by Molly E. Lee
“Thank you,” I said, chewing on my lip. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Later.”
I hung up the phone and raked my fingers through my hair, sighing as I sank onto my bed. Anger had turned into a solid, pulsing thing in my blood, and I would be damned if I’d let Gordon get away with something like this. It didn’t matter that not everyone took his speech as seriously—as I learned from the texts on the way home. It mattered to me. I knew he’d done it to hurt me. And he’d succeeded. Now I would return the favor.
He’d be at Lennon’s tonight because the entire senior class would be there. And that was where I’d take my revenge. But it wouldn’t stop there. Oh no. I intended to ensure that not only would he know never to mess with me again, I would make sure the internship was mine. No contest.
A sliver of guilt slipped into my chest, but I pushed it away. I’d never once fought dirty in my entire life. I’d always gotten what I wanted through hard work and a hell of a lot of sacrifice. But today was different. Today, Gordon deserved to get dirty, and I was more than happy to help.
I stared at my closed door, taking my last few minutes left to breathe. I half hoped my father would knock on it and come in apologizing for his stance on the internship. Hell, I’d even take it if he was mad. Something. Anything from my parents would be a nice change to the monotone they usually adapted.
Neither one of them had tried to follow me after I’d stormed off. If Bray had snapped at her mom like that, she wouldn’t leave the house for a week, but things were different in my family. It was 90 percent business, 10 percent actual connection. There were moments when the suit persona would slip from my father, and he’d say or notice something that I thought he had no clue about—like the one time he’d shown up with coffee at the children’s hospital where I volunteered on the graveyard shift one summer. There were always at least forty other moments to negate those gems, though—times when he’d try to grill into my brain the importance of the company, of the role it played in our lives, how the only reason it was successful was because of the sacrifices they’d made for it in the beginning.
I knew all about sacrifice.
I knew that’s why they were never around throughout my childhood. And before I’d bonded with Bray freshman year, I was dead set on never fitting in with a family. I was all about doing things on my own, still was, but Bray and her mother had given me so much over the past four years—they showed me what it was like to be a real family, and while I would be grateful to them for the rest of my life, it also showed me how much of a disconnect there was between my parents and me.
And yet, knowing that, I still hoped.
I wanted to connect. I wanted them to see me for me, not some asset they’d created as a result of two important people getting married. I worked as hard as I did because they doubted me at every turn. I needed to prove that I was more than capable of doing and earning every single thing on my own. Not just for myself. I wanted them to realize it, too.
I resisted the urge to call Bray and beg her to meet me before the party. She was dealing with major Fynn stuff at the moment. And she’d talk me right out of my plan for Gordon. Bray had too big a heart for revenge, and while I always listened to her because she was my absolute best friend, I couldn’t afford to unload everything on her right now. After it was all over, we’d have a confession session, but for tonight, I’d leave her in the dark.
I slipped on a pair of silver leggings, some sparkly gold flats, and a flowing black top. My blonde curls only needed a little fluffing, and I was ready to go. I hadn’t been to many of Lennon’s parties, but tonight wasn’t about reveling in that experience. Tonight was about getting even with Gordon, and doing whatever it took to take the internship from him. Because while before it had been a friendly competition, today he’d made it personal.
And two could play that game.
Chapter Five
Gordon
I bypassed Lennon’s oversize kitchen and headed straight for the back patio next to the pool. His place was massive to the nth degree, and a prick of heat twisted my gut. Lennon’s parents could afford to send him to whichever college he chose, and yet the dude was skipping school altogether to go on tour with his band.
His dream.
Right. Hard to hate the guy when he was only doing what any of us would do—what I’d do if someone handed me my dream on a silver platter. And it wasn’t like he didn’t work his ass off for it, he totally did. He practiced as much as I studied. We just looked completely different doing it.
I leaned against the wooden exterior of his house, my eyes roaming over the partygoers who had hit the pool early. The vast expanse of lake property that the house sat on swallowed up most of the sound, so it wasn’t nearly as loud as inside the house. Nice.
I kept trying to come up with the perfect apology, one that would erase all the well-deserved hate I’m sure Zoey harbored for me this very second, but for the first time in my life, I was coming up blank. As much as I knew I was in the wrong, I was still hurt she’d lied to me. And to what end? Anger threatened to burn my good intentions to ash, so I took a calming breath and tried to come up with the right words.
Usually I could whip up a speech in seconds flat without even breaking a sweat. This was entirely different. I’d never been so out of my element before because I’d never snapped like that before. But the weight of today had broken me.
Now, with the prospect of convincing Mr. Handler to keep the shop as is, I hoped I could keep the positive change going by finding Zoey.
I’d searched the house the moment I arrived, even checking the totally unashamed make out room with no luck. Her Snapchat had said she’d be here, so I’d have to wait.
My muscles twitched at the thought. I’d been to plenty of parties, but I never stayed long. There was always too much studying to do, or too much work at the shop. And now, well, I had the internship to worry about. Though, knowing that I was up against Zoey made me feel like I’d already lost.
A group of half-naked students in swimwear burst out laughing across the infinity pool where the lounge chairs rested. I craned my neck to see what they were huddled around.
Poor bastard.
Dustin—a varsity baseball player—lay sprawled out over one of the chairs, a blue solo cup in his hand. His mouth was wide open, a steady stream of drool trickling down his neck. People were placing objects on his bare chest to see how many they could balance without waking him up: empty cups, a cap from graduation, dirty plastic forks, beer cans. The pile was impressively high, but I couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. Of course, he’d likely started the party after lunch, as many of the seniors had, but he still should’ve known better than to drink so much he passed out before the sun had fully set. A few girls had their cell phones out, snapping pictures that they no doubt tagged him in on every social media board he had.
I straightened, shaking my head as I turned back into the house, unable to watch. It was innocent fun to them, but for someone like me? That could ruin me. Major companies like A&J would stalk Zoey’s and my sites before deciding who to hire. One slip up like poor Dustin out there and it would be an easy decision for A&J to choose Zoey over me.
I wouldn’t be that stupid. I couldn’t afford that luxury, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to have at least one drink. After the day I’d had, I felt I’d more than earned a sliver of careful and calculated fun.
Back inside, I braved the crowded kitchen for a cold beer, almost tripping over Hendrix—Lennon’s all black German Shepherd—in his sprint toward the back door. Dog had to go when he had to go, I guess. I laughed, knowing that wouldn’t be the last I’d see of the mischievous creature who was as sharp as a fox and as stealthy as a ghost.
One time he’d gotten a hold of my winter gloves and hidden them. It wouldn’t have been such a big deal if I hadn’t shoved my keys inside them beforehand—the ring that held the master key to the shop. I had launched into a panic that someone had stolen th
em on purpose and was breaking into the shop as I looked around Lennon’s place like a crazed maniac. Luckily, Lennon had a way of communicating with Hendrix, a secret language I’d never understand, and he’d gotten him to give up the goods. I wasn’t the first victim of Hendrix’s games, and wouldn’t be the last, but there was no way in hell I was letting him get me tonight.
I patted the keys in my back pocket, assuring myself. Thinking about the restaurant only made me remember my one-shot meeting tomorrow morning, and I gulped down half the beer in my hand. I’d make sure this would be my only beer tonight. There was no escaping the events of the day, but I was damn sure trying. I finished the contents of the bottle, tossed it, and headed down the hallway. I stopped in front of Lennon’s game room where an epic Xbox battle occurred, only to freeze when a pop of blond hair caught the corner of my eye.
Zoey. She’d just walked in the front door.
I turned my back toward her so fast I bumped into the wall. I rolled my eyes, discreetly glancing over my shoulder. My stomach dropped at the sight of her—fresh faced and gorgeous in a pair of tight silver leggings and oversize top, her long hair hanging over her shoulders in waves. The girl never ceased to take my breath away whenever she walked into a room—which was often with our history. Debates, volunteer projects, study hall. Our paths crossed constantly, and while I could appreciate how damn beautiful she was, it didn’t mean I was excited to see her. Normally, it meant a battle. Tonight, it meant I had to get on my knees and beg her forgiveness. She deserved a heartfelt apology, and if I didn’t at least try…I’d live out the rest of my life regretting how I’d forced my own problems on her. It wasn’t fair, and it just wasn’t my style. But I was secretly hoping she’d offer up her own apology, too.
My cell vibrated in my pocket, and I fished it out.
Jay: You’re the best! Thanks for thinking of the little guy!
I furrowed my brow at my cousin’s text. Had he just woken up from an all-day nap? Then it hit me. He hadn’t thanked me for breakfast.
Me: No worries, man.
I pocketed my phone, shaking my head. Jay had always been a jokester, but sometimes I didn’t have a clue where his head was at. I wondered what he was doing tonight, since Lennon had made this party for grads only plus friends of his sister’s from college. As an underclassman, I’m sure Jay had cooked up something to help ease the sting of missing the party of the year.
Wish I was here for that fact alone, and not to admit what an idiot I’d been this morning or to fish for answers from her. It shouldn’t matter to me why she did it, but something ached in my chest—right alongside all the other hurts that had happened today. Something that wouldn’t settle until I knew Zoey and I could find common ground again. Before, we’d battled and fought and constantly had been in each other’s space…but it was an amicable sort of life. After what she’d done to me and me to her? Shit. We’d really turned ourselves into enemies, and for some reason, that twisted me up worse than when I’d lost to her on any given occasion.
The thought made me turn around, and I spotted Zoey as she bounced up the stairs just off the entryway. I took a deep breath to prepare myself.
Now all I had to do was grow a pair and go upstairs to talk to her. Maybe on the way I’d find the words I needed to make one wrong thing right today.
Chapter Six
Zoey
Julie: He’s here.
Julie’s text interrupted the infuriating conversation I was having with Braylen. The girl had just sent Katy “Killer Boobs” Evans after her BFF Fynn—the boy she’d been in love with for, like, ever—and wasn’t doing a damn thing to undo the mistake she’d just made.
I glanced up from my cell, watching the gears turn behind Bray’s eyes. She was wicked sharp when it came to spinning stories any way she wanted them, but this? How could she make this right? An idea sprang to the back of my mind, as always—sometimes annoyingly so. A way to solve her problem for her. I bit my tongue, instead wrapping her in a fast hug that not only soothed her, but me as well.
“Gordon’s here. I’ve got to go,” I said.
“Zoey,” Braylen chided. “What are you up to?” She held her hands up super quick when I glared at her. “Not that he doesn’t deserve whatever it is…but seriously? What’s cooking in that genius brain of yours?”
“Nothing you have time for.” I squeezed her again. “And the schedule on this is tight. I’ll catch you later.” I spun on my flats and practically flew down the stairs. Half of me wanted to stay with Braylen and help her solve this massive problem she’d just gotten herself into, but I had to get to him now. This plan’s successes rested on the next few minutes of interaction with him. If I failed, then we’d have to move on to plan B, and I so didn’t want to do that. Plan A was just too good to fail.
I hit the landing with adrenaline pumping in my veins, the challenge in my blood downright exhilarating. I’d never done anything like this before, never so risky, and since I’d always been a strong believer in the rules, I couldn’t believe how good it felt to even think about breaking them.
I wonder if this is how Lennon feels all the time?
The rock star of the school had a way of bending the rules to suit him—like the time he’d recorded a ten-minute song for his final essay in Mr. Rowe’s Advanced English class instead of the ten-page essay that had been required. The creativity and artistry was what landed him the A on the assignment, despite the rest of us going the traditional route. We all had our ways of breaking the rules, and I could only hope I’d channel Lennon’s aloofness about them tonight.
The crowded hallway leading to the kitchen seemed to clear as I zeroed in on a mop of brown hair. Gordon’s back was to me as he held up the wall outside Lennon’s video game room, but I’d recognize him anywhere. Hard not to. We’d been in each other’s lives since before I could remember, and I was sure if I could remember as far back to toddlerhood, we had probably battled over who could walk and talk first.
Secretly, I’d always thought he was a cute boy—one who liked to get in my way most of my life—but it wasn’t until our sophomore year that I really paid attention to the sharp angles of his face. Or the way his eyes were the exact shade of brown as a melted chocolate bar, the gooey kind that spilled over a freshly assembled s’more and warmed every inch of your insides.
A shaky breath flew past my lips as I blinked a few times. Sure, the boy was hot, and smart. The only being on the planet who had the chops to push me where everyone else steered clear. But he was also the boy who’d slayed me on stage in front of our entire class and robbed me of my goodbye speech. One I’d dreamed of making for four years. His looks and incredible brain would not get in the way of my revenge.
I nodded to myself, pushing through the hallway to get to him.
Game face on, Zoe.
I conjured up all the nice, warm feelings I’d had toward him before his little speech this morning. Memories like when he’d shared his Taco Truck gift card he’d been awarded in the eighth grade for his solar powered science project that won over my wind powered one. He’d bought me lunch and dropped it off when he’d handed over Branch. Memories of the little wooden trophy, and all the times we’d passed him back and forth, and how he’d connected me to Gordon in a way that I thought was a secret symbol of friendship. Something strong and solid and never-ending—even if it only revolved around wins and losses.
I needed him to believe there was something good between us. And that meant believing it myself.
I focused on the memories as hard as I could. I held on to the emotions like they were a lifeline, and slipped on what I hoped was a friendly yet mysterious smile.
“Hey, there,” I blurted out, tapping him on the shoulder. I’d gone for smooth and confident and had instead hit a combo of angry and excited. Perfect.
Gordon’s wire-tight muscles flinched under my touch and he froze for a few seconds before turning around to face me.
For a split second, I envisioned him tearing
into me, slaying me with more well-placed verbal jabs that had decorated his speech.
Shoving the fear down, I arched my neck, my eyes trailing up and up until I’d reached his. He’d always been tall, but damn, tonight the fact that he towered over me did weird flippy things to my stomach. A quick echo of some of his harsher words this morning stopped that insanity right in its tracks.
“Zoey,” he said, and his voice cracked. “Zoey, Zoey.”
“Well,” I said, chuckling as I crossed my arms. “You’ve got my name right.”
He opened and closed his mouth a few times. I’d never seen him struggle so much to put two words together, and the next laugh I snorted out was actually genuine.
This will be too easy.
I sucked in a sharp breath, and arched an eyebrow at him for good measure.
“I know,” he said, his shoulders dropping.
“I’m an asshole.” He finally trailed those brown eyes to mine, and my jaw dropped.
Wait. What?
“I shouldn’t have done that this morning,” he continued. “I could tell you a story, one that might make you forgive me, or at least make you understand why I snapped, but I don’t want to waste your time with excuses. It was a dick move, and I’m so sorry, Zoey.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, my arms falling to my sides.
Is he for real?
He couldn’t be, not wholly. Was he still trying to play me like I was trying to get back at him? More likely his apology was just to alleviate his own guilt, and I wouldn’t accept a selfish sorry.
Game face.
