Lies I Told (13 page)

Wednesday night Parker and I headed to Logan's house. His parents were out again—another charity event—and he had invited everyone over to hang out.

Parker and I rode in silence, the tension that had been building since we got to Playa Hermosa heavy between us. He hadn't said any more about my relationship with Logan, but he didn't have to. I knew why he was sullen, why I would sometimes catch him looking at Logan when he wasn't paying attention. I wondered if anyone else noticed his jittery energy, the way he tapped his foot and bounced his leg when we were hanging out, like he couldn't wait to get away. Did Rachel notice how distracted he was when she talked to him, the way he seemed unable—or unwilling—to look her in the eye? Like she was so far off his radar she didn't even warrant eye contact? Then again, maybe that was a turn-on
for someone like Rachel, who never had to work for anything.

The group seemed to read Parker's attitude as moodiness, and while they hadn't shut him out yet, I was starting to wonder how long they'd put up with him.

We turned onto Logan's road, and Parker pulled up to the security gate, waiting for Logan to buzz us in. A few seconds later the gates swung open, and Parker eased down the driveway. This time I scanned the trees for cameras, noting the blinking red lights spaced at forty-foot intervals along the drive.

When the house came into view, I saw that the space in front of the garage was already lined with cars. There was a BMW, a Mercedes, an Audi, and a Saab similar to the one Parker and I shared. I'd offered to give Selena a ride, but she'd been dropped off early by her dad, who had insisted on meeting Logan's parents before he would allow Selena to come over.

Parker pulled next to a red BMW and we got out of the car. I expected to hear music thumping from the house, but it was quiet.

I led Parker to the front door, where we waited for Logan to respond to our knock. He appeared a minute later in khaki shorts and a navy button-down with the sleeves rolled to the elbow. He looked both pulled together and casual, and I had a sudden attack of insecurity, wondering if the long skirt and drapey tank I'd worn were too much. Then his eyes lit up at the sight of me, and all my worry disappeared.

“There you are!” He took my hand and pulled me inside, wrapping me in a hug. When he pulled away, he kept one arm possessively around my shoulder. I stuffed down a rush of pure unadulterated happiness as he gave Parker a casual handshake. “Glad you could make it, man.”

Parker nodded. “Thanks for the invite.”

Logan shut the door and turned to the alarm keypad. I caught Parker's eye as he tried to glance casually over Logan's shoulder. A second later he gave a small shake of his head, and I knew he hadn't gotten the code. I was both disappointed and relieved.

Logan led us upstairs. I didn't hear anything until we turned the corner into the media room. Music played softly from a sound system set into the wall while Rachel, Harper, and Olivia sat on one of the sofas, talking quietly. Across the room, Selena was playing Cards Against Humanity with Raj, David, and Liam. I don't know what I'd expected. Rich kids raging? Doing drugs? Puking on the floors?

Rachel glanced up at me. I avoided her eyes, thinking about the lost ID.

“Can I get you a beer?” Logan asked.

“Sure,” Parker said.

I nodded. “Thanks.”

Logan crossed to a refrigerator underneath the bar and pulled out two bottles of Corona. We were all underage, but that didn't mean anything. Not in Playa Hermosa and not anywhere else I'd gone to school. Alcohol was a given at high school parties, and as parties went, this one was pretty mild.

Logan gave us our beers, and Parker ambled over to Selena and the guys.

“Want to play Cards?” Logan asked.

I loved Cards Against Humanity, but I couldn't keep avoiding Rachel. It only made my paranoia worse. Besides, she might not have found the ID at all. True, I'd had it when I went into AP Euro. But we'd been in the hall afterward. People had been shoving past us on their way to class. It could have fallen out of my pocket, been swept up in the mountains of stuff that collected under lockers and behind trash cans every day of the week in any high school.

“Actually, I think I'll talk to the girls for a bit.” I smiled. “You go ahead. I know where to find you.”

He leaned down, touched his lips gently to mine, and a shiver worked its way up my spine.

“Get a room!” Raj called out.

We laughed, and I headed over to the sofa where Rachel and the other girls were sitting.

Olivia smiled up at me. “Hey, Grace.”

“Hey. What's up?”

“We were just talking about prom. We're fighting an uphill battle against a Hearts in Atlantis theme. You should join the committee.” She turned to Rachel. “Right, Rach?”

Rachel attempted a smile. “We can use all the help we can get.”

I didn't want to join prom committee. Didn't want to plan for a dance that I'd probably never attend. A dance where Logan would lace his hands across the small of some other
girl's back as they swayed to the music in a dimly lit room.

“Hearts in Atlantis sounds super cheesy,” I agreed. “What else is up for discussion?”

“Let's see . . .” Harper thought about it. “There's Moonlit Forest.”

“And Bon Voyage,” Olivia added.

I raised my eyebrows. “Bon Voyage?”

“I think it's nautical or something,” Rachel said dismissively.

“Buoys and anchors and sailor suits?” I laughed. “Sounds awful.”

Olivia nodded. “Right?”

“Moonlit Forest could be nice.” I hesitated. “Or . . .”

“What?” Harper asked. “Do you have an idea?”

“What about Midnight in Paris?” I suggested. “Like the movie?”

It wasn't really my idea. Our school in Phoenix had done a Midnight in Paris theme for prom. It had been romantic despite the fact that I was working a mark named Bradley, keeping him busy while Parker got his sister drunk in an attempt to find out the combo to the family safe holding their mother's jewelry.

“Oh, my God, I
love
that movie!” Olivia said.

“Paris is always romantic,” Harper said. “Plus, with the movie tie-in, you have the 1920s to play with, too.”

“That's true!” I sounded surprised, even though some of the kids in Phoenix had shown up in Gatsby-esque dresses and tuxes.

“See?” Olivia said. “You should join the committee. We need fresh ideas.”

For a split second I could see it: brainstorming ideas for the dance, laughing and hanging white lights, getting dressed and putting on makeup together before the guys picked us up in a limo.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said faintly.

The pizzas came a while later, and everyone gathered around the coffee table to eat. Parker made a trip to the fridge and pulled out another beer. I couldn't be sure, but he seemed a little unsteady on his feet. I wondered how many he'd had.

Logan and I sat next to each other on the sofa, talking quietly about school and music and college. It was only the second time in my life that I'd had such an instant connection with someone. Parker had been the first, but our connection had been based on tragedy, on loss, on a shared survival instinct. Where Parker and I had huddled together like survivors in a life raft, Logan was pulling me out into the clear blue sea, teaching me that I could swim. That I could live outside the shelter of the boat that was both my refuge and my prison.

After dinner we changed into bathing suits and headed outside to the Jacuzzi. The night was chilly by Southern California standards, the salty spray of the ocean mingling with the chlorine-scented hot tub water. I sat next to Logan, wondering if I was feeling flushed from the hot water or from the strangely intimate experience of sitting close to him while
both of us were nearly naked.

I watched the group interact through a surreal kind of haze. I was both part of them and apart from them. I could smile on cue and laugh. I could even participate in the conversation. But I was an actor reciting my lines, playing a part. I felt stupid. Why had I felt like I belonged? I would never, ever be one of them. Would never have that luxury. And I wasn't talking about their money. They were at ease in one another's company, drinking beer and making inside jokes and recounting their shared experiences, in a way I'd never been with anybody.

In a way I would never be with anybody.

Parker took a swig from his beer bottle and met my gaze across the water, steam rising between us like a veil. It was a reminder, and I rose from the water and stepped out of the Jacuzzi, reaching for my towel.

“I'm going to get some water. Does anyone want anything?”

“I'll come with you,” Logan said, starting to rise.

“There's no reason for both of us to drip water through your kitchen,” I laughed. “I'll be right back.”

He eased back into the water with a nod.

I headed for the house.

The lawn was dark, lit only at the edges and along the pathway by the landscaping lights. I let myself into the house through the doors off the terrace. It was strangely quiet, a soft glow emanating from the lights under the cabinets in the kitchen. It could have been any kitchen in any house in any city we'd worked.

I looked around, my mind doing a quick, almost instinctual calculation of the situation. Away from Logan and the others, with the clock ticking, it was easier to remember who I was, and I quickly ran the towel over my body, then wrapped my hair in it to avoid the drip marks that would outline my route through the house.

I moved through the kitchen and into the hallway, my bare feet silent on the stairs as I made my way to the second floor. My mom's search of the house at the Fairchilds'
party had been perfunctory. I needed to double-check all the rooms on the second floor, just to be sure.

I started with the media room. I'd have other chances to check behind the closed doors—probably bedrooms—but Logan seemed to use the media room as his prime hangout spot. It might be a while before I had another opportunity to case it alone.

I headed for the walls, lined with bookcases. A large safe or panic room would have to be set into one of the walls, and I felt around the bookshelves, hoping for a break. When that didn't work, I started shuffling books, looking for signs of a hidden room—books that didn't line up with the alphabetical system clearly in place, bumps that might indicate a thick door hidden in the walls, a change in the sound of my fist rapping against the wood as I made my way down the line of shelves. Nothing seemed out of place.

I stood there, staring at the shelves and contemplating the merits of looking closer before discounting the idea. I'd been in the house for at least five minutes, probably a little bit longer. If I wanted a look at the other rooms, I needed to hurry.

I headed for the closed door across the hall from the media room. Its comfortable but nondescript decor suggested a guest room, and I made a quick search of the walls and closet before moving on. I'd made it through another guest room and two bathrooms when I heard the sound of voices. I glanced out the bathroom window and caught sight of Harper and Raj moving toward the house, Logan and the
others trailing behind them.

I did a quick scan of the hallway, making sure everything was the way I found it, before bounding down the stairs. Pulling the towel from my hair, I wrapped it around my body and was just sliding onto one of the kitchen stools when the door opened.

“Hey!” Logan said. Worry shadowed his eyes, and he crossed the tile floor. “You okay?”

I dropped my head into one of my hands. “I'm sorry. I wasn't feeling very well.”

He laid a hand on my forehead as the others came in. “Did you get your water?”

I shook my head. “I didn't make it that far.”

He crossed the kitchen to the sink and filled a glass with water. “Drink,” he said, pushing the glass toward me.

“What's up?” David asked. “You okay, Grace?”

“I just felt a little light-headed,” I said.

“Probably the hot tub,” Harper said, toweling her hair dry until it stood up in short spikes around her pixie face. “Logan's mom likes it hot.”

“You want to lie down?” Logan asked. “You can take my room if you want.”

“I should take her home,” Parker said. He was leaning against the wall, his eyes dark. Logan glanced back at him. “Why don't you stay?” Logan said to him. “I can run Grace home.”

Parker's eyes flashed blue fire. Logan was implying he was drunk, and Parker knew it.

“I'm fine to drive,” Parker said. “I only had three beers.”

Liam clapped him on the back. “Hate to break it to you, bro, but that's three too many to make you a safe driver.”

Parker shook off his hand and looked around the room. His eyes fell on Logan.

“Sorry, man. House rules,” Logan said.

“I can drive,” I said. “I had half a beer two hours ago. And I'm just a little under the weather. I don't have the plague.”

“You sure?” Logan asked.

“She's sure,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. “She's not made of glass. If she says she can drive, she can drive.”

Logan nodded slowly. “Okay, then.”

I got dressed and Logan walked Parker and me to the car. Parker slammed the passenger side door, leaving Logan and me to say good-bye in private.

I sighed. “Sorry about Parker.”

Logan gave me a half smile. “Don't sweat it. He just had one too many beers.”

“Yeah, but he kind of ruined the mood in there.”

He pulled me close. “It was just an excuse to hang out with you. Besides, it's a weeknight. Everyone will be heading home soon anyway.”

Wrapping my arms around his torso, I felt the ripple of muscle in his back. I inhaled the smell of him—chlorine and trees, surf wax and the sea—and laid my head on his chest.

“Think you'll be at school tomorrow?” he asked.

I looked up at him. “Definitely. I just need a good night's sleep.”

He leaned down and touched his lips lightly to mine. “Feel better, Grace.”

I nodded and got in the car.

“And text me when you get home safe.” He shut my door.

I reversed and then put the car into gear, starting down the driveway. It was so dark I could only make out the trees lining the driveway. Beyond them, everything was black.

Parker sulked, slouched in the seat next to me. I waited until we'd passed the gates, already open when we got there, to speak.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked him softly.

“What the fuck are
you
doing, Grace?” I thought his words were a little slurred. I was glad Logan and everyone else had put their foot down about him driving.

“I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.” I was careful. Careful not to violate the rules by saying something I shouldn't.

“I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing, too,” he said, glaring at me from the passenger seat. “Looking after you.”

“By getting drunk?”

“It was a party,” he said. “I thought I was supposed to fit in.”

I turned onto the main road leading home. “In case you didn't notice, that's not exactly what you were doing.”

“I'll take that as a compliment,” he muttered, turning his head to the window.

“You shouldn't,” I said. “You're not doing us any good acting this way.”

“And you are?”

Anger heated my face, rushed through my bloodstream like a wildfire. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“By being Logan Fairchild's main squeeze?” he sneered.

I turned onto Camino Jardin, surprised by the hatred I suddenly felt for him. “Yes.”

“Driving around in the BMW, hanging out at the big house, being wined and dined by Mr. Trust Fund Baby . . . must be tough.”

The sarcasm in his voice made me want to slap him. I pulled in front of the house and turned off the car. Then I took a deep breath, listening to the tick of the engine as it cooled.

Finally, I turned to him. “You might not see what I'm doing as important. You might think it's all fun and games, that I'm enjoying my time with Logan. You might even be right. But while you were getting smashed, acting like a spoiled four-year-old, ignoring everyone we're supposed to be working, I was casing the house. I was looking for the gold, for cameras along the driveway.” I met his eyes across the darkened car. “What were you doing?”

I got out and slammed the door. He didn't follow me inside.