“That’ll be good,” Courtney said sarcastically. “A hungover person breathing in paint fumes. Hopefully he won’t get sick all over a wall.”
“That’s some abstract art I wouldn’t want to see.” Brett finished his first slice and moved on to his second. “Anyway, what’re you up to after this? The new Bond movie came out this weekend and I want to see it.”
Had he just asked her out? Courtney froze, pizza slice in midair, unable to meet his eyes. She couldn’t sit close to him in a dark movie theater. The tension that would build between them….he shook off the thought, not wanting to dwell on it. Because it couldn’t happen.
“I’ll probably take a long shower, then try to get some work done if I don’t pass out from exhaustion first.” She said the first excuse to pop into her mind. “Any energy I have left after today needs to be spent studying for the PSAT. I can’t believe they’re coming up next week.”
“Haven’t you been studying all summer?”
“Yes,” she said. “But I want to review everything to make sure I’m ready.”
“If you’re not ready by now, that won’t change in the next few days,” he said. “And I’m sure you’ll do great, but it’s only the PSATs. The colleges don’t see them. You can take a night off to go to the movies.”
He might be right, but she didn’t trust herself in a movie theater with him. And she really had planned on studying. “The colleges don’t see them, but if I do well I can qualify for a National Merit Scholarship,” she said. “I’ve been wanting that scholarship since freshman year.”
“It’s pretty competitive, right?” Brett polished off his second slice of pizza. Courtney had only just finished her first.
“Out of the 1.5 million juniors who take the PSAT every year, 8,200 of them get a scholarship.” Courtney recited the facts she’d memorized. “It’s competitive, but not impossible. With all the studying I’ve done on my own, along with my tutoring, I should score high enough to be in the top three percent of test takers eligible to compete.”
“You’ve certainly studied hard enough,” Brett said. “But you don’t have to be nervous. Of course it’s worth giving it a shot, but if you don’t get a scholarship, Adrian will pay for you to go to college.”
“I know.” Courtney sighed. As much as she hated the idea of Adrian paying for her college, she wouldn’t be able to refuse if that was the difference between going to Stanford or not going to Stanford. “But I’ve wanted this for over two years. I’m not going to give up now. Plus, receiving the National Merit Scholarship looks good on college applications.”
“I’m sure it does,” Brett said. “But don’t stress too much. Try to relax. You’ve prepared enough that you’ll benefit more by making sure you’re well rested before the testing day instead of staying up late to study.”
“That’s a good point,” she said. “Thanks.”
“I mean it.” He watched her closely, as if contemplating whatever he was thinking of saying next. “So if you’re not up for the movie, why don’t we study together?”
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down at her half-finished second slice of pizza. “Maybe,” she said, hating how he’d caught her so unaware. “But I probably won’t be able to get much studying done…. I’ll be so exhausted after working in the heat all day that it’ll be impossible to focus. Anyway,” she said before he could figure out another way to ask her out, “the teachers started cleaning up the lunch area. I’m gonna go help out with that.” She moved to stand up, fumbling to take her empty water bottle and plate with her.
“Courtney?” Brett said, and she paused, her breath stopping in her chest. “Are you planning on finishing that?” He glanced at the half-finished slice of pizza on her plate, and her heart fell to her stomach. What had she wanted him to say?
Certainly not that.
“No.” She thrust her plate at him and stood up. “Enjoy it. I’ll see you around.”
She tried not to glance back at him as she walked away, but she couldn’t help it. He must have been waiting for it, because he gave her a wave with what was left of the pizza, and she felt terribly guilty for running away.
If suppressing her feelings for him was the right thing to do, then why did it feel so wrong?
* * *
As Brett had predicted, Oliver got moved from working on the roof to painting the outside of the house. He positioned himself next to Courtney—probably to annoy her. And he showed every sign of being hungover. He had circles beneath his eyes, his dark shaggy hair was a mess and his face took on a greenish hue every time he bent down to dip his brush into the paint. Courtney would never say it out loud, but after he’d bet he could sleep with her and her sisters over the summer and had tried to kiss her when she’d told him she wasn’t interested, she couldn’t help enjoying seeing him so miserable.
He wiped sweat from his brow, leaving a streak of paint in its place. “One more hour of this torture,” he complained, taking a break from painting to sip his water.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you here?” It was the most she’d said to him since they’d started painting. “You never expressed interest in Habitat until today, and it seems like you hate it.”
“Princess Courtney deigns to speak to me.” He smirked.
She rolled her eyes. “Never mind. Let’s just keep painting.” She turned away from him, planning to ignore him for the rest of the day.
“I’m here because of my parents.” Oliver surprised her by seriously answering her question. “A few of my teachers gave me academic warnings, so my parents are pissed. They said I have to get my grades up, join extracurriculars and make sure there’s no more publicity about my partying and gambling. If I can’t do that, they want to send me to boarding school. No way am I letting that happen. My sister’s in boarding school, and from what she says, it sucks.”
“I didn’t know you have a sister,” Courtney said.
“Half sister,” he said. “Brianna. We have the same dad, and my mom prefers to pretend that she doesn’t exist. But there’s no way I’m leaving Vegas to go to some strict-ass school in the middle of nowhere. How lame would that be?”
Courtney thought boarding school might be good for Oliver, but she doubted he would react well if she said so, and she didn’t want to pick a fight while doing charity. “Why’d you choose Habitat?” she asked instead, genuinely curious about how, out of all the clubs offered at Goodman, he’d chosen the one that involved hands-on work on Saturday mornings.
“I figured it would be easy,” he scoffed. “No papers, no homework—all I would have to do is show up and build stuff. But waking up early and working in the heat all day blows.”
“It’s definitely not something you want to do while you’re hungover.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you know what a hangover looks like. I didn’t think you drank.”
“I don’t.” She focused on the spot she was painting. Because she was more than familiar with what a hangover looked like—knowing had been inescapable when growing up with her mom. Sometimes Mom was curable with a few glasses of water and an aspirin. Other days it was worse, with her throwing up until late afternoon, lying in bed moaning and clutching her stomach, swearing she would never drink that much again. Last year, when it had gotten really bad, Courtney and her sisters had gone a month living on peanut butter sandwiches because their mom had spent all the grocery money on alcohol. So, yes, Courtney knew what a hangover looked like.
“Why not?” Oliver stepped closer to her, and she moved away. “Maybe a few drinks would help you loosen up.”
“I don’t need to loosen up.” Courtney focused on painting, refusing to look at him. The predatory way he was watching her made her feel like there were snakes crawling under her skin.
“You’ll never know unless you try,” he said. “We could ha
ve had fun this summer. It sucks you found out about that bet, because I made it before I met you. After we hung out at my mom’s event, I actually liked you. Who knows what would have happened if you’d given me a chance instead of going for your emo soon-to-be stepbrother?” He laughed and glanced up at Brett, who was hammering the roof so hard that Courtney worried he might break it. “And that got you nowhere, since, from what I hear, the two of you aren’t ‘allowed’ to date. Although you looked pretty cozy at lunch…”
“We’re not dating.” Courtney splattered paint against the wall. She wanted to dump the bucket of it over Oliver’s gelled hair. Instead she took a deep breath and glanced up at Brett, whose warm eyes met hers.
He climbed down the ladder and joined them, claiming to need another bottle of water. “How’s everything going down here?” he asked, looking back and forth between Courtney and Oliver.
“Fine.” She didn’t want to tell Brett what Oliver had just said. The last thing they needed was a rematch of the scuffle they’d had at the grand opening last summer. Given Oliver’s hungover state, Brett would win the fight, and Courtney didn’t want him getting in trouble on their first Habitat build day.
“Are you sure?” Brett leaned closer to her and said softly, “Because you looked like you wanted to break Oliver’s nose with the hard end of your paintbrush.”
Her grip tightened around the handle. “Then I’ll have to work on making my feelings not as transparent.”
He eased the paintbrush from her hand and placed it next to the bucket. Her skin tingled where it touched his, and she made no effort to move away. “Since the day’s almost over, let’s see if we can help with cleanup,” he said.
“Okay.” She didn’t want to be around Oliver for a second longer.
Brett led the way, and she followed.
“What was that asshole saying to you?” he asked once they were far enough from Oliver that he couldn’t overhear.
“Nothing important.” Courtney shrugged. And it really wasn’t important, because she didn’t believe a word that Oliver said. He’d never “actually liked her”—and by bringing up Brett, he’d just been trying to get a reaction from her. To see if she still had feelings for Brett after they’d kissed over the summer.
She hated that it had worked.
“Come on,” Brett said. “I saw the two of you talking. You looked livid. He obviously said something to piss you off.”
“He was just saying how he’s only doing Habitat because his parents are forcing him,” she said. “He doesn’t care or realize that by being here, he’s helping to change the lives of an entire family by giving them a home when they wouldn’t have had one otherwise. He’s so ignorant. I don’t think I could have taken listening to him for much longer.”
“Well, I’m glad I was able to help you get away,” he said. “Especially after you admitted to wanting to smack him with your paintbrush. It wouldn’t have been right for you to get in trouble on our first build day because you were giving Oliver what he deserves.”
She paused midstep. Hadn’t that been similar to what she’d been thinking, but about not wanting Brett to get in trouble?
“Everything okay?” he asked. “You’re not thinking of going back there and starting a fight with him, are you?”
“I just…” She ran her fingers through her hair, unsure how to phrase it. It warmed her heart that, just by looking at her, Brett could tell what she needed. She’d never had someone other than her sisters and Grandma care about her like that. “I’m glad you came down when you did. Thanks for saving me.”
“Does this mean you’ve changed your mind about that study session tonight?” He raised an eyebrow. “Or a movie. We wouldn’t have to go out. We could watch at my place—I’m sure I can find something you’ll like.”
Her eyes locked on his, and she wanted to say yes. But Oliver had given her a hard time about having lunch with Brett. It had been obvious even to him that every time she and Brett were around each other, she had to battle to control her feelings. She doubted a movie at his place would remain strictly friendly. And if anything more were to happen between them, and anyone—mainly Adrian or Rebecca—were to find out, it would mean losing their trust and disappointing them. Courtney couldn’t do that.
“I don’t think so.” Her heart dropped at the disappointment in his eyes, and she hurried to the teachers to offer to help clean up.
No matter what she did, it seemed impossible to make everyone happy.
Chapter 7: Peyton
On Saturday afternoon, Peyton was in her room, trying and failing to concentrate on homework. Figuring a break was in order, and with Courtney at the Habitat for Humanity build and Savannah grabbing lunch with Evie before Evie went back to California, she journeyed to the main pool at the Diamond by herself.
The Diamond Residences penthouses included access to the exclusive rooftop pool, but Peyton preferred the main pool because it was busier—filled with people to watch and potentially meet. It was surrounded by palm trees and manicured hedges, with the golden towers of the hotel and condo overlooking it all. People swam in groups, talking and laughing, and it was late enough in the day that it was nearly impossible to find an open chair.
Luckily Peyton had reserved a VIP cabana that morning. After applying tanning oil—with SPF 15 since Courtney insisted she protect her skin a little—she laid back on her lounge chair, readjusted her blue plastic-framed sunglasses and listened to her iPod. She tanned for thirty minutes, and then took out the book she was supposed to be reading for class, although instead of reading, she looked around to people watch.
That was when she spotted Hunter Sterling, lounging with friends, wearing only a bathing suit. And wow, did he work out when he wasn’t teaching. He had the chiseled body of an Abercrombie model—he might even give Jackson a run for his money. Not like Peyton had ever seen Jackson shirtless, since he always wore his professional suit around her, but he had to be superfit to be a bodyguard.
Hunter’s friends appeared to be around his age, and the five of them were drinking beers and talking. She wanted Hunter to see her, but not have it be obvious that she was looking for his attention, so she got up for a dip in the pool, right near where they were hanging out. When she pulled herself out of the water, Hunter’s gaze met hers and he waved.
Taking that as an invitation, she strutted over, knowing she looked hot in her barely-there black bikini, her skin glistening from the water. She glanced over her shoulder, trying to see if Jackson was watching, but as always, her bodyguard was hidden within the masses of tourists. Oh, well. She might not be able to see him, but she knew he was watching.
She smiled when she reached Hunter and his friends. “I’ve never seen you at the Diamond pool before,” she said, trying to act like running into him was normal and had happened more than once.
“My best mates are visiting this week, and they wanted to stay at the best hotel in Vegas,” he said, motioning to his friends and introducing them.
“Naturally, you brought them here,” Peyton said.
“This is the best hotel in Vegas, isn’t it?”
“I only moved here this summer, so I’m no expert.” She flipped her long hair over her shoulder. “But that’s what I hear.”
“Then it looks like I’m in the right place.” He grinned, and it was like the teacher/student separation was gone. But there were no open seats around them, and she felt awkward standing.
“I’ve got a cabana over there.” She pointed to her cabana, which was empty except for her stuff on her chair. “If you want the best of Vegas, you have to hang out in a poolside cabana.”
“What do you say, boys?” Hunter raised his beer and looked at his friends. “To the cabana?”
“To the cabana!” they repeated, clinking their beers together and standing up.
Peyton led t
he way through the maze of chairs draped with white-and-gold striped towels. The cabanas were separated with dark wood dividers and spiral hedges. Each had a cushioned bench and a few lounge chairs in front of the entrance, which had a white curtain for privacy.
“Now this is what I’m talking about,” one of Hunter’s friends said, a blond who was heavier than the rest of them. He situated himself on the couch and turned on the plasma-screen TV, flipping channels until arriving at ESPN. “Americans and their football.” He scoffed. “I’d like to see them take that padding off and play a proper game of rugby.”
Peyton had never been into watching sports—and she didn’t know what rugby was—so she had nothing to say to that. “There’s beer in the minifridge.” She pointed to the cabinet under the television. Guys never turned down free beer. “Take whatever you’d like.”
Hunter was still standing near the entrance, so Peyton pulled a Carlsberg out of the minifridge, popped it open, and walked over to him. “This is what you were drinking before, right?” she asked. “If you want something else, the cabana wait staff will be over soon.”
He stared at the beer as if she were handing him poison instead of a drink. “If anyone sees us here, I could get in serious trouble.”
Peyton frowned; she was enjoying forgetting that Hunter was her teacher. But she didn’t want him to be uncomfortable, so she pulled the rope to the curtain so no one could see inside the cabana. “There.” She smiled, perched her sunglasses on top of her head and widened her eyes, as if she hung around the pool with her teachers every day. “Is that better?” But despite her calm appearance, worry fluttered in her stomach—there was a chance Hunter would leave. That would be so embarrassing, since Jackson had to be watching.
He scanned the cabana, where his friends had already settled into the couches, enjoying their drinks and ESPN. “You can’t tell anyone,” he said, reaching for the beer. “This stays between us. Got it?”
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