Boy Crazy (4 page)

T
he guy looking down at Cassie made her mouth go dry.

He had dark eyes, darker hair, and the sexiest smile Cassie had ever seen in real life. Her heart kicked into high gear, and she could feel her blood pound through her veins. He stood over her, grinning, and practically oozing confidence. She felt light-headed.

“May I?” He gestured toward her chair.

“I don’t know,” she replied, trying to casually rub away the goose bumps that snaked down her arms. She kept it light. “What makes you think you deserve to share my throne?”

“I’m excellent at sharing,” he replied, laughter in his gaze. “It’s been the case since preschool, just so you know. I’m a lifelong good sharer.”

“You must be so proud of your record,” Cassie teased him. She eased herself up to a sitting position, aware that his eyes stayed on her as she moved. “Can you claim the Southern California title?”

He blew out a breath, considering. “I don’t mean to sound conceited,” he said seriously, though his dark eyes danced. “But I’m the state champion. And the western division champion, as a matter of fact. There’s a good sharer from Philadelphia who might throw me some competition in a national tournament, but I’m not worried. We can both have the title. See? Sharing is in my blood.”

Cassie couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer, and she didn’t complain when he dropped down next to her on the chair. As he grinned at her from much closer, she felt her breath hitch. She liked the leanness of his frame—not too built up, but not skinny. She liked that his glossy dark hair wasn’t cut too short and jocky, but wasn’t long and hipster-y, either. She liked the way his jeans looked like he’d actually worn them in himself rather than buying them pre-distressed. She liked that he wore his flip-flops like a good California boy, and she liked the twine necklace barely visible beneath his not-designer-but-well-fitting T-shirt.

And
he was funny.

Hello, Summer Fling Number One!

“I’m Cassie,” she said, extending her hand formally.

“Queen Cassie,” he said in an overly polite tone. When he gripped her palm with his, Cassie felt dizzy. “I’m Trey.” He let go of her hand, but Cassie could still feel the press of his warm skin against hers. “I haven’t seen you around before,” he continued. “You definitely do not go to Harvard-Westlake like the rest of these people. I would have noticed.”

“We queens like to maintain our mystique,” Cassie told him. He laughed.

“I can see that.” He flicked his gaze over her, taking in the knees she’d pulled up under her and the swath of skin she knew her shirt had pulled up to expose at her waist. She didn’t make a move to pull her shirt back into place. Instead, Cassie felt warm and bold. She liked him looking at her.

“What do you do when you’re not queen of all you survey?” he asked.

“Lead bike tours out on Catalina,” Cassie told him, dropping the royal act. “I work for Billy’s Bikes. Today I took three generations of one family out on a tour—a grandmother, her daughter, and
her
daughter. They were completely into it. It was so cool.”

“That’s like the perfect summer job,” Trey said, leaning back on his hands. “I love Catalina.”

“Me too,” Cassie said, pleased. He really was good at sharing. “I haven’t spent the summer in L.A. since starting boarding school, but how could I pass up a job like that?”

“Seriously,” Trey said. “A few summers ago I took this awesome bike trip in Maine with my dad and a few of my cousins. One hundred and forty miles through Acadia National Park and along the coast. It was the best.”

“I’ve never been out East,” Cassie said with a sigh. “Maine is supposed to be beautiful. Especially in the summertime.”

“It’s great,” Trey said. He smiled. “But it’s not Catalina.”

“Someday you’ll have to come out and see Catalina through my eyes,” Cassie said, feeling courageous and cool. She thought she could have given Greta, resident flirting expert, a run for her money. “I hear I’m a terrific tour guide.”

“I believe it,” Trey said, his voice warm.

“What about you?” she asked, feeling dazzled.

“My parents weren’t about to let me lie around the house for my last summer before college,” Trey said, shifting on the chair so that his legs were tantalizingly close to Cassie’s. “So I have to rearrange my dad’s entire filing system—which kind of sucks because he’s a lawyer and has, like, eight million files—but I can’t really complain. I can set my own hours and do my own thing.”

“Are you nervous about college?” Cassie asked.

“Nervous?” He shrugged. “Were you nervous about boarding school when you went?”

“Totally!” Cassie shuddered, making him laugh. “I
thought I was going to pass out the day I left. I’d lied to all my friends about how thrilled I was to go to Siskiyou and then I actually had to go
do
it.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was a mess.”

“I don’t know,” Trey said. “I’m kind of looking forward to everything being new.” He laughed again. “Although I don’t know how new it’s really going to be. My parents met at Stanford, and I’ve been hearing about the place my whole life.”

“New for you is still new,” Cassie said, smiling at him. “And new is good.”

“Yes,” Trey said, holding her gaze for a long moment. “It definitely is.”

Some girls shrieked with laughter nearby, shattering the moment, and Cassie felt heat creep across her cheeks when she looked away from him. It was like she was waking up from a spell. And he was still watching her when she looked back, which made everything worse. Or better.

Trey’s mouth curved a little bit. His gaze felt like heat against Cassie’s skin. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said. “I want to get you a drink, and then I want to hear more about you.”

“Get me a Coke, and I’ll tell you,” Cassie said with another of the flirty smiles that seemed to be coming to her so naturally to her tonight.

Trey’s grin widened, and then he pulled himself to his
feet and headed for the coolers near the bar. Cassie watched him walk away, admiring the way he moved, low and easy. He had to be an athlete. He walked with that kind of confidence, and he stood out from the rest of the guys at the party. He looked a little too tall for soccer, and too lean for football, unless he was the quarterback. Maybe lacrosse? She’d have to ask him when he returned.

And she knew he’d return. She could
feel
it. How could a guy so cute be that easy to talk to? It was like a fantasy, to go along with the Palisades house and the sweet night air. In her experience, boys as cute as Trey were totally conceited once they started talking. Cassie watched Clayton slap him on the back and both of them laughed. Trey seemed to be a bright light while everyone else was on a dimmer and faded next to him.

“Damn.” Greta’s voice came from behind Cassie, startling her. “It’s one drama after another tonight.”

“Where did you come from?” Cassie asked, turning to look into Greta’s hazel eyes. “How’s Keagan doing?”

“She’s on her way home,” Greta said. “Hopefully not passing out in Jennifer Wilhelm’s father’s Lexus SUV.” She sat down next to Cassie, her face way too serious for Cassie’s giddy mood.

“Is she okay?” Cassie asked, suddenly worried that while she’d been trying to kiss Summer Boy Number One, Keagan might have been in real trouble. What kind of friend did that make her? Apparently, the kind
of friend who also kind of wished Greta hadn’t sat there—because where would Trey sit when he came back?
You’re terrible,
she scolded herself.

“She’s fine,” Greta said. She searched Cassie’s face for a long moment, as Cassie’s agitation grew. “What were you doing with Trey Carter?”

“Oh,” Cassie said, laughing slightly. Her cheeks flushed. “Do you know him? Greta, seriously, he’s the most—”

“He’s a player,” Greta interrupted flatly.

“What?” Cassie blinked. “No, I don’t think so. No way.” And she also wondered where Greta got off calling anyone a player, given her philosophy on boys and the way they should be treated as disposable amusements.

“Trust me, he is.” Greta shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “He was like the biggest dog in his graduating class. He uses girls and tosses them aside like Kleenex. I watched him over here with you and believe me, I’ve seen it before. I’m sorry, but I have.”

“But…” Cassie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “We were just having some fun, Greta. I don’t think—”

“Trey Carter is not about having fun,” Greta said, in that same matter-of-fact tone. “Trey Carter gets off on messing with girls’ feelings. He likes to humiliate them. It makes him feel powerful or something.”

Cassie’s mouth hung open. “But he was so funny and easy to talk to!”

“That’s how he does it,” Greta said grimly. “I love you, Cassie, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.” She reached over and put her hand on Cassie’s leg. Her gaze was clear and direct. “You need to stay away from him.”

Cassie couldn’t seem to hold on to a complete thought. She’d been buzzing with excitement—and now she felt heavy and embarrassed. But how could Greta be right? Wouldn’t she have gotten a sleazy vibe from Trey? Instead of that thrilled, magical feeling?

She turned her head and scanned the crowd for him. She wanted to look up and see Trey hurrying back. Not that that would prove anything, necessarily. But instead, when she spotted him, he was standing at the drinks table.

Surrounded by about ten girls.

It was exactly like that horrible vision she tortured herself with, except the vision was usually Daniel Fletcher and his seventeen European bimbos. Trey and a bevy of girls was a new twist, but really, so very much the same old thing. Cassie winced. It turned out new wasn’t always so good after all.

“I’m such an idiot,” Cassie muttered, looking away from Trey and his girls. She forced herself to smile. “And I didn’t even get a kiss out of it.”

“Everybody falls for his act,” Greta said, her voice
moving from flat to something more sympathetic. “You can’t beat yourself up about it.”

But Cassie was furious with herself. This was why she’d agreed to the ten-boy summer in the first place. She was supposed to be focused on racking up the kisses, not serious romance. She obviously couldn’t rely on her own intuition. She would have happily let Trey play her—all because she was a sucker for a guy who showed earnest interest in things she cared about.

But no more. No more trying to get close. No more letting herself fall for guys, no matter how delicious it felt. No more.

“Hey,” she said, nudging Greta with her shoulder. “You know what would hit the spot right now?”

“A little Trey Carter bashing?” Greta asked wryly. “I could be into that.”

“Cheese fries,” Cassie said. She wanted to be over Trey Carter and his womanizing ways. “Gooey, hot, and in all ways bad for us comfort food.”

Greta grinned. “The only thing better than Trey Carter bashing,” she said with a laugh. “Let’s go.”

Cassie stood without a backward glance.

She told herself she didn’t even want to look to see if Trey noticed.

But not turning around was the hardest thing she’d done all summer.

T
he morning after the party Cassie’s alarm went off way too early. Nothing about getting up at 6 a.m. was okay—even if she’d gone to bed at eight the night before, which she definitely hadn’t. Cassie moaned, bleary-eyed, and staggered into the shower. She didn’t really wake up until she was halfway down the freeway toward her 8:30 a.m. ferry, sucking down the cold-brewed coffee she’d brought with her from home.

Sweet, sweet caffeine. The only thing that made the long commute bearable. That and the fact that she didn’t really have to appear bright-eyed or bushy-tailed until she arrived at the bike shop—which was another hour ahead of her. Cassie had figured that her ferry ride
would provide a much-needed extra hour of rest on difficult mornings. And this was definitely a difficult morning.

Cassie parked and made her way onto the ferry, settling into her favorite seat up top. It was windier outside and sometimes got a little cold so early in the morning, but she hated being cooped up inside the boat’s cabin. She liked to see the sunlight bounce off the waves as it gained strength. She liked to ride the swells and see the California mainland get smaller in the distance, so that even the great sprawl of Los Angeles began to look manageable.

The ferry finally got under way, and Cassie relaxed as the engine thrummed beneath her. She stared off at the water in front of her and wondered what the day would hold. She knew she should probably eat something for energy, but she was still full from last night’s Denny’s stop with Greta. They’d gone to town on the cheese fries, and while Cassie didn’t regret a single bite, she’d had no appetite at all for her usual eaten-while-commuting bagel. Luckily, she always carried a few Luna bars in her backpack for inevitable moments of starvation on a tour.

Cassie let the morning wash over her—fresh sea air and the salt sting—and was feeling pretty great about life in general when she noticed a guy leaning against the rail a little ways away from her, closer to the bow of the boat.
He was propped up on his elbows and staring out at the water, and she could only see his back, but for a second—

She must still have Trey Carter on the brain, she thought, shaking her head, because the guy looked a lot like she imagined Trey would look—if he were wearing Abercrombie khaki shorts and a dark red sweatshirt, that is, and if he were randomly on her ferry. She was still annoyed at herself for failing to pick up on the fact that Trey was a loser. The farther away she got from that lounge chair in Pacific Palisades, the more she regretted letting Trey get into her head. The fun of all the flirting she and Greta had done, the sweet summer evening, the excitement of their first big party in a long time—all of this had obviously confused her senses and foiled her jerk radar.

What if Greta hadn’t been looking out for her? Cassie pulled her hoodie tighter around her and tried to burrow into it. It didn’t bear thinking about.

She wasn’t prepared when the guy at the rail turned and showed his face. Cassie was astounded to discover he didn’t just look like Trey Carter.

He
was
Trey Carter.

Cassie’s mouth fell open in shock. Trey walked over and sat next to her as if it were still the night before and she’d been keeping the spot open for him. Cassie was far too flabbergasted to react in time.

“I woke up this morning seized with this
need
to go to Catalina,” he said casually, as if they were still in the same
conversation they’d been in the night before. As if nothing had changed. “What do you think that’s about?”

“Um, I have no idea,” Cassie muttered, not looking at him. She looked at her feet, which usually seemed ungainly to her, but somehow looked cute next to Trey’s much bigger ones. Okay—not helpful. “Catalina is a very popular destination.”

“I have a theory,” Trey confided in a low voice. The kind of voice that invited Cassie to lean in so that she could hear every word. She wanted to. But she reminded herself that this was undoubtedly one of his many games. It was horrifying how much she wanted to be played in that moment—it was like some physical weakness in her bones—but Cassie decided that was simply because he was so talented. It wasn’t
her
weakness, it was
his
skills.

“I don’t think you need a theory,” she said, trying to sound bored and over him. “It’s Catalina in the summer. It’s self-explanatory.”

If Greta had said that, Cassie knew, it would have been cutting and decisive. It would have sliced into Trey and sent him scuttling off to lick his wounds. But she knew it hadn’t sounded that way coming out of her mouth. Even if he’d picked up the sarcastic tone of her voice, Trey showed no signs of scuttling. Instead, he looked straight at her, his dark eyes knowing and a little curve in the corner of his mouth.

“My theory is about a girl,” he said in that same low, inviting way. Damn him. He totally ignored her attempted rebuff and picked up where he’d left off. Smooth. “My theory is that she deliberately bailed on me at a party without so much as giving me a phone number, leaving me no choice.” He grinned. “Normally I might text or something, but with no number? A trip to Catalina was the only way.”

Cassie tried to think about the situation objectively. And objectively, she could see that Trey was distractingly sexy. Objectively, she would have found this moment adorable and romantic had Greta not told her his real motives. It was almost sad that she knew he was playing games, because otherwise she would have melted into a puddle on the deck of the
Catalina Express
. A less-prepared girl wouldn’t have stood a chance. The guy was good.

“I admit that I’m not used to being blown off,” Trey said when she didn’t respond. “But you warned me that you were mysterious.”

“And you like that?” Cassie asked. She already knew he liked it. Greta had told her that when he set his sights on someone, he was entirely dedicated to the pursuit.
Chase and destroy
.

“I like mysteries I can solve eventually,” Trey said. His smile encouraged her to smile in return. “I think it comes from reading too much Christopher Pike when I was a kid.”

Cassie’s eyes lit up despite herself. “I loved Christopher Pike!” she cried. “I lived for the Spooksville books.”

“Me too,” Trey said. “I used to read them under my covers with a flashlight when I was supposed to be asleep.”

What was she
doing
?

“Excuse me,” Cassie announced abruptly, with unnecessary formality. Because what else could she do? Looking at him wasn’t doing any good—the red Stanford sweatshirt was practically mesmerizing her at this point, managing to look cozy even as it clung to his well-formed chest. That was the only explanation for her sudden desire to talk about favorite childhood books with him. So she quickly got to her feet and went inside, where she stood on line to use the restroom even though all she did once there was glare at herself in the mirror.
Christopher Pike? Really?
Then she bought a coffee and went out to the other side of the boat. She wouldn’t have to worry about Trey’s tactics if she wasn’t anywhere near him, would she?

Cassie managed to avoid him the rest of the way across the water, but her luck ran out when they docked at Avalon. She’d barely disembarked when Trey fell into step beside her.

“Another beautiful California morning,” he said, sounding perfectly happy, as if she hadn’t run out in the
middle of another conversation. Maybe he wasn’t so much a player as he was just crazy.

She tried to walk faster, but it was a wasted effort. Trey easily kept pace with her, and before she knew it they were walking into Billy’s Bikes together. She figured that would end things pretty quickly. Surely he didn’t want to hang out in a bike shop all day.

Especially
this
bike shop. Billy celebrated their arrival by turning up the music to deafening levels and racing out from behind the counter to rock back and forth to the pounding drums.

“Terrapin Station!”
he shouted above the music, curving his hands into what he had told Cassie was a particular Deadhead dance. He looked as if he were cradling a giant yet invisible ball in his arms and rocking it back and forth in midair.

Cassie brushed past Billy and turned the stereo down.

“I think the windows are about to shatter,” she told him. She pretended Trey wasn’t there. This was not an unusual way for perpetually tie-dyed Billy to begin the workday. Cassie was used to it by now. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t loony.

She was completely surprised when Trey signed up for her bike tour.

“What are you doing?” she hissed at him, after he’d handed over his money and been swept away from the
counter by a pack of noisy tourists who claimed Billy’s attention.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at her, like she wasn’t making sense.

“Why would you want to go on a bike tour?” she asked, exasperated. “You’ve been to Catalina a million times.”

“Is this the same Cassie who told me I had to see the island through her eyes?” Trey asked lightly. “And since when is a bike ride in paradise not worth doing?”

Cassie was fuming, but she couldn’t do anything about it. She had to help get the bikes ready for the tour group and pack up her emergency kit. Billy, naturally, was engrossed in a conversation with a similarly hippied-out Catalina native about “Dark Star,” which Cassie now knew was a particular Grateful Dead song. She managed to completely ignore Trey until she’d gathered the day’s tour group in front of her and was giving her usual welcome speech.

She nearly forgot her well-practiced words halfway through, because he was just
watching
her. Like he was trying to figure her out.

“I have extra water and a first-aid kit,” she finished. “Don’t be afraid to ask for either one if you need it!”

“Don’t worry about this group,” the middle-aged woman nearest Cassie said with a laugh, fastening her
helmet to her head. Cassie had to concentrate to remember her name, but it finally came to her: Felicia. “We are not afraid to sing out if we need something!”

The whole group burst into laughter at that one.

“I take it you all know each other,” Cassie said dryly. Cue more laughter.

“The eight of us go on a vacation together every year for the Fourth of July,” Felicia said, reminding Cassie that the holiday was on Monday. “We girls have all been friends since college.”

“While we husbands have learned to get along with each other one way or another,” one of the men joked. Cassie laughed along with them, wishing Trey would go away.

But he not only wasn’t going anywhere, he was actually helping the tourists as they started on the ride. He taught three of them the proper hand signals and had two of the men in stitches as he told a story about his bike trip in Maine. Cassie was torn between amazement at the effectiveness of his spell, even on adults, and jealousy that he’d gone to all the trouble to take her bike tour and now wasn’t paying any attention to her. What was wrong with her?

“Your boyfriend is a hoot!” Felicia called over to Cassie as they started the climb into the hills.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Cassie called back, and then felt her cheeks heat when Felicia gave her an assessing look.

Happily, the steep hill ahead of them took care of any more boyfriend talk.

Cassie tried to block Trey out and focus on the beautiful summer morning all around her. The sun and the sea and the island’s hills were all that mattered. Not some loser who apparently had to be the most popular guy around, even with a group of old, married tourists.

Trey pulled ahead of the group, his bike surging forward under his sure hands and strong legs, and charged up the incline. Cassie couldn’t help but admire the way he handled himself. He spun around in a circle, letting out a whoop, and then coasted back down toward the tour group. His smile was wide and his face was filled with the same fierce joy Cassie felt every time she took this ride. Her chest tightened as she looked at him. She had to concentrate to get her breath back.

She tried to shake it off when they made their first stop. Everyone gratefully took the little snack packs she handed out, and complimented her on the first leg of the tour as if she had anything to do with the island’s beauty. Cassie made sure not to look too much at Trey, who had stripped his sweatshirt off and was looking far too delicious in his white T-shirt. It was dangerous enough that he was so gorgeous, but what she felt suddenly was a lot more tender. It confused her.

“Trey,” Felicia said then, in her commanding voice
that could probably be heard back in Avalon, “Cassie tells me you’re not her boyfriend.”

Cassie died in that moment. Or, at least, she wished she had. The rest of Felicia’s friends laughed, but Cassie’s ears were ringing and she could feel all the blood in her entire body race to her face.

She was still alive. Unfortunately.

“No, ma’am,” Trey said, sounding far too amused.

“Life is short,” Felicia announced. “You should take her out sometime. Do kids date these days? Or
hang out
, as my daughter claims?”

“I think it’s
hanging out
,” one of her friends said. “
Dating
is so old-fashioned.”

Trey looked over at Cassie, a tiny crook of a smile flirting with his mouth—and wreaking havoc with Cassie’s nervous system. Which she figured made her twice the fool. She knew all about him and he still got under her skin.

“I don’t think Trey needs anyone’s help, but thanks,” Cassie said, humiliated that her voice was so squeaky. “And actually, I’m, uh, totally good as is. So. Who’s ready for the next leg?”

She made a big show of fussing over her bike and collecting trash, but she could feel Trey’s eyes on her the whole time. She refused to look back and confirm.

She told herself she started shivering because the wind picked up, but she knew she was lying. For the rest
of the ride, she kept her mouth shut and led the group silently. Trey didn’t try to talk to her again, but she felt him watching her all the way down the trail. By the time they got back to the bike shop, she had to fight back the truth—she loved that he was looking.