by Erin Watt
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“We’re supposed to be a couple,” she hisses.
“No, we’re not,” I hiss back.
“You said yes.”
“You can’t hold me to something I said when I was drunk!”
Hartley glances over. “You lovebirds okay?”
Val snickers softly, while Ella just sighs. I already gave both of them the heads up that Felicity thinks we’re going out.
“We’re fine,” Felicity assures the table, as if anyone actually cares how “we’re” doing. “We’re just having trouble figuring out where to go on our date tonight.”
I grit my teeth so hard that my molars ache.
“You know where you should go?” Val pipes up.
I give her the evil eye for daring to play along with this insanity. “Nowhere,” I grind out. “We’re going nowhere.”
Val ignores me. “The pier,” she says.
“What’s on the pier?” Bran asks curiously.
“A carnival, games, some restaurants,” Val tells him. “It’s fun.”
“I heard there’s a haunted house that’s pretty cool there,” Ella ventures.
I pin her with a murderous look. Why is she entertaining this? She hates Felicity!
“What are you doing tonight, Hartley?” Felicity asks, surprising me.
Hartley appears just as taken aback. “Studying, probably.”
“Ah, studying’s boring.” Felicity smiles sweetly. “Apparently Easton and I are planning a get-together at the pier. You and Bran should come.”
“That doesn’t sound half bad,” Bran says. He knocks his shoulder against Hartley. “What do you say? Want to ride the Ferris wheel?”
Oh, hell no.
Chapter 17
“This is fun, isn’t it?” Val chirps later in the evening. “We’ve eaten at the pier, but I haven’t been to the ride part in ages.”
“If by ‘fun,’ you mean it’s better than the seventh circle of hell, then yeah, sure, it’s fun.” I glower at the backs of Hartley and Bran, who are at the ticket counter. Bran’s trying to pay for Hartley, and she keeps shaking her head no.
It gives me a tiny amount of satisfaction that Hartley is giving Bran the brushoff over the money thing. If she was interested, she’d let him pay, right? That’s how it works. Girls want you to buy them things. If they don’t accept gifts from you, then they’re not interested.
Hartley wins and pays for herself.
I hustle up to the counter and lay down my card. “I’ve got these two.” I gesture to Ella and Val.
“What about me?” my fake girlfriend squawks.
I spare her a glance over my shoulder. “Your dad owns an auto plant. You can pay your own way.”
“Easton!” Ella says in shock.
“What? It wasn’t my idea to come here.” I take the card and tickets and move on through the turnstile. Maybe Felicity will decide that I’m too much of an asshole to deal with and break up our fake relationship.
I could only be so lucky.
That’s the only reason I agreed to this “date,” though. I plan to talk some sense into Felicity and convince her to leave me the hell alone.
“I expect more out of you, Easton!” Felicity huffs when she joins us inside the park. Her reddish-blonde hair is tied in a long braid down her back, and she’s wearing a beige shift dress and nude three-inch heels that are in no way suitable for a carnival.
“Don’t. That way you won’t be disappointed.”
Her mouth flattens, as it tends to do when she’s pissed off. “We’re going to talk after tonight.”
“Pass.” I’d rather be pummeled for an hour straight by the bouncer at the Salem Street poker game.
“Nice shirt,” Ella says to Hartley when we join her and Bran.
I notice that they’re both wearing the same cropped white sweatshirt with the stripe down each belled-out sleeve. Hartley has hers paired with a pair of skinny jeans that show off her great ass while Ella’s wearing a blue miniskirt.
Hartley grins. “Got it on sale.”
“Me, too.” And, like that, they’re best friends. If I’d known that was all it took, I’d have sported a white crop top a long time ago. I’m not afraid to show off my abs.
“Want something to drink?” I ask the group.
“I’ll have a Diet Coke,” Felicity announces. “And a frozen banana with no chocolate or nuts.”
“So a banana,” I say.
“But frozen.”
I don’t even argue. “Bran?”
“I’ll have whatever. Coke is good.”
He, like me, probably needs a beer, but we’re underage and they’re pretty strict at the pier.
“How about you, Har-Har?”
Felicity scowls at the nickname.
“I’m good.” Hartley shakes her head.
“You sure? I’m not going to offer to pay every day,” I tease. The only reason I made the suggestion in the first place was to have an excuse to buy something for Hartley.
“I’m getting an orange cream float,” Ella pipes up. “Val?”
“Root beer float for me. And funnel cake with strawberries.”
“I wouldn’t mind a funnel cake,” Bran admits.
“Lend me a hand, Bran?” This order has gotten bigger than I anticipated. Besides, I’m not about to leave him alone with Hartley.
“Sure.”
We go up to the concession stand and I order three funnel cakes, a frozen banana—they don’t have any non-chocolate covered ones—and six foot-long corn dogs.
“Are we feeding an army?” Bran jokes.
He might be sweet on Hartley, but he’s not very observant. Hartley was licking her lips when Ella was ordering food. When her tongue darted out, my knees got weak. Sadly, I know that look of hunger wasn’t for me but for food.
“You can never have enough carnival food.”
“True.”
As we wait at the counter, Bran shoves his hands in his pockets and gives me an awkward look. “Be honest, Royal—is it cool that I’m here with Hartley?”
I stiffen. The way he says that, it’s like he thinks they’re on a date or some shit. Are they? They showed up separately, I know that for a fact. Hartley came on the bus, and Bran drove up in his Dodge. But that doesn’t mean much. They could’ve still talked about it being a date sometime between when school ended and we all arrived here.
Does he have her phone number?
Jealousy burns at my insides. He fucking better not.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Somehow I manage to put on the most casual of tones.
He shrugs. “I dunno. You just seem really protective of her.”
“We’re friends. I’m protective of all my friends.”
“Same.” He smiles and invites me to smile with him, but all my humor’s in my shoes at this moment.
“You really interested in Hartley?” Bran seems like a decent guy and he’s the only player on our team who can throw the ball, but that doesn’t mean he should be sniffing around my girl.
“Maybe? She seems like a cool girl.”
“You shouldn’t date anyone your senior year, because that relationship won’t last,” I inform him.
Bran arches an eyebrow. “You write an advice column on the side, Royal?”
It’s hard to hold back a blush, but I manage it. Years of not caring what anyone thinks helps.
“Yeah, it’s called Dear Man Who Knows Better Than Me. I’m here to help you not make a fool of yourself.”
“And you’re saying that pursuing Hartley is going to make a fool out of me?” He looks amused.
“I’m saying she’s not interested.”
“I’ll take my chances.” He grabs a funnel cake. “But thanks for the advice.”
I’ve got no good response, so I keep my mouth shut as we return to the girls. By the time we reach them, the crowd has swelled to more than a dozen—most of th
em friends of Felicity’s.
“It looks like half the senior class came,” Val observes as I start handing out food.
Felicity pats her hair. “I guess word got out that I’m here.”
I stare at her, wondering if she’s being at all ironic, but apparently no. She’s serious. I glance around to see if anyone else is amused by her delusions, but Ella and Hartley are busy scarfing their food. Felicity’s crew is nodding as if her declaration was delivered by an oracle.
Once we’re done eating, Bran suggests going on rides.
“I love the Ferris wheel,” Hartley admits. “I haven’t ridden on one since I was twelve, I think.”
“Rides are for children,” Felicity interjects. “Why don’t you win something for me?”
“And games aren’t for children?” I counter.
“How about a shooting contest?” Tiffany, one of her friends, suggests. “The guys can win us all prizes.”
Felicity claps her hands. “Yes! Come on, Easton. You can win me something to make up for not paying my admission.” She loops her hand around my elbow and tugs me toward the games.
“How about you?” Bran says to Hartley. “Should I win you something?”
“Oh no. I don’t need anything,” she protests.
Damn right. If anyone is going to win Hartley a prize, it’s me. She’s my friend.
“How about we win our own prizes,” Ella suggests dryly.
As Felicity and the other girls chorus their dismay, Hartley gives a thumbs-up. She, Ella, and Val separate from the group, wandering off toward a booth where some jackass is offering to guess everyone’s weight. Kinda rude, if you ask me.
I try to follow them, but Felicity grabs my arm again.
“I’m getting real tired of that.” I stare pointedly at her hand.
“Of what?”
Gently, but firmly, I extract myself from her grip. “How far are you going to take this?”
She plants her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what you mean.”
I stifle a shout of frustration. “Felicity. Listen to me. I was drunk when I agreed to your proposition. I didn’t even remember seeing you when I woke up the next morning.”
“Well, you did see me, and you said you’d be my boyfriend, so tough cookies, Easton Royal. This is happening.”
“Look, you’re a nice girl,” I choke on the lie. “You don’t want me as your boyfriend, fake or otherwise, okay? I’m a terrible person, and on top of that, I’m pretty damn lazy. You need to find someone else to hitch your wagon to.”
Her hands slide up from her hips to cross tightly across her rack. Huh. I never noticed her chest before. Probably because I never cared enough to check her out.
“No,” she says.
“No?”
“No. I’ve already announced we’re a couple and so we’re a couple. I don’t care if you’re rude or insulting. Your bad behavior will only result in sympathy for me.”
Holy mother of God. She’s clearly not right in her head. “I’m not doing this. Period. Like, honestly, I don’t know what else to say or how many other ways to put it. I’m not playing along.”
“Yes, you are.”
I take a few steps away. I’m done with this conversation.
“Because if you don’t,” she adds, “I’m going to make Hartley’s life miserable.”
I stick my tongue in the side of my cheek and pray for a little patience. After all, I did agree to this stupid charade in the first place, even if I don’t have the clearest memory of doing so.
I walk back to her, trying to appeal to her rational side. “Let’s be reasonable. Why don’t you dump me? You can say I cheated on you or that I’m just too stupid to waste your time on or that I’m bad in the sack. Tell whatever lie you want and I’ll back you up.”
“No.”
Arghhhhhhh. I’m seconds away from slamming my fist into the nearest wall. This girl is batshit crazy.
And if she’s going to be an asshole over this, I can be even worse in return. “Try coming after Hartley and you’ll be crying for mercy within a day,” I say tightly.
Instead of being scared off, Felicity gives me a smug smile. “After I’m done with Hartley, I’ll go after Ella.”
I scoff. This again? No way Felicity takes Ella down. Ella already fought and tamed the meanest girl Astor Park Prep has seen—Jordan Carrington. “I’m not interested in the games you want to play, babe. And Ella’s strong enough to stand up to you.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” With the same sick grin plastered to her face, she saunters off to join her friends.
Swallowing a groan, I stick my hands in my pockets and watch my classmates play a bunch of games. Bran’s playing the basketball game and draining shot after shot. There are several girls gathered around him, cheering him on.
Hmmm.
The sight of their obvious adoration for Astor Park’s newest athlete gives me an idea.
If Felicity wants to be on the top of the social chain, then it makes sense for her to hook up with Bran. Despite his lack of money, he’s good looking and, most importantly, he’s our quarterback. Everybody loves a quarterback. Hell, even Hartley thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips. All I need to do is convince Felicity that Bran’s a better catch than me.
And, fine, if Bran getting with Felicity also keeps him away from Hartley, that’s just a silver lining.
I totally don’t have an ulterior motive or anything.
I hurry over to the arcade game. I shove money into the machine next to Bran and start shooting. It’s pretty easy. Soon, I have my own little crowd of admirers. When Bran pauses to watch me, I make my move.
“Want to make a bet, Mathis?” I ask, casting out the lure.
He bites, just like I knew he would. He’s an athlete, which means he’s got plenty of competitive juice in him. “Sure. What are the stakes?”
“If I win, you buy ride tickets for everyone here. If I lose, I buy them.”
“There are twenty-three of us,” Ella says quietly. “That’s nearly a thousand dollars.”
I didn’t even see her come up beside me. Val and Hartley are back, too, and when I look over, there’s no missing the worry in their eyes. “I know,” I reply. “Pocket change, right?”
The Astor kids nod, but Bran, the son of a teacher and an accountant, isn’t a regular Astor kid. He doesn’t have a trust account and an allowance of thousands of dollars a month.
When he pales underneath his tan, I know I’m right. “Um, sure. I guess.” His pride won’t allow him to back down.
I squeeze his shoulder, because he’s not in any danger of having to pay up. I’m going to lose big. “Awesome.”
Felicity claps her hands in glee. “I want the big panda.” She points to one of the giant stuffed animals that we could probably pick up for five bucks at a place that Felicity would die before stepping foot into. She doesn’t want the panda. She wants what the panda represents in her crazy-ass mind.
Too bad she’s going to be disappointed.
We start shooting. For the first round, I drain as many baskets as I can. I need to make my loss look realistic. Bran, however, isn’t cooperating. The thought of buying all those tickets is getting to him, which is weird because on the football field he’s never ruffled. He starts bricking his shots, and the lead I built up doesn’t go away. Not even after I pretend to go cold.
In the third round, he picks up steam, but it’s too little, too late. When the buzzer goes off, I’m the winner.
Fuck.
“Double or nothing,” I blurt out.
“No, I’m good.” Bran says, but his complexion has taken on a greenish cast.
“I knew you’d win, Easton!” Felicity gushes. “Good breeding always prevails.”
I know Ella’s disappointed, but it’s the disgust in Hartley’s eyes that kills me. Ella will believe my explanation—how I tried to rig it so Bran would win and I’d buy the tickets. But Hartley won’t. She already thinks I’m an asshole.
>
I swallow hard and pull out my wallet. “It was a dumb bet. I’ll get the tickets.”
“No, man. A bet’s a bet. Gotta be a man of my word.” Gulping visibly, Bran staggers off to go buy the tickets.
Some of our teammates slap him on the back as he passes. “That’s our QB!”
“Shit,” I mutter.
Ella grabs my arm and pulls me aside. “Go stop him,” she pleads.
“I can’t. If I try to buy the tickets, he’ll lose the respect of his teammates.”
“You guys are idiots.” She looks like she wants to slap me. Frankly, I could use a blow to my face.
Bran returns with the tickets and hands them out. I stand off to the side and wait for everyone else to get them first. When Bran reaches me, I renew my offer to pay.
“I’ve played this game so many times with my brothers that I could make these shots with my eyes shut. Let me pay, okay?”
Bran snorts. “So you set me up?”
“Not exactly.” But I don’t sound convincing, because I did set him up, just not in the way that it turned out.
“I guess I thought we were playing on the same team,” he mumbles, “but thanks for showing me your true colors early on. I know what the rules are now.” He slaps a ride card in my hand and then walks off.
“You’re a real jerk.”
I look up to see Hartley approaching me. Her gray eyes look like two storm clouds.
Misery jams in my throat. I swallow hard, then gesture for her to follow me to a spot out of earshot of our classmates. Miraculously, she comes with me.
“It’s not what it looked like,” I tell her, lowering my voice. “I was going to lose so I could pay for the tickets.”
She shakes her head in disgust. “Yeah. Sure, Easton.”
“It’s true.”
“Uh-huh. Then why’d you play the stupid game anyway? Why not just pay for the tickets outright?”
“I wanted Bran to look good in front of Felicity.”
“What?” Hartley’s brow crinkles.
“I thought maybe if she got hot for someone else, she’d forget this stupid idea that she and I are dating.” Jeez. The whole thing sounds ridiculous now that I’m trying to explain it to someone else. “Look, I made a mistake. I didn’t mean for Bran to be out that money.”
