I STARED at the outfit hanging over Zara’s glass shower door. The tags were still on from our shopping spree earlier today, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the cost. The mid-length pleated skirt stared back at me in all of its mustard-yellow glory. But so did the navy-blue and white striped crop top.
When Zara had pulled the items out of one of our many shopping bags, I’d balked immediately. I’d never worn a crop top in my life. Mostly because I thought my boobs would hang out the bottom. Partially because the idea of something not covering my stomach made me want to crawl and hide in my room. But she said this skirt was supposed to be worn high on my waist. And Jordan said it would bring out my curves, in a good way.
“Are you almost done?” Zara called.
I swallowed. “Yeah.” Gently taking the items off the hangers, I pulled them on and stared in the mirror.
Holy crap. It fit.
And not only did it fit, but it looked good.
I did a small spin, watching the pleats fan out around me. The way the shirt cinched around my middle made me look like I had an hourglass instead of an apple shape. How could a simple outfit bring out curves I didn’t even know I had?
I pushed open the door, and Ginger wolf-whistled.
I covered my face with my loosely curled hair and then looked back. “It’s good, right?”
Jordan put her hand on my arm. “If this doesn’t do it for him, he’s gay.”
I laughed. Then decided to believe her. I would start being that girl—the one who was confident in her body and her look. I wanted to go out in public and not feel like people were judging me for my size, but seeing me as a whole person.
Once we were all ready (and looking amazing, thanks to a raid through Zara’s closet and Jordan’s work with the makeup), we got in Zara’s car and began driving. Jordan gave us directions, and when we got there, fires already crackled on the sand, sparking blue and purple and orange. People milled about, carrying red cups full of what I assumed wasn’t soda.
“How are people already here?” I asked no one in particular.
“Carson’s here,” Callie said, light from her phone screen illuminating her face. “And he says Beckett’s here too.”
Jittery excitement danced deep in my stomach. Tonight was my night to prove Merritt (and myself) wrong.
“And Merritt?” Ginger asked.
“Hold on.” Callie fired off a text, then, “Yep.” “Boo,” Jordan said.
I agreed. How was I supposed to spend any time with Beckett with Merritt hanging all over him? Even though they were allegedly broken up, she stuck around him like he’d invented Spanx himself.
“Remember our strategies?” Zara asked.
We’d gone over the plan so many times that day it rolled off my lips in an emotionless tone. “Be nearby. If that fails, we’ll start planned activities. Spin the Bottle, Truth or Dare, anything to get him engaged in organized conversation.”
“Good,” Zara said. “But remember we can—” “Distract Merritt,” I finished.
She looked at me in the rearview mirror, a smile on her face. “You’re ready.”
I wasn’t. But I was as close as I was going to get.
We got out of the car, and the smells of burning driftwood and salty air immediately washed over me. I breathed it in, the electricity in the air telling me this was a night I was going to remember.
We walked over the patchy grass together, and as we reached the sand, I mentally thanked myself for wearing strappy sandals instead of flip flops. These would stay on my feet all night and not get lost in the sand.
“Let’s get a drink,” Jordan said. She led us toward a keg that didn’t have a line and grabbed one of the red cups stacked half our height.
I nudged Zara’s arm. “Looks like Zach went all out.”
She rolled her eyes and poured amber liquid into my cup. “Just drink.”
I’d never drank before. Was now the time to start? I held the cup in my hand and examined it as the other girls got their drinks. Having a cup of beer didn’t mean I needed to consume it, but it did mean I wouldn’t stand out any more than I already did.
A loud giggle sounded from behind us, and I turned to see Merritt with her hand on Beckett’s shoulder. “You are so funny.”
I turned to Ginger and pretended to gag myself. She laughed. But I wasn’t feeling as humorous anymore.
We had to get Merritt away from him. No way would he choose me with us standing side-by-side.
A few strums of a guitar sounded. One of the football guys had brought it and was running his fingers over the strings in a soft melody.
Ginger nudged my shoulder and looked at him with me. “Hello, Cowboy.”
I grinned at her. “You should go talk to him.”
“No way,” she said. “Curvy girls don’t date cowboys.” “Why not?” I asked.
Her smile turned wry. “For the same reason they don’t date quarterbacks.”
I shook my head. “So, if I date Beckett, you’ll go for it?” “If you date Beckett, I’ll consider it.”
“Deal.”
She shook my extended hand. “Deal.”
The others joined us, Carson now standing with Callie, and he said, “Let’s go sit over there.” He nodded toward where Beckett sat on a large piece of driftwood.
I followed them, trying not to breathe too heavily. Trudging through the sand was hard, and I kept kicking sand up on my calves.
Carson and Callie sat on the ground, and the rest of us sat on another drift log someone had brought over to the fire.
I glanced across the flames to see the orange reflecting on Beckett’s face. He was still talking to Merritt, but his heart wasn’t in it. I could tell.
The second he caught sight of Carson, he disengaged from Merritt and walked over.
Carson patted the ground on his side. “Pull up some sand, man.”
For whatever reason, the sandman song started playing in my head. I gazed toward the dark, cloudy sky. Why was my mind so weird?
Beckett glanced our way, then spoke again to Carson. “What are you up to?”
“Hanging out,” Carson said. “Thinking about playing Truth or Dare.” Beckett’s eyes lit. “Yeah?”
My thoughts on Truth or Dare immediately changed from it being a game for bored twelve-year-olds to something I had to do.
“Truth or Dare?” Merritt shrilled. “I want to play!” Carson and Beckett shared an unmistakably annoyed look. “Sure,” Carson finally said. “Truth or dare, Merritt?”
“Dare.” She flashed her teeth in a smile, and they glinted in the firelight. I wondered if she was done sinking those teeth into Beckett—if he was really done letting her.
Could Carson just dare here to go away? I wouldn’t complain. I was on the edge of my—log?—waiting for his dare.
“I dare you to dance around the fire,” he said, taking a sip from his drink.
Her eyebrows quirked; she was clearly disappointed in the dare, but then she shrugged and sent Beckett a wink. Her hips dropped low, swaying suggestively. As she bent to wave her butt in Beckett’s direction, her shirt fell low enough to reveal her barely-there lacy bra.
I didn’t know whether to gag or be jealous. My idea of a dance move was the sprinkler. Seriously. This was off-the-charts stupid. Beckett couldn’t be into this. Could he?
She eventually dropped her hips in Beckett’s lap, going full-blown lap dance.
Beckett’s shoulders held more tension than I’d ever seen there. Not like in the bakery when he was in charge, in his element.
He took her hips and shifted her to the side, and Carson said, “That’s good enough.”
With a flirty smile Beckett’s way, she crooned, “Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” he muttered. I barely heard him over the guitar playing in the background and the roar of the waves. But I could hear Merritt perfectly as
she spoke.
“Tell me what you like about me.” She looked up at him, her plump lips parting slightly. “What turns you on?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and I looked away.
“Could she be any more obvious?” Ginger muttered under her breath. “Give me a break.”
“Your hair,” Beckett said. “That’s it?” Merritt asked.
I turned back just in time to see her flip her hair and twirl a piece between her manicured fingers.
“Yep,” Beckett said, his eyes searching the rest of us. “Rory, truth or dare?”
His voice shot through me, calling my heart to attention. Would I ever get used to hearing him say my name or the jolt of excitement and flurry of butterflies that always followed?
Ginger nudged my side, and I realized he was still waiting for my answer. After a moment of pondering between the two evils, I finally said, “Truth.”
He ignored Merritt rubbing his knee and said, “What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you on a date?”
Now it was my turn to gulp. Did I lie and make up a story, or did I tell the truth? That I’d never been on a real date. No one had ever asked me.
Merritt used her special talent and sensed my distress. “Aurora’s never been on a date.” She chuckled.
“I’m sure she has,” Beckett said. “We’re seniors.” “Why?” Merritt asked. “Who would ask her out?”
I waited for him to say he would, but no such fantasy came true. Beckett just said, “Go ahead, Rory.”
My eyes were stinging now for reasons I didn’t completely understand. “Here,” Tinsley said, “I’ll ask her a truth.”
“No, I’ve got this,” Merritt said, locking her eyes on me. “What made you think you belong at a party like this and not at home, elbow deep in a bag of chips?”
“What did you—” Jordan began, but I shook my head at her. She didn’t need a reason to lose her scholarship or get kicked out of school.
Me on the other hand? The idea was looking more appealing every second that passed with Merritt Alexander.
“I’ll pass,” I said, sending her a glare, then turned to Ginger. “Truth or dare?”
“You can’t pass,” Merritt asserted.
As if sensing their ringleader in distress, Tinsley and Poppy echoed her sentiment. Loudly, and with a lot of giggling.
“Yes I can,” I said, lifting my chin.
Zara murmured just so I could hear her, “That’s right.”
“Well, if that’s the case,” Merritt said with a smile as fake as her mother’s boobs, “I can answer for you. You thought you could come here because you have this deluded idea that people like you belong with people like us.” She gestured at her and Beckett. “You were wrong, for the record.”
The stinging in my eyes increased, and the only thing worse than leaving was staying and letting Merritt see me cry.
I turned and walked away as fast as I could manage in the sand. There were angry words exchanged behind me, but I didn’t care. I was walking toward the water, toward the packed sand that would let my legs carry me even farther away from my enemy.
That was, until I heard Beckett call my name.
