“I hate you,” I say, leaning in close so only she can hear.
“You love me,” she argues. “Besides, you had to get it over with sooner or later.” The girl in front of us turns to leave after paying for her food, and we move up to the register. “Chicken salad and a Diet Coke, please.”
“And a turkey sandwich,” I say with a pointed look at Valen. If she’s going to force me to spend extra time with these assholes, I’m at least getting something out of the deal. Valen rolls her eyes, nodding her permission to the lunch lady.
Cling-wrapped sandwich and container of salad in hand, we make our way over to one of the few empty tables. The minute we sit, my eyes find my old table and, sure enough, Holden and his crew are there. He straddles the bench sideways with Taylor Sanders between his spread knees, her back to his front. It shouldn’t surprise me to see her with Holden after she hooked up with Thayer, but for some reason, it does. I guess it doesn’t matter which one it is, as long as they’re an Ames.
Holden slides a finger down the top of her shirt to get a good look at her chest and she giggles, slapping his hand away, even though she’s loving the attention. Clearly, some things never change. The kid across from them laughs, and my eyes snap up to his face.
“Who’s he?” I ask, nodding my chin in his direction.
Valen glances over her shoulder. “That,” she laughs, pointing her fork at him, “is Chris Baker.”
My jaw drops and I squint my eyes, trying to find the resemblance. “No way. Since when did Chris Baker start hanging out with Holden?”
“Weird, right? And it’s just Baker now,” she says in a mocking tone.
“Beyond weird. Wonder how that happened.”
Chris Baker was the last person I’d expect to join the ranks of the pretty and the popular. They’re not exactly a welcoming bunch. I had a couple of classes with him, and he was always kind of a loner. Shy—or maybe just quiet—but nice on the few occasions we did speak. He was usually cloaked in all black, had chin-length, dark hair, and I don’t think I ever saw him without his headphones and a camera. Now, he’s sporting a close-cropped haircut, fitted jeans as opposed to his usual baggy ones, and a plain white V-neck stretched across his chest.
“Damn,” I say appreciatively. “He looks good.”
“It was out of nowhere. He sat at our table during lunch one day last year and just…never left.”
I unwrap my sandwich and pinch a piece of the corner off before popping it into my mouth. The rest of lunch goes by uneventfully, and Valen catches me up on the rest of the Sawyer Point drama that I missed. I still catch a few people staring, but I think for the most part, the masses got bored once they realized there wasn’t going to be any action.
When the bell rings, I stand, and Valen’s eyes lock onto something behind me. I know it’s Holden before I even turn around. He towers over me, leaving only centimeters between us. I fight the urge to back away. I know Holden, and I know this is nothing but an intimidation tactic.
“Hey, little sister,” he says, peering down at me with a Cheshire smile—a stark contrast to the way he reacted the last time he saw me.
“What do you want?”
“For you to fuck off back to Shadow Ridge, but apparently, you didn’t get the memo.”
“Working on it,” I quip. As soon as I graduate, I’m leaving Sawyer Point. And with any luck, I’ll stay gone this time.
“Good.”
Shayne
“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” I say, watching Valen primp in the mirror of her vanity.
“I disagree. Hiding isn’t going to make things any easier.”
“I’m not hiding,” I argue. I didn’t come back to Sawyer Point to go to parties and football games. If it were up to me, I would have opted for getting my GED or finishing my senior year online.
“The sooner you show them that you’re not an easy target, they’ll move on to someone who is.”
I sigh, leaning against the edge of her bed that’s fit for a princess. “Don’t you ever get sick of this?” I ask. After Danny died, my whole life changed, and now everything that used to matter seems so…trivial. Between my daddy issues and the fact that I was thrown into a school where everyone is richer and more beautiful, I became a professional at overcompensating. I used to strive for perfection. Maybe if I had the right clothes, the best hair, the best grades, I’d be good enough.
Admitting that even to myself makes me cringe. That girl was weak. Seeking validation in all the wrong places and from all the wrong people.
Valen secures her dark, silky hair into a tight, high ponytail before turning around to face me. “It’s senior year—”
“How could I forget when you remind me every thirty seconds?” I tease, interrupting her. She twists her glossy lips and stands, walking toward me, gripping my shoulders.
“You might not realize it now, but you’re going to miss this one day. Don’t let Holden and a couple of jealous assholes ruin it for you. Or me. I finally got my best friend back and I want to have some fun.”
She’s right. I know she is. And how bad could it be? It’s not like Thayer’s around anymore, and he’s the one I should be worried about.
“Fine,” I concede.
A devilish smile spreads across her face.
“What?” I ask, suspicious.
“Aiden will be there tonight,” she hedges, watching me for a reaction.
“Okay.” It comes out sounding more like a question than a statement. Aiden’s one of Thayer and Holden’s closest friends. He’s gorgeous and one of the more bearable guys to be around in this town, but we’ve never hung out one-on-one.
“He’s single now.”
“Cool.” I scrunch my nose.
Valen shoots me a look. “You’re a lost cause. You’re lucky you’re so pretty.” She pinches my cheeks, speaking in a voice reserved only for talking to babies and animals, then gives me a once-over.
I look down at my cut-off jean shorts, white Converse, and a tight, white, long-sleeved shirt. “What?” I ask defensively.
She tilts her head to the side, assessing. “One minor improvement,” she says, pulling my hair out of the messy bun on top of my head. My long blonde hair falls to the middle of my back, a slight wave to it since I didn’t bother to blow-dry it after my shower. Valen ushers me to sit in the chair at her vanity and I watch in the mirror as she uses her still-hot flat iron to straighten only the ends. She pumps something into the palm of her hands before rubbing it into my hair, making it shine, then finishes it off by spraying my roots with something that gives it much more volume than I have naturally.
“Voila,” she announces, using both hands to ruffle my hair. “Instant Victoria’s Secret Angel hair.”
I nod, impressed. “You have a gift.”
She curtsies, dipping her head. “Thank you. Now let’s go.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re walking along the rocky beach toward the blazing bonfires a few feet away. Music blares from somewhere, and there are clusters of people scattered everywhere, spread out from the beach to the cliff above us. There’s no way all of these people go to Sawyer Point. I don’t recognize half of them.