.” This was proven by evidence of how her grades had improved in the past semester. The majority of the essay consisted of trying to convince the applications committee to look past her below-average grades from Fairfield High and see potential in what she could do in the future. Courtney had even written that Peyton wanted to be an education major so she could positively influence students the same way her teachers at Goodman had influenced her, going as far as listing three courses offered at UNLV and saying that Peyton couldn’t wait to take them.
If Peyton had been an admissions person, she would have believed it.
“It’s good, right?” Courtney asked.
“I guess.” Peyton placed the essay back inside the folder. “Except that I don’t want to go to college, and I definitely don’t want to be an education major. I can’t wait to get out of school. Why would I major in something that would keep me in a school for the rest of my life?” She shuddered. “That sounds awful.”
“You’re not declaring your major in your admissions essay,” Courtney said. “This is just to convince them to let you in. Once you’re in, you can choose not to declare your major, and take your general requirements until you figure out what you like best.”
“But I don’t want to go to college...” Why couldn’t Courtney get this through her head?
“Applying doesn’t mean you have to go,” she said quickly. “I’ve done all the work for you. Just give me permission to click Send, and we’ll see what happens.” Peyton opened her mouth to protest, but Courtney continued. “If anything, do it for me,” she said. “This is practice for my own college applications. If I can get you in, I should be able to get myself in somewhere, right?”
“So let me get this straight,” Peyton said. “This is a game for you to see if you can get me into college? And if I get in, you won’t care when I don’t go?”
“Exactly.” Courtney nodded. “So you’ll do it?”
“You’ll send it even if I say no, so fine, I’ll do it,” Peyton said. “As long as you promise not to bug me about going if I get in.”
“Deal.” Courtney bounced on the bed. “There’s
only one small thing you have to do, and then it’ll be ready to send.”
Peyton braced herself. Of course there had to be a catch. “What’s that?”
“You need to get a teacher to write you a recommendation.”
Peyton paused, waiting for Courtney to say she was kidding. But her sister’s serious expression didn’t change. “What teacher is going to recommend me for college?” she asked. “The other students at school care about college applications. I don’t. My teachers know that.”
“What about Ms. Mandina?” Courtney said. “Your astronomy teacher—the one who helped you study for that test you did well on. She sees your potential. All you have to do is approach her after class and ask her if she would mind writing you a recommendation.”
“And get her excited because she thinks I suddenly want to go to college?” Peyton crossed her arms. “I don’t think so. What if she wants to have some long talk with me about how happy she is that I’m changing my mind? She’ll know I don’t mean it.”
“Just tell her the truth,” Courtney said.
“That my sister filled out my application for me, wrote my essay, and is using this as a practice run for her own applications next year?”
“Definitely don’t tell her that.” Courtney shook her head. “But let her know that you’re giving yourself an option, and you’ll see what happens when you hear back from the school. It’s not a lie. You can even talk to her after class when you know she has another class coming in next, so you won’t be stuck talking to her for too long. Please?”
Courtney widened her eyes, as if begging Peyton to give in. Peyton wanted to say no, but Courtney had gone through such a hard time after learning about Britney. If filling out a college application was keeping her mind off the twin sister she’d never gotten to know, then so be it.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” Peyton said. “But remember—this is just so you can see how you did on my application. Even if I get in, I’m not going.”
Diamonds are Forever Page 3
