Her father took one look at her and dropped all the mail he was carrying. He coughed. “I thought you said it was a girls’ night.”
“It is!” cried Kara. “Heather is going to do Layne’s hair, and we’re going to stuff ourselves with cookies—”
“Kara, I hope you don’t think I’m a fool.”
Kara rolled her eyes. “Mr. Forrest, no offense, but I don’t think you know much about girls’ nights.”
He looked at her, then back at Layne. “Maybe I should drive you.”
“Sure,” said Layne easily. Thank god they were going early. “Then you can meet the other girls.”
It actually worked out better than she expected. Taylor and Heather were full of charm at the door, assuring her dad that Heather’s mom was going to be home from the store any minute, and did he want a cup of espresso? Taylor leaned on Layne’s shoulder and whispered loudly about never realizing she had such a sexy dad.
It was probably the first time Layne had ever seen her father blush.
“All right,” he said, jingling his keys in his pocket. “I should probably get back to Simon.”
Yeah, like he could get Simon to come out of his room. Layne stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Daddy.”
When he was out the door, Taylor giggled. “Dads are so easy.”
“Please,” said Heather. “All I have to do is wiggle my ass and my dad hands me his platinum card.”
Layne almost choked. She wiggled her ass for her father?
“Your house is amazing,” Kara breathed.
It was, too. Layne never wanted for anything, but her own house was traditional, all polished wood and marble. The back wall of Heather’s house was entirely glass, looking out over an expansive pool deck, with a view of the Severn River beyond. Torches were lit along the patio, and the sound system was on low, one of those top-forty songs that sounded like every other.
Heather shrugged. “It’s all right.”
Taylor pulled a wine cooler out of the fridge. “Want one?” she asked, holding out something peach colored.
Kara took it immediately.
Layne shook her head. But then she didn’t want to seem boring, so she said, “Not yet.”
“I hear you,” said Heather, who didn’t take one either. “I hate being trashed before everyone gets here.”
“I say what’s the difference,” said Taylor. She pointed a manicured nail at Layne. “Now you,” she said, her voice sharp, almost challenging.
Layne flinched, suddenly ready for the worst. “Me?”
“Yeah. You. Hot rollers. Now.”
CHAPTER 22
Layne sat in a darkened corner of the pool deck, wondering when she could go home.
She’d entertained thoughts of some massive prank where they’d cut off her hair or throw her in the pool fully dressed. But Taylor and Heather had wrapped her hair in hot rollers for a while, then brushed makeup across her cheeks until she didn’t recognize herself in the mirror. When the hot rollers were pulled free, her hair fell in thick curls down her back, dark tendrils that looked like they belonged to someone else.
And then the party started, and they seemed to forget she existed.
The night was pitch-black now, the torches blazing against the sky. It was too cold to brave the pool, but a dozen students were crowded into the hot tub—including Kara, who had to be on her fourth wine cooler by now. Layne had tried to talk her out of the second one, but Kara had screeched to stop being such a goody-goody.
Everyone had laughed.
That’s when Layne had found a place in the dark.
She’d tried mingling, but she didn’t know anyone here, and every time she approached a group, they stared at her in this confused way, like she was a random stranger who’d just wandered in off the street. At first she tried to join their conversations, hoping the awkwardness would dissipate. But she didn’t know much about sports, she didn’t go to parties every weekend, and she wasn’t on any of the committees these girls seemed to care about. Fall formal? Yearbook? Yeah, right.
Hey, guys, want to talk about the social dynamics in the Brontë sisters’ novels?
She might as well throw herself into the pool.
Taylor was staggering around somewhere. Layne had already seen her puke into the bushes at the edge of the property once.
Not like Layne really wanted her company. Despite the curls, despite the rah-rah-sisterhood shtick, she still didn’t trust Taylor.
Especially since Gabriel hadn’t even shown up.
Maybe this was the joke. Maybe the older girls had strung her along with empty words. But . . . if this was a joke, there didn’t seem to be any punch line. It wasn’t like Taylor was mocking her for sitting alone.
And Layne would be lying if she said her head didn’t turn every time a new person stepped out onto the pool deck. She thought she’d seen Gabriel at one point, but his face wore an easy smile, and he was laughing with the athletic blonde attached to his arm.
Nick. No way Gabriel had gone from sullen and brooding to easy laughter in one afternoon. No way he’d show up with some other girl, when Taylor had said he was coming for her.
Unless that was the joke?
Layne’s thoughts were giving way to traitorous doubts when some other guy by the grill called out, “Nick! Hey, man.” And then they did that whole guy high-five-handshake-shoulder-hug thing.
Relief.
Until she reminded herself that Gabriel still wasn’t here.
And she was still alone.
Layne stared up at the tiki torches lining the pool deck. Small flickers of flame snapped within each. Some boy across the pool had pulled one out of the holder and was using it as a fiery lance to jab at his friends.
“Idiot,” she muttered.
“He is an idiot,” said a voice behind her. “He still thinks he’s in middle school.”
Her head snapped around, her heart begging for it to be Gabriel, though her brain knew that wasn’t his voice.
It was a guy, though, someone she vaguely recognized, though she couldn’t place him. Not cute, but good-looking in that stocky jock way, the kind of guy who’d probably be smashing beer cans into his forehead in college. Dark hair, close cropped, with rounded features. It was too dark to make out the color of his eyes.
He nodded at the kid across the pool, who was now swinging the tiki torch like a sword. “I’d bet money he’s quoting one of the Star Wars movies right now.”
That made her smile. “ ‘Luke,’ ” she intoned. “ ‘I am your father. ’ ”
He grinned back. The firelight caught his eyes and made them shine. “A girl who knows her Lucas.”
She shrugged, feeling her cheeks warm. “I have a brother. That’s the only line I know.”
He gestured at the chaise lounge beside her. “Is anyone sitting here?”
Her cheeks burned hotter, and she hoped he couldn’t tell. “No. Plenty of room.”
Ugh. Why did she say that?
But he sat, and he didn’t smell like alcohol or smoke like most of the people at the party. “Who’s your brother?” he said, casting a look around. “Is he here?”
She snorted with laughter before covering it with a cough. The only thing more awkward than herself at a party would be Simon at one. “No. He’s a freshman. He plays basketball, but he’s on JV.”
“Yeah?” His expression brightened. “I’m on JV. What’s his name?”
She hesitated, wondering how this would play out. “Simon Forrest.”