All-access doesn’t mean no problems

The three Diamond sisters survived the summer in style after coming to live with their long-lost billionaire father. But making a place for themselves at their exclusive new Las Vegas private school is throwing them any number of gold-plated curves. Savannah’s YouTube stardom turns into a Sweet Sixteen reality show extravaganza—with complimentary enemies on the side. Dangerous flirtations don’t keep Peyton from a gamble that will risk far more than she planned to bet. And when Courtney and the sisters’ archenemy, Madison, uncover two explosive secrets, it will rock even this town of glittering illusion—and turn their lives upside down all over again.

Praise for The Secret Diamond Sisters

“This quick and entertaining read is filled with glitz and glamour…get ready for one crazy and fabulous ride.”

—RT Book Reviews

“Electrifying… Gossip Girl meets The Princess Diaries in a city that never sleeps.”

—Booklist

“Highly addictive! Hold on tight, because The Secret Diamond Sisters throws you headfirst into the Vegas fast lane. A fun ride not to be missed!”

—Rachel Harris, author of My Super Sweet Sixteenth Century

“I opened The Secret Diamond Sisters and was transported to Vegas…there was never a dull moment! It’s the helpless romantic’s dream.”

—LitPick, Five Star Book Review Award

“Michelle Madow has followed in the platinum heelsteps of Cecily Von Ziegesar (Gossip Girl), Sara Shepard (Pretty Little Liars) and Ally Carter (Heist Society) in what seems like the first season of the Diamond girls’ romantic, shocking and lavish lives.”

—Nathan Siegel, Goodreads reviewer

“A never-ending rollercoaster from the very first page, with its intense drama and unique lifestyle.”

—Nina Sachdev, 14, high school student

Books by Michelle Madow available from Mira Ink

The Secret Diamond Sisters series

(in reading order)

The Secret Diamond Sisters

Diamonds in the Rough

Diamonds in the Rough

Michelle Madow

www.miraink.co.uk

To Molly Ker Hawn,

for believing in this series and taking a chance on it.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Booklist

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1: Savannah

Chapter 2: Courtney

Chapter 3: Peyton

Chapter 4: Madison

Chapter 5: Savannah

Chapter 6: Courtney

Chapter 7: Peyton

Chapter 8: Madison

Chapter 9: Savannah

Chapter 10: Courtney

Chapter 11: Peyton

Chapter 12: Madison

Chapter 13: Savannah

Chapter 14: Courtney

Chapter 15: Peyton

Chapter 16: Madison

Chapter 17: Savannah

Chapter 18: Courtney

Chapter 19: Peyton

Chapter 20: Madison

Chapter 21: Savannah

Chapter 22: Courtney

Chapter 23: Peyton

Chapter 24: Madison

Chapter 25: Savannah

Chapter 26: Courtney

Chapter 27: Peyton

Chapter 28: Madison

Chapter 29: Savannah

Chapter 30: Courtney

Chapter 31: Peyton

Chapter 32: Madison

Chapter 33: Savannah

Chapter 34: Courtney

Chapter 35: Peyton

Chapter 36: Madison

Acknowledgments

Extract

Copyright

www.campusbuzz.com

High Schools > Nevada > Las Vegas > The Goodman School

First Day of School!

Posted on Tuesday 9/3 at 11:37 AM

I can’t believe school starts tomorrow! Summer has gone by way too fast. I wish I could live in summer forever, gossiping about who’s with who at what club, who has the best tan, and when we can stay out all night without having to wake up at dawn the next morning to sit in class all day.

Adrian Diamond’s three daughters will be starting at Goodman this year, and since they supposedly grew up in some random town in northern cali, it’ll be interesting to see how they adapt. They made a splash the first week they arrived, but since then they’ve been under the radar. Probably because they’re nothing special and don’t deserve any of the attention they got when they first arrived!

Anyway, I’m off to work on my tan and do some last minute back to school shopping. See you all bright and early tomorrow morning! : )

1: Posted on Tuesday 9/3 at 12:56 PM

Savannah Diamond posted some YouTube vids singing and playing guitar (she’s good, even though her vids are crappy quality on her laptop webcam and haven’t gotten tons of views), but her and her sisters haven’t been around as much since the first week they got here. Which sucks, cause they’re HOT!

2: Posted on Tuesday 9/3 at 2:07 PM

I hear they’re majorly behind on academics because their old public school sucked so they’ve been getting tutored so they won’t be behind at Goodman. What a shitty way to spend summer!

3: Posted on Tuesday 9/3 at 4:21 PM

Nick Gordon’s been MIA all summer too, and he was totally hanging with Savannah Diamond the week she arrived. Maybe they’ve been so involved with each other that they haven’t had time for anyone else!!!

4: Posted on Tuesday 9/3 at 4:51 PM

Or she’s been moping because Damien peaced out to travel all summer. Savannah was supposedly so obsessed with him that he left just to get away from her. Haha poor girl. Awkward, much?

Chapter 1: Savannah

Savannah Diamond wanted her first day at her new school to be perfect, so she’d woken up extra early to get ready. But her nerves had her so on edge that she couldn’t even sing into her hairbrush along with her favorite songs, pretending she was a pop star performing a show. Peyton used to get so mad at her for it every morning, since she, Courtney and Savannah shared a room, and Savannah woke up earlier than Peyton because she needed more time to get ready. Having a room to herself was the best.

If this were her first day of her sophomore year at Fairfield High, she’d have thrown on jean shorts, a pastel tank and sparkly summer flats. But The Goodman School was a fancy private school in Vegas, and since she and her sisters had found out last summer that billionaire casino owner Adrian Diamond was their father, and had moved into the penthouse next to his in The Diamond Residences, Savannah was supposed to be a sophisticated hotel heiress—not a girl who’d grown up in a poor neighborhood in a small town. She needed an outfit to fit the part. And since the only dress-code rules at The Goodman School were no ripped jeans and no belly buttons showing, she had plenty of options.

She settled on a metallic spaghetti-strap top by Young Fabulous & Broke, paired with a black flair miniskirt and strappy Jimmy Choo heels. She curled her hair to give it volume, put on a Swarovski crystal headband and went all out with makeup—deep purples and silvers from her Urban Decay Vice palette, winged black eyeliner with liquid gold sparkles, extra coats of mascara and shimmery lip gloss. As she walked to her jewelry box to decide what to match with the outfit, someone knocked at her door.

“Savannah?” Her sister Courtney peeked her head into the room. “Breakfast is here, and Adrian and Rebecca are on their way. Are you almost ready?”

“Are these earrings too much with the bracelets?” Savannah motioned to her dangly crystal earrings and Alex and Ani bangles.

Courtney examined Savannah’s outfit. “I don’t want you taking this the wrong way, but isn’t it a bit much for school?”

Savannah pulled at her top and frowned. “The personal shopper from Saks said the outfit was perfect on me.”

“It does look great on you.” Courtney bit her lower lip. “But it seems better suited for a cocktail party or other nighttime event…. Not for school.”

“I shouldn’t have bothered asking.” She played with her charm bracelets, shuffling her feet as she scrutinized the outfit in her full-length mirror. It was flashy. But she couldn’t take fashion advice from Courtney, who had on jeans, flip-flops, a sky-blue T-shirt and practically no makeup. The only jewelry she wore was a practical watch and that boring old key necklace Grandma had given her for her birthday last year—an heirloom from their great-great-grandmother. “Sure, it would have been too much for Fairfield High, but this is private school in Las Vegas. The first day is when everyone gets most dressed up, so I want to be ready.”

“I was just trying to help, but whatever makes you happy.” Courtney toyed with her necklace. “You’re lucky you aren’t nervous.”

“You think I’m not nervous?” Savannah had tossed and turned all night, and her hands had been shaking all morning. “I don’t know anyone in my grade. And I have no idea what’ll happen if I run into Damien or Nick—which I’m assuming I will, since the school is small.” She frowned, thinking about how stupidly optimistic she’d felt in the beginning of July at the Diamond Hotel grand opening, when Damien had apologized for kissing Madison, and Nick had given her attention all night. Because a week later, Damien had left on a month-long teen tour to Alaska and Hawaii, and Nick was always busy with work. “I’m worried that they’ll see me and pretend they don’t know me. Or that they’ve forgotten about me.”

The pathetic part was that it had been weeks since she’d heard from either of them—aside from an occasional text from Nick that he felt bad about not having time to hang out—and she checked up on them daily on Facebook and Twitter. Nick had been inactive on both, but Damien had posted pictures on Facebook from his trip, of him with gorgeous, confident girls—the types of girls who made Savannah fade into the background. Girls like Madison Lockhart.

Which was why it was extra important that her first-day-of-school outfit was perfect. She needed to stand out, not fade away.

“You’ll make friends,” Courtney said. “And if Damien and Nick ignore you, they’re not worth your time.”

“Maybe.” She knew Courtney was right, but that didn’t mean it would hurt less if they pretended they didn’t know her.

“I’m worried about the classes,” Courtney said. “What if the tutoring this summer wasn’t enough and we’re behind? I could barely sleep last night thinking about it.”

“You do look tired.” Savannah observed the dark circles under Courtney’s eyes. “Let me help.” She applied concealer on her sister’s face, pink blush to brighten her cheeks, and mascara so she looked like she’d made a little effort. “That’s better. Now no one will know.”

“Unless I fall asleep in class.” Courtney laughed, wringing her hands together.

“That’ll never happen,” Savannah said. “You’ll probably find class so fascinating that it’ll keep you wide awake.”

“We’ll see,” she said. “But let’s head into the dining room. Adrian and Rebecca will be here any minute.”

Savannah jingled her bracelets again at the mention of their father, Las Vegas hotel owner extraordinaire Adrian Diamond. He still didn’t know her or her sisters deeper than surface level, even though they’d been living here for weeks. But he and his fiancée, Rebecca Carmel, had insisted they order room service so that they could have breakfast together before the first day of school. Adrian had been making small attempts like this to chat with them all summer, but he constantly traveled for work, and when he was in town he had business meetings, golf games or was locked in his office. He made time for Rebecca, but whenever he talked to Savannah and her sisters, there was a wall between them.

Savannah followed Courtney into the dining room. “Is Peyton up?” she asked.

“She was waging war with the snooze alarm twenty minutes ago, but I forced her awake,” Courtney said. “She should be out of the shower soon.”

“Sure she will,” Savannah said. Peyton was notorious for her marathon shower sessions that stole all the hot water and made them late for school.

Her phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Evie, her best friend in Fairfield. Her heart warmed when she saw the text—texting before school had been something they did all the time before Savannah moved.

Good luck on your first day! You’re so lucky your new school starts in Sep. Stupid fairfield high starting so early. #jealous ;)

thanks! I’m so nervous tho. wish you were here!!! <3

Fairfield high isn’t as fun without you! <3 What’d you decide to wear?

Savannah snapped a picture of herself and sent it to Evie.

Cute! But isn’t it too much for school?? I would totally LOVE it for a party, but you don’t want everyone to think you’re trying too hard…

it’s fine for school in Vegas!!! ;)

Savannah’s hands shook, and she paused before pressing Send. Could Evie be right? It was the same thing Courtney had said, and while Courtney didn’t care about fashion, Evie did. Maybe she should switch out the skirt for jeggings, or match it with a more casual top, or wear shoes that wouldn’t hurt her feet by lunch.

She was almost back to her room to change when the door to the condo opened, and Adrian and Rebecca strolled inside.

Adrian wore a navy suit—Savannah had never seen him in anything but a suit—and even though it was 7:00 a.m., his blue eyes were bright and his skin was glowing. The same couldn’t be said of Rebecca, whose brown hair tumbled down her back in the most unruly way Savannah had ever seen it, and who was still in her pink silk pajamas. She poured herself a generous amount of coffee and cradled the cup as if it held the key to her survival.

“Is Peyton not ready for breakfast?” Adrian asked, pouring his own cup of coffee.

“I’ll get her,” Savannah said, glad to have something to do. Especially since this was the opposite of breakfasts back in Fairfield, which had usually been eaten on the go, because their mom had cared more about sleeping off her hangover than waking up so they could eat as a family.

“Peyton?” Savannah stepped into her sister’s room and found her bent over, unraveling a towel on her head. “Are you almost ready for breakfast?”

“In a minute,” Peyton mumbled, wrestling a hairbrush through her hair. Once finished, she flipped her hair up, giving a full view of her outfit.

“You’re not allowed to wear jeans with rips in them,” Savannah said. “It’s against the dress code.”

“Screw the dress code.” Peyton marched to her vanity and lined her eyes with thick black liner. “These are the jeans I feel like wearing today.”

“But you have so many jeans without rips in them,” Savannah pointed out, knowing the only reason Peyton “felt” like wearing those today was because they were against the dress code. “Why don’t you wear one of them instead?”

“Because I want to wear these.” Peyton jutted out her chin and continued with her makeup. “And you apparently want to dress like you’re going to a club instead of to school, but I’m not knocking your outfit and telling you to change, am I?”

“You just sort of did, but whatever.” Savannah ran her hands over her skirt. Her clothes might have been more fashion forward, but they didn’t break the dress code. Besides, what did Peyton know about what students wore at The Goodman School? No more than Courtney or Evie. “It’s not my problem if you get in trouble. Are you coming to breakfast?”

“It’s so dumb that we had to wake up thirty minutes earlier for this fancy breakfast,” Peyton grumbled.

“I think Adrian’s trying to be nice,” Savannah said. “But you should see Rebecca. She’s so not a morning person.”

“I guess I have one thing in common with her.” Peyton smirked. “And what about Adrian? Pristine, as always?”

“Of course,” Savannah said. “You would think he doesn’t need sleep.”

“Maybe he’s a vampire.” Peyton laughed. “Like in those movies you like where they sparkle. They don’t sleep, right?”

“I know you secretly like Twilight.” Savannah’s stomach rumbled, and she wrapped her arms around it. “But I’m starving, and the food smells amazing. Come on.”

Room service had finished setting up breakfast, so the glass table had a white cloth spread on top of it, and the plates waiting at each seat were covered with silver domes like they were at a banquet. Adrian raised an eyebrow when he saw Peyton’s jeans, but said nothing.

“Is Brett coming?” Savannah asked Rebecca.

“He had trouble waking up this morning, so he’s still getting ready,” Rebecca said.

Savannah wasn’t surprised. Ever since Courtney and Brett’s public kiss at the grand opening, Brett avoided as many family meals as possible. Savannah had tried talking with Courtney about it, but her sister had shrugged it off, saying the kiss was a one-time thing, since Brett was off-limits as their stepbrother-to-be, and she needed to focus on school instead of guys. It was so typically Courtney—she was too much of a rule follower to rebel, and she was an expert at controlling her emotions. Savannah wished she could control her own half as well.

Still, she felt bad for Brett. He had a lot in common with Courtney, and they’d gotten along so well. But Courtney wouldn’t budge—she’d had schoolwork and studying for the SATs on her mind all summer. Brett would have to get over her.

Just like Savannah would get over Damien. And Nick.

At least, she hoped so.

“Are the three of you looking forward to your first day of school?” Adrian removed the cover from his plate, and they all followed his lead.

“Yeah.” Savannah poured syrup on her pancakes and took a bite. They were fluffy and delicious. “I’m excited to meet everyone.” Her knees also bounced with worry about Damien and Nick, but she couldn’t discuss her guy problems with Adrian.

“I’m nervous about the classes.” Courtney cut her omelet, releasing the steam from inside. “I hope I’m not behind.”

“Your tutor said you’re ready to begin Goodman,” Adrian said. “She was impressed by your work ethic.”

“Thanks.” Courtney took a bite of her food, although she chewed so slowly it was like she was force-feeding herself.

“What about you, Peyton?” Rebecca asked.

“The only thing I’m excited about is how this will be the last first day of school I’ll ever have,” she said. “I can’t wait to be done with classes forever.”

“You don’t know that,” Rebecca said. “You might change your mind about college.”

“No, I won’t.” Peyton huffed and poured herself a cup of coffee. “I can barely sit through high school classes, and I’ve heard they’re short compared to college classes. No, thanks.”

“You can make a decision about college when you find out which schools accept you,” Adrian said calmly. “No one is forcing you to go, but it can’t hurt to explore your options.”

“Whatever.” Peyton shrugged and focused on her food.

Once they finished eating, Adrian placed his napkin on the table and glanced at his watch. “Your ride will be waiting at the valet stand in fifteen minutes,” he said. “Peyton, you need to change your jeans before you leave.”

Peyton crossed her arms and glared at him. “Excuse me?”

“You have to change your jeans before you leave,” he repeated. “I assume you put those on to disregard the school dress code. Your point has been made—you dislike following arbitrary rules—and while I understand your stance, it would be selfish to make your sisters late because you insist on fighting a battle you can’t win.”

Savannah couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping, and Peyton’s glare turned to her. She refocused on her food and took another bite of pancake, even though it was now cold and soggy, and she was full.

“It’s almost time to leave,” Adrian said, his eyes on Peyton. “If you would like, Rebecca or I can assist you in choosing a more suitable pair of pants.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Peyton shoved her chair back, the metal shrieking against the marble floor. “I can dress myself.”

“Glad to hear it,” Adrian said as she slammed her door. No one at the table said a word, and the hint of a smile crossed his face. “I used to be the same way when I was a teenager.”

Savannah couldn’t imagine Adrian as a teenager, especially a teenager who was similar to Peyton. But his approach worked, because Peyton returned a few minutes later wearing black jeans with no rips or holes in them, her lips pressed into a pissed-off line. The jeans were so low-rise that a slit of skin showed between them and her shirt, but her belly button wasn’t showing, so she wasn’t breaking the dress code.

“Much better.” Adrian nodded at Peyton’s choice. “I have somewhere I need to be now, but I’ve made a reservation for dinner tonight so that you can tell Rebecca and me about your first day at Goodman.”

They said their goodbyes, and Rebecca stayed behind, making sure their bags were packed with everything they needed. Instead of Savannah’s ancient backpack, she had a new purple Longchamp tote—the same bag that many of the volleyball girls at Fairfield High had had and that she could never afford. Inside of it was her MacBook Pro. Apparently at Goodman, bringing a laptop to school wasn’t begging someone to steal or vandalize it.

As Adrian promised, a limo was waiting for them at the valet stand. Savannah had been on many limo rides since arriving in Las Vegas, but it still didn’t feel normal. Courtney’s bodyguard, Teddy, drove them, and Savannah’s and Peyton’s bodyguards followed in a car behind. One of them would be on the Goodman campus at all times when they were at school. So awkward.

“It’s dumb that Adrian won’t let me drive us,” Peyton said once they were seated. “What good are the Range Rovers he bought us if we can’t take them to school?”

“He probably doesn’t want us getting lost,” Courtney said.

“And my car’s been good for learning how to drive,” Savannah pointed out. She couldn’t wait to get her license when she turned sixteen in December. Along with the summer tutoring sessions, she’d taken an online drivers’ ed class. Rebecca had been driving with her for the required fifty adult-supervised hours.

After fifteen minutes, the limo turned at a brick sign with The Goodman School engraved on it in block letters, and Savannah moved closer to the window. A long, scenic road led to sprawling stucco buildings that resembled a college campus. Where were the security guards, the threatening chain gates and the windowless, prisonlike buildings? The buildings here looked bright and airy, with large paned windows and groomed gardens surrounding them.

“Here’s the Upper School.” Teddy stopped the limo at a pink domed building with a stone fountain in front. “I’ll be waiting here to pick you up at the end of the day.”

Savannah stepped out of the limo and looked up at the building. Did people at Goodman actually say they were in “upper” school instead of high school? It sounded so strange.

“Where to now?” she asked Courtney.

Her sister glanced at her phone, where she kept notes about these details. “We have to go to the Upper School front desk, where we should find a lady named Betty. She’ll give us our locker assignments.”

They walked to the entrance, the students nearby watching them and whispering. None of the girls were dressed up—they mostly wore designer jeans, fashionable tops and flats. Savannah’s hands shook, and she gripped the strap of her bag, focusing on not tripping in her three-inch Jimmy Choos. She should have worn her Tory Burch flats. Why had she worn such an over-the-top outfit, despite Courtney, Peyton and Evie’s advice?

Oh, right—because she’d thought everyone at Goodman would dress up. And because she’d stupidly thought it would catch Damien and Nick’s attention. Seeing as no one else was as dressed up, she might catch their attention…but not in a positive way.

Her throat constricted, and she wanted to run back to the limo and beg Teddy to drive her back to the Diamond so that she could change. But that wasn’t an option. She would have to suck it up.

Betty at the front desk was an older woman with short gray hair—she looked like a grandma who baked cookies for her grandkids after school. She welcomed Savannah and her sisters and handed them their locker combinations.

“Here’s the sheet you sign whenever you need to leave school, or if you arrive late,” she said, pointing to a clipboard on the desk. “Seniors have senior privileges and can leave whenever they want. Everyone else has to say why they’re leaving early.”

“With a note from a parent?” Courtney asked.

“You don’t need a note,” Betty said. “At Goodman, we trust students to leave only when necessary. You’re responsible for any missed material, so it’s understood that attendance is crucial to earn high marks.”

Peyton laughed. “And no one takes advantage of how easy it is to skip?”

Betty smiled. “The students here want to attend their classes so they can excel in their studies.”

“It sounds nice.” Courtney looked around in wonder at the well-lit, airy, carpeted building.

“What are senior privileges?” Savannah asked.

“As a sophomore, you won’t have to worry about that for a while,” Betty said, turning to Peyton. “Since you’re a senior, you’re allowed to leave campus for free periods and lunch, as long as you’re back in time for class. There are a lot of restaurants nearby that students enjoy.”

Savannah’s mouth dropped open, and she closed it so she wouldn’t look like a gaping fish. The seniors here went to restaurants for lunch? At Fairfield High, a good fraction of students were on subsidized lunches—including her and her sisters. They wouldn’t have dreamed of going out to eat, or had the time, as Fairfield’s lunch blocks were short and rushed. But with seventy-five minutes set aside for lunch, and credit cards connected to their parents’ bank accounts, students at Goodman had no reason not to go to restaurants.

“What happens if we don’t get back in time?” Peyton asked.

“If it happens more than three times, your senior privileges will be revoked,” Betty said. “But that’s rare, since students want to keep their privileges.”

“You really trust the students here.”

“It’s the Goodman philosophy that everyone is capable of rational self-discipline,” Betty explained. Then she told them to come to her if they had more questions, and they cleared out so that she could talk to the students in the line behind them.

“I guess this is where we part ways,” Courtney said.

Savannah’s stomach flipped. Goodman might as well have been in a different universe than Fairfield, she was dressed all wrong, and she had a terrible feeling that despite her summer tutoring, she would still be behind in her classes. Girls in a nearby clump were looking her over, smirking and whispering what Savannah imagined were mean comments. She pulled her miniskirt down to cover as much of her legs as possible (which wasn’t very much), not wanting to leave her sisters’ sides.

But they had no classes together, so she didn’t have a choice.

* * *

Savannah arrived at first period early and situated herself in a seat in the middle of the U-shaped table configuration, then browsed YouTube on her phone to look busy. After putting her first video online—the one Nick had bought for her of her singing karaoke at Imperial Palace—she’d dreamed it would go viral and she would become an internet sensation. Instead, it had reached around three hundred views and plateaued off. She’d posted a few more videos since then, but despite her best efforts, she still hadn’t cracked a thousand views on any of them.

Maybe she just wasn’t that great and should stop trying.

“This is European History, right?” a short girl with long, dark hair asked from the door. She wore designer jeans and a fitted green T-shirt that looked like a Michael Stars, and the raised triangle label on her black tote was distinctly Prada.

The bag made Savannah regret her Longchamp. The girls at Goodman seemed to favor higher-end bags by Prada, Chanel and Givenchy, to name a few. After school, she had to go shopping for a new bag. She could use the Longchamp when she went to the pool.

“Yeah.” Savannah placed her phone on the table and smiled, hoping to look friendly and approachable. “At least, I hope so. It’s my first day. I’m Savannah.” She moved her bag off the seat next to her so that the girl could sit there.

“I’m Alyssa.” Instead of taking the seat next to Savannah, she left one between them.

Savannah’s cheeks burned. Why did this girl not want to sit next to her? Was she really that overdressed? Or maybe Alyssa had heard rumors about her and already didn’t want to be friends? Savannah knew people talked about her online, but she’d hoped her new status as Adrian Diamond’s daughter would make people want to be friends with her—not avoid sitting next to her.

“Sorry.” Alyssa shrugged. “My two best friends are in this class, and I promised to save them seats.”

“No problem.” Savannah forced a smile. If she’d had a class with Evie and Evie had asked her to save her a seat, she would have done the same thing. She shouldn’t take it personally. But that didn’t stop her throat from feeling tight, as if Alyssa had purposefully insulted her.

“Did you go out last night and not have time to take off your makeup this morning?”

Savannah jerked at the question. “Um, no,” she said. “Why?”

“You just seem really…done up for eight-thirty in the morning.” Alyssa motioned to her own natural makeup, which was opposite from Savannah’s purple metallic shadow and gold glitter liner. “I don’t mean it in a mean way,” she said. “I just guess Goodman is different from whatever school you transferred from.”

“It’s definitely different.” Savannah sighed, not wanting to describe Fairfield High. It would probably make this girl judge her even more.

Then Alyssa pulled out her iPad, and Savannah saw something on the back of it that made her brighten—a sticker of a volleyball.

“You play volleyball?” she asked.

“Yep,” Alyssa said. “I’m on the team here. Do you play, too?”

“I was on JV at my old school.”

“Ohhh, okay.” She nodded condescendingly. “Since Goodman’s so small, we only have varsity.”

“I was one of the best players on JV, and they subbed me in for varsity sometimes,” Savannah said. “Maybe I’ll have a chance.”

All right, they’d subbed her in only once, when a stomach bug had made its way around school and a lot of the varsity players had gotten sick. And they’d lost that game. But Savannah was one of the better players on JV, and she would have been a serious contender for varsity this year at Fairfield.

“Maybe,” Alyssa said, although she didn’t sound like she believed it. Then other students filed in—including the girls Alyssa was saving seats for, Brooke and Jackie. The three of them gossiped like they hadn’t seen each other in years, and Savannah brought out her laptop, pretending she was busy on it.

Being new and knowing no one in her grade really, really sucked.

She didn’t fair better in her next class, so when it was time for lunch, she was on her own. Everyone else joined up with their friends, but Savannah hurried into the nearest restroom, waited for the door to shut, and burst into tears. Why did no one want to be friends with her? She ripped the stupid crystal headband that she’d thought was so cute this morning off her head and tossed it into her bag, along with the sparkly, dangly earrings. If only she could be like Superman and change her outfit, too.

She sniffed, grabbed a paper towel and fixed her makeup, trying to remove the glitter without making it look like more of a wreck. Then the toilet in the end stall flushed, and she froze, her hands propped on the sink. How had she missed that someone else was in the bathroom?

She wanted to dive into the nearest stall, but before she could, the girl opened the door and met her eyes. Luckily, this girl didn’t look like the gossiping type. Her coarse brown hair was pulled back into a boyish bun. She wore thick-rimmed glasses and baggy cargo pants, and her fraying backpack had Japanese cartoon characters stitched into it.

She must be the school weirdo.

“Are you okay?” the girl asked as she washed her hands.

Savannah stared at her blankly. Of course she wasn’t okay. But she wasn’t about to confess her problems to this random girl, either.

“I’ll take that as a no.” She took a deep breath. “You’re new here, right?”

“Yeah,” she somehow managed. “Savannah.”

“I’m Wendy,” she said. “I was about to go eat with my friends, if you want to come with?”

Savannah’s first day of school, and the only person who had reached out to her was the school weirdo. But she didn’t want to be alone at lunch on her first day. And it was kind of Wendy to offer, especially since she knew nothing about her other than that she’d been crying by herself in the bathroom.

“Um, sure.” She glanced at the mirror to make sure the mascara was off her cheeks, picked her Longchamp up off the floor and attempted a smile. “Thanks.”

* * *

Goodman’s cafeteria wasn’t inside the upper school—they had a separate building just for eating. And they didn’t call it the cafeteria, either. They called it the “dining hall,” and everyone bought lunch. Not one person carried a bag from home.

“Upstairs are the normal daily foods—pizza, pasta, sushi, Chinese, salad bar and the hot meal special of the day,” Wendy told Savannah as they entered the dining hall, which looked more like a restaurant than a high school cafeteria. The tables had chairs instead of attached benches, and the walls were covered with giant windows that had views of the swimming pool and the lake. “Downstairs is the deli bar where you can get made-to-order subs and sandwiches, and the grill where you can get hamburgers, hot dogs and fries and stuff.”

“What do you normally get?” Savannah asked, still trying to process that they had sushi and made-to-order subs. That was nothing like the mystery mush at Fairfield High. Why did the seniors need to go to restaurants when they had all these choices at their school? Not that it mattered—she was glad the seniors went to restaurants, since it meant she wouldn’t run into Damien.

“I get sushi almost every day,” Wendy said. “Make sure to stay away from the pizza—it makes the frozen stuff from the grocery store taste like a delicacy. And Thursday is waffle fries day. They’re the best, but you have to get to the grill early or the line will take forever. Anyway, I’m going to grab some sushi—want to come with?”

“I’m actually not a sushi fan,” Savannah said. Well, she’d never tried it—the thought of eating raw fish weirded her out. “I’ll just get a sandwich.”

“The deli’s downstairs.” Wendy pointed at the steps. “I eat down there with my friends from anime club, and sushi is faster than sandwiches, so I’ll save you a seat.”

“Thanks,” Savannah said. Her sisters were nowhere to be found, and sitting with Wendy would be better than sitting by herself. At least she seemed nonjudgmental and kind. But anime club? That was just…not Savannah’s thing.

The line for sandwiches was long, and the last person in it was Alyssa from first period, who didn’t acknowledge Savannah as she stepped into line behind her. Hopefully the line would move quickly, and Savannah could get away from her as fast as possible.

Then the last person she’d expected to see walked through the doors—Damien. He’d gotten tanner over the summer, probably from spending time outside on his teen tour, and his hair was longer—it almost hungover his dark brown eyes. Her heart pounded. Now she would find out whether or not he was going to ignore her and pretend like the time they’d spent together in July had never happened. She took deep breaths and played with the ends of her hair, praying he would notice her.

He waved when he spotted her, and she waved back, trying to keep herself from smiling like an idiot while her stomach flipped like crazy. Was he going to talk to her? At least he’d waved, so her fear of him ignoring her hadn’t come true. This wasn’t how she’d envisioned their first meeting since July—with her dressed wrong for school and her makeup smudged from crying—but he’d already seen her, so there was nothing she could do.

Alyssa was looking at Savannah, her eyes shining with a friendliness that hadn’t been there that morning. “Did Damien Sanders just wave to you?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” Savannah ran a hand through her hair and tried to play it cool, since Damien was getting closer. “We hung out a little bit over the summer.”

Alyssa’s jaw dropped, and Savannah couldn’t help but feel victorious after the way the girl had snubbed her earlier.

“Savannah Diamond,” Damien said, stepping into line behind her. “I’ve been wondering when I would run into you.” Then he studied her closer, his expression morphing into concern. “Are you okay? Your eyes look red.”

“It’s just allergies,” she lied, trying to sound upbeat. She’d never had allergies, but no way was she admitting to crying alone in the bathroom. “Anyway, how was the rest of your summer?”

“I did a Hawaii/Alaska teen tour,” he said. “We cruised through Alaska, toured the Pacific Coast, and stayed at some resorts in Hawaii. It was pretty cool.”

“Is that the tour by Rein?” Alyssa chimed in. “I’m looking into their Europe trip for next summer.”

“That’s the one.”

Savannah nodded as if she knew what they were talking about, even though she’d never traveled beyond California and Vegas. “I saw your pictures on Facebook,” she said. “It looked like you had fun.” She tried not to sound bitter, but when she thought about the album he’d posted, she was reminded of the two tall, tanned girls in lots of pictures with him. Even though it had made Savannah feel like a stalker, she’d clicked on both girls’ profiles. One of them lived in L.A., and the other in Miami, so they couldn’t be a threat, but she hated seeing them draped all over him—even if it might mean he’d meant it when he’d said he was over Madison.

“It was fun, and everyone was cool, but it got old being around the same forty people all the time,” he said. “I was glad to get home.”

“Is everyone keeping in touch?” Savannah asked, thinking mainly about L.A. and Miami.

“For the first few days back we chatted on Facebook and stuff, but most of them are from California, New York, D.C. and Florida, so we’ve mostly split ways,” he said. “But enough about me—what have you been up to while I’ve been gone?”

The real answer: doing mounds of work assigned by tutors to catch up on Goodman academics. But she wasn’t telling Damien that.

“Hanging with my sisters at the pool,” she said casually. She had spent a lot of time at the pool, but she’d usually brought her homework with her. “I’ve also been getting my YouTube channel started.”

“How’s that going?”

“It’s going okay.”

“Cool.” Damien smiled, watching her like he really cared, and a thrill went up her spine. “I’ll check it out tonight.”

Her heart shrank at the realization that he hadn’t seen her videos. “Let me know what you think,” she said. Just because she’d been tracking (stalking?) him online all summer didn’t mean he’d been doing the same to her. He’d been too busy traveling the country—and spending time with L.A. and Miami—to know her YouTube channel existed. Even now, he probably couldn’t wait to get out of the lunch line to hang out with his real friends.

Savannah ordered and paid for her sandwich. “I guess I’ll see you around,” she said to Damien, gathering her plate in preparation to join Wendy and whatever friends of hers would be at that table.

“Hold up,” he said. “Where are you sitting?”

Savannah’s stomach fluttered at the idea that Damien Sanders cared about where she was eating lunch. But she didn’t want to tell him she was sitting with the anime club.

“She was going to join me and some of the other volleyball girls at our table near the pool,” Alyssa jumped in. “Tryouts are soon, and we heard Savannah plays, so we’re hoping she makes the team.”

Savannah glanced questionably at Alyssa, who smiled and tossed her long hair over her shoulder, as if none of this should be strange. Clearly she was being welcoming now only because of Savannah’s connection to Damien.

But did it matter? It had broken the ice between them. Sure, things hadn’t gone well in first period, but now that Alyssa wanted to be friends, she seemed like a fun girl. And Savannah would have more in common with the volleyball team than with the anime club.

“Do you and Alyssa want to eat with me and my friends upstairs?” Damien asked. “If her friends don’t mind, of course.”

“That sounds great,” Alyssa said quickly. “I’m sure they won’t mind.”

“Okay.” Savannah couldn’t believe it. Sure, she was ditching Wendy, but when Savannah glanced around to find the other girl, a tall, lanky guy had joined Wendy at her table, so she wasn’t alone. She would understand. After all, Savannah—a sophomore—had been invited to sit at a table with seniors. And not just any seniors—Damien Sanders and his friends. Which hopefully wouldn’t include Madison, but it was too late to turn back now.

She tightened her grip on her water bottle to keep from shaking. “I thought the seniors went off campus for lunch?”

“We do sometimes,” Damien said. “But since today’s the first day back, most of us want to stay here and catch up.”

He led them upstairs to a group at the center table in the cafeteria, and introduced them to his friends. Savannah recognized two of them from Myst over the summer, but the others were new to her. As they ate, Damien and Alyssa were the only ones interested in talking to her—the rest of them were too busy gossiping about their summers—but that was fine by her.

At least Madison wasn’t sitting with them. But Damien kept glancing at the table where she was eating with Oliver and some of her other friends. Savannah’s heart dropped at the realization that he still wasn’t over Madison. But either Madison was oblivious to Damien, or she was an expert at ignoring him.

At the end of lunch, Savannah followed Alyssa to the trash cans. Alyssa was friendly and continued asking her questions—she was a completely different person from that morning.

Someone else called Savannah’s name, and she brightened at the sight of Nick Gordon pushing through the crowd. He glowed as usual, but there were also huge bags under his eyes.

“Hey, Nick,” Savannah said, relieved he wasn’t ignoring her, either.

“How’s your first day going?” he asked.

“It’s different from my old school, but it’s going well,” she lied, since she didn’t want to sound like a downer and tell him about how awful everything had been until she’d seen Damien in the sandwich line. “I met Alyssa in first period, and we both play volleyball. Do you two know each other?”

“We’ve seen each other around, but haven’t officially met,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Nick.”

Alyssa nodded, as if she already knew who he was, and shook his hand. “Nice to officially meet you.”

Nick smiled and turned back to Savannah. “Did your tutoring this summer pay off?”

“I hope so,” she said. “But it’s hard to tell on the first day.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he said. “And I’ve been checking out your YouTube channel when I have time. Your latest videos are great.”

“Thanks.” Savannah shrugged. He was probably only saying it to be nice, otherwise wouldn’t there be more people who agreed with him? “It’s good to know that at least a few people like the videos.”

“I bet one will go viral soon, and then you’ll be an instant hit.”

“That would be a dream come true.”

His blue eyes were so focused on hers, and her breath caught at how electric the air felt around them. He opened his mouth to say something else, but then Damien joined them, and Nick took a step back.

“Hey, man,” Damien said, as if he and Nick were friends. Which they weren’t—especially since Nick used to date Madison.

“Hey.” Nick slipped his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants. “Didn’t see you around much this summer.”

“I was doing some traveling.”

“Bet that was fun.” Nick held Damien’s gaze steadily, and if Savannah didn’t know better, she would have thought they were having a macho territory battle over her.

“I need to get to my next class,” Savannah said, glad to have an excuse to get Damien and Nick away from each other. “Thanks for inviting us to sit with you,” she said to Damien.

“You’re welcome to join us whenever you want.”

“And if you want a change of scenery, you can sit with me and my friends, too,” Nick offered. “We sit out on the upper deck looking over the pool until it gets too cold.”

“Thanks,” Savannah said, not wanting to promise either of them anything. Were they really fighting over sitting with her? Or was she making this out to mean more than it did? “I’ll see you guys around!”

Alyssa linked her arm with Savannah’s as they left the dining hall. “I can’t believe you know Damien Sanders and Nick Gordon and you didn’t mention it!” she said, bouncing as she walked.

“I met them both this summer,” Savannah said. “It’s a long story.”

“What are you doing after school today?”

“Nothing so far.” Well, she was supposed to connect with Evie on Skype to tell her about her first day, but Evie wouldn’t mind waiting.

“Good,” Alyssa said. “You can come with me, Brooke and Jackie to Starbucks and tell us everything that happened this summer with you and two of the hottest guys in school. Judging from the way they just acted, I have a feeling this is going to be good.”

Chapter 2: Courtney

“Thanks for having lunch with me,” Courtney said to Brett, taking a bite of her grilled cheese sandwich. The cheese was gooey and amazing—the dining hall at Goodman was a five-star restaurant compared to the cafeteria at Fairfield High. Brett had secured a table for them near the lake, beneath a tree and secluded from the main groups of students, which was just what Courtney needed.

“You looked like you needed a break from those girls in AP English.” He hadn’t sat with her in class—he’d been avoiding her since she’d told him they couldn’t continue whatever was going on between them. Which was for the best, because every time she saw him, or thought about him and the incredible times they’d shared during her first week in Vegas, it felt like there was a hole in her heart. But when the group of girls discussing fashion, partying, celebrities and gossip about their “friends” had tried to drag Courtney with them to lunch, she’d looked at Brett for help. Luckily he’d stepped up and rescued her from their clutches.

“They had good intentions, but an hour and fifteen minutes of lunch with them…” Courtney placed her grilled cheese down and contemplated how to word it nicely.

“Would be mentally exhausting?” Brett supplied.

“Exactly.” Courtney smiled and tried to ignore the electricity that arced between them. The best way to do that was to keep talking. “It was nice of those girls to reach out, but I didn’t feel like I had much in common with them.”

“It’s only been half a day, and you can already tell that you’re different from the girls at Goodman,” Brett said, studying her. “And I mean that in the best way possible.”

“They just haven’t been exposed to much outside their little bubble.” Courtney gazed out at the lake—anything to keep her from getting lost in Brett’s forest-green eyes. Even if they weren’t together, they could be friends, right? She just needed to get her heart in tune with her brain. Which would be easier if it would stop racing every time he looked at her. “But I’m going to the first Habitat meeting tomorrow during lunch block. Maybe I’ll meet people I have more in common with there.”

“You might.” Brett nodded and took a bite of his sandwich. “I’ve never done Habitat, so I wouldn’t know.”

“I’m excited to find out what it’s about,” she said. “But I still don’t understand why Adrian and your mom didn’t want me working at the coffee shop at the Diamond. I thought they would be proud that I wanted to work.”

“I understand why you’d think that.” Brett scratched his head, as if figuring out where to begin. “But school is your job. Getting into a top college like Stanford or one of the Ivies takes more than good grades and a great SAT score. Everyone applying has those, so colleges want to see dedication and leadership in other areas, too. Were you part of any clubs at your old school, did you play sports, or were you involved in the theater?”

“I tutored once a week at the student tutoring center, and I’m going to the first student tutoring meeting after school today.” Courtney’s cheeks heated, and she broke off a piece of her sandwich. “I had to keep my grades up while working as many hours as I could to help out my family. I didn’t have time for anything else.”

“I get that.” Brett placed his hand over hers, the heat from his skin sending electricity through Courtney’s body. Her breathing slowed, her head spinning from his touch.

It took everything in her to pull away, and she sipped her water, as if it could wash away her feelings for him. It was unfair and unkind to lead him on when they couldn’t be together.

Pain flashed across his face—she hated knowing that she’d hurt him. But it was gone a second later, and he continued with what he was saying, as if that moment had never happened.

“I know you could have written an essay about your situation that would have blown the admission councils away,” he said. “But you’re not in that position anymore. Now you’re attending one of the most elite private schools in the state, and you’ll be competing to get into the top colleges against students who go to similar schools all over the country. Out of the last graduating class from Goodman, twenty percent of the students went to Ivies, fifty percent went to top-tier schools that are almost as competitive, and the rest went to other selective schools. Adrian and my mom want you to be prepared.”

“That makes sense,” Courtney said, although it was a lot to take in. At least this conversation was keeping her thoughts away from how much she wanted Brett to put his hand on hers again, or how every glance at his lips made her flash back to when he’d kissed her at the grand opening. And how much she wanted him to kiss her again. “But I can’t imagine those girls who were gossiping about parties and fashion going to Ivy league schools.”

“They’re shallow,” Brett said. “But they’re not stupid. They get good grades, and their parents will either donate to the college they want their kid to get into—like Adrian did for Goodman—or hire ‘college admission strategists’ to boost their applications and give them a better chance at being accepted to top schools.”

The reminder of how Adrian had bought her and her sisters into Goodman by funding the new sports center made Courtney sad at the unfairness of it all. “What’s a ‘college admission strategist’?”

“What it sounds like,” Brett said. “Someone who knows what colleges want and will sit down with a student and his or her parents, analyze the student’s academic history and strategize how to create the most successful application possible. For a few grand, of course.”

“And then that student has a better chance at getting into the school they want over someone who can’t afford a strategist.” Courtney shook her head. “That’s not fair, is it?”

“It’s not fair, but it’s reality.” He shrugged. “I’m not the biggest fan of everyone at Goodman myself, but not everyone here is shallow. You’ll find your place.”

Courtney wished she could feel as confident about that as he sounded. “I’m starting to understand why you liked your public school better.”

“I preferred the people at my old school,” Brett corrected her. “The teachers at Goodman are fantastic—they love what they do—and the classes are better, because they’re smaller and discussion-based. Plus, I want to go to UCLA for their film program. If a college admissions strategist can help me get there, even though you’re right that the system isn’t fair, I can’t turn the opportunity down. Wouldn’t you do anything to get into Stanford?”

“I think so,” Courtney said, although the realization that she would probably give in to such an unfair system made her stomach sink. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe this is all happening. I always wanted to go to Stanford, but deep down I knew it wouldn’t be possible.”

“What do you mean?” He looked as if he genuinely cared about her response. She loved the way Brett listened because he wanted to hear what she had to say, and not because he was just waiting for his next opportunity to speak. It made him different from most people she knew. “Why didn’t you think it would be possible?”

“Because if I left, who would take care of my mom and Savannah?” she said. “I probably would have ended up at the local community college so I could live at home and continue helping out. But now, to be talking about Stanford like it’s a real possibility…. can’t wrap my head around the opportunities I have now and what it means for my future.”

“You would have realized it when Peyton gained access to her trust fund.” Brett leaned forward, his eyes staring deep into her soul. “This was always bound to happen to you, Courtney. It just happened sooner than expected.”

She was speechless, hardly able to think or breathe. Looking into each other’s eyes was so personal, and it made it too easy for her feelings for him to fight their way to the surface when she needed to bury them.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand why my mom refused help from Adrian,” she finally said, her voice wavering. “She never spoke about him—it was like he did something so horrible that she wanted to pretend he didn’t exist. I know she must have been worried out of her mind when I was kidnapped as a baby, and it sounds like she blamed Adrian for that happening, but I was returned home safely. There has to be more to it than that.”

Brett’s jaw clenched. “Now that the secret’s out about Adrian being your father, she’ll have to explain.”

“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe she’s being irrational. She never has been the most mentally stable person. Which isn’t her fault, but it’s still frustrating.”

They ate in silence for a few seconds, and Courtney contemplated what she would say to her mom when she was released from inpatient treatment next month. They’d never been close—she’d always felt like her mom loved her least out of her sisters. It would be a difficult conversation, and she couldn’t imagine how it would go. Her throat tightened just from trying.

“When did you say Habitat met again?” Brett asked, zapping her out of her thoughts.

“Thursdays during lunch block.” Courtney ran a hand through her hair and tried to relax, glad he’d changed the subject. “Why? Are you thinking of joining?”

“I’ll go to the first meeting with you and check it out. If I join, maybe I’ll make a short video about the house we build.”

“I would love that,” she said, meaning it. His face lit up, and she wanted to grab his hand, to move her chair closer to his, to lean into him and rest her head on his shoulder and enjoy the view of the lake…but she had to stop these thoughts. If she wanted to continue being around him—which she not only did but wouldn’t have a choice about once their parents were married—she had to make him believe she didn’t see him that way. So despite every muscle in her body begging her not to, she leaned away from him and said, “It would be nice to have a friend join with me.”

His face fell when she said the word friend, and the word tasted sour on her tongue. But then he sat up straighter and moved his chair closer to hers, and she knew he wasn’t going to leave it at that. She couldn’t back away, or get up in the pretense of having to be somewhere else, or do anything to discourage him…. She needed to know what he had to say. Not knowing would be positively painful.

“We both know that there’s more than friendship between us.” He rested his fingers on top of her hand, which she’d stupidly left on the armrest closest to him, and her skin heated, her breaths coming faster. “I know you’re trying to fight it, but, Courtney…I can tell that you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you. And there’s no reason for us not to be together. We could even be together in secret. No one has to know.”

His eyes blazed, daring her to be honest with him. She yearned to say yes, to be brave and follow her feelings, no matter the consequences.

But she couldn’t forget what Rebecca—Brett’s mom and her soon-to-be stepmother—had told her after seeing her and Brett kiss in public. Rebecca had taken her to brunch at the Grande Café in the Diamond the day after the grand opening, just the two of them, so that they could talk about it….

“It seems like you and Brett are getting along well.” Rebecca had been the one to start the conversation.

“We have a lot in common.” Courtney fidgeted. It wouldn’t be long until Rebecca mentioned the kiss—the kiss with Brett that had been incredible, but that she’d given in to despite Adrian’s rule that she and her sisters must not get romantically involved with their stepbrother-to-be.

Rebecca nodded. “My son is a wonderful boy, and I would be proud of him dating someone as responsible as you.”

Courtney’s heart jumped. Maybe Rebecca wasn’t going to forbid her from dating Brett?

“Thank you,” she said, hoping the conversation would continue on this positive note. If Rebecca approved of Courtney being with Brett, she could convince Adrian to revoke his rule.

“However,” Rebecca said, and Courtney’s stomach dropped, her fork pausing midair, “while I know overcoming your feelings for Brett will be hard, Adrian and I have our reasons for not allowing this to continue.”

Courtney placed her fork down, her appetite gone. “But you said you would be happy if Brett and I were together?”

“I said I would be proud if he dated someone as responsible as you,” Rebecca repeated. “But we’re about to become a family.” She watched Courtney closely, as if begging her to understand.

But Courtney hadn’t defied the rules just to be put back into place. If she wanted Rebecca to understand where she was coming from, she would have to be vocal about her feelings. It would be awkward, because she didn’t know Rebecca well, but Brett was worth it.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” She spoke quietly, looking down at her barely touched brunch. “The connection between us….t’s real.”

Pity shone in Rebecca’s eyes. “I remember as a teen feeling like each relationship I was in would last forever, but unfortunately, it doesn’t always work like that.” She looked off into the distance, as if remembering something. “High school relationships end for various reasons, even if both people involved are fantastic individuals and have great times together. After those relationships end, it’s healthy to put that person in the past and move on with your life. But if you and Brett dated and it didn’t work out, you wouldn’t be able to put each other in the past, because you would also be step-siblings. It would strain the family, and it would put both of you through an incredible amount of pain.”

But it wouldn’t be like that between Courtney and Brett…. They were different. She couldn’t ignore her feelings for him because they might break up in the future.

On the other hand, Rebecca’s logic was irrefutable. If they did break up, they would be forced to see each other often. They would be a part of the same family. Every time they were around each other would be incredibly painful. Courtney was already dealing with that now, and they’d only been “together” for a week. What if they were together for months, and then had to go through something similar to what they were going through now? It would be torturous.

The smartest long-term decision was to push aside her feelings for Brett to save herself from that hurt in the future.

So after talking with Rebecca, Courtney had had a similar conversation with Brett, during which she’d explained the reasons they couldn’t date. He’d avoided her for weeks.

Now he was practically begging her to give them another chance. But despite wanting to give in—to say yes, she wanted to be together, and see how happy those words made him—she couldn’t do it. She would disappoint the family, and the pain she would go through if it didn’t work out between them scared her. Her sisters believed she was strong, that she could remain levelheaded in the face of anything, but that was only because she kept herself from making unwise decisions to begin with.

“What do you say?” Brett asked again. “Do you want to see where this leads?”

“We can’t.” Courtney pulled her hand away and laid it in her lap. Despite the desert heat, her skin felt cold where it had been touching his.

He sat back and scowled. “Is that really how you feel, or do you just not want to disappoint Adrian?”

“Not wanting to disappoint Adrian and your mom is part of it,” Courtney said, her voice low. “But you know my main reason.”

“How if it doesn’t work out, we’ll never get the space we need because we’ll be in the same family.” Brett repeated what she’d told him after that brunch with Rebecca.

“Yes.” She nodded, her throat tight from forcing the word out. “We’re not just two people who happened to fall for each other. In less than a year our parents will be married. If it doesn’t work between us, it could get extremely messy. We would still have to see each other, and it would be painful. Like what we’re going through now times a thousand.”

“So you do still have feelings for me.” His eyes gleamed triumphantly, and she couldn’t lie to him and deny it. “I knew it. But there’s another way to look at this…the way I choose to look at this. What if it does work out? Wouldn’t it be worth it?”

For a brief moment, Courtney imagined pushing aside logic and acting on her feelings. She loved spending time with Brett, and trusted that whatever was between them was real and deserved a chance. Maybe it would work, and maybe it wouldn’t. If it didn’t work out, she could worry about it then. That’s what Peyton would do. Sometimes Courtney wished she could be daring like her older sister, and let loose and enjoy the present without worrying about the future.

She could wish it all she wanted, but it wouldn’t change who she was.

“We can’t risk it.” Courtney forced herself to sound strong. “Besides, if we dated secretly, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it. I would worry about Adrian and Rebecca finding out, and about how we would never be able to get space from each other if it didn’t end well. I can’t put myself through that.”

“I can’t imagine wanting to end things with you,” he said, looking at her like he truly believed it. “So you have no reason to be afraid of that happening. I promise.”

Her heart melted at how undeniably sweet that was, and she trusted that, in this moment, he meant every word.

“That’s how you feel now.” She blinked away tears. “But you don’t know if you’ll still feel that way weeks from now, or months from now. It’s not a promise I could hold you to.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, taking her by surprise. It was what she’d wanted him to say, but now that he had, she felt as empty as before—maybe more so. “Not that we can’t be together,” he clarified, “but that we can’t know what will happen between us in the future. If we don’t give this a chance, we’ll never know. And I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t live with that. The only way to know is to try.”

Courtney’s heart raced; she wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take before she caved. If he didn’t stop pushing her, she would have only two options—give in and ruin whatever trust she was building with Adrian and Rebecca and risk putting herself through undeniable heartbreak, or distance herself from Brett and not even be friends with him. And as much as imagining them being only friends hurt, it had to be better than nothing. Right?

“You’re making this so hard for me,” she said. “But you know my reasons, and I hope you can understand and respect them.”

“I understand them,” he said, although the determination hadn’t left his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I agree with them.”

He dropped it after that, although she couldn’t help feeling that it was only for now, and he wasn’t giving up. Which should have frustrated her. She should make him promise to drop it completely, and not push her again.

But she couldn’t do that. Because, while she wanted to believe everything she was saying, she still wondered what would happen if she could set aside her inhibitions and see what they could have together.

* * *

The student tutoring meeting started fifteen minutes after last period, but Courtney didn’t want to be late, so she went straight there. One other person had the same idea: Madison Lockhart. Courtney didn’t dislike many people, but she hadn’t liked Madison since she’d kissed Damien in front of Savannah and made Savannah cry. Even worse, Madison hadn’t seemed sorry about it.

Madison glanced at Courtney and draped her long dark hair in front of her shoulders. “If you’re signing up to get tutored, you’ll have to wait until Friday,” she said, her voice so fakely sweet that it made Courtney want to roll her eyes. “This meeting is for the tutors only.”

“Then I’m in the right place.” Courtney sat down, leaving an empty seat between her and Madison, and dropped her bag onto the floor next to her feet. “I tutored at my last school, and I want to tutor here, too.”

“You can’t just decide to be a tutor,” Madison said. “You need recommendations from teachers you’ve completed courses with at Goodman. Since you’re new, that means you’ll have to wait until at least next semester.”

Courtney matched Madison’s fake smile at the victory she knew was coming, which was petty, but she deserved it. “Over the summer I emailed the teacher in charge of student tutoring with recommendations from my teachers at Fairfield,” she said. “She looked them over and said she would be happy to have me as an English tutor for lower classmen.”

“Oh.” Madison frowned. “Well, if you only tutor in English, you won’t be working with your future stepbrother.”

“Brett?” Courtney’s heart leaped. “I didn’t know you knew each other.”

“I tutored him in bio.” She tossed her hair back and smiled, as if enjoying a private joke. “We had one-on-one tutoring sessions in the private rooms all last semester, and let’s just say we got to know each other pretty well.”

“How well?” Courtney’s chest tightened at what Madison was hinting.

But Madison couldn’t have been involved with Brett. He would have said something, and besides, he would never be interested in Madison. She was the type of Goodman snob he didn’t hang out with—the type of girl who was ignorant of everything outside of her one-percenter bubble. What could they have in common?

“I got to know him well enough,” Madison said. “When two people spend that much time together, they form some sort of connection. We hung out a few times over the summer, too. I’m surprised he hasn’t mentioned it.”

Courtney’s fingers clenched into fists, and she wanted to demand that Madison explain what she meant. But before she had a chance, three more girls walked in, followed by the teacher.

Throughout the introductory session, Courtney kept imagining Madison tutoring Brett in one of the individual rooms, the two of them getting to know each other until they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. And Madison had more experience than Courtney—Courtney’s only kiss had been with Brett at the grand opening. (There was also the time Oliver had tried to kiss her on the way home from the charity event held by his mom that she’d been forced to attend with him, but that didn’t count.)

The images of Madison and Brett in a small room together—using the table to study biology in a way quite different from reading about it in a textbook—made Courtney’s mind fuzzy and unfocused through the entire meeting. She barely heard a word.

If Madison had said that stuff to distract her, it had worked. But Courtney wasn’t having it. She also didn’t trust Madison to be honest.

There was only one way to find out the truth: she had to ask Brett herself.

* * *

Once back at the Diamond, Courtney knocked on Brett’s door. She needed to speak with him in person—this wasn’t something she wanted to ask via text message or over the phone. And it wasn’t a far trek, since their condos were across the hall.

Brett’s eyebrows shot up when he opened the door. Then he smiled, as if he thought her being there meant she’d changed her mind about them being together. Her stomach twisted at how off guard he would be when he found out the reason for her visit.

Courtney took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Approaching Brett was the right thing to do—it was the only thing she could do to keep the what-ifs from driving her crazy and messing up her focus in school. She was here to make sure she stayed on track academically.

It would be easier to convince herself of that if her heart hadn’t started pounding the moment she saw Brett.

“Hey.” He opened the door wider and motioned for her to come in. She did, keeping her hands gripped around the straps of her backpack so he couldn’t see them shaking.

His condo was nearly identical to the one Courtney shared with her sisters—a foyer, living room with a panoramic view of the Strip, dining area, kitchen and a door to the master bedroom, all in a sleek contemporary style. The only difference was that his didn’t have the extra hallway that led to the other two bedrooms.

“Are you busy?” Courtney asked.

“Just watching The Walking Dead,” he replied. Courtney glanced at the ninety-inch television—the same size as the one in her and her sisters’ living room—which was paused on an image of a fierce black woman swinging a sword at a bloodied, decaying monster. “I’m on season three.”

“I’ve never seen it,” she said. “Well, I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know much about it. I never used to have time for TV.” She glanced out the window and reminded herself why she was there: to ask him about whatever had happened between him and Madison.

But he spoke again before she had a chance.

“I have all the seasons on DVD. Now that you have more free time, we could marathon them from the beginning.”

Her breath caught. Was he asking her as a date? Or as friends? Either way, marathon watching any show with Brett would be a bad idea. That would mean being alone with him for hours, and she couldn’t trust herself to repress her feelings for him for that long.

She glanced at the corpse monster on-screen again and cringed. “It looks…violent. And gruesome.”

“It definitely can be.” He picked up the remote and powered off the TV. “But it’s not bad when you remind yourself that it’s makeup and effects. Plus, even though it’s set in the zombie apocalypse, the essence of the show is about humanity—how people adapt and react in extreme situations, having to work together to survive with people they would have never encountered in their normal lives.”

“It sounds like some of the dystopian books I read,” Courtney said.

His eyes glinted with amusement. “So you don’t have time for TV, but you do have time for reading?”

“Always.” Courtney lowered her hands from the straps of her bag. “I borrowed books from the library at school so often that the librarian knew me by name. I can’t fall asleep at night without reading at least a chapter, but I usually read more. And while I know I shouldn’t, I sometimes read before doing my homework, to recenter my mind so I can focus.”

“That’s why I watch an episode of a TV show when I get home from school.” Brett’s voice rose, sounding so excited that they had this small thing in common. “But I should read more. Whenever I read a book, I usually enjoy it. But there are so many movies and television series I want to watch that I’ll never have time for them all in my lifetime, so I go to those first.”

“That’s how I feel about books.” Courtney smiled. “It’s why I never read a book more than once—because the time spent rereading one book is one less new story I’ll be exposed to in my life.”

Suddenly Courtney realized she’d gotten off track from the reason she’d dropped by. “Anyway.” She played with her hands, hating the turn this conversation was about to take. “I talked to Madison at the student tutoring meeting.”

“Oh.” Brett’s face fell. “I didn’t know you two were friends.”

“We’re not.” Her voice shook at how she’d clearly struck a nerve. “She happened to be there early, like me, and she…mentioned you.”

“What about me?” He ran his hands through his hair, his eyes not meeting hers. She’d wanted to believe Madison was exaggerating, but after seeing Brett’s reaction to the mere fact that Madison had talked to Courtney, she wasn’t so sure.

“She told me she tutored you last year.” Feeling shaky again, Courtney walked to the sofa and perched on the arm, dropping her bag on the floor. “In bio.”

He joined her on the couch, keeping space between them, and took a few seconds to respond. “She did,” he finally said. “I was behind in bio since I’d transferred into Goodman from public school, so I went to the tutoring center for help. Madison was the tutor assigned to me.”

“Okay.” Courtney forced herself to sound distant and detached—there was no other way for her to continue without risking losing control of her emotions. “She hinted that more went on between you than tutoring. That you were…involved. Over the summer.”

Brett looked down, and Courtney’s heart dropped. “It only happened once.”

She reeled back, the thought of Brett and Madison together making her blood boil. How could she have not known about this until now?

“But it was before I met you,” he said, his eyes blazing with intensity. “The night it happened, Madison and I both had too much to drink, and we kissed. It didn’t go further than that, but she wanted it to. Afterward I told her it would never happen again. She refused to listen, but then I met you, and she finally got the message that nothing was ever going to happen with me and her.” He scooted closer, and as much as Courtney knew she should put distance between them, his eyes pinned her in place. “Because after I met you, I knew you were the one for me. I’ve known it every day since. You’re smart, caring, selfless, kind, understanding, and I can talk with you for hours. You’re beautiful inside and out. No one else has ever come close to comparing to you, and to be honest, I’m not sure anyone ever will.”

His words sent her head spinning and her heart racing—they were everything Courtney wanted to hear. She couldn’t imagine anyone ever comparing to him, either.

But if they were meant to be together, why would fate have made it so they were about to be step-siblings? If she gave in to Brett and was with him in secret, it would eventually come out. Then she’d be a disappointment to Adrian and Rebecca, just like, for reasons she’d never known, she’d always been a disappointment to her mother. The only person who appreciated her for her, who had no expectations for her to be perfect, was Grandma. She touched the key necklace Grandma had given her for her birthday last year, hoping it would give her strength.

No matter what she did, she and those she cared for would end up hurt. So she fought the war waging inside her and focused on the one thing Brett had said that she found truly shocking.

“Madison Lockhart wanted to sleep with you, and you turned her down?”

Brett’s eyes dimmed. “I just poured my heart out to you, and that’s how you reply?”

“I’m sorry.” Courtney bit her lip, hating how disappointed he sounded. “I do care about you, Brett. But we’ve already been through this—we can’t be more than friends. Although I am glad to hear that you turned Madison down. I don’t think most guys would have done that.”

He watched her closely, but something in her eyes must have warned him not to push her any further. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said. “But I don’t think Madison wanted to sleep with me. She’s a virgin. I think she wanted a relationship, but she wouldn’t even say hi to me in front of her stuck-up friends, so I told her I wasn’t interested. We haven’t talked in weeks, and I still don’t know why she fixated on me in the first place. Maybe because I don’t worship her like most guys at school do.”

“Madison’s a virgin?” Courtney didn’t like to gossip, but talking about Madison was a distraction from her own emotions. “No way.”

“Yeah.” Brett shrugged. “Guys are always joking about what they would give to be her first. I don’t know what Madison hinted to you, but we only kissed once. If I’d already met you, it never would have happened.”

Courtney’s heart flipped at his confession, and every muscle in her body begged her to crush her lips against his, to feel his arms around her and to tell him to never let go. But then she would be a goner. And her ultimate decision would still be the same, so she would only be hurting both of them.

She stood from the sofa and grabbed her bag. “Thanks for being honest with me,” she said, surprising herself by how levelheaded she sounded, when inside her emotions were tearing her to pieces. “You didn’t have to tell me anything, since we’re not dating, but I appreciate it. And I’m sorry we can’t see where anything goes between us. I wouldn’t blame you if you started avoiding me again. It might make all this easier….”

“I’m definitely frustrated.” Brett stood and stepped closer so that he was right in front of her. He lifted his arm slowly and pushed her hair behind her ear, his finger brushing against her skin, leaving heat in its wake. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you. I meant everything I said to you. I know this is complicated, but I also know you care about me more than you’re saying. Be with me, Courtney. We’ll keep it secret for as long as we can, and then we’ll deal with any consequences together. I promise.”

Her heart pounded so hard she swore he could hear it. And he must have sensed that she wasn’t going to move away, because he stepped closer, his nose grazing hers. Every molecule in her body urged her to give in; this felt so right. But then images passed through her mind—the disappointment that would surely be in Rebecca’s, Adrian’s, Peyton’s and Savannah’s eyes when they found out she’d been lying to them—and with a will Courtney didn’t know she had, she pulled back.

“I can’t.” She shook her head, her cheeks hot, and she stumbled to the door. “I wish this wasn’t so complicated, but it’s about more than what you and I want. It’s about my family, and the family that we’re all about to become. If we were together in secret, I would have to lie to them. And as much as I care about you, I couldn’t live with the guilt of doing that.”

His hand dropped to his side, his eyes pained, as if she’d taken a knife to his heart. She turned away and hurried out into the hall, slamming the door shut behind her. Everything she’d said was true, but as she fumbled in her bag for her key, she wondered if she was making a huge mistake. Brett cared about her and wanted to be with her, and she cared about him, too.

But there were so many ways it could go wrong, and that positively terrified her.

Chapter 3: Peyton

As much as she hated to admit it—and she still hadn’t to Adrian and Rebecca—Goodman wasn’t as awful as Peyton had anticipated. Back at Fairfield High, each school day had been excruciating, having to sit still all day and listen to teachers drone on and on from the textbooks, talking down to the students when they asked questions. But at Goodman, instead of listening to lectures all day, they had discussions. The teachers treated the students like equals, most of them even going by their first names.

Her favorite teacher was her English teacher, Hunter Sterling. He was in his mid-twenties, and with his shaggy brown hair and dark eyes, he looked startlingly similar to Damon from The Vampire Diaries. His Australian accent only added to his hotness. To impress him, Peyton even tried reading the books for class instead of looking them up on SparkNotes.

She still wasn’t over Jackson, but her deliciously sexy bodyguard—who was also in his mid-twenties—had made it clear since the night they’d kissed in the elevator during the grand opening of the Diamond that they had to keep a professional distance. Peyton had tried to fight him on it—she knew she hadn’t imagined the connection between them—but he refused to budge. And as her bodyguard, he was around her nearly all the time, which made it impossible to not think about him. A distraction like Hunter was just what she needed—for her own sanity, and to maybe respark Jackson’s interest.

Which was why on a Saturday in late September, when she was walking through the Diamond after spending all day at the main pool, luck was on her side when she spotted Hunter sitting by himself at the bar. She reapplied her lip gloss and pulled down her sheer cover-up so that it showed off her cleavage. A glance behind her verified what she already knew—Jackson was on her tail. Perfect. This had to break his wall, or at least make a crack in it.

“Hi, Hunter,” Peyton said, sliding into the seat next to her teacher. Her skirt rose up her thighs, and she crossed her legs toward him, not bothering to pull it down.

“Peyton,” he said, clearing his throat. “I didn’t expect to run into one of my students here.”

“I live here,” she said, figuring he already knew that. Most everyone at Goodman had known who she was from day one, since Adrian Diamond was famous around this city. “I was just coming inside from doing some reading at the pool.” Strangely enough, it was the truth. If she had to do her reading, she might as well be outside instead of cooped up in her room. And sure, she’d only read for fifteen minutes before she’d gotten bored, but Hunter didn’t have to know that.

“For class or for fun?” he asked.

“For class.” Peyton never read for fun in her spare time—that was all Courtney.

“And how are you liking One Hundred Years of Solitude?”

“It’s okay,” she said. “There are parts that confuse me, but I’m doing my best.” Not having much else to say about the book, and hoping Hunter wouldn’t want to have some long, intellectual conversation about it, she was glad when Ramon, the bartender, came over to see if she wanted a drink.

“I’ll have a strawberry daiquiri,” Peyton said, wanting something refreshing after sitting out in the sun all day. Ramon knew she was underage and would give her a virgin daiquiri, but she was curious to see Hunter’s reaction. Was he cool, or would he call her out?

Hunter raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Ramon placed the drink in front of her.

“What brings you to the Diamond?” Peyton asked, sipping her drink.

“It’s slightly embarrassing, but I’ll tell you if you promise not to judge me,” he said in that ridiculously sexy accent of his.

“That’s only fair.” She smiled, trying not to bounce her legs in anticipation.

“I’m meeting someone from Match.com.”

“No way.” She laughed, but composed herself, since she’d promised not to judge him. “Why does someone like you have to use a dating website?”

“Someone like me?”

She gave him a once-over—tall, built, mysterious and a gorgeous Australian accent. “I would have thought you had a girlfriend, or at least would have no problem meeting girls at clubs and bars,” she said. “They probably can’t stay away from you.”

“It’s tough to meet people when you’re new to a country, know nobody and most of your colleagues are twenty years older than you,” Hunter said, taking a swig of his drink. “Plus, my best mate from home met his fiancée on Match, so he convinced me to give it a go.”

“And where’s your date now?”

“We’re not supposed to meet for another twenty minutes.” He glanced at his watch. “But it’s my first time here, and these hotels in Vegas are massive—I didn’t want to get lost. I’ve also never met someone from one of these sites before. I figured that grabbing a drink first might ease the nerves.”

“Cheers to that.” Peyton raised her glass, and he clinked it with hers. She smiled over the rim, her stomach flipping when he smiled back at her. “I hope you don’t mind if I stay here while I finish my drink?” she asked. “I’ll leave before your date gets here, of course.”

“She’s texting me when she gets to the entrance of the hotel, so you’re free to save her seat until she arrives.”

They chatted for the next fifteen minutes, and Peyton learned about life in Australia and how it was different from America. It sounded like the Australians were much more liberal and open-minded than Americans. Peyton thought she would like it there, and she told him so.

Then she spotted Madison Lockhart sitting across the bar with her short-haired blonde friend, Larissa. Peyton hadn’t liked Madison since she’d broken Savannah’s heart over the summer by kissing Damien—the guy Savannah had a crush on—in front of her, just to hurt her. It was cruel, and Peyton and her sisters had kept their distance from Madison ever since.

Madison had her phone out, the camera pointed at Peyton. Larissa glanced at Peyton, laughed at whatever was on the screen, and whispered something to Madison. Then Madison’s eyes met Peyton’s, and she lowered her phone.

Everyone at Goodman knew who Hunter was—the girls talked about him, because he was the only hot teacher in the upper school—but Madison wouldn’t take pictures of him with Peyton and sell them out, would she?

Of course she would. Madison had already proven herself to be a bitch who hated Peyton and her sisters. If this was her latest stunt, there was no way in hell Peyton would let her get away with it.

“You could do a semester in Australia while you’re attending university.” Hunter’s voice zapped Peyton’s focus away from Madison and Larissa, reminding her she was midconversation with him. “Studying abroad is an excellent way to immerse yourself in another culture.”

“I’ll look into it,” she said vaguely, since she didn’t feel like getting into the I’m-not-going-to-college conversation. “Anyway, I see some people I know. I should head over and say hi to them.”

She planned on saying a lot more to them than that, but Hunter didn’t need to know the details.

“My date’s almost here, anyway,” Hunter said with what Peyton thought was disappointment. “Thanks for keeping me company while I waited.”

“I enjoyed talking with you.” She stood and straightened her skirt. “Good luck with your internet date. I hope she isn’t too weird.”

“Thanks.” He chuckled. “I hope so, too. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Peyton hurried away, feeling bad about leaving so abruptly—but she had to reach Madison and Larissa before they paid their checks.

She held Madison’s gaze as she approached, as if daring her to back down. The girl didn’t flinch, not even when Peyton was close enough to notice that Madison’s eyes were a similar vibrant shade of blue as hers and her sisters’. She must wear colored contacts.

“What do you want?” Larissa snickered, ending the stare-down. “You looked pretty busy throwing yourself all over Mr. Sterling. I mean Hunter.” She held her hands under her chin and batted her eyes dramatically. “He didn’t reject you…did he?”

“Of course he didn’t reject me.” Peyton glared at Larissa. “But when I spotted the two of you doing something that looked suspiciously like taking pictures of us on Madison’s phone, I had to make sure that wasn’t what was going on. Because if it was, and those pictures got out, he could get fired.” She turned to Madison, who was holding her phone on her lap. “So tell me—were you taking pictures of us, or am I just being paranoid?”

“Calm down,” Madison said evenly. “No one’s going to get fired.”

“That wasn’t an answer.” Peyton reached forward and grabbed the phone out of Madison’s hands.

“Hey!” Madison’s mouth dropped, and she swiped for the phone, but Peyton held it out of her reach. “Give that back.”

“Not until I make sure there aren’t any pictures on here of me and Hunter.” She clicked to go into the phone, and huffed when it was locked. “What’s your password?”

“Seriously?” Madison said. “You expect me to give you my password? No way. Give it back.”

She made a move for it again and missed, but not before Larissa got it in her grip. Larissa and Peyton held it tightly, glaring at each other like bulls in a ring, neither of them letting go. The hotel guests nearby were staring, but Peyton didn’t care. She was not allowing those pictures to stay on that phone.

“Is there a problem here?” a stern voice asked from behind—Jackson. He must have looked intimidating, because Larissa let go of the phone, leaving it in Peyton’s grasp. She turned to face him. He was business as usual, although she swore she saw a flicker of amusement in his hazel eyes. “Well?” he said, looking between Peyton, Larissa and Madison like they were all little kids.

Peyton raised her chin, refusing to be belittled. “I have reason to believe there are pictures of me on Madison’s phone that were taken against my will and need to be deleted,” she said, mustering as much snobby-hotel-heiress tone as she could manage without being over-the-top. “I was about to check, but Madison refused to give me her password.”

Jackson took the phone from Peyton and handed it to Madison. “Enter your password, and then give the phone back to Miss Diamond. If she’s mistaken and there are no pictures of her that were taken without her permission, then there’s no harm done. If there are pictures, there will be serious legal repercussions initiated by Mr. Diamond if you don’t allow them to be deleted. And if you refuse to cooperate by not entering your password, the phone will be confiscated under the assumption that you have something to hide. Do you understand?”

“And who exactly are you?” Larissa crossed her arms, although her nasally voice didn’t sound as confident as it had earlier.

“I’m Miss Diamond’s bodyguard.” Jackson moved his suit jacket to the side, giving a glimpse of his gun. Larissa pressed her lips together and shrank back in her seat. “And I suggest that you cooperate. No need to make more trouble for yourselves than necessary.”

Madison grudgingly entered her password and handed the phone to Peyton, who gladly took it from her. Peyton clicked into Madison’s photo album, and sure enough, there were two pictures of her at the bar with Hunter, the two of them having drinks and flirting.

“And you told me to ‘calm down’—as if I’d imagined you taking the pictures?” Peyton sneered and hit the trash can button beneath each one. “Good thing I’m not naive.”

“I told you to calm down because I wasn’t going to post them anywhere public,” Madison said. “You and I might not be friends, but I don’t want to get Hunter fired.”

“So why take the pictures?” Peyton handed the phone back to Madison, feeling lighter now that the pictures were gone.

“Because you were drinking and flirting with our hot Aussie English teacher,” Larissa chimed in. “Why not take pictures?”

Madison looked like she was going to add something, but she didn’t have a chance.

“None of this matters, because the pictures are deleted,” Jackson said. “Now, Peyton, I believe you need to get up to your condo to get changed for dinner. You’re running late as it is.”

“Right,” Peyton said, although she knew as well as Jackson did that there were no dinner reservations that night. She stomped away from Madison and Larissa, not bothering to say bye, the sounds of their whispers and laughter coming from behind her. She would not give them the satisfaction of turning around and glaring at them.

As she made her way to the penthouse elevators, she reminded herself that despite what Jackson had done for her back there, nothing had changed between them. He wasn’t going to open up to her again like he had for those few days over the summer. By intervening and making sure the photos were deleted, he was doing his job. Carl and Teddy would have done the same for Savannah and Courtney. She shouldn’t get her hopes up.

She pressed the button for the elevator, and as always, Jackson appeared beside her. This elevator ride would surely be spent the same way as the rest of them since the kiss—either silent, with vague chitchat or with one-word responses from him when she attempted to have a real conversation. Not like she’d made any recent attempts. His barriers were impossible to break through, and eventually, she’d stopped trying. Being rejected over and over again was too painful.

The elevator was empty except for the two of them. She slid her key card into the slot, and pressed the button for the top floor.

“I could have handled those girls myself,” she said, bracing herself for what would surely be a one-word, emotionless response.

“Not without causing a scene that might have led to people taking more unwanted pictures of you,” he said, his jaw tense. “You need to be more careful.”

She crossed her arms and watched the floor numbers on the display climb. That was worse than a one-word response—clearly he thought she was an impulsive kid. It was opposite from the way Hunter had treated her at the bar—as if she were an adult worthy of real conversation.

“Who was that guy you were talking to?” Jackson’s voice broke through the silence. “The one your classmates took photos of you with?”

Her breath hitched at the realization that Jackson had asked her a personal question. And that seeing her with Hunter might have made him jealous. Could he still care about her?

“That was Hunter Sterling, from Australia.” She tilted her head toward Jackson, allowing her long hair to drape over her shoulder, and smiled. “Why are you asking?”

“Because he’s too old for you,” Jackson said, concern breaking through his normally impassive expression.

“He’s only a little older than you,” Peyton said playfully. “I would guess twenty-five or twenty-six. So he’s not too old for me. We actually had a rather fascinating conversation.”

“You want me to believe you walked up to this guy randomly and struck up a conversation?” Jackson asked. “I’ve been guarding you for months now, so I know that’s not your typical behavior.”

“And what’s my ‘typical behavior’?”

“You let guys come to you,” he said, his eyes so intense that she forgot to breathe. “Not the other way around.”

“Fine, you’re right,” she admitted. The truth was more interesting, anyway. “He’s my English teacher. I saw him at the bar, and it would have been rude of me to not say hi.”

“That guy was your teacher?” Jackson jerked his head to look at her straight on, his arm muscles flexing.

“Relax.” Peyton kept her tone light. Jackson was definitely jealous—maybe all wasn’t lost between them. “Like I said, it would have been rude of me not to say hi. I had a question about something we’re reading for class, and he helped me out while he waited for his date to arrive. It’s no big deal.”

Jackson focused on the crack in the elevator doors, and Peyton chipped at her black nail polish, worried that the connection between them was gone again. “I hope so,” he finally said, stepping aside so that she could leave the elevator first.

She walked into the hall, and he followed far behind, as if he’d never let his guard down to begin with. But that conversation was enough to give her hope. He still cared about her. They had a chance…. She just had to play her cards right.

And she was getting a distinct vibe not to push him anymore. At least, not right now.

Her phone buzzed with a text, and she took it from her bag, glad for a distraction. It was from someone she hadn’t spoken to in a while: Oliver Prescott. She’d thought she was interested in him during her first few days in Vegas, but once she’d realized what a jerk he was—he’d stupidly bet he could sleep with her and her sisters before the end of summer—she’d moved on. She’d been the only one to sleep with him, and while she hated that she’d been played, better her than Courtney or Savannah. She was the only one of them strong enough to handle it, mainly because she was the only one who wasn’t a virgin. To have your virginity taken by someone who was using you….eyton shuddered at how awful that would feel. Someone would have to do something terrible to deserve that. Even the guy she’d lost her virginity to—her ex-boyfriend, Vince—had thought he loved her at the time.

She opened up the message from Oliver and read it.

Have u thought about what u want me to do for that bet, or are u gonna keep stalling?

Peyton rolled her eyes and threw her phone back into her bag. He didn’t have to clarify what bet he was referring to. Over the summer, Oliver’s parents had set him up on a date with Courtney. They thought she would be a “good influence” on him. At that point, Peyton and Oliver had already hooked up, and she’d been pissed that he’d agreed to go on the date with Courtney instead of bringing her. She’d told him Courtney would never be interested in him, but he’d claimed otherwise, going as far as turning it into a bet. Knowing that Oliver wasn’t Courtney’s type, and that Courtney would never fall for his games, Peyton had agreed. She’d won, and the terms of their bet stated that because Oliver had lost, he had to do any one thing Peyton asked.

Luckily they hadn’t set a time limit, because she still hadn’t come up with the perfect task.

Once she was inside her condo, she took out her phone and replied to the text.

Not yet. But once I do, don’t worry—I’ll let you know.

Chapter 4: Madison

“Now that we’re reaching the end of September—along with the end of our blood type unit—it’s time for you to discover your own blood types,” Madison’s advanced genetics teacher, Mrs. Amy, said from the front of the classroom.

“Lab partners?” Madison’s best friend, Oliver Prescott, asked from his seat next to her. He didn’t normally take advanced classes, because he liked doing the least amount of work for school as possible, but Madison had convinced him that advanced genetics would be easier than chemistry or physics. Madison, on the other hand, was doubling up on her junior year sciences by taking both advanced genetics and AP chemistry.

“Of course,” Madison said as Mrs. Amy passed out the supplies. She did most of the work when she did labs with Oliver, but she didn’t mind. Science labs were fun, and this one would be easy. All they had to do was prick each other’s fingers, put a few drops of blood on the card provided with the kit and analyze their results.

As they prepped for the experiment, they talked about their plans for the night. Their group was going to dinner at the Terrace restaurant at the Gates Hotel, and from there Oliver had reserved a center cabana at Luxe, the main club at the Gates, where Calvin Harris would be DJing. Cabanas at Luxe were one of the perks of Oliver’s dad owning the Gates, although Madison had been best friends with him before his dad had built the famous Vegas hotel a few years ago. They’d become close in second grade, when they’d been assigned seats next to each other, and she’d helped him learn his multiplication tables. And here she was today, still helping him in science and math.

“Ladies first?” Oliver held up the lancet he would use to prick her finger, his eyes gleaming like he couldn’t wait.

Madison held her hand out to him, turned her head and covered her eyes. “Warn me before you do it.”

“You want to be a doctor and you’re afraid of blood?”

“I don’t mind other people’s blood,” she said. “But I hate when it’s my own.”

“I’m going to count to three,” he said, holding her index finger in place. “One, two…” Then he pricked her finger, and Madison jumped, taking an audible breath inward.

“Way to not say three.” She glared at him. He smirked, apparently amused, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

“You survived.” He held out his finger. “Now do me.”

She grabbed the lancet and pricked him without counting off. “Payback,” she said gleefully.

Oliver shook out his hand and cursed. “That hurt,” he said, quietly enough to not draw attention to himself.

“Now for the experiment.” Madison squeezed her finger to push out the blood, ready for the fun part of this lab. A few years ago she’d been watching a television show with her parents about a group of people lost on a deserted island, and one of the characters had needed a blood transfusion, but he hadn’t known his blood type. Her dad had said the character needed a universal donor with O-negative blood, like himself, to make sure he didn’t reject the transfusion. At the time, Madison hadn’t thought to ask about her own blood type, but the current unit in class had made her curious.

She mixed her blood into the designated spots on the card and waited a minute for the results. Once it was ready, she picked it up and studied it.

“This can’t be right,” she said, mixing the blood some more. But the results didn’t change.

“What do you mean?” Oliver glanced at her card. “It looks like you’re AB positive. That’s one of the rarest ones, right?”

“Mrs. Amy?” Madison raised her hand. “I need another card. There’s something wrong with mine.”

“Are you sure?” Mrs. Amy walked over from where she was helping another student, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. She picked up Madison’s card and examined it. “This looks fine to me.”

“It’s not.” Madison pushed back her shoulders and looked at her straight on. “May I please have another card? Just to double-check my results.”

Mrs. Amy bit her lip like she was about to say no, but she must have seen the determination in Madison’s eyes, because instead she said, “There are a few extras on my desk.”

“Thank you.” Madison rushed to the desk, picked up another card, and brought it back to the lab table. She squeezed the tiny puncture on her index finger, glad when fresh blood popped up.

“Are you sure there was something wrong with yours?” Oliver sat on the table, watching as she redid the experiment. “I’ve never seen you mess up on a lab before.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Madison explained, mixing up the blood on the new card. “My first card was just faulty.” She set it down and waited a minute for her real result.

But it was the same as before—AB positive.

She set her hands down on the table and glared at the card. They’d been studying blood types for a week, and she fully understood the unit. These results were impossible. She must be doing something wrong.

Mrs. Amy walked over to Madison’s lab table. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t think I’m doing the lab correctly.” Madison’s cheeks flushed, and she could barely bring herself to meet her teacher’s eyes.

“Let me take a look.” Mrs. Amy picked up both blood type cards and examined them. Madison’s heart pounded while she waited for her opinion, and she drummed her fingers on the table. “Nothing’s wrong with your results,” she said. “You did the lab perfectly, as always.”

Madison’s lungs squeezed so tightly that she could barely get any air. Normally, she expected her teachers to praise her in science class. But those results couldn’t be accurate.

Everyone in the class was staring at her. Not wanting to cause a scene, she swallowed and forced herself to take a few steady breaths. “Thanks,” she somehow managed to reply. Luckily, another student raised a hand and asked Mrs. Amy a question, which moved the attention away from Madison.

“Is everything okay?” Oliver asked once Mrs. Amy had walked away.

“I’m not sure.” Madison’s hand trembled as she picked up the card and stared at it blankly. “But I think I’m going to have to cancel on our plans tonight.”

* * *

Madison’s parents were working at the hospital and wouldn’t be back until later that night, so she watched movies by herself as she waited. She had what she called the Trifecta of Movies to Watch When in a Bad Mood—Pride and Prejudice, Titanic and Moulin Rouge. Whenever she watched those three movies, she forgot about her life and focused on the lives of the characters, drawn into their worlds and problems.

Her friends had texted to ask why she wasn’t coming out, but they’d stopped bothering her once she told them she wasn’t feeling well. Which was the truth, because her head had been pounding ever since she’d done the genetics lab. And when she’d gotten back home to the condo in the Diamond Residences—although sometimes it still felt strange to think of the three-bedroom penthouse as home, since they’d moved there a few months ago—she’d done something she’d resisted for months and ordered Dominos pizza. Sure, the condo had a room-service menu full of food from the five-star restaurants in the Diamond, but Madison loved Dominos.

After devouring the entire large by herself, she’d crawled into a baggy sweatshirt so that she wouldn’t have to be disgusted by her bloated stomach rolling over her jeans. She would have to go on a fruit-and-veggie cleanse for the next two days to remove all that grease and fat from her body.

She’d finished watching Pride and Prejudice and was halfway through Titanic when her parents walked through the door, still dressed in their scrubs. They worked at the same hospital—her dad as the head of neurology and her mom as an anesthesiologist—and got similar schedules when they could. They were chatting as they walked inside but quieted when they saw Madison slouched on the couch with a movie on and an empty pizza box on the coffee table. She paused the movie, the food swirling inside her stomach as she thought how to begin the conversation she had to have with them. She felt so nauseated that she worried she might throw up—which, after how much she’d eaten, wouldn’t be a bad thing.

“Madison,” her mom said, placing her purse on the kitchen counter. “What are you doing home on a Friday night? Don’t you have plans with your friends?”

“I canceled.” Madison kept her voice steady. “I wasn’t in the mood to go out.”

“Are you sick?” Her dad’s forehead creased in concern, which was understandable—Madison hadn’t voluntarily stayed home on a weekend night since middle school.

“No,” she said. “But I need to talk with both of you.”

“Oh.” Her mom pulled her long, dark braid over her shoulder and shared a worried look with her dad. “Okay.”

They both seemed confused as they sat down in the living room, her mom on the armchair and her dad on the other end of the couch. Madison’s head pounded harder as she looked at them, and she massaged the back of her neck in a failed attempt to relieve the tension.

“We did blood typing in genetics today.” She took the card out of her pocket—once it had dried, she’d laminated it to take home—and tossed it onto the coffee table. “This was my result.”

Panic flashed in both of their eyes, and neither of them looked at her as her mom picked up the card.

“AB positive.” Her mom’s voice shook, and she tugged on the end of her braid.

“But those results are impossible.” Despite the tightening in her throat, Madison tried to remain calm. She’d learned early on that whenever someone raised their voice, they weren’t perceived as rational and were less likely to get the results or answers they desired. Right now she needed answers. “I remember watching TV a few years ago and Dad mentioning he was the universal donor, O negative. But it’s impossible for a child to have AB when one parent is O. The only scientifically possible blood types I could have are O, A or B, depending on Mom’s, of course. I did the test twice, because I figured I got a faulty card the first time, but it was the same both times. AB positive.”

She watched her parents closely, waiting for an explanation. But her dad twiddled his thumbs and refused to meet her eyes, and her mom twirled her braid, her face pale. Madison’s stomach flipped, and she had to swallow down the pizza that was slowly rising up her throat.

Her dad finally looked up at her, his kind brown eyes shining with guilt. “I wish you hadn’t found out this way.”

“Found out what?” Her voice cracked. She couldn’t say what she was thinking out loud—she had to hear it from her parents.

“Madison,” her dad said slowly, curling his hands into fists. “You know that, no matter what, I am your father, and I love you very much and nothing will ever change that, right?”

“Right,” she said, although suddenly it became hard to breathe, and her head spun, the world feeling like it was crumbling around her.

“But as you discovered today in genetics class, I’m not your biological father.” He let out a long breath, his eyes pained as he waited for her reaction.

Madison blinked, a million questions running through her mind. It had been the answer she’d feared since doing the lab, but no imagining prepared her for hearing it said out loud.

She closed her eyes and laced her fingers through her hair. “Am I adopted?” she finally asked. Although, looking at her mom, she didn’t see how that was possible. She looked so much like her mom, with her blue eyes, full dark hair and smooth tanned skin. And she didn’t look unlike her dad, either, with his dark hair and dark eyes. Sure, his skin had more of an olive undertone, his nose was larger and the possibility of inheriting blue eyes when brown eyes were dominant was slim, but she’d always assumed that for reasons of chance, she looked more like her mom than her dad. Plus, she’d seen baby pictures of her parents holding her in the hospital. How could she be adopted when they were there when she was born?

“You’re not adopted,” her mom said. “I’m your biological mother. But I hope you understand that this changes nothing. Your dad loves you just as much as I do.”

“What do you mean, ‘this changes nothing’?” Fire exploded through Madison’s veins, and she slammed her fists down on the couch. “How could this not change anything? You and Dad have been married for over twenty years! But I’m not his biological daughter, which means you cheated on him and got pregnant. Then for some reason he took you back and you both decided to keep this all from me, raise me as if none of that ever happened, and think I would be okay with that.” She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, burying her face in her knees and rocking back and forth. “This can’t be happening.”

“I know it sounds bad.” Her mom reached for her hand, but Madison glared at her and pulled her arm away. Her mom flinched and brought her hand back to her lap. “But it’s much more complicated than that.”

“You lied to me for my entire life.” She took a few shallow breaths, unable to get enough air, and tears rolled down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away. She gave up trying and let them fall. Her dad handed her a tissue, and she blew her nose—it was a good thing no one but her parents could see her, because she must have looked a complete wreck. She focused on breathing steadily, and finally her lungs relaxed, and she was able to speak again. “No matter how ‘complicated’ it was, you chose to lie to me. Were you ever going to tell me the truth?”

Her parents looked uncertainly at one another. Finally her mom turned to Madison, her eyes set in determination. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. You deserve the truth.”

Madison used a clean tissue to dab away more tears and nodded for her to continue, bracing herself for more shock. No matter how hard it would be, she needed to hear this.

“About seventeen years ago, your dad and I were both stressed from our medical residences,” her mom started, and Madison sat back to listen to the story, cradling the box of tissues to her side. “It was taking a toll on our marriage, so we separated for a few months to clear our heads and focus on our work. Your biological father and I had been friends since middle school, and during that time we…reconnected. That was when I got pregnant with you. But he already had a family, and soon after I found out I was pregnant, he found out he had another child on the way from his wife. I knew he wouldn’t want to mess that up. As you also know, your grandfather—my father—is traditional with his religious beliefs. I worried he wouldn’t fully accept a grandchild, especially a female grandchild, into the family out of wedlock. I feared he would never forgive me for having a child with a man who wasn’t my husband—that he would never look at me with respect again. I didn’t know what to do.

“The first person I went to was your dad. He helped me get through it, we resolved our marriage, and moved back in together. When I told your biological father I was pregnant with you, and that your dad and I wanted to raise you as our own, he didn’t object, as long as he was still able to be a part of your life. His wife never knew his true relation to you. We made him your godfather, and he acted like one for the first year. He was involved as much as he could be, and you and your half sisters were around each other as much as possible, to ensure you would be close. But then something devastating happened to his family that tore them apart. He felt like it was his fault, so he made us swear to stay quiet about him. He had his reasons, and while it wasn’t easy for anyone involved, we had your best interests at heart.”

“My biological father.” Madison shook her head, barely able to process everything her mom had told her. But there was one main question she needed answered. “Who is he?”

Her mom set her lips in a line. “You have a dad who loves you and has been there for you throughout everything,” she said. “Your biological father stepped out of your life. He had his reasons, and while I’ll never understand how he can live with his decision, your dad and I promised him that we wouldn’t reveal his identity.”

“You’re our daughter, and that’s all that matters,” her dad added.

Madison stared hard at both of them. “If you don’t tell me who he is, I will never trust either of you again.”

“He doesn’t want you to know,” her mom insisted, her eyes begging her to back down. “It’ll be easier for you if you don’t know.”

“You can’t make that decision for me,” Madison said. “He’s my father, and I deserve to know who he is.”

“I’m your father,” her dad said, sounding hurt and betrayed. “Biology doesn’t matter. I’ve raised you, and I love you. You’re a gift to me. I know your mom and I are dedicated to our work and aren’t home as much as some of your friends’ parents, but it doesn’t mean we love you any less.”

“I know that,” Madison said, and she did. Her parents got held up at work a lot, but they loved their jobs, and she respected them for that. They spent time with her when they could, and they went on family vacations twice a year where they spent every minute with each other. “But I have a right to know who my biological father is.”

“You have to trust us on this,” her mom said.

Madison glared at her. “You can’t ask me to trust you after I found out you’ve been lying to me for my entire life.”

Both of them were silent, and Madison stayed still, determined not to budge until they gave her an answer.

“Adrian Diamond,” her dad said softly.

“What?” Madison heard him, but he couldn’t have meant what she thought.

“Adrian Diamond is your biological father.”

www.campusbuzz.com

High Schools > Nevada > Las Vegas > The Goodman School

The Volleyball Girls

Posted on Thursday 10/9 at 5:22 PM

Hottest team of the year award goes to the girls volleyball team. Who’s going to the game tomorrow night?!?!

1: Posted on Thursday 10/9 at 6:13 PM

wouldn’t be surprised if half the school showed up. i just like watching savannah diamond in those short shorts. her friend alyssa isn’t bad either.

2: Posted on Thursday 10/9 at 6:47 PM

Hottest girls on the Volleyball team:

Savannah

Jackie

Brooke

Alyssa

3: Posted on Thursday 10/9 at 7:03 PM

Jackie’s parents are gonna be outta town this weekend so she’s throwing a RAGER at her house after the game tomorrow night! Bring your bathing suit. Or don’t and we’ll have more fun ;)

4: Posted on Thursday 10/9 at 8:16 PM

savannah’s flying in her friend from cali for the weekend to come to the game. she’s been posting on savannah’s facebook constantly about how excited she is, so i had to check out her page. she’s not so bad looking herself. another reason to go to jackie’s party tomorrow

5: Posted on Thursday 10/9 at 9:58 PM

could be a good pre-game before hitting up the strip…

6: Posted on Thursday 10/9 at 10:43 PM

Are you too cool for house parties? Must be Damien or Oliver or Madison or Larissa or one of their friends. #Losers

7: Posted on Thursday 10/9 at 10:56 PM

#jealous

8: Posted on Thursday 10/9 at 11:00 PM

You all DO realize this isn’t Twitter, right? Hashtags don’t work here.

9: Posted on Thursday 10/9 at 11:06 PM

#Whatever. They’re #fun ;)

Chapter 5: Savannah

“Thank your mom again for letting you leave school early today to visit?” Savannah asked Evie. The two of them sat in the back of her Range Rover—her bodyguard, Carl, was driving them—on the way to Jackie’s party, and Savannah still couldn’t believe her best friend was here. Evie had sat with Courtney and Peyton during the volleyball game, and now she would be with Savannah at the after-party. It was just like old times…but not really. Because in old times, Evie would have been playing on the team with her. And Savannah wouldn’t already be thinking about how sad it would be when Evie left tomorrow morning. It was too bad her best friend couldn’t stay all weekend, but Evie’s dad’s birthday was tomorrow, and she had to be back by dinner to celebrate it with him.

“I will, I promise.” Evie smiled. “But I already told you how she said missing half a day of school wasn’t a big deal, considering how you paid for my ride to the airport, the flight and are letting me stay with you. And I still can’t get over where you live. I sort of knew what to expect from the pictures you’ve sent me, but it’s different being there in person. You’re the luckiest ever. I wish I suddenly found out I was related to a billionaire.”

“It’s all pretty amazing,” Savannah said. “But I miss home sometimes. I wish I had a friend like you at school.”

She’d already told Evie everything—how Alyssa was only nice to her after she’d seen that she knew Damien and Nick. Then she’d made the volleyball team, so the girls had no choice but to include her. But even though it was already October, and Savannah had been hanging out with them every day during school and practice for weeks, it wasn’t the same. She didn’t trust them like she trusted Evie.

“The girls on the team didn’t seem that bad,” Evie said. “And if you don’t end up being close friends with them, you have your sisters, right?”

“Yeah,” Savannah said. “But they’re my sisters…they have to be nice to me. It’s different.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Evie shrugged.

“Right.” Savannah felt bad for bringing it up. Evie was an only child, and while Savannah had always thought it was awesome that Evie had her own room and bathroom at her house, she’d always suspected Evie had been jealous of how close she was with her sisters. “Anyway, we should be there soon. You ready?”

“Of course.” Evie checked her reflection, fluffed her hair while making a silly duck-face pose, and laughed. Her cheerfulness was contagious, and Savannah couldn’t help laughing with her. “Let’s rock this party.”

* * *

The volleyball team was the first to arrive so they could set up, and Jackie gave them the grand tour. Her house was enormous—apparently her family had bought two lots in the community so that they would have room to build it. The living room, dining room and kitchen all had a two-story ceiling, and shooting off from the kitchen was a rec room with tables set up for beer pong and flip cup. Jackie’s parents, who were out of town that weekend, lived in a first-floor suite with two walk-in closets, an exercise room and a sauna. Upstairs were five other bedrooms—even though Jackie had only two brothers—and a separate stairway near the kitchen led to another bedroom for their live-in housekeeper. They also had a huge library full of every issue of Nevada Design, the luxury interior design magazine Jackie’s dad published.

It was the biggest house Savannah had ever seen. And judging by the way Evie walked around with her mouth dropped open, it was the biggest house she’d ever seen, too.

“Remember to keep everyone in the rec room, the kitchen and outside by the pool,” Jackie instructed. “No one’s allowed in my parents’ suite. I don’t care if couples go off into my brothers’ rooms or the guest rooms, but my room is off-limits. Except for me and whatever guy I bring in there with me, of course.”

“Brian Peterson was checking you out during the game,” Brooke said.

“I know.” Jackie winked. “And he was looking hot tonight. So who’s ready to celebrate our win?”

They gathered into a circle, put their hands in the center, counted down to scream “Bruins”—their school mascot—and cheered. Then they did a round of shooters, and the party began.

* * *

Three hours later, the house was packed with most of the athletes from Goodman (freshmen not included except for a select few), and some randoms who showed up from other local private schools. The volleyball girls had given up trying to keep everyone in the “designated party areas” over an hour ago—they were too busy having their own fun. A group of guys had tried to teach Savannah and Evie how to play flip cup, but Savannah was failing miserably and slowing down her team, so they left the rec room and ventured outside to the pool.

“Cannonball from the balcony!” a junior guy Savannah recognized as one of Nick’s football teammates yelled from Jackie’s balcony, jumping into the pool with a huge splash. He emerged from the water, threw back his head and gave a Neanderthal roar with his fists in the air. Everyone watching cheered and clapped, screaming various versions of “Yeah, man!” and “That was awesome!”

“Savannah!” Brooke called from the shallow end of the pool, where she was hanging out with a few of the girls on the team and some guys who were flirting with them. They all had red Solo cups in their hands. “Come swimming with us!”

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit,” Savannah replied.

“You don’t need one.” Jackie laughed and threw back her long brown hair, which had reverted to its natural curly state in the water. “We’re all in our underwear. Although Alyssa said she would get naked if Drew got naked, so things are about to get interesting!”

“We could do it,” Evie said, soft enough that only Savannah could hear.

“I’m wearing a see-through thong,” Savannah whispered. Even the drink she’d had since that first shooter wasn’t enough to make her feel comfortable shedding her clothes in front of everyone. If Peyton was here, she would do it in a heartbeat, but Savannah wasn’t as daring as her oldest sister.

“We’re actually heading back inside,” Evie said to the group in the pool, and Savannah smiled gratefully at her. “Just wanted to check out what the commotion was out here. Have fun!”

“Bye!” Brooke yelled before one of the guys dunked her underwater. She held her cup up high, and it miraculously escaped being submerged with her.

Savannah didn’t know many people yet, and not wanting to look unoccupied, Evie had the brilliant idea to take pictures of themselves with the party in the background—probably because she wanted to show off to everyone at Fairfield High that she’d been to a party like this. They got every background they could, and there were a lot to choose from, so they were busy for a while. More people were jumping off the balcony and into the pool, a big group was smoking hookah on the porch and some guys—including Oliver Prescott, the son of Adrian’s main rival and possible business partner, Logan Prescott—were gathered around the kitchen table, which was covered in lines of white powder that Savannah suspected was cocaine. She accidentally got a picture of Oliver doing a line, and she almost deleted it but stopped. This was the jerk who’d made a bet to sleep with her and her sisters over the summer. She would never put the picture online, but it might not hurt to keep it on her phone.

Once she and Evie had taken enough photos, she texted the best one to Nick.

are u coming to Jackie’s party tonight? I was hoping to see u here…

Can’t L Busy w/family stuff. I’ll cya in school on Mon

Savannah frowned, but she wasn’t surprised. Nick was always too busy to see her out of school.

“We’re about to play Survivor!” a senior guy yelled from the rec room. “Anyone wanna join?”

“Do you know what that is?” Savannah asked Evie.

“I have no idea.” Evie grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the rec room. “But let’s find out!”

When they got inside, Savannah saw the last person she’d expected to find standing around the cluster of tables—Damien. He and his friends normally hung out on the Strip, eating at the trendiest restaurants and seeing popular DJs spin at clubs. He rarely came to house parties with the sports crowd.

“Great game tonight,” he said when he saw her, giving her a high five. Their hands connected, and a warm tingle rushed up her arm.

“Thanks.” Her mind raced for something more to say to him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”

“Oliver and I decided to do something different for a change.”

“Survivors ready!” the guy who had started the game yelled before Savannah could reply.

She quickly introduced Damien and Evie, then situated herself between them, trying to pretend like she wasn’t clueless about this game. Damien picked up the pitcher of beer in the center of the table and poured a small amount in her and Evie’s cups, and a little more in his.

“Have you played this before?” he asked.

“No, but we played flip cup earlier,” she said. “Evie wasn’t bad at it, but I was terrible.”

“This is similar to flip cup, but everyone goes at once,” he said. “Each round the last person to flip their cup is eliminated, until there’s one person left.”

“Doesn’t sound too hard,” she said. Except for the flipping-the-cup part.

“Go!” the leader of the game yelled. Savannah forced herself to drink the beer—it was from the keg and tasted gross—and prepared to flip her cup. Damien got his in one flip. Evie got hers soon after. They both cheered her on, but after multiple unsuccessful tries, everyone’s cup was flipped but Savannah’s, so she was the first out. Which meant she had to leave her spot around the table and stand off to the side.

Not having anywhere else to go, she watched the next round. Now that she was out, Damien and Evie were standing next to each other. They both flipped their cups quickly and gave each other high fives. Was it just in Savannah’s imagination, or was Evie tossing her hair more than usual, purposefully letting her arm brush against Damien’s and shooting him her trademark flirty smile that Savannah had seen her use on guys in Fairfield? And since Savannah was out of the game, all she could do was stand there and watch. Her blood boiled, and she crossed her arms. She didn’t want to look pissed off, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to see this.

Maybe inviting Evie this weekend had been a mistake. Savannah loved her best friend, but Evie had always overshadowed her in Fairfield. Why would she have expected any different in Vegas?

Damien glanced over at her, and she took out her phone, pretending someone had sent her a text. The next round started, and his cup-flipping skill somehow vanished. He was last and was kicked out.

“Have fun, guys.” He high-fived the senior leading the game, then walked over to Savannah. “You looked upset, so I wanted to make sure everything was okay,” he said so only she could hear.

Giddiness swirled through her body, and she put her phone away. “You got out on purpose?”

“You’ll never know,” he teased. “But let’s find something better to drink—that beer tasted like ass.”

“Glad I’m not the only one who thought so.” She made a face, because the beer really was sour and warm. “But let me check with Evie first. I don’t want her to think I’ve abandoned her.” She walked over to where Evie was still playing Survivor and was now flirting with the senior leading the game. “Hey.” Savannah squeezed Evie’s arm to let her know she was behind her. “Damien and I are going to grab a drink that isn’t beer in the kitchen. We’ll be back soon. Are you okay here for a few minutes?”

“Of course.” Evie smiled and thanked the senior guy, who had filled an inch of her cup with beer. “I’m rocking this game. See ya in a few!”

Savannah followed Damien into the kitchen, but the cheap beer and liquor in there didn’t meet his satisfaction, either. After some exploration, they discovered a walk-in wine closet near the garage. He switched on the light, illuminating the rows of wine. It was more of a small room than a closet, with walls of granite, tiled marble floors and wooden refrigerated shelves. Savannah doubted Jackie would be pleased that they were considering raiding her parents’ wine collection, but she was too happy to be there with Damien to say so.

She shut the door so no one would follow them inside and get the same idea. Jackie’s parents wouldn’t notice if one bottle was missing, right?

“This is what I’m talking about,” Damien said, examining the rows of wine. “What’re you in the mood for—red or white?”

“Whatever you want.” Savannah wasn’t as knowledgeable about wine as most of the people at Goodman seemed to be. Their families taught them about wine and allowed them to have a glass or two at dinner. Savannah’s mom only kept the hard stuff in their apartment. It was cheap, and the few times Savannah had tried it, it had tasted vile.

Damien perused the rows, taking a few bottles out and reading the labels. He reached one in the middle, paused and showed it to Savannah. “Amarone,” he said, pointing to the label. “One of my favorites.”

“Sounds good,” Savannah said, although she had never heard of it.

He found a wine opener, uncorked the bottle and poured the wine into the clean Solo cups Savannah had brought in from the kitchen. “Not the best way to drink wine, but it’ll work.” He handed her one of the cups. “Cheers.”

Adrian had allowed Savannah and her sisters glasses of wine at dinner—although Courtney always declined—but Savannah was far from a connoisseur. They all tasted the same to her. She sipped the Amarone, and it was stronger than she’d expected, but good. Much better than the cheap beer and liquor in the kitchen.

“Like it?”

“Yes.” Savannah flushed at the sudden realization that she was alone with Damien in a small space. And the way he was looking at her, his dark eyes so intense, as if he wouldn’t have wanted to be in there with anyone else….t made her nearly forget to breathe.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she lied. Then, deciding better of it, she said, “I guess I’m wondering why you’re here with me instead of hanging out with everyone at the party. You were doing really well in Survivor—you probably could have won.”

“You looked bored watching, so I thought you’d be happy to get away for a few minutes,” he said. “Was I wrong?”

“No,” Savannah said. “This is actually my first big house party. I’ve seen them on TV, and they looked so fun, so I’ve always wanted to go to one. But now that we’re here…” She shrugged and sipped her wine while contemplating how to word it, not wanting to sound like a downer.

“It’s not what you expected?”

“Exactly,” she said. “People are either almost naked in the pool, playing drinking games in the rec room, doing drugs or pairing up. Even with Evie here, I feel out of place. Maybe I just haven’t had enough to drink. I tried that beer, but…” She scrunched her nose as she recalled the taste.

“No explanation necessary.” Damien laughed and raised his Solo cup. “We have Amarone to the rescue.”

They sat on the floor and chatted while drinking the wine—after the first “glass,” Savannah felt warmer and more relaxed. Midway through the second, she and Damien were talking as if they’d known each other for years. There were a few times when their skin would touch, but he didn’t try to kiss her like he had in the Myst pool caves over the summer.

She should have been happy that he was respecting her request to take things slowly—he had tried to move too fast by putting his hand down her bathing suit bottom on the first night they’d met—but she also felt disappointed. Was he only paying attention to her out of pity because she’d looked bored during Survivor and Evie was too involved with the game to talk to her?

“What are you thinking about?” Damien asked. “You just got really quiet.”

“Nothing,” she said, taking another sip of wine. But her body felt warm and tingly now, and Damien had asked, so why not tell him what was on her mind? “Well, I guess I sort of feel like I’m never going to fit in with anyone here,” she admitted. “The only reason Alyssa, Jackie, Brooke and the rest of them are being nice to me is because I know you and Nick, and because I made the volleyball team. They expect me to forget that first morning at Goodman when they wanted nothing to do with me. I’m trying, because they can be fun and it feels good to be part of a group, but I can’t shake the feeling that they’re not true friends. They’re all so comfortable with each other. But even with Evie here, I feel like an outsider.” Her cheeks heated, and she looked down at her wine, unable to believe she’d blurted that out to Damien.

He tilted his head, his forehead creasing. “You’ve been comfortable at clubs all summer, and it’s a house party that makes you feel this way?”

“You thought I looked comfortable at those clubs?” Savannah laughed. He had to be saying that to be nice. “Because I felt like an outsider there, too. But the clubs are different—they feel like a fairy tale, not real life. It’s easier to pretend that I’m what people expect me to be when I’m there. But being here, at Jackie’s house….t hit home for me. This is how they’ve lived their entire lives—with pools, saunas, spare bedrooms, live-in housekeepers, wine closets and refrigerators full of more food than they could possibly eat. I don’t belong here.” She wrapped her arms around her legs and looked down, ashamed at what she’d admitted. Stupid Amarone, loosening her tongue.

“Hey.” He used his index finger to force her chin up so her gaze met his. “You might feel that way, but you do belong here. I know it’s a big change for you, and I can’t imagine what it’s like, but those girls aren’t only friends with you because you’re on the volleyball team. You’re talented, and fun, and you say what’s on your mind even if it’s not the ‘cool’ thing to say. I like that, and if those girls don’t, that’s their problem, not yours.”

Savannah’s heart raced, and she stared up into his dark eyes, amazed by his kind words. “Thanks,” she said, still embarrassed she’d admitted so much, even if it was apparently a trait he liked about her. He was watching her so intensely right now, his eyes traveling to her lips, as if he were about to kiss her again. She took another sip of wine to cool her nerves. Maybe he actually did like her?

Then she remembered when Madison had kissed him last summer, and how in that one instant he’d forgotten about her. How he’d gone on that teen tour and had those girls hanging all over him. And how Evie had flirted with him during the game, and he’d flirted back. Yes, he made Savannah’s heart race and made her feel like he cared. But he was a player. What if he’d brought her in here because of some stupid bet, like the one Oliver had made over the summer about her and her sisters? The two of them were close friends, so it was possible.

“We should go back out there,” she said, then finished her wine. “Evie’s probably wondering where we are.”

Disappointment flashed across his eyes. “If that’s what you want,” he said. “But before we go—what are you doing for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Evie’s leaving in the afternoon, so nothing that I know of.” She played with her bracelets. “Why?”

“I’ve been wanting to check out the new Italian restaurant at the Diamond,” he said. “Want to go with me?”

She froze, her arm dropping to her side. Was he asking her on a date? Or did he genuinely want to check out this restaurant and was asking her out of pity after her embarrassing confession? Or was this the next move in his game, because she’d made it clear she wasn’t falling for it tonight?

He watched her, waiting for an answer. “Sure,” she said quickly. After all, if she didn’t go, she would constantly wonder what would have happened if she did.

“Great.” He smiled, seeming truly happy that she’d agreed to go with him.

When she stood up, her head spun, and Damien reached out to steady her. “Thanks.” She giggled and tried to focus. When had the room started tilting so much? “I didn’t realize how strong that wine was until I got up.”

“Amarone will do that to you.” He held out his arm, and she took it, grateful for his help as he led the way out of the wine closet. “Come on, let’s go find your friend.”

They reached the living room, and Savannah spotted Evie sitting on the couch. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her lips curled in a scowl as she talked to Alyssa, whose hair was still wet from the pool. They both went silent when Savannah reached them.

“Where’ve you been?” Evie glared at her.

Savannah glanced at her watch and gasped—how had forty-five minutes passed since she’d left Evie in the rec room playing Survivor? “Sorry.” She laughed, but it turned into a hiccup, which made her laugh more. Evie didn’t laugh along—why didn’t she lighten up? This was a party. Evie always had fun at parties. “I didn’t realize how much time had passed. But you had fun playing that game with everyone, right?”

“The game ended thirty minutes ago, but I got out soon after you guys left for the ‘kitchen.’” Evie’s voice was flat. “I tried to find you, but you’d disappeared, and you weren’t responding to my texts. So I was sitting here by myself until Alyssa came over.”

“Sorry.” Savannah shrugged, since there was nothing she could do. It was unlike Evie to get all mopey. “Do you want a shot or something?”

“No,” she said. “I’m good.”

“Okay.” This was awkward. Especially since after all that Amarone, Savannah just wanted to have fun.

“Jackie and Brooke set up karaoke in the rec room,” Alyssa said, breaking the silence. “You sing, Savannah, right?”

“Yes, I do!” She jumped and clapped her hands. “Does she have the Frozen sing-along? I totally have to sing ‘Let It Go’! The Idina Menzel version, obviously.”

“You can sing that?” Damien raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong, you have a great voice, but it’s a tough song.”

“Um, yeah, I can sing that.” Savannah laughed and rolled her eyes. “Follow me and I’ll prove it!”

She pointed at the rec room, took a shot in the kitchen on the way there and the night was a blur after that.

Chapter 6: Courtney

After a long morning of working at Habitat for Humanity, Courtney was ready for lunch break. She loved volunteering for Habitat, especially after meeting the family who would move into the house when it was completed, but she wasn’t used to physical labor. She’d been assigned to painting the outside of the house, and her arms would be hurting tomorrow.

Once the pizza arrived, it was set up on tables, and everyone dug in. Courtney rarely took advantage of her Blamex—the Black American Express credit card that Adrian had given her and her sisters—but she hadn’t hesitated to use it to buy the pizza lunch for Habitat volunteers. She’d also ordered extra pizza for the family who would eventually move into the house, so they could take it home for tomorrow. She understood what it was like not knowing if there would be enough food for every meal, or to have to stretch a loaf of bread and jar of peanut butter for as long as possible. Not a day passed when she didn’t feel guilty for having so much now when most people had so little, and she was determined to give back.

Somehow, she’d ended up in front of Brett in the pizza line. He’d followed through with his promise to join Habitat with her—and despite Courtney’s insistence that they not get too close, he always worked around it, like by sitting next to her in the meetings, or getting behind her in line right now. And despite her attempts to neutralize her feelings for him, her heart still raced every time he was near.

“Sit with me for lunch?” he asked after they grabbed their slices.

He looked so perfect with the sun reflecting off his green eyes, his hair messed up from working in the heat all day, and Courtney couldn’t say no. She wanted to slap herself after agreeing. What was she doing? She should be joining a group to try making new friends, not going off with Brett. But her legs didn’t want to listen to her brain, and she followed him to a shaded, secluded spot under a tree.

“Looks like you got more paint on you than on the house,” Brett said as they set their plates down on the grass.

“Savannah’s going to flip when she sees my jeans.” Courtney took a long drink of water. The desert air was drying out her throat, and she finished half the water bottle in seconds. “But anyway, how’s the roof work going?” She phrased it casually, as if she hadn’t been subtly watching him work up there all morning.

“I sucked at first.” He laughed. “But after a while I got the hang of it. I’m not the best, but I’m not as bad as Oliver. Poor guy almost fell off.”

“I was surprised to see him here this morning,” Courtney said. “He’s never come to any of the meetings, and he didn’t strike me as the type of person who voluntarily wakes up before noon.”

Brett chewed a bite of pizza. “I have no idea why he’s here, but he’s hungover as hell. One of the other guys mentioned that Oliver was partying pretty hard at that volleyball party last night. He might be moved to painting so he doesn’t almost fall off the roof again.”

“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 have 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 the 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.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.