Me: If felt damn good.
PENELOPE
I hurried down the hallway, a bounce in my step as I headed into the kitchen where my father stood in front of the ancient coffee pot, filling his travel mug.
“Morning,” he greeted, his back still turned.
The scent of coffee drifted toward me and my mood lifted further, which was hard, considering my head was already floating.
“Good morning.” I headed to the cupboard where I grabbed a bowl and spoon, then filled it with my favorite sugary cereal—generic because we couldn’t afford name brand—and milk. I took a bite, leaning against the counter, crunching happily, and thinking about the day ahead.
Dad turned with his mug in hand and lifted it to his lips, eyeing me over the rim. “You look extra happy this morning.”
My spoon dropped in my bowl with a clang as I glanced up at him, blinking. “Huh?”
He grinned. “You. Usually, you’re groggy in the mornings and frowning.”
He caught me there. I’d never been a morning person.
“What? I’m not that bad.”
“You are.” He moved over to the table where he took a seat in front of his own breakfast—a heaping plate of scrambled eggs—and picked up his fork, then pointed at me. “See? You’re smiling.”
I made a concerted effort to train my face into a neutral expression. “Can’t I just be happy to be alive? It’s a nice day out—” I waved toward the window and prayed it wasn’t storming. Blue skies, thank goodness! “—and it’s my senior year of high school. What’s not to be happy about?”
He arched a brow and dug into his breakfast. “Whatever you say.”
The truth was, maybe I was a little happier than normal. I had spent half the night talking to Topher as Julie, and I still couldn’t believe we talked that much. It amazed me we even had so much to say, but as it turned out, he was kind of nice to talk to, and we had a lot in common. It almost made me feel bad about the fact that I was lying to him. Although it wasn’t really lying, was it? Everything I told him was real. It just happened to be me he was talking to and not Julie.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with a boy, by chance, does it?”
I groaned. “Dad . . .”
“What?” He glanced to my cotton candy pink nails with a smirk before it faded as he asked, “It’s not the Elliot boy, is it?”
“What?” I swallowed a piece of cereal whole and nearly choked, wincing as it stabbed its way down my throat. “No, of course not.”
“Just . . . be careful there,” he said with a soft smile, then returned to his breakfast.
Be careful there.
I tried not to let Dad’s words get under my skin as Scarlett pulled up to the curb. After all, they were just words. And it’s not like I had a thing for Topher. We were friends. Nothing more.
“Whoa. Look at you, hottie.” Scarlett wiggled her brows as I slid into her car.
I laughed. “Shut up.”
“No, seriously. You got the cat-eye going and the red lip. And that outfit is fire,” she said, looking me up and down.
“You like it?” I asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious. I hadn’t expected her to make such a big deal out of it. “It’s not too much?”
I glanced down at the black top with the swooping neckline. My skirt was fingertip length with a thin black and white chevron pattern. It had been my mothers, which made it even more special. A year after she died, when Dad went through her stuff, he had me pick out a few things I thought I’d want. I saved a handful of items that had a youthful edge for wear and then several items as keepsakes. This skirt was one of the items.
“Um, no way. I love it.” She started to pull away from my house when she did a double-take and yanked my hand off my lap, then held it out. “Pink?” She eyed my nail polish, gaping. “Now I know something’s up.”
“Um, eyes on the road, please.” I waved toward the windshield, out to the road as my stomach churned. Was I that obvious?
“The pink is . . .” I stalled, searching for an excuse. After all the grief Topher and the Royals had given me over the years, how could I explain I may be having a change of heart? Besides, I still had a lot to learn about him. I still had no idea which was the real Topher. The king from Lakeview or the boy he’d revealed to me these past two weeks.
“The pink is flirty and happy. Pink is the color of unicorns and hearts. It’s girly. I know you too well, P. What gives?”
I sighed and sunk back, further into my seat. “Fine. Topher and I talked, is all, and I think maybe he’s not who I think he is. Like maybe there’s more to him, and he’s not just the guy that walks down the halls of Lakeview like he owns the place. He’s . . . different.”
Her eyes turned to saucers as she blinked over at me. “I don’t believe it.”
“Seriously. He even gave me a ride home . . .” I trailed off at Scarlett’s open-mouthed stare. Someone honked behind us, and a glance at the light revealed it had turned green. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“O-M-G.” She drew her fist back and punched me in the arm.
Honk.
“Ow!” I cried, rubbing the spot on my bicep where she hit me.
Honk—honk.
“You’re starting to like him, aren’t you?”
“What?” I pulled a face, grimacing. “No. That’s absurd. I’ve only talked to him for, like, two weeks. Not even. That would be crazy.”
“Crazy or not, it’s true.”
Honk—honk—honk.
“No way.” I shook my head.
“Mmhm,” Scarlett murmured, then finally turned her eyes to the road and pressed the gas. “Fine. If you don’t like him, are you still on your quest to get a juicy piece of dirt on him? You know, for insurance or revenge or whatever.”
“I’m playing it by ear,” I said, refusing to meet her gaze, knowing how that would sound.
Scarlett grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “Fair enough. But I just have one question.”
I stiffened and braced myself. I had a feeling I didn’t want to hear it. “What?”
“Once you’re ready to admit you maybe kinda like him, when are you going to tell him that you’re actually Julie?”
I crossed my arms over my chest, annoyed with the question even as my stomach sunk to my feet. “It’s not going to happen, so there’s no need. The plan isn’t totally off. Like I told you, I’m watching and waiting. Once I have what I need, Julie can simply vanish into thin air. No harm, no foul.”
“Right,” Scarlett drawled, and I hated how she saw too much.
Chapter 16
PENELOPE
My leg shook furiously underneath my desk.
I sat in econ, waiting for Topher to show up, my conversation with Scarlett fresh on my mind.
Deep down, I knew what I was doing was wrong, a mistake at best, and I couldn’t keep up the charade forever. Even if I didn’t give into Homecoming, sooner or later, he was going to ask Julie out, and I’d be faced with either telling him the truth or rejecting him before he discovered I was playing him. Only I wasn’t fully lying to him, was I? Everything I told him about myself was true. Our conversations were one hundred percent authentic. I was just lying about one teeny tiny detail—my name.
My gaze shot to the door as Topher sauntered inside. I tried not to stare, but it was hard, all things considered. His wild blond hair was untamed like he just rolled out of bed, and his hooded eyes and a lazy smile made him look sleepy in the most adorable way.
He made his way to his seat, only instead of sitting behind me, he sat next to me and in front of his friends.
When he caught me staring, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he didn’t seem to notice, or maybe it was that he didn’t care because he nodded in greeting before his eyes flickered from my face, down the length of my body.
I crossed my legs, feeling every inch of the exposed skin from my skirt, thinking maybe this outfit had been a bad idea.
Ridicul
ously self-aware, I glanced back at him one last time to see him grin.
“‘Sup, P,” he said in his raspy voice.
My insides squeezed. “Uh, not much.” Then I pressed my lips together and turned toward the front of the class before my cheeks could get any hotter, and when Ms. Stone entered, I felt awash with relief.
Twenty minutes later, the class was knee-deep in a lecture on producer and consumer surplus when I heard the rumblings of a chuckle behind me. I slouched slightly as my pencil scratched over my notebook and ignored the burning in my ears that told me whatever was so funny had something to do with me.
Years of being the focus of Royal pranks had made me paranoid. And for good reason.
When I felt something hit the back of my neck, my hand reflexively moved toward it to find a little ball of paper tangled in my hair.
A spit wad. Gross.
One glance at Topher and I knew it hadn’t been him. His gaze was focused on the lecture. The same crinkle in his brow was present as when he concentrated during our tutoring sessions, and I had to resist the urge to smooth it out with my finger.
I threw the little wad of paper on the floor in disgust and focused my eyes back on Ms. Stone, trying not to let it get to me. But a couple seconds later, JT hissed, “Hey, Skunk.”
Inside I cowered. I knew he was talking to me—but on the outside, I held my head up, my expression stony.
“Hey, Skunk!” he said louder this time, eliciting a couple chuckles from the room.
Then a crumpled piece of paper hit the side of my face and fell on top of my notebook. Though I knew better, I slowly opened it to see a boy’s sloppy scrawl. Scurry back to your den and—
Someone ripped the paper from my hands before I could finish reading it.
I turned and blinked over at Topher who held the crumpled paper in his fist, his cheeks flushed with anger. His mouth pressed into a thin line.
He cut his eyes to JT and Mikey behind me, and a vein in his forehead throbbed. “Leave her alone,” he barked.
“Watch out,” Mikey murmured, “or she’ll spray you.”
JT spluttered out a laugh, and I wonder how long they’d been saving that lame joke when Topher’s eyes blazed. “I said, knock it off.”
“Is there a problem here, gentlemen,” Ms. Stone asked, and if my face wasn’t hot with embarrassment already, it was now.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Topher flashed her his bright, perfect smile and said, “Not at all. I just wanted the class to know . . .” He glanced around him, and my pulse thumped in my ears, and the air thinned as I hung onto his every word.
“Anyone who messes with my friend, Penelope, here, has to deal with me.” He nodded to Ms. Stone and casually waved a hand out in front of him. “Apologies for the distraction. Carry on.”
Though she shot him a warning with her eyes, she turned back to the chalkboard while I tried to catch Topher’s gaze but failed.
Later that afternoon, I waited for him outside in the courtyard. It was warm and sunny, though the air was thick and hinted of rain. I sat at the base of a large maple, staring out toward the lush green soccer fields. The change of scenery had been his suggestion, in part due to the beautiful afternoon, but for reasons I couldn’t explain, it made me nervous. Or maybe it was the way he defended me to his friends earlier. I wasn’t sure.
“It’s our last day this week together because of my schedule. You going to miss me, P?”
Speak of the devil.
Turning toward the sound of his voice, I glanced up at him, shielding my eyes from the sun, and when a flood of warmth rushed through me at the sight of him, I knew I was in trouble. Scarlett was right. I had a crush on Topher Elliot.
With a pit of dread in my stomach, I said, “I’ll still see you in econ.”
“True, but econ isn’t as much fun as this. I don’t get to irritate you like I do in our sessions after school.”
I snorted but said nothing.
What could I say? The truth was he did annoy me, but now that I saw there was more to him than some brainless jock, I kinda liked it in an odd, love-hate sort of way.
“So, what are we working on today? Calculus homework?” I asked, rummaging through my bookbag for my notebook.
He stared at me for a beat, as if he had something else he wanted to say before he opened his book and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper.
We worked side by side on our homework, finishing calculus and physics with a few minutes to spare before our hour was up. Neither of us said much as we packed up our bags, and I realized I think I liked it better when he annoyed me with chip bags and dissenting opinions on Shakespeare because the awkward silence was killing me.
Bags packed, we faced each other as if reluctant to leave.
I glanced over at him from underneath my lashes as he settled a ballcap on his head, then pulled a pack of gum out of the front pouch of his backpack and offered me some, but I declined, shaking my head no.
“Did you hear IRL is coming out with a surprise album?” he asked as he popped a piece in his mouth, and I watched him chew. “It releases next month.”
I smiled, glad he wasn’t in a hurry to get away from me. “I did hear. It’s going to be really hard to beat their last one though. That was by far their best record.”
“No way,” he shouted. “Welcome to Thunderdome was definitely their best, and it was also their first, which makes it more impressive.”
“Meh. It was great for sure, but . . .”
“Okay, then. What’s your favorite song?”
I pursed my lips. “Easy. ‘California Dreamer.’”
Topher snapped his fingers. “Yes! Now that we can agree on, followed by—”
“’No Stone Unturned!’” we both said at the same time, then laughed.
A beat of silence followed before he leaned back on his hands in the grass, grinning at me in a way that turned my insides to knots, and said, “Okay, I admit you have good taste in music, but what about movies?”
I arched a brow. “What do you think?”
“I’m thinking”—he rubbed his chin with one hand—“romantic comedy. Definitely. You probably watch it all dreamy-eyed and swoon over the male lead, then immediately begin to plan your wedding.”
I guffawed, then punched him playfully in the bicep. “I do not.”
He gave me a look that said he didn’t believe me.
“For your information,” I said, “my favorite movie genre is horror.”
He scoffed. “What? No way.”
“Yes, way. I swear.”
His eyes widened. “Wow. I would never have taken the timid little Penelope Ewe for a horror fan.”
“Maybe I imagine all my high school tormentors as the characters who get killed off,” I said archly.
He grimaced. “Ouch.” Then he smiled and asked, “So what is it you like about scary movies?”
“Isn’t there something kind of fun about being scared? I mean, just a little?”
“So you’re not the type of girl that clings to the guys’ arm in the theater and buries her face in his chest?”
Did guys really like that?
I made a gagging noise. “Uh, no.”
“Darn,” he drawled, staring at my mouth, and a riot of butterflies erupted in my chest. “Because that can be kind of fun.”
I cleared my throat as my stomach did this funny sort of tumble thing that felt both good and awful at the same time. “What about you?”
“I can dig a little horror, but war movies are my personal cup of tea.”
“Really?”
He shrugged. “I like history.”
We fell silent a moment, both of us lost in our thoughts when he said, “Can I ask you something?”
I met the intensity of his gaze, and my stomach dropped. “Okay,” I said, uncertainty drawing out the word.
“I know you're really quiet, but why do you let them treat you like that?”
I avoided his gaze and bowed my head, prete
nding to find the blades of grass in front of the spot where I sat particularly interesting as I shrugged my shoulders.
“That’s it? A shrug?” He dipped his head, trying to catch my gaze. “They’re mean to you, and you let them walk all over you.”
“You think I don’t know that?” My head snapped up, and I was suddenly angry. Maybe because I felt like a fool. Or judged. Or . . . “Trust me,” I added, “I’m well aware. And it wasn’t all that long ago that you were the culprit. Just because you’re no longer the main instigator, doesn’t make you any better.”
His face turned to stone, and when he glanced away, I wished I hadn’t said anything.
“You’re right. Even laughing along is wrong, but I know you now and . . . I’m trying to be different. Better.”
“Why? Why now?” I blurted. My thoughts shifted to Julie. Was all of this because of her? Because he wanted to change her mind and take her to Homecoming? Did she make him want to be a better man? God, what a cliche. And why did that bother me so much?
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair until it stuck up at an odd angle. Then he shook his head, pulled his knees up to his chest, and lazily draped his arms over them. “Never mind. Forget it.”
I watched him a moment—the way his jaw tightened and his mouth turned down at the corners. He really did look sorry, and hadn’t it just been this morning he stuck up for me? Hadn’t he just asked if we could be friends? So why was I giving him so much crap?
I blew all the oxygen out of my lungs, taking my time as I said, “Sorry.” I felt his gaze on me. “I don’t know. I just . . . sometimes I think of all the things I would say. I think of a million ways I can stick up for myself and tell them off. Then when they do something stupid like today, I just . . .”
I fisted my hands in the grass beside me.
How could I describe it? This debilitating shyness? The desire to simply disappear?
“I clam up. My heart races and my body turns to fire and I want to open my mouth to speak, but instead of words, there’s only silence, and all I want is for the world to swallow me up, so I no longer have to exist or think. All I want in that moment is to be invisible.”
Hate Notes: A Sweet Enemies to Lovers Young Adult Romance (Lakeview Prep Book 1) Page 12