CHAPTER 2 #2
“Are you okay?” Daisy whispered as soon as we put enough people between us and the door. “I saw him earlier, but I didn’t hear his name, and I—”
“It’s fine, Daisy.” My shoe felt stiff from where Beck’s drink had dried into the material, pinching my toes. “Really. It’s a total nonissue.”
N-O-N-I-S-S-U-E. I held my chin high, trying to show her how unaffected I was, because only then would she let the topic go. And when she let the topic go, my nerves would calm down. And when my nerves calmed down, I could glide up to Dr. Pembleton with ease.
“I can’t believe they’d let him back on the property after nearly burning the country club down,” Daisy muttered, shaking her head.
Jamie, behind us, immediately said, “He didn’t nearly burn down the building. Just the serenity garden.”
“Oh, just an entire garden!” Daisy rolled her eyes. “These people hold grudges over spilling wine on a rug. What kind of money did Ms. Jennings bribe the board with?”
I couldn’t help but wonder the same, and there were other questions on my mind.
Why was Beck here now, tonight, at Senior Night?
Did Ms. Jennings force him to come? Where was he coming from?
When he’d left town four years ago, it’d been because Mr. Jennings—Ms. Jennings’s brother—moved across the country and took Beck with him.
Had Beck been with his dad the whole time?
Had he moved in with his mother, who’d relocated to Florida?
Had Beck gone to college? Fallen in love?
Question after question filled my mind, almost in rapid-fire desperation.
Questions I should not want to know the answers to, all about a boy I should not have ever spoken to again.
F-O-C-U-S.
We weren’t near that stage yet for Senior Night. Dinner hadn’t been served, but it would be soon. The catering staff wheeled out their trays, preparing.
“Do you see Lydia?” Daisy asked in a hushed voice, looking around. “She was dancing with Carter when I came out.”
Carter. The Pembletons. Freaking Mr. ASMR. I had no idea how I’d face any of them now, not with my insides and confidence so violently shaken. B-E-C-K-H-A-M J-E-N-N-I-N-G-S. “I—I don’t see her.”
“Do you think Mr. ASMR sees you?”
I had the sudden urge to flee back to the bathroom. “Daisy.” I swallowed hard. “Can you get me a glass of water?”
She must’ve seen the pale look on my face, because she immediately nodded. “On it.” With that, she scampered off toward the buffet table, leaving Jamie and me alone.
It didn’t take long for my brother to pry. “Did Beck spill his drink on you on purpose?”
My lips parted on their own accord, a small gasp pulling in through my teeth. Even just his name caused my stomach to flutter with unease. Was he still in the hallway? Did he come back in? What had he been leaving the ballroom for in the first place?
P-U-R-P-O-S-E. It was too easy a word. I powered through it too quickly, still unsettled. “Does it matter?” M-A-T-T-E-R.
Jamie’s eyes searched mine, knowing without even having to ask. “Inconsequential,” he offered.
My throat was tight. “I-N-C-O-N-S-E-Q-U-E-N-T-I-A-L.” And then I whispered, “Did you know?”
“That he’d be here? No. Of course not. I would’ve told you. And I’d bet money Ms. Jennings didn’t tell Mom, either.” Jamie shifted his book between his hands. “I can’t believe he’d come back here, honestly. Not after… everything.” He gave me a knowing look.
My throat clamped shut, and I dropped my gaze down to my heels. Splotches of Beck’s drink had dried onto the material. Eleanor Brighton. I almost didn’t recognize you. I’d hoped you’d be uglier.
I could hear far more clearly what it implied. You’re beautiful. He’d said it with a curl to his voice, though, as if the fact hadn’t pleased him.
It wouldn’t, I thought bitterly. Would it?
Swallowing hard, I started scanning the ballroom again, spotting Ms. Conan standing near the makeshift stage.
She’d start the ceremony soon. There wouldn’t be time to find the Pembletons and introduce myself, not before we were cut off.
Maybe Ms. Jennings and Mom were able to weasel their way to Dr. Pembleton, to mention me, to brag about my college plans. Maybe—
There. By the punch table. I spotted Lydia, Raelynn, and a few other girls my age surrounding a boy. From the ga-ga way Lydia was looking up at him, shoving herself to the front of the pack, I’d bet money that that was Carter Pembleton.
I suddenly felt tired. “Let’s just sit down,” I told Jamie, reaching for his wrist. “I can try to talk to Dr. Pembleton afterward. I—I just—not now—”
I stopped, because Carter Pembleton’s eyes swiveled directly to mine.
And his face lit up.
At first, I thought he must’ve been looking beyond me, because surely the reaction wasn’t for me. We’d never met before. Nothing about him looked familiar, but recognition was written all across his face.
Murmuring something to his awaiting fans, he turned, striding across the dancefloor. And then it hit me. There was only one reason he’d recognize me when I didn’t recognize him.
In that moment, a new plan solidified in my mind, a path straight to the king.
“Go distract Mrs. Conan,” I ordered my brother. “Now.”
“What?”
“Go talk to her about Columbia or something. Keep her from starting the ceremony.”
“Why? So Mr. ASMR can come up to you? Nellie, I mean it, I—”
“Carter Pembleton is coming over here,” I all but growled through my teeth, making sure my expression remained neutral. “Go. Please.”
Jamie looked around the room, spotting the quick-paced young man. “Fine. But if a fifty-year-old comes up to you, I’m getting Mom.”
“Helpful, Jamie.”
“Ever and always.” And then he was gone.
Carter still strode straight toward me, and in that moment, I couldn’t believe I’d gotten so lucky. My gaze dropped to his hands—his clearly young-looking hands. It was like pushing a chess piece blindly forward, only to find the risky move had worked in my favor, anyway.
The universe’s consolation for my orange-scented shoes.
I lifted my chin to focus on the black skylight in the ballroom, spelling in my head, calming down.
P-E-M-B-L-E-T-O-N.
B-E-C-K-H—no.
C-A-R-T-E-R P-E-M-B-L-E-T-O-N.
M-R A-S-M-R.
“E-Eleanor Brighton?”
The trembling, velvety voice was like a gunshot before a race, and all the adrenaline rushed through my veins at once.
Everything about Carter Pembleton was perfect, from the deep hue of his blue eyes to the way his light brown hair was styled out of his face.
He wore a suit jacket despite the creeping heat, and it was a deep navy color that suited his skin tone.
It wasn’t a Malstoni or Gilfman, but it was clearly by a designer who knew what they were doing.
P-E-R-F-E-C-T.
And then he smiled, and it was the most awkward smile I’d ever seen in my life. “Um, it’s me.”
I knew it had to be. After years of watching his hands on YouTube, I’d recognize those fiddling fingers anywhere. “Carter Pembleton?”
Carter seemed surprised by hearing his name on my lips. “You—you know me? I mean, you know me?”
I nearly laughed. Jamie had worried for nothing—Carter was probably more worried that I’d kidnap him. “I’m feeling a little betrayed,” I teased, taking a half step closer so I could lower my voice. “Here I was hoping I’d be the only one who knew Mr. ASMR.”
More than betrayed, though, I felt relieved.
Carter’s lashes jumped as he blinked, nearly five times in a second. “You are,” he whispered back. “That’s my alter ego.”
“Ah, so I am still special?”
“I-It was never in question.” He dropped his hands from fiddling with his buttons, fingers now fluttering to fiddle with the hem of his suit jacket. “At least, not in my mind.”
All the girls around us were watching, some with narrowed eyes, no doubt wondering why it looked like we were connecting so instantly. They’d wonder if we had history. They’d turn to each other, spreading the hottest gossip of the night: Carter Pembleton and Eleanor Brighton just clicked.
A thrill raced down my spine at the gift that’d fallen into my lap. L-U-C-K.
In that split second, I knew I could abort half of the mission. I didn’t have to worry about charming Carter-slash-Mr. ASMR so he’d introduce me to his father all in one night. We already had a connection. I had time now. Time to do it right.
“Are you going to ask me to dance?” I smiled at Carter. “If you wait any longer, they’ll start the ceremony, and you’ll miss your chance.”
Carter’s cheeks pinked. “I don’t think tonight is our last chance to dance together,” he said, holding his hand out to me. “At least, I hope it isn’t. But just in case, Eleanor, would you like to dance? I promise to try not to step on your toes.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “If you step on mine, I will step on yours.”
“Deal.”
Carter’s fingers were soft as they curled around mine, and he led me from the outskirts and onto the dance floor, where a few other couples were swaying to the strings playing from the corner.
And when Carter turned me around, I found myself with a straight shot to the ballroom’s doorway—where Beck leaned against the threshold. And his gaze was solely on me.
Lydia was at his side, her arms folded across her chest. Beck’s head angled toward hers as her lips moved quickly, and even when our eyes locked from across the room, Beck made no effort to look away.
Instead, one corner of his lips curled up in a smile that had my stomach feeling like I was on a rollercoaster, about to drop.
Beck lifted his now-refilled drink to his lips, hiding his smile, and then someone stepped between us, obscuring him entirely.
My world spun as I sucked in a breath, momentarily oxygen-deprived. B-E-C-K-H-A-M J-E-N-N-I-N-G-S. The letters of his name raced across my mind, unbidden, and I had a sinking feeling it’d be that way for the rest of the summer.
“It’s great to finally meet you in person,” I told Carter as his right hand became a firmer pressure around my own, and his left settled on the flare of my waist. Butterflies should’ve come to life at the touch, but instead, it was only the spot above my elbow that seemed to flare hot.
The same spot Beck had touched. “And to put a face to the name.”
“It’s an honor for me, Eleanor Brighton,” Carter murmured, and swept us into a dance.