by Ella Fields
Plus, we had the kind of relationship where I’d always felt I could go to her for anything. To talk about anything. I didn’t want to ruin that.
“Call your dad.” My entire body pulled upright. “If he agrees and is willing to send Alfie out to pick you up and bring you home.” She raised a finger when she saw the beginning of my smile. “Before eleven thirty. Then yes, you can go.”
I dived over the couch, wrapping my arms around her.
Laughing, she squeezed me. “Quit growing up.”
“Love you too.”
She pushed me back, then stood to leave the room. “Ugh, now you’ve scrunched my cashmere top.”
I laughed as I picked up her phone to call Dad. You could take the woman out of the castle, but you couldn’t take the princess out of the woman.
The phone rang twice before he picked up. “Hey, Daddy.”
“Peggy Sue. How’re those pearly whites looking?”
I smiled, feeling kind of bad that I hadn’t called him afterward or even gone over there to show him. “Good. I got a haircut too.”
“Yeah?” I heard him take a sip of something, likely brandy. “You’ll need to send me a photo.”
My ears and nose pricked as I heard Phil serving up dinner. “Have you worked out how to view the photos yet?”
“I run a multi-million-dollar business, Pegs. I can find my way around a damn phone.”
“Uh-huh.” He’d only just started texting and used to say it was for chumps who couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone and give someone their proper attention. “How about I come over on Sunday? Will you be in town?”
“I’m here until next week, then I’m in Dubai for the better part of next month.”
Dubai was one of the countries that manufactured his medical equipment.
“I’ll come see you on Sunday, then. But I wanted to ask you something.”
“So,” he said, “ask.”
“I’m heading out tomorrow night with some friends. Do you think Alfie could pick me up?”
“Out? Like a party, out?”
I closed my eyes, then reopened them and said as firmly as possible, “Yeah, a party. Wade Eldin is hosting one. The big blue mansion a few streets from your place, closest to the bay.”
He whistled. “That family’s a bunch of idiots.” After a torturous thirty seconds, he sighed. “Okay, I’ll have him pick you up and take you home.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
His tone firmed. “You should have Dashiell go with you.”
“Yeah,” I lied. “I think I will.”
There was no way I was letting Dash accompany me tomorrow night.
“This jacket is bomb,” Daphne breathed, running her hand over the worn leather covering my arm.
“Thrift store find. I’m worried I’ll get hot.” I dipped my mascara brush back inside the tube, then brushed it over my lashes one more time.
“You won’t get hot,” Willa said, lacing up her heeled boots. “He’ll have the A/C on all night.”
We were getting ready at Daphne’s place, a French provincial-styled home near the woods on the other side of the creek that sat behind my house.
I loved going to her place. Not because it was huge and filled with amenities—I could get all the amenities I wanted by visiting my dad—but because it was renovated tastefully. A lot of the patterned molding remained in the ceilings, the brass fixtures on the fans, and the lamps in the hall. The wooden floors were original, polished, and lovingly maintained. Her mother was a lingerie model, and her father was a doctor at the local hospital.
“Okay, selfie before we go.”
I scrunched my nose, capping the mascara and tossing it inside the tiny purse I never typically used, but I’d need for tonight. “Where are you posting it?”
“Who cares?” Willa said. “We look great. We need proof we can look this good again.”
I snorted but moved in beside Willa while Daphne took photo after photo. “How many is that? Twenty?”
“It takes that many to get at least three photos worth sharing.”
“Sure.”
She smacked me, then got to work posting on Instagram as we filed outside and down the hall. Wade’s house was a five-minute drive from hers, and we spent it staring at our Instagram accounts while her driver sat stone faced up front.
“I look constipated.”
“You are smiling a little too hard,” Daphne agreed. “You’ll get used to the no braces thing in a few weeks.” The ones she’d worn were mostly invisible, and she hadn’t had them for longer than the duration of our sophomore year.
Willa zoomed in. “You look stunning. Like a sexier version of Marilyn Monroe sans mole. I, on the other hand, look like someone slapped me in both cheeks.” She dropped her phone and started rubbing at her blush coated cheeks.
Daphne grabbed her hands. “Quit.” She laughed. “It looks good on you.”
The car stopped.
Willa looked panicked as the driver got out and opened the back doors, exposing us to the partygoers who were lingering on the sprawling front lawn. “I really think I need to fix my face.”
“Your face looks amazing. Let’s do this,” I said, pumping my shoulders.
Daphne muttered what sounded like, “Oh, Jesus.”
Together, we sauntered over the grass. Some kids from school smiled or waved, mostly at Daphne, but I smiled anyway. I was wearing my signature floral Doc Martens, a bright purple skirt that looked more like a tutu, and a ripped black T-shirt featuring Stevie Nicks. My curls bounced around my face with each step I took, and Willa’s straightened hair stuck to her lips. She pushed it away, her eyes still veiled with uncertainty as we reached the door.
Leon Franklin, who was in my trig class last year, slouched against the door. “Tickets, ladies.”
“Ticket this, Franklin.” Daphne flipped him off, and we headed inside.
“Badass,” Willa said, stealing an unopened beer as soon as we neared the ice box in the living room.
“Don’t drink beer,” Daphne said. “You’ll bloat. Here.” She grabbed some fruity looking drinks, handing one to Willa, then grabbed another for me. “Drink this.”
Shrugging, I removed the cap and sniffed it.
“Did you just sniff it?” Willa asked.
“Smells like apples.” I took a careful sip. “Hey, yum.”
Daphne popped open her own, and Willa and I watched as she drained half of it in a few pulls. She dragged a finger over her red lips, inspecting it, then nodded. “Right. Let’s mingle.”
Mingling wasn’t so fun, and sick of feeling awkward standing off to the side with Willa while Daphne chatted with some girls I’d rather not talk to, I decided to grab another drink.
Three drinks later, I was feeling fuzzy around the edges, my limbs limber, and my smile a permanent fixture on my face as we danced around to the little jukebox we’d found in the upstairs living room.
That was, until we went to the bathroom and found a bunch of guys inside smoking pot.
“Dash?”
A slow grin shaped his lips, and he flicked ash from his blunt into the sink he was sitting next to. “Freckles.”
Heat infused my cheeks. “Don’t call me that.”
“Embarrassed?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes as Daphne pushed the door open, then walked right over to Lars. She plucked the blunt from between his lips and stuck it between hers.
I turned to leave. I couldn’t believe he was here.
“Aw.” I heard his boots thud to the tiles. “Not happy to see me? What am I, your dirty little secret?”
“I don’t care. You can do what you want.” I just hoped he’d leave me alone to do the same. I grabbed Willa, who was looking around the confined space as if she was trying to find something. Probably alcohol, I mused. “Let’s go.”
“Not so fast, Cotton Candy,” Lars said when Daphne turned to leave with the remains of his joint. “You owe me.”
Daphne opened her pu
rse, fished out a twenty, and tossed it at his feet.
Lars blinked down at it, then at her, tilting his head. “I don’t need your money.”
“And I don’t need to be nicknamed after a pointless sweet.”
“You’re still mad?”
Mad? I looked back and forth between them.
“Mad would require me to actually care about you, and I don’t, so …” She tipped a shoulder, her coral, fluttery dress skimming her tanned thighs as she left him sitting there, scowling after her.
Willa turned to me. “I’m so lost right now.”
“Me too.” I sighed, then pulled Willa with me outside, thankful for the clean air in the hallway. Screw Dash. I should’ve known he’d show up anywhere there was booze, pot, and willing girls. I looked around, wondering where Byron was, and if he was looking for me.
We tried to find Daphne but that proved impossible. The bass thudded harder, and the rooms filled up so much, I figured half the town had to be here.
We got another drink and stood in the hall, people watching as couples drifted off, searching for privacy, and others outright groped each other where they stood or sat.
Dennis Bradley, who I had three classes with last year, strode by, and I moved my hand to wave, but it fell as he stumbled to a huge ceramic vase and threw his head inside, puking.
Willa and I both looked at him, then at what remained of our drinks. Taking stock of our lightheadedness, we ditched them and wandered away before the area started to smell.
A hand grabbed mine outside the kitchen, and I got ready to growl at Dash until I realized it wasn’t him. It was Byron.
A very drunk, very smiley Byron. “Hey, been looking all over for you.”
I smiled back, nodding at Willa when she gestured that she’d be hanging in the kitchen. “You have?”
He took a swig of beer, his head bobbing. “Oh, yeah. Wild party, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, hardly hearing myself over the music. I was getting tired of half-shouting. “Wild.”
As if he could sense it, he pulled me toward the glass windows and doors that overlooked the bay beyond Wade’s house. I let him, knowing I was safe when I saw shadows of partygoers out by the Olympic-sized pool.
There were no seats available on the deck or around the pool, so we ventured down the lawn to the bay. Not wanting to get sand in my boots, I took a seat on the small grassy edge that divided Wade’s property from the sand, and after finishing his beer and tossing the bottle toward the water, Byron did the same.
“Pretty loud in there, huh?”
He reeked of beer as he leaned back on his hands while stretching out his long legs. “Sure is. You get used to it after a while.”
I tried not to let his comment irritate me, but it kind of did. “At least the weather is nice.” The weather? Someone slap me.
“Yeah, it’s nice out, and now I can see you better. You look great,” he said, leaning a little closer. “You’ve always been this cute thing, waltzing around school in your black boots instead of heels or those ballet things, like the rest of them.”
“Oh, thanks.” Cute. He thought I was cute.
“Yeah, but now?” He reached out, startling me as he grabbed a strand of my hair. “You’re like this sexy minx.”
“Minx?” I asked, trying not to laugh.
He chuckled. “My ability to flirt is severely hindered right now. You’ll need to cut me some slack.”
“I guess I can.” The way his finger wound around my hair felt nice.
“You should come out more,” he murmured. “Give me a reason to smile.”
“You smile plenty.”
“Not in the way you make me smile.”
I laughed, turning to face him. “I don’t think anything’s wrong with your ability to flirt.”
“No?” he whispered, lashes lowering as he stared at my mouth.
Was he about to kiss me?
His hand moved from my hair to the back of my head, pulling our faces even closer. He was going to kiss me.
Shit. Oh, shit.
I’d never been kissed by anyone other than Dash, and even then, he’d only done it in the sixth grade so he could claim my first kiss. I told him that one-second pecks didn’t count, and he said he’d better kiss me again then before I shoved him away.
The scent of beer mingled with the sweet spice of his cologne, and I tried to stop it, but as his lips neared mine, I sneezed, pulling back just in time to avoid spraying his face.
Byron’s eyes were wide as he wiped at his shoulder and neck.
And oh, how I wanted to run down to the bay and throw myself under water until he disappeared.
“I’m sorry,” I said, then sneezed again. Sweet holy shit. “Something’s up with my sinuses.”
He chuckled, and then someone called out to him from the pool behind us.
I kept staring at the bay, my face a wildfire of embarrassment, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw him get up. “I’ll be back.”
I knew he wouldn’t. I shut my eyes, mortification pricking at them. One of the most popular guys in school tried to kiss me, and I’d sneezed my germs all over him.
A slow clap started, and then a plonk beside me had my eyes opening.
I groaned when I saw Dash grinning like the devil he was, teeth and all. “Nice, Freckles. Real smooth.”
“You were watching?”
“Duh. Someone had to make sure that shmuck didn’t take advantage of you.”
I exhaled a tremulous breath. “You didn’t need to worry about that.”
“I don’t now, so thanks.”
“Asshole.”
He bumped my shoulder with his. “Could be worse. Kissing him would be like licking the inside of a toilet bowl, he’s hooked up with so many people lately.”
“Not helping, and like you can talk.” Dash was notorious for leaving girls hanging.
“Hey, I didn’t scare anyone off by spraying them with spit and phlegm.”
My stomach shook. Tears threatened. I stood, wanting to head inside and find the fastest route out of here. I pulled my phone out of my purse, firing off a text to Alfie.
“Freckles?” Dash said, poking me in the cheek. “Don’t be sad. That’s stupid. He’s a bastard anyway.”
“It’s … whatever. I’m going home.” I brushed some sand from my butt, then swerved through the crowds outside, keeping my head down.
Willa was where I left her in the kitchen, her chin on her fist, looking fascinated as she watched a couple of guys make out against the refrigerator. Daphne appeared, looking flushed as she ran her hands over her hair. “There you are.”
Willa turned, blinking out of her trance as she saw us. “Where’s Byron?”
“God knows, probably halfway to Mexico by now.”
Daphne’s hands paused, and she crept closer. “Huh? What happened?”
“What happened with Lars?”
“Touché.” She sighed. “Let’s trade in the car. Alfie’s coming soon, right?”
“Just asked him to come earlier. Let’s wait out front.”
“Freckles,” Dash said, latching onto my hand and spinning me around. “Where’re you going?”
“Home.”
“Over some lousy kiss?” He pulled a cigarette from behind his ear, then lit it, not caring that he was inside. “You can hang with me.”
“And get laughed at some more?” I shook my head, turning away to join the girls. “No thanks.”
Dash
Peggy Newland had been a permanent fixture in my life since the dawn of my existence. In fact, I remember our mothers laughing about it when they were still friends, telling anyone who’d listen how I’d learned to write Peggy’s name before I wrote my own.
In my defense, what kind of assholes named their kid Dashiell? My asshole parents, that was who.
So it was a given, if you asked me, that I wasn’t going to bother trying with that shit until I had to.
She was the one constant in my life. A
pillar of light among the ever-gray bullshit that stalked from one day to the next. But lately, she’d started to change.
I couldn’t tell if it was the removal of her braces, the haircut, or the way her tall body had curved more around her chest and ass. Either way, I didn’t fucking like it. I was a needy bastard, a taker, and she wasn’t as available to me as she’d always been.
And let’s not even talk about that almost kiss. I’d never been more grateful for an attack of sinus in my life, and I’d spent the past few days stewing over why.
Yes, she was gorgeous. She always had been. But she was like a sister to me, which probably explained the sickening twist in my gut.
Only I wasn’t sure if that feeling was due to her sudden interest in dating stuck-up idiots, or because I could feel her shifting, swaying away from reach.
“You keep scowling all the time, and you’re going to age faster than me.”
“Not likely with all those Botox injections.”
Mother Dearest didn’t even gasp; she knew better than to poke at me.
I still blamed her for Peggy moving away. Though I knew it wasn’t technically her fault, I didn’t like the way she constantly tutted whenever I went to Peggy’s place or said her name.
Resentment had burrowed deep inside her veins, and I sometimes wondered if she’d ever slice herself open, admit she was being a rabies-infested hyena, and let it bleed out.
Not everyone had the courage to stay in a loveless marriage, and not everyone had the courage to leave one either.
In my mother’s eyes, her ex-best friend had betrayed her by leaving her to rot in this world of money all alone. Not only that, but she now felt as if she couldn’t even associate with her due to how far down the social ladder Peony had jumped.
No one had pushed her. She had well and truly jumped and of her own accord. I couldn’t lie, I loved the luxury I’d been born into, but that didn’t keep me from respecting the amount of balls that’d take.
“For your information, I haven’t seen Dr. Bryant in four months.”
I dodged left, but it was too late, and some asshat shot me. “Probably because you spend too much time with Emanuel in the pool house. And would you get out? I’m fucking dying here.” Literally. Her fucking perfume was smothering the life from me.
