Crushed (14 page)

I snort. “And you know that by
talk
they mean
flex,
right? Maybe take your shorts off, see what you’ve got under there.”

It’s his turn to snort. “At least half of them have already
seen
what’s under here.”

Oh. The thought of the women’s predatory hands all over him makes me feel . . . funny.

I fix a smile on my face and wave him away. “Go forth and be loose with thy morals.”

He’s only half-listening, his eyes continually scanning the backyard, as though looking for someone. Come to think of it, he’s been doing that all day. Every time I look over at him, he’s looking around as though searching for something. Or someone.

But I don’t ask him about it. If it’s one of the tiny-bikini-clad girls running around with their flat bellies and perky boobs, I don’t want to know.

Leaving him to frolic in the cougar den, I stop by the table where I left my cover-up, pulling it over my head.

“There you are!”

Crap. I’d forgotten all about Scott and his drink-fetching duties.

“Thanks!” I say. It’s beer. I hate beer, but I don’t tell him that. “Hey, have you seen my sister around?”

Scott shakes his head, but Mom and her creepy maternal hearing is all over it.

“Chloe.” She pulls me aside. “Kristin’s up in her room.”

“Yeah, I’ve gathered that from the fact that she’s not on her usual sun perch,” I say, gesturing to the edge of the dock where the rest of the cute girls are lying out like really organized Barbie dolls. “What’s going on?”

She gives me a Mom look.

“She and Devon still fighting?”

“Ever since he got this law school whim.”

I hold up a finger. “Not a whim.”

“Well, it seemed like it to her,” Mom says, her voice with just a slight edge. Of course she would take Princess Kristin’s side. “Their rift is starting to impact our friendship with the Pattersons.”

“Yeah, where are they?” I ask, looking around for Mr. and Mrs. Patterson.

“Exactly,” she murmurs. “I hardly think they can count themselves as cohosts when they’re two hours late.”

I nod, although most of my attention is distracted by the way Lesley Cavares has her hand all over Beefcake’s biceps. I was so right. They do want to feel him up.

“So?” Mom asks, having apparently said something I completely missed.

“Huh?” I ask.

She looks irritated. “Can you fix it?”

“Fix what?”

“Your sister and Devon’s relationship,” she says, snatching a bottle of Chard off the table and topping off her glass.
Ruh-roh.

“Wait, why would I get in the middle of it?”

“Well,” she says, putting the bottle down carefully. “You and Devon are friends. Talk some sense into him.”

I stare at my mom, aghast. “You’re not seriously suggesting he should back out of Harvard Freaking
Law
because his girlfriend is having a tantrum? He’s twenty-two, Mom. They both are. The guy needs to live.”

“No, I mean of course we support his law career,” Mom hastens to say. “It’s just . . . maybe he could find a law school closer to home.”

I snap my fingers as though just inspired. “Ooh, idea alert. Maybe we could just find a way to physically transport the Harvard campus to Dallas. Would that make Princess Kristin happy?”

“Chloe.”

“All right,” I say with a long sigh. “I’ll talk to them. But only to tell Kristy to get over it, not to tell Devon to back out.”

She gives my arm a relieved squeeze. “You’re a good sister.”

Sure, I am.
That’s why the very rotten part of my soul is hoping that this law school argument is the eye-opener that Devon needs.

With an apologetic wave at Scott—ugh, really need to come clean with him—I trudge inside, grabbing a handful of carrots on my way in, mostly because I’m pretty sure I feel Michael’s gaze on my back. Probably making sure I don’t snag a pre-dinner brownie.

I’m halfway up the stairs when I hear the raised voices. My footsteps falter as I realize that there’s more going on than sulky Kristin and a little bit of tension from Dev.

This is a full-on fight.

For a second, I think about heading back downstairs, but my curiosity propels me forward. Devon and Kristin have bickered before, but to my knowledge, nothing like this.

By the time I get to the top of the stairs, the muffled yells are becoming clearer, and I can actually make out words.

Starting with Kristin’s screeched “You’re so selfish!”

Devon’s laugh is harsh and rough. “I’m selfish? Seriously? I’m telling you that I have a real shot at achieving my dreams and you’re somehow managing to make that about you. Of course, because it’s
always
about you, right, Kristin?”

Ooooooh, boy
. I pause outside the door, well aware that I’m eavesdropping, but unable to walk away.

“It’s not about me, it’s about
us
. An
us
you don’t seem to care about anymore.”

“I care!” Devon shouts. “I just don’t see why I can’t have both. Harvard Law
and
my girlfriend.”

Yes. Excellent point, Dev. I silently applaud.

“It’s not part of our plan.”

“I didn’t even know
we
had a plan!” Devon says.

“But
you
had a plan, didn’t you? You’ve been wanting to go to law school all along!”

He’s got no response, and I mentally award a point to Kristin.

“I didn’t tell you, because I knew you’d freak out,” he mutters.

I wince. A classic guy response that’s both honest and idiotic.

As expected, Kristin practically hisses. “Oh, but
Chloe
didn’t freak out, did she?
Chloe
was your adoring cheerleader in all this.”

My hand goes to my mouth and I give a little shake of my head.
No, no. Leave me out of this.

And yet . . . I lean a little closer to the wall to hear what Devon says.

“At least she supports me,” he says after a brief pause.

“Of course she does! She’s
obsessed
with you! God knows she doesn’t have anything better to do than egg you on, falling all over herself to be your confidante.”

I suck in a little breath of hurt. I know Kristin disdains me. She’s never made a secret of it. But I didn’t realize her impression of me was quite so condescending. I also just got confirmation that she knows full well how I feel about her boyfriend.

Guilt mingles with dismay.

“You’re just pissed because you’ve been trying to lure that Michael guy into your look-but-don’t-touch groupies, but it’s Chloe that’s actually hooked him.”

Okay, on
that
one, Dev’s way off base.

“They’re just friends,” Kristin says dismissively. “He’s got nothing better to do, and he probably feels a little sorry for her.”

My mouth drops open. I’m trying really hard to hold on to sisterly loyalty but she’s making it difficult.

Devon’s voice is low, maybe just a little taunting. “You didn’t see him salivating when she was wearing a bikini earlier.”

I straighten a little at that, but Kristin laughs. “Please. Chloe would never wear a bikini.”

Devon says nothing, and Kristin’s laugh fades. Apparently she doesn’t like whatever expression she sees on Dev’s face, because her voice is right back to shrill.

“Don’t even tell me you’ve got a boner for my fat sister now.”

Ouch
. Damn it. My eyes water.

“Jesus, Kristin,” he mutters.

“She’s lost like five pounds. Why is everyone acting like she’s a freaking supermodel?”

“You sound like a bitch.”

“Of course you’d defend her. You’re always on her side.”

“And you’re always putting her down. At least I can talk to her! At least she wants what’s best for me.”

“And what’s best for you, Devon?” Kristin asks sweetly.

There’s a too-long beat of silence, and I can picture Devon running his hands through his hair, flustered and frustrated.

“Just say it,” Kristin says. Her voice is wobbly now, and I feel bad for her, even though her cruelty in this conversation is rather unprecedented.

“Say what?” Dev’s voice is tired.

“Say you want to break up. Say you want to go to Boston and become a fancy lawyer with a fancy lawyer girlfriend.”

“I can’t stay in Texas for you, K.”

“Because you don’t love me enough.”

Oh, Lord. She did
not
just play that card.

“And you don’t love
me
enough to let me go,” he says back. He’s not yelling anymore. His voice is all raspy and curt.

“I guess not,” she says, arms folded across her chest. “I want someone who wants
me
more than he wants a stupid degree.”

Don’t cave, Devon. Please don’t cave to her manipulations.

“So this is it then?” he says. “This is how we end?”

Oh my God.
Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod.
Is this really happening?

“Guess so,” Kristin all but hisses. “Just remember when you start to miss me,
you
did this to us.”

My sister’s voice is a combination of devastated and pissed, and I start to back toward my own bedroom door, sensing their conversation is wrapping up.

Just like their relationship.
Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod.

I’m just closing my door when I hear Devon’s final words.

“See ya, Kristin.”

Her bedroom door slams shut in response, and I turn, back against my bedroom door, sliding down until my butt hits the ground.

Holy crap.

For the first time in the better part of a decade, Devon Patterson is single.

Chapter 15

Michael

Something is going on. Something big.

Thirty minutes after she disappeared to find her sister, Chloe returned. Alone. And although not too long ago, I probably would have registered her wide smile as status quo, I know her a little better now.

This is not Chloe’s real smile. When she real-smiles, her teeth sort of part as though she’s about ready to start laughing at any minute.

But right now, her teeth are clenched, and although she makes eye contact with everyone she talks to, she blinks too often, almost out of rhythm, as though her body is out of sync with itself.

I dig a water bottle out of the cooler and twist off the cap as I casually scan for Kristin or Devon.

I can’t find either.

Not a huge deal, but considering this is a Fourth of July party hosted by their respective parents? Weird.

I may not know Kristin well, but I can’t imagine she’d easily forgo an opportunity to pose for her people. And I’d heard enough “Where’s Devon?” over the course of the past hour to know that his absence isn’t typical, either.

I start to move toward Chloe when a tall, thin guy moves in front of me.

It’s Scott, that dude with the boner for Chloe.

“Hey,” I say.

He sticks out a hand, arm perfectly straight, sort of the way an intern would introduce himself to a CEO. “Scott Henwick.”

Unfortunate last name.

I shake his hand. “Michael St. Claire.”

“You’re here with Chloe.”

I run a tongue over my teeth wondering how to play this. “Yeah.”

From a distance, the guy had looked like a useless boob, but up close he strikes me as a pretty straight shooter. Slightly awkward, but also self-aware. And shrewd.

“She likes you,” he says.

I freeze a little at that. “We’re friends.”

He gives me a look. “Don’t insult me. Girls like her don’t like guys like me when guys like you are available.”

“Huh?” I ask, deciding to play the dumb-jock card.

But then he gives me that no-bullshit look and I take pity on the guy.

“Look, Scott. You seem like a decent guy. But you’re right. You and Chloe are probably not going to happen.”

I don’t bother to explain that it’s Devon, not me, that’s standing in the way of his crush, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The dude gets the big picture.

He inhales before nodding. “I figured. Even when she kissed me—”

All of my attention snaps back to Scott, and I feel my fingers clench around the water bottle.

“Even when we kissed, it wasn’t right.”

I hold up a hand. “Dude. Too much info.”

Seriously. I don’t want to hear this.

He shrugs. “Just felt like she was kissing me, trying to think about someone else, you know?”

Oh, I know. I know all too well. I’d been that guy. I’d been the one head over fucking heels in love with Olivia Middleton.

And I’d kissed her. And she’d kissed me back.

Only one of us had meant it.

But for some reason, that memory feels hazier than ever before.

My eyes jerk over to Chloe with her too-big fake smile and fuck-me hair, and I feel . . . mad. Mad that she’d kissed a guy while thinking of another.

Mad that neither one had been me.

“So I just wanted to say good luck, man,” he says.

I force my attention back to Scott. “Good luck on what?”

He says nothing but merely offers his hand again, this time in a man-to-man-agreement kind of way.

“Sure,” I say, not really sure what luck I’m accepting. It seems he has it in his head that I’m the one Chloe’s panting after, and since I can’t go explaining that it’s her sister’s guy that wets Chloe’s panties, I just nod and roll with it.

He gives me a paternal thump on the shoulder as he walks away, and I shake my head at the weirdness of the exchange. It’s like the dude’s from a different decade and I just got pep-talked by my grandpa.

I look over to see Chloe watching me, although her gaze flits away when we make eye contact. I frown. What the fuck is that?

I move toward her, picking up a margarita from the much-talked-about margarita bar as I pass. The girl looks like she could use a drink.

I take a sip off the top. I need a drink just to deal with her.

When I move up beside her, she’s in the middle of telling an older couple some hyped-up version of how she’s
so
excited for her senior year, and it’s so great that she and Kristin get another year together at college.

I withhold my skeptical snort.

I place a hand against her back, and she jumps a little. I push the drink at her before introducing myself to the couple, making the requisite comments about the great weather and the gorgeous scenery before I politely explain that I need to borrow Chloe for a second.