Private 09 - Paradise Lost (8 page)

I rolled my eyes. "Said the guy who goes to Oxford."

"I'm serious," he told me. 'You can get a proper education almost anywhere. It's just up to you how much work you want to put into it. The important thing is to go somewhere that you feel comfortable. Otherwise you'll spend all your time trying to fit in instead of trying to learn." I stared out at the ocean. The waves were larger now, starting to splash their way up the beach toward our picnic spot. "Huh. No one's ever put it that way before."

"Not only am I not an ass, I'm also quite wise," Upton joked, spearing a piece of melon with his fork.

I sighed and pulled my knees up under my chin, hugging my shins as I looked out at the choppy water. This was an interesting concept--figure out where I'd feel comfortable. After the insane experiences I'd had at Easton, maybe I should look for a big school. Big and southern and warm. With lots and lots of sunshine, modern buildings, and no tradition at all. I laughed to myself and tightened my sweatshirt around my torso. University of Miami, here I come.

"Is it just me, or is it getting cold out here?" I asked. My words were still hanging in the air when I felt the first raindrop.

"That's our cue," Upton said. He sat up straight and opened the picnic basket. Already a steady drizzle was starting to fall. "Leave the trays. Save as much of the food as you can."

"Just leave the silver trays?" I asked. Did his family sweat money or something?

"There's no time. These things come on fast," he said. He was right. The rain was starting to fall harder, soaking through my skirt and sweatshirt.

"We dumped the bread, cheese, and croissants into the basket, grabbed the thermoses, and left the rest on the blanket. Upton grabbed my hand and squinted up the beach.

"We can duck under the roof at Shutters," he said, pointing at a covered deck that was mostly obscured by dozens of blossoming bushes.

Upton jogged up the beach, no easy feat in the downy sand when toting a few pounds of food in one hand and clinging to me with the other. Before I knew it, we were climbing a set of stone steps and ducking under the wooden overhang that covered an outdoor restaurant. Several of the tables were occupied, and the diners were visibly startled at our sudden arrival. The maitre d' stepped forward and greeted us. He was a handsome, dark-skinned man with a huge smile and four hoop earrings in his left ear.

"Good morning, Mr. Giles," he said, placing his hands together. "Caught in the storm?" It seemed as if everyone relaxed when they realized one of the vagabonds off the street was actually Upton Giles. I was reminded that this was a small island and that Upton's circle was even smaller.

"Afraid so, Marquis," Upton said, running his hand over his hair a few times to shed some of the rain. "Mind if we wait it out here for a bit?"

Marquis gestured with an open hand toward the front of the restaurant. "Feel free to sit in the lounge until it passes."

Upton tugged on my hand, leading me toward the lounge. But two steps later, we nearly bumped into the Ryan family, who were walking out to the patio. Paige, dressed in a white fleece warm-up suit, took one look at my hand in Upton's and glanced away, irritated. Man, this girl took the Upton Game seriously. Too bad I was winning.

"Upton! Reed!" Daniel greeted us with a warm smile. "What did you do, go for a walk in the rain?"

"We attempted a picnic," Upton said, glancing past Daniel at his parents. "But the weather didn't cooperate."

He dropped my hand to adjust the basket, and then left my fingers hanging there. Paige noticed this and smirked. I tucked both hands under my arms to feel less conspicuous.

"Why don't you join us, then?" Mr. Ryan suggested. His salt-and-pepper hair looked as hard as a helmet, and his teeth glowed white. In tan khakis, with his aviator sunglasses hanging out of the collar of his blue polo, he looked like a poster boy for the Republican convention.

"I doubt they want to horn in on a family breakfast," Mrs. Ryan said, slipping between her two progeny to step past us. "They have better manners than that. At least Upton does," she said with a sniff, eyeing my soggy hoodie with disgust. "Come, Paige, Daniel. Marquis has our usual table ready."

Paige smirked at me as she followed her mother. Mrs. Ryan had insulted me so flippantly that it took a few minutes for the words to sink in. When they did, my jaw nearly hit the ground. Was Mrs. Ryan really that annoyed about what had gone on at Billings this year? Having graduated from Easton at least twenty years ago, it was way past time for her to move on.

"You'll have to excuse my wife," Mr. Ryan said in a low voice. "She hasn't been sleeping well."

"Not a problem, Mr. Ryan," Upton said. "Enjoy your brunch." Mr. Ryan flashed us his politician smile before joining his family.

"Not a problem? That woman was so rude to me," I whispered, glancing over my shoulder. Mrs. Ryan was sitting at the first table overlooking the water, staring at her menu with her lips pursed, judging the offerings just as she had judged me. "Doesn't she have better things to do with her time?"

"Don't let her ruin your day," Upton said. He nodded toward the cozy-looking lounge, filled with big armchairs and glass-topped tables. "Come on. We can get dried off inside and see if we can save any of our breakfast."

I took a deep breath. Upton was right. If I was going to be Fun Reed, I shouldn't let some bitter, bored housewife ruin my day. But I couldn't help noticing that Upton had not reached for my hand again. Was it because he didn't want Paige to report back to Poppy and tell her that he had been holding my hand? And if so, why?

I reached for a chocolate croissant and tore into it. Forget Mrs. Ryan. All these unanswered questions could definitely ruin my day.

CHAPTER 12 GIRLS AND DRAMA

Shutters was, apparently, the go-to hangout for the St. Barths crew, as I found out when Noelle drove me and West back there that afternoon for a late lunch. The storm had been short-lived and the patio roof, which also was a shutter with slats, was open to let in the sun. Upton was spending the afternoon with his family, but Kiran already was there with her parents and Taylor, and Noelle's father had commandeered a large table overlooking the water. He was sitting with Sawyer, Graham, and a man whom I assumed was their father. The two dads were engaged in some serious conversation while Sawyer read his book and Graham texted on his BlackBerry.

Marquis led Noelle, West, and me to a prime table at the opposite corner of the patio from Mr. Lange and the Hathaway family. We were seated only for a moment when Kiran and Taylor got up to join us, bringing their iced teas with them. Kiran was wearing a demure (for her) black sundress that had a full skirt hitting just above the knee.

Taylor wore a gauzy off-the-shoulder top and white shorts, her blond curls back in a skinny headband much like the one Poppy had been wearing the night before.

"Hey, girls," Kiran said as she sat down. She started to take a sip of iced tea and then paused, looking at West. "And boy."

West grinned. He reached over and took Noelle's hand, holding it on top of the table. Kiran, Taylor, and I simply stared. Public hand-holding? I had known they were flirting, but this was big. I glanced at Kiran and Taylor. They both shrugged with their eyes, as baffled as I was.

"Where're Tiff and Amberly?" Taylor asked, sipping her tea.

"Tiff is scouting locations with Tassos, and Amberly is boycotting us," Noelle replied, pushing her frameless Kenneth Cole sunglasses up into her hair.

"Boycottingus? Why?" I asked, incredulous.

Noelle ducked her chin and looked at me. "Because of you," she said. "Apparently you're being mean to her," she added in a light voice.

I sat up straight, my jaw on the table. "I'm being mean to her? She told you that?" Noelle's silence was confirmation.

"Unbelievable! She has been evil to me ever since she got into Billings and she totally trashed my room! She does not get to boycott me!"

Noelle lifted one shoulder and shifted in her seat, clearly amused. "Apparently, she does. And you might want to dial it down," she added, glancing pointedly at the other diners. "These are the types of people who save their shrill for behind closed doors." 

My cheeks warmed, and I made an indignant noise in the back of my throat, dropping back in my chair. Who did Amberly think she was?

West chuckled and shook his head. "You girls and your drama. There should be a support group."

"Do not comment on what you do not understand," Noelle told him with a smile and a hand squeeze.

West grinned, and I exchanged looks with Kiran and Taylor again. This new relationship just did not compute. Noelle and West had known each other their entire lives and had never shown an interest before. Now we were suddenly supposed to believe they were a handholding couple?

"So, Noelle, what's up with your dad and the Hathaways?" Kiran asked, leaning back in an elegant pose, her legs crossed and one arm casually slung over the back of her chair. "Is he sharing stock tips, or something?"

"Actually, he's trying to convince Mr. Hathaway to take the headmaster job at Easton," Noelle said, closing her menu with a slap. "He has this rep for turning around troubled institutions, so Daddy and the Board think he'd be a perfect fit for Easton." She signaled for the waiter.

I looked across the patio at Mr. Hathaway. Compared to the Crom or Dean Marcus, he was so young. So . . . un-intimidating. Slight of build like his sons, with jet-black hair, tan skin, and nary a wrinkle on his handsome, boyish face. Were the students of Easton really going to respond to such a man? As I looked away, my eye caught Sawyer's, and he quickly glanced back down at his book. I felt a weird rush of uncertainty. I hoped he didn't think I was checking out his dad. Ew.

"Where's Jen, anyway?" Taylor asked as West placed his order with the waiter. "I haven't seen her."

"Taylor! Shhh," Noelle scolded, lowering her voice as her gaze slid around to the nearby tables. "Jen Hathaway passed away last summer."

"What?" Taylor and Kiran said breathlessly.

"How?" West asked, clearly disturbed. "Why hasn't anyone said anything?" Noelle leaned in to the table. We all did the same, knowing she was about to say something not for public consumption. "Because she--" That was all she got out, because at that moment, Dash McCafferty walked out onto the patio. Noelle visibly paled at the sight of him, but she seemed to recover instantly. She sat up straight and pretended to be riveted by the surf crashing against the sand on the beach be-low. Dash found us with his eyes, and his handsome face registered about ten different emotions in as many seconds. Excitement to see Noelle. Then trepidation. Then confusion over seeing me with her. Then dread. Then recognition of Kiran and Taylor. Then, finally, shock. Because he'd finally noticed Noelle's and West's hands entwined on the table. He froze, and for a second I thought he was just going to bolt. I tensed up, deciding to rank this moment as one of the most excruciatingly uncomfortable of my life. And then, salvation came . . . in the unlikely form of Gage Coolidge. He ambled up behind Dash and slapped his hands down on Dash's broad shoulders.

"Dash, my man! You made it! We thought you were going to let the whole Brennan Sex Tape Scandal keep you away!"

Okay, so it wasn't perfect salvation.

Behind Gage was the rest of the crew. Poppy, Paige, Daniel, Sienna, and Amberly crowded in around Dash, all pausing to kiss him hello or to slap his hand. Before long, Marquis seated them at a table in the center of the restaurant, where they set up a loud, raucous camp. I had no idea which person's presence to focus on first. Dash, who was going to make these next couple of weeks a lot more complicated. Amberly, who had somehow gotten in with Paige and her crew in less than twenty-four hours. Or Paige and Sienna, who were basically trying to annihilate me with their glares from across the patio. It was odd that Paige and Sienna were the ones so openly hating me, and not Poppy. Was it possible that Paige had told Sienna and not Poppy that I had hooked up with Upton before Poppy had arrived on the island? It hardly seemed possible. Girls like Paige lived to gossip, backstab, and sabotage. But then why wasn't Poppy staring me down? Did she not care? Or did she not feel threatened because her relationship with Upton was, in her mind, secure?

I let out a sigh. Maybe West was right. Maybe girls were addicted to drama.

"Hey, you wankers! Come over and join us!" Poppy shouted at our table, waving her hand over her head. Apparently she hadn't been clued in about Noelle and Dash's breakup. Or perhaps she was too flighty to think about it. Everyone in the restaurant smiled and shook their heads, like her behavior was just so endearing. It seemed they didn't mind Poppy's shrill in public.

"There's no room," West replied quickly. "We'll catch up with you guys later." Poppy made a loud scoffing noise, like we were incurable losers, then turned to Daniel, who edged his chair as close to hers as it could get. He put his elbow on the armrest and leaned toward her, completely rapt with attention, as she spoke.

"Looks like Daniel isn't quite over Poppy just yet," Kiran pointed out, choosing wisely to ignore Dash's appearance on the scene.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Oh, Daniel and Poppy had this huge thing last Christmas," Kiran said, leaning back as our food arrived. "He was totally head over heels for her, and they spent the entire two weeks holed up in her penthouse doing God knows what. Then, on New Year's Eve, they finally came out and she dumped him in front of everyone. It was not pretty. He had one of his patented Daniel Ryan freak-outs." West laughed and reached for the salt and pepper. "Oh, yeah. The rowboat. I forgot about that one."

"Daniel's freak-outs usually include destruction of personal property," Taylor explained, noting my confusion. "Or destruction of the face of whomever pissed him off."

"He couldn't exactly kick the crap out of the girl he loved, so he went after some poor fisherman's rowboat instead," Kiran said. "With an ax." She used her knife to demonstrate the point before digging into her salad.