Текст книги "Adore Me "

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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“Any ideas on that?”

“Well, I have enough credits to graduate in December. I'm thinking about doing it and taking some time off. It would mean missing soccer, but it's not like I want to play in college or anything, and I could care less about missing Prom.”

“So would you go home?”

“Maybe. Or get an apartment somewhere fun. New York or L.A. Maybe start my own business.”

“What kind of business?”

“Did you see the journal I gave Miss Tina?”

“With the cool cover? Yeah.”

“I made it. Well, I handmade the paper that I covered it with. I’d love to do something like that. Make really cool paper designs and use them for journals, stationary, wallpaper, lampshades. Do you think I could major in paper making?”

“I’m sure you could major in art. Do you think I could major in shoes?”

“Not acting?”

“Um, no.” Here come the lies again. This is why I can't go back. I'm sick of telling them. She's pouring her heart out to me, and I’m lying to her face.

Speaking of faces, Aiden's beautiful one has a little smirk on it, like he’s having a good dream.

And it makes me feel even more determined to fight Vincent and defeat him.

Maybe I’ll walk right into Vincent's office and say, You want me? Here I am. Let’s make your fucking movie. 

Then I’ll see what he does. Maybe he's just a bully and the minute I stand up to him he’ll back down.

Or maybe it would force him to actually make it.

And maybe he could have a freak accident with a lighting boom. Or maybe we could have someone tamper with his brakes. I could send him a note telling him to meet me up the beach. Curvy road, some rain, skidding off a cliff, and good riddance, Vincent.

“Have you ever made a guy bucket list?” Peyton asks me.

“Like all the different types of guys you want to be with?”

She laughs. “No. Like the qualities you want your dream guy to have.”

“Um, not really. I mean, I’ve thought about it, but I’ve never written it down.” Unless you count a script.

“I’m going to make a new bucket list for my life on this trip, and I’m going to rework my Mr. Dreamy List.”

“Mr. Dreamy?”

“Yep. My list for the perfect man.”

“What’s on the list so far?”

“How we’ll meet. Of course, it will be love at first sight. An instant amazing connection.”

“What does he look like?”

“Kinda tall, in good shape, great arms, but not too bulky.”

“Kinda like your dad?”

She cocks her head. “I suppose so. Isn't that what every girl wants? To fall in love with someone like her daddy?”

I think about Tommy and sigh. “Yeah, kinda.”

She keeps going. “I want him to look good but not be all about appearance—like, I don’t want him to spend more time getting ready than I do.”

I laugh, remembering Sander. “I dated a guy like that. I was jealous because his hair always looked better than mine.”

“Exactly, and he needs to look good in the morning, like right when he wakes up. That’s one thing that Camden had. That sexy morning scruff. How he looked even hotter when his hair was messed up.”

“What else?”

“He’ll love to travel, but like being at home too. We’ve traveled a lot with our parents but my best memories are of all of us at home doing nothing but hanging out. That’s going on my new bucket list. I’m even giving it to my parents. They are amazing, but I think they’ve gone a little overboard on the whole experiences thing. They’re missing moments with us.” She looks down at Aiden. “You know, it's funny. He's my little brother, but he's the one who always takes care of me. He even had all those parties in his room to keep me out of trouble.”

“I know.”

“I’m glad he stopped. I need to keep myself out of trouble.”

“So, back to Mr. Dreamy.”

“I think abs are a given, right?”

“Definitely.”

“And I think he'd be darker-haired but not dark and hairy. Like, maybe a guy that was blonde growing up but then his hair got darker.”

“Cute,” I say. “What will he be like personality wise?”

“I'm a Virgo. So, I'm pretty organized and structured. My mom says I need someone who isn’t like that to balance me. Someone who’s creative and free spirited. I don’t really care, as long as he looks good in a suit. And maybe wants to get naughty on his desk,” she says with a grin.

I think about Aiden pushing me on his desk, kissing me with his tongue, and setting my panties aflame. “I like guys who look hot in a suit. Getting naughty on a desk sounds fun too.”

Aiden opens one eye. “Are you two talking about sex?”

Peyton giggles and covers her face with her hand.

“Speaking about talking, isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing? Cuz if you aren’t careful, you might just get voted off the island before we even get there.”

He gives me an adorable grin as he sits up and wraps his arms around me. “You better not be serious.”

“I think I’m just gonna go listen to some music,” Peyton says, quickly taking a seat on the other side of the aisle.

Aiden leans over and kisses my nose.

“Stop that. It won't work on me.”

He scrunches up his nose, then winces.

I touch it. “Did it hurt bad?”

He takes my hand and lays it over his heart. “Not as much as this did.”

Shit. What am I going to tell him on Sunday? I’ll have to come up with a good lie. One he can't counter.

“I never meant for you to get hurt, Aiden.”

“When you came to my room, I said everything wrong. I was hung over, my face hurt, and I was so fucking pissed. Pissed that Chelsea said those things to you. Pissed that you believed her. Pissed that Riley broke my nose. Pissed he almost got expelled. Logan told me you asked him about the trigger that led to Maggie cheating on him. I know I was the trigger. I shouldn’t have just said no. I should have talked to you about why I said no. It’s just that saying no was hard for me. That’s what I meant earlier when I said I give up. I’m not saying no anymore. But what I don’t understand is why you wouldn’t talk to me after. Why it felt like we were over. Why the chapel felt like goodbye.”

Because it was, I think, as I press my fingers into the corners of my eyes, trying to get rid of my tears, and sigh. “I think I may be leaving Eastbrooke soon,” I blubber. I can’t bring myself to tell him soon means in just four days.

“Why? I thought you liked it.”

“I love it.”

“So, why leave?”

“I miss my family, Aiden. Going home for the birthday party was hard.”

“Do you miss your family or miss your ex?”

“I miss everything.”

The captain comes over the speaker and tells us to get buckled up for our descent into St. Croix, effectively ending our conversation.

Make a wish.

5:30pm

We get picked up from the airport in the Moran's vintage Mercedes station wagon by a driver I have never met and who doesn't look like he belongs.

The driver opens the front passenger-side door and says in an authoritative tone, “Miss Monroe.”

While he and Aiden load up our luggage, and he herds Aiden and Peyton into the backseat, I text Garrett.

Me:  Is The Crab’s new driver one of yours?

Garrett:  How did you know?

Me:  His posture is too stiff for the islands, he's not very friendly, and he has no tan. 

Garrett:  I sent two men. They’ve fully briefed the usual staff about your situation and about how your friends don't know the old you. They have also removed all photographic evidence of you with your family.  

Me:  How did you know my friends ended up coming?

Garrett: Cooper was insistent that there be men at the airport. They were scrambling when you went inside the office.

 

Me:  Oh. I just bought more hours. 

Garrett:  Yes, I heard. Planning on doing a lot of traveling in the near future? 

Me:  Maybe.

Garrett:  Don't you dare take off on your own. You get your butt back to school when break is over.

Me:  I'm not sure what I'm going to do. 

Garrett:  Tommy told me about your conversation. I agree with getting your mom and sisters to France, but why would you be ready to do a movie at Christmastime?

Me:  Because I'm going to get my life back. Did he get Mom to agree?

Garrett:  She agreed, but they still have to get out of her contracts. It’s going to cost them a lot of money, but Tommy doesn’t care. I’m flying to Nice on Friday to vet the security. 

Me:  OMG!! I'm so relieved. 

Garrett:  As am I. Your mom is a wreck.

Me:  Make her feel safe, Garrett, and she'll get better. 

Garrett:  You can make us all feel better by not doing anything stupid. When you get back, I'll come to town and we can discuss this plan of yours with Cooper. Because I highly suspect Cooper knows nothing about it.

Me:  I'm tired of lying. 

Garrett:  Don't do anything rash. 

Me:  Don't worry. Everything will be well thought out. 

Garrett:  That worries me more.

Me:  I gotta go. I’ll call you after the break. I promise.

We enjoy the breathtakingly beautiful drive from the airport to The Crab, where we are greeted out front by the staff.

“Miss Keatyn,” the long-time cook, Inga, says as she gives me a mama bear hug, “it's been too long.”

I introduce Aiden and Peyton and then say, “I’ll show them to their rooms now.” As they follow me across the great room, I tell them, “After I show you to your rooms, go ahead and get unpacked, freshen up, and change. Then we’ll meet back here and I’ll give you the full tour.”

Peyton stops at an expanse of glass to admire the oceanfront view and the infinity pool below. “This is beautiful,” she says, jumping with excitement.

“Wait until you see your room,” I reply, leading them both down the south breezeway to her guest suite.

“Oh, my gosh,” she says, running from the view of her private tropical courtyard through one set of French doors to the view of the ocean through the other.

I press a button on the wall to light up a screen and quickly explain how to control her music, lighting, room temperature, and curtains, as well as send requests for food, drinks, or any amenity she might need.

“Your closet and bathroom are here,” I say, opening the door to the bathroom that my mom describes as heaven on earth.

“This is amazing,” she says in awe, standing in the middle of the bathroom and taking in the mirrored glass tiles that glitter from every corner of the room. The sleek, pale gray travertine that reflects the colors of the ocean. The spa tub that fills like a rain shower from the ceiling and has views of the ocean. The walk-in shower with its mosaic design on one side and its glass walls opening to her private courtyard on the other.

Aiden jokes, “We may never see her again.”

“Wait until she smells all the food cooking. She’ll wander out.”

Peyton swats her brother but pulls me into a hug. “I can’t thank you enough for letting us come here. This is so incredible.” Then she goes over and plops down on her bed. “I’ll meet you in an hour. Freshening up may take longer than I expected.”

“You can come back through the breezeway or go out on your veranda, take the stairs down, and follow the path back.”

Aiden grabs my hand as I lead him to his room. Even though we slept in the same bed at my loft, I didn't want to assume we would here, and now I'm glad I didn't because I need Aiden in his own room. I cannot fall asleep or wake up in his arms at any time during this trip. It will only make leaving that much harder.

I show him his suite. It’s amazing too, but in a different way. It’s decorated in a traditional British colonial style. Dark wood, pale blues, and amazing views of both mountains and ocean. It also happens to be conveniently located near the path leading to my room.

“This is great,” he says, not really looking. “But I wanna go see your room.”

“Don’t you want to throw on a swimsuit or go to the bathroom or something?” I ask, hoping that he does. I have something that I need to go do by myself.

“I’ll come back for my swimsuit,” he says firmly.

“Uh, well, um, okay. Why don’t you take that breezeway there?” I say, pointing to the one that leads to the turret. “And I’ll meet you there in a minute.”

“Why can’t I just walk with you?”

“Um, well, I have this thing I always do when I first get here. Kind of a tradition. So, I need to go do that and then I’ll meet you there.”

He takes my hand tightly in his, letting me know I’m not going anywhere without him.

“Fine,” I say, rolling my eyes and quickly giving in.

I lead him out onto the veranda, down the stairs, and follow the path to the mermaid fountain.

“This is the fountain you told me about," he says excitedly.

“I always visit it when I first get here.”

“Why?”

I take a couple of pennies from my purse and make a big gesture of handing him one, trying to convince him that this is just a fun, silly little thing I do.

“I make a wish,” I say, avoiding Aiden’s eyes as my voice betrays me by sounding hopelessly romantic. I turn toward the mermaid and her prince, close my eyes, toss my penny into the fountain, and make the same wish I always do.

I wish that someday I'll find my prince. 

When I open my eyes, I notice that Aiden’s still holding his penny. “Aren’t you going to make a wish?”

He pulls me into his arms. “I’m standing here with you. I already got my wish.”

I flash him a lame attempt at a smile. Why can’t I hide my emotions around him? It’s the same way with B. It’s like they can both see right through my act.

“Do you always make the same wish?” he asks me.

“Um, yeah.”

He nods and hands me his penny. “Take mine and wish for something new.”

I look into his eyes and know exactly what he wants me to wish for.

Him.

But there’s only one way that could ever be possible.

Aiden holds my hand—I think to give me extra luck—while I toss in the penny.

I wish I could have my life back.

After I open my eyes and watch the penny sink to the bottom, Aiden says, “So, let's see this room of yours.”

I give the mosaic one last, fleeting look, then lead Aiden to the turret entrance, up the spiral wooden staircase, and to the big wooden door. I show him into the round suite with walls of stone, curved window seats, and views of the ocean in almost every direction.

“Wow,” he says. “This is quite a view.”

“You should see the bathroom,” I say, pulling him into it. I show him the big tub that sits on a raised stone pedestal and how it opens up to the outdoors. I lead him out onto my curved balcony.

He looks down and laughs. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.”

I laugh too. “I used to stand up here when I was little and make my friend say just that.”

He turns me back toward the bedroom. “You have a big bed,” he says cutely, referring to what I said at my loft when I was trying to get him to share my room.

“I do,” I reply, eyeing the king-sized four-poster bed draped with mosquito netting. “I also used to gather up every pillow in the place, stack them on this bed, and pretend I was the princess from the ‘The Princess and the Pea.’ That reminds me . . .” I walk over to the side table and open the drawer, just to make sure it’s still there.

“What's that?”

I pull the thick book out and show him.

“Fairy tales, huh?”

My eyes get teary thinking about how that’s all I’ve ever wanted.

My fairytale.

My prince.

My happily ever after.

But it all seems so silly now.

Because life is not a fairy tale.

In those stories, a prince never told the princess that he was gay. Or that it was her fault he got drugged. Or that he was going away for a year. Or that he got a text from his ex. And never did the princess have to put him on a plane and send him back to his castle. She never had to fight the dragon alone. And she never had to choose between two princes when the fight was over.

But, then, none of the princesses were stupid enough to make a wish on the moon.

Aiden gently takes the book out of my tight grip and sets it on the table. Then he sweeps me into a dance, humming a familiar song.

One of our songs.

I lean my head into his shoulder and enjoy the dance, knowing this will probably be our last. I try to tuck it away in my memory.

The way his body fits perfectly against mine.

The way his lips feel as they brush across my ear.

The way his hand is splayed possessively across my back.

He stops humming and whispers, “Let me sleep here with you.”

I stop moving and swallow. I can’t.

I really can’t.

But, oh, how I want him to hold me in his arms every second of each day I have left with him.

Even if it’s nothing but pure torture.

A life-sized version of listening to our twenty-nine-song playlist over and over again.

“You told me you wouldn't say no,” I reply, hoping that will force him back to his room.

“I won’t. We can do it right here, right now, if you want to.”

“I want to wait,” I say. I can’t be with him. I cannot be with him.

“Seriously?”

“I never wanted to have sex, Aiden. I just wanted to do a little more. And I hate being told no.”

“That’s a lesson I think I’ve learned,” he says, touching his nose and laughing.

“You’re going to have a little bump on the left side of your nose. Your face isn’t going to be quite so perfect anymore.”

“I’m far from perfect, Boots, but I know that I’m perfect for you.”

My eyes fill with tears again and I can’t help it. I kiss him.

Hard.

Full of passion.

Of regret.

Of I wish.

Of I’m going to cherish every single kiss for the next four days.

“Damn,” he says ten minutes later, after he’s pulled me on the bed and I’ve finally stopped kissing him to breathe. He pushes my hair behind my ear and runs the back of his hand under my chin. “As much as I’d like to stay here and kiss you, we should probably go meet my sister.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I agree, pushing myself off the bed.

As I run into the bathroom and throw on a bikini, he asks me, “So what were you going to do here all by yourself?”

“I have a list.”

“What’s on it?”

As we walk hand in hand back to the main house, I tell him. “Just some stuff. It’s kinda lame.”

“Tell me anyway.”

I roll my eyes and start reciting my list. “Eat a fish I caught myself was on there, but that sounds gross in retrospect. Do yoga in the sand. Swim with the dolphins.”

“Will we see dolphins?”

“If we take the wave runners out and just sit there, we might.”

“What else?”

“Macramé a pair of sandals.” I laugh at myself. “I probably won’t do that. I don’t even know how to macramé. Let’s see. Make a necklace out of shells. I do that every time I come here.”

“I’d like a shell necklace,” he says, pulling my hand to his lips and kissing it.

“We’ll look for shells tonight,” I say as we wander into the great room and find Peyton kicked back, tropical drink in hand, nibbling off a tray of snacks.

“You need to go change,” she says to Aiden.

My surfboard.

8pm

I’ve given them the full tour, we’ve walked the beach, and we’re now sitting poolside, having a drink and a few appetizers before dinner.

Aiden is telling us about his parents’ Thanksgiving safari when Peyton says casually, “There’s a guy walking up your beach with a surfboard.” She takes another sip of her fruity umbrella drink then asks, “Do people surf at night?”

“Around sunset they do, but not usually in the dark,” I reply, instantly panicking that Vincent has found me.

But then I turn around and see him.

He’s walking up the sandy path, carrying a surfboard and looking like home.

“Oh my gosh! That’s not just any surfboard! It’s my surfboard!” I scream with delight.

I jump up and barrel towards him as he yells out, “Keats!”

I fling myself into his arms and plant a big kiss on him as he picks me up and twirls me around.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” I screech. “And you brought my board!”

When he drops me to my feet, I don’t let go. The last time I saw him, I didn’t hug him like I should have.

“I thought you were supposed to be here alone,” he says.

Shit, I think, glancing back at Aiden and Peyton. This is going to be hard to explain.

“I was but they showed up at the plane and—wait, how did you get here? Do people know you’re here? What if you were followed?”

“Calm down, Keats. I flew from Tokyo to L.A. Went to my dad’s. Even went to the Undertow and offered to play for them tomorrow night, knowing I wouldn’t show up. Then I snuck over to your house and got your board. Glad no one’s changed the garage code. Dad’s assistant picked me up at the pier, drove me around in circles, and then to the airport where I hitched a ride with a company exec to North Carolina. In North Carolina, I had another plane waiting to bring me here. No one knows I’m here but B and Dad’s assistant. Even my family thinks I’m home sleeping off jet lag.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here too. Now for what’s important. Tell me that incredible creature sitting on my deck is real and not an amazing jet-lag-induced mirage.”

“She’s real, Damian, but you can’t.”

“Oh, but I can. She has the most perfect lips.”

“Ohmigawd, no. Don’t look at her mouth. Don’t even look at her. And don’t talk to her at all.”

“I’m not going to be rude to your friends.”

“Don't you dare fall for her. You can’t.”

“Too late. She just smiled at me. I'm in love.”

“Damian. No.”

“Don’t tell me no. Be nice. I went through a lot to get here so that you wouldn’t be alone for the holiday. But, happily, you are not. And you even brought me a treat.”

“She is not your treat, but I suppose I’m going to have to have to introduce you.”

“Hell, yeah, you have to. I need to be introduced to my future wife.”

I laugh at him and start to walk back, when Damian grabs my arm and says, “You forgetting something?”

“Oh my gosh! Yes, I am!” I walk back to him with a grin. I love this boy. Ever since the first time I came here when I was nine, he's given me a piggyback ride up to the house.

He drops my board in the sand as I jump onto his back and hang on tight.

He does his normal crazy gallop up to the house, trying to get me to fall, and then deposits me on the deck in front of Aiden and Peyton.

“So, this is my friend, Damian. He brought my surfboard,” I say awkwardly, because I haven’t had the chance to figure out exactly what to say. At school, no one can contradict my lies. Damian and I need to get our stories straight.

“Damian, this is Aiden,” I say as the boys shake hands. “And his sister, Peyton.”

Damian stares into her green eyes with an intensity I’ve never seen.

“Hi,” she says, her voice cracking.

“It looks like I need a drink.” He barely gets the words out of his mouth when Sven sets Damian’s favorite pineapple rum drink in front of him. “It’s good to be back home,” Damian says.

“Home? As in, this is your home?” Aiden asks incredulously.

Damian nods.

“Where have you been?” Peyton asks him excitedly.

“Just traveling around,” Damian answers cryptically. Does he not want Peyton to know he’s in a band or is he worried about our cover story?

“Well, that’s very specific,” Aiden says in a condescending tone.

I look at Aiden. He’s not relaxed anymore. His body is stiff and he’s squeezing the life out of the napkin that was under his drink. Does he not like Damian? Is he mad that I gave him a big kiss on the cheek?

Damian glances at me, giving me his that-guy’s-a-dick look.

“Tell them where you’ve been, Damian,” I say, trying to ease the uncomfortable tension.

“Well, I recently had the pleasure of surfing all over the coast of Japan.”

Aiden smashes his teeth together and pushes himself away from the table with so much force our drinks slosh all over. “Excuse me,” he says and walks away.

Peyton looks at her brother with confusion as Damian says, “What’s his problem?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” I get up and go after him.

He’s marching quickly down the path Damian just walked up.

“Aiden, wait,” I say, running behind him. When he turns around to face me, there’s fire in his eyes.

“You seriously brought me on vacation to his house?”

“Um, yeah. He’s a nice guy, Aiden. You should get to know him.” I stare at him, not understanding why he’s so pissed. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Is that the real reason you told us not to come? Because he decided to?”

“What? No! I didn’t know he was coming, in case you couldn’t tell by my happy screams of surprise.”

“Of course. You’re his Keats. He brings your surfboard and you forget all about me and the dirt.”

“I haven’t forgotten about you or the dirt—oh, wait! He’s not the Keats guy.”

“Bullshit!” Damian yells out from behind us.

“Shut up,” I yell back.

“Don’t let her give you any bullshit stories, man. I’ve always been the Keats guy.”

I grab Aiden’s arm and march him back to the deck, saying to Damian, “Yes, you gave me the nickname, Keats. But I think he thinks you’re B.”

“Oh . . .” Damian says, finally getting it. He turns to Aiden. “Is that why you were being such a dick?” Aiden doesn’t reply, so Damian stands up, pulls me close to him, and laughs. “I may not be that Keats guy, but I was the first guy to kiss her. When she was twelve. You can be jealous of that, if you want.”

“But that’s it,” I quickly state.

“Yeah,” Damian says, faking sadness and shaking his head in sorrow. “I was always her frog.”

I smile at Damian. He’s being adorable and Aiden has already unrolled his fists.

“She hates this,” Damian says, then he licks his tongue up the entire side of my face and goes, “Ribbit!”

I playfully smack him, so he falls back into his chair.

I decide to tell them the story of how I know Damian. That way Damian and I will be on the same page. “I’ve known Damian since I was little. We went to school together and after my dad died, my mom wasn’t coping very well, so the Morans invited us to come stay with them.”

“Back then, it was nothing like what it is today,” Damian adds.

“What was it like?” Peyton asks, batting her eyelashes at him.

“When Dad bought the property, it was a small resort. Six separate beach shacks, which eventually became pieces of the house you see today. The turret was originally on the neighboring property, but Keatyn and I were obsessed with it, so Dad bought it too. It was all that remained of a really old castle—which was home to either a Danish governor or pirates, depending on who tells the story. It was the first thing to get restored.”

“The resort was named The Carib,” I keep going, loving that this conversation has morphed into one about the property. “Carib was a reference to the Native Indians who used to live on St. Croix. But Damian and I took the i out and dubbed it The Crab.” I smile at Damian, remembering all the fun we’ve had here over the years. Back when my life was easy and carefree.

“So, pretty much anytime we came, we invited Keatyn and A—, her mom,” he says, covering quickly. “Dad always said she kept me out of trouble. And she did. She was always making up plays and making me act them out.”

I laugh. “I was sort of obsessed with the story of the frog prince.”

“And Prince Eric and every other fairy tale.”

Peyton stands up suddenly and grabs my arm. “Keatyn, come with me to get some drinks.”

I’m about to tell her all she has to do is press the button on the digital screen sitting on the side table, but she whisks me inside before I can speak.

“Ohmigawd! I just figured it out!”

“Figured what out?” I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

What did she figure out? That he almost said Abby? Or that Matt and my mom have worked together on movies for years?

“That’s Damian Moran.”

I laugh with relief. “Um, yeah. I told you that.”

“No, you introduced him as Damian and then you said something about the Morans. That means his dad is the director, Matt Moran? And he’s Twisted Dreams’ Damian?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“But why didn’t you say that you knew him when we were watching his video?”

“I think I did. You probably don’t remember,” I lie. “You were busy lusting over him. I told you we’d get tickets to his concert, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, I do remember that. Anyway. Oh. My. Gosh. He is so dreamy. And even cuter in real life! Do you think he’ll sing for us?”

“Peyton, he just got off tour. I think he’s looking forward to some down time. No screaming fans.”

“Oh, of course he is. Shit.” She runs her hands nervously down her cover-up. “Do I look okay?” She peeks in a mirrored surface on the bar. “Oh, my hair is a mess. Why didn’t you tell me my hair’s a mess?”

“Damian loves windblown hair.” Shit. Why did I just say that? But it’s fine. Knowing Peyton, she’s probably just looking for a hookup.

“Did you see the way our eyes met? I swear, it was exactly how I pictured it would be with Mr. Dreamy. That instant connection. He’s amazing.”

Or not. Shit!

“Peyton, what do you mean? You don’t even know him.”

“So he’s not amazing?”

“He’s my best friend. Of course, he’s amazing. I just mean . . .”

“Fine. I don’t know him well enough yet to say, but seriously, I think I’m in love with him. He looked so sexy standing there . . .”

I tune out her gushing because they. Can. Not. Be. Together.

I picture it in my head. Vincent finding out Damian is dating some East Coast boarding school girl. He wonders how they met and immediately thinks of  Miami. Of how Riley and Dallas were dressed in total prep. And then he comes to Eastbrooke looking for me. None of them would be safe.

“I think this calls for champagne,” I say, grabbing a bottle out of the fridge, four flutes from the bar, and hitting a button on the wall.

Maybe the champagne will calm me down.

Sven comes out of the kitchen. “Yes, Miss Monroe?”

“We’re having champagne to celebrate Damian’s surprise arrival. Can we get a bucket of ice?”

“Of course. Would you like me to uncork it for you?”

“No, thanks. We’ll do it.”

“Very well. I’ll bring the champagne stand out to the deck. Would you like to eat dinner poolside or on the screened veranda?”

“The veranda,” I reply as he retreats to the butler’s pantry.

“We brought champagne,” Peyton coos as she ditches her former seat for one on the couch next to Damian. I notice Damian’s eyes lingering on her long legs.

I hand Aiden the bottle. “Would you like to do the honors? You did such a good job with it the last time we had champagne.”

“And when was that?” Damian asks.

“They went to Keatyn’s loft in New York City a few weeks ago,” Peyton says dreamily as Damian squints at me. I shake my head slightly, letting him know that now is not the time for him to ask about the loft.

Aiden pops the champagne and we all stand as he fills our glasses. Then he raises his own in a toast. “‘A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.’”

“That’s beautiful,” Peyton says as we clink glasses.

“And especially true, since we’re surrounded by nothing but beauty,” Damian says, holding Peyton’s gaze.