CHAPTER 3
Since spring had sprung back in April, the tennis and pickleball courts at Alderton-Du Ponte were always booked up two weeks in advance, especially on the weekends.
Sunday afternoon, Daisy and I sat underneath one of the umbrella-covered tables near pickleball Court One, waiting for the quartet currently on Court Two to finish their game.
I had my political science notes out in front of me, the pages stirring lightly in the wind as I read them over.
Daisy sat in the seat across from me, sketchbook in front of her, pencil in her left hand. She was halfway through her drawing of the courts we sat in front of, though it was more cartoonized than realistic. Daisy called it her “silly style,” but I thought it was cute.
Cute, but apparently not right. “Ugh.” Daisy suddenly groaned, and scrubbed her eraser across the page of her sketchbook. “Nothing is working.”
“Maybe you just need a break. I thought you promised Jamie you’d try one of his books.”
“That was before he gave me a college-level omnibus of medieval drivel.”
“Wow.” I chuckled. “An omnibus of medieval drivel. That would’ve made him smile.”
“He’d probably tell me I used the words wrong.”
Probably. I could spell big words, but it was Jamie who knew what they meant, and frequently boasted that fact.
“Besides,” Daisy went on. “I’m mad at him.”
Some of my happiness ebbed. “Because he’s going to Columbia?”
Almost from the first day they met, Daisy and Jamie shared the same dream—to go to New York University together.
I never often felt left out between the two of them, but when they talked of that dream—roaming campus, going out into the city, spending what little free time college allowed them together—sometimes I felt like a third wheel.
They even talked about creating a graphic novel together, with Daisy as the artist and Jamie as the writer.
And then Daisy had been waitlisted, and Jamie had chosen Columbia, which Daisy had only found out about just last night.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.
“Daisy—”
“Nope. I’m not, Nellie. You might as well just drop it.”
I stretched my arms across the table, leaning my head down on them as I watched Daisy draw. “If it makes you feel any better, I only just found out he turned down NYU, too, when Mom paid the deposit. I didn’t know it either.”
This time, Daisy didn’t even respond.
I sighed, letting my gaze slip past her and to the other courts at Alderton-Du Ponte.
It was warm out today again—a glorious sixty-five degrees.
After a winter chill that had seemed to seep even into early April, this was a much-needed heatwave.
A perfect day to be outside, soaking up the vitamin D.
A perfect day to be on the Alderton-Du Ponte grounds, waiting on a reply from a certain Pembleton.
A perfect day to get out of the house, avoiding thinking about a certain Jennings.
Electricity shot through me. I grappled for a word. O-M-N-I-B-U-S. “What time is it?”
Daisy flipped her hand over to check her watch. “Ten minutes to two.”
I rested my chin on my arm. Ten more minutes until it was our turn. Ten more minutes to fill the silence in my head. D-R-I-V-E-L.
Then, unbidden—
I’d hoped you’d be uglier.
“Eleanor! Daisy! Oh my gosh, hi!”
Daisy let out a small groan, not lifting her head.
I lifted mine, though, and found Lydia Johnson and Raelynn Meyers walking over to us from the direction of the country club’s doors. The blondes were both dressed in activewear, even though I knew for a fact that their names weren’t on the list for the courts.
Even though Lydia practically dedicated her life to being like me, the one thing I was happy about was how unalike we looked. Blonde hair to brown. Light eyes to dark. A small consolation.
“What are you two doing here?” I asked lightly, curling my fingers under the table.
“We saw your name on the schedule and thought we’d pop over and say hi.” Lydia glanced at the other girl who flanked her. “We’ve been trying to get on the schedule for a game for weeks but haven’t had luck.”
“It’s ridiculous,” Raelynn agreed, and reached out for the chair beside me. “Where’s Jamie at today?”
Ah, Raelynn’s massive crush on Jamie. I didn’t think I’d ever understand it. “At home.”
She didn’t bother hiding her disappointment. “Do you two have doubles partners?”
“We normally play singles.” It was easier for Daisy and me to coordinate a schedule than adding two others, and Jamie hated pickleball with a passion.
“Oh, we should join you then!” Lydia took the seat on the other side of Daisy. “Raelynn, do you have paddles in your gym locker?”
Raelynn perked up. “I do!”
Daisy lifted her eyes from her sketchbook to meet mine, both of us thinking the same thing. This wasn’t a coincidence.
I collected my political science notes and slipped them into my bag at my feet. It’d be rude to outright refuse them, but I wanted to. Badly. “Well, our hour starts in a few minutes, so you’d have to hurry and—”
“Here’s your water bottle,” a new voice joined, along with a shadow that crossed over the table. “You left it in the car.”
The May air suddenly became colder. Sixty-five dropped to zero. I knew who I’d find, but I found myself looking anyway.
Beck stood at our table, one hand holding a pink water bottle, and the other holding the neck of an unopened root beer bottle he must’ve gotten from the club’s snack center.
A pair of black sunglasses shielded his eyes.
His dark green shirt was a size too large on him, hanging loosely and hiding most of his frame.
His black jeans were ripped at the knees, in a way that almost looked like he’d taken scissors to them himself.
Edgy, his appearance said. Stay away.
Lydia took the outstretched pink water bottle from him. “Thanks, Beck.”
Daisy didn’t hide her animosity now. “Wow, so they really did let you come back on Alderton-Du Ponte grounds? Last night wasn’t just a one-off?”
Under any other circumstances, I would’ve been happy for her support. But it was impossible to feel anything other than a gripping sort of nausea, listening to the way her voice hardened.
“As long as I don’t go toward any award-winning rosebushes, they’ve deemed me safe to mingle with the masses.” His lips twisted into a sardonic smirk. “They’re just as brainless as I remember, apparently.”
Daisy narrowed her eyes. “And you want to be here?”
Beck used the hem of his shirt to grip the top of his bottle, popping it with a crisp fizz. “I was bored.” And then his eyes flicked to Lydia. “And more like someone asked me to be her chauffeur.”
Lydia scrunched her nose in a cutesy way. Was she flirting? “Well, duh. No one else has a car like yours.”
She stood from her chair to let Beck sink down into it, and without wasting a second, she perched herself on his denim-clad knee.
She rested her arm on his shoulder, but he made no move to touch her, one hand resting loosely on the table while the hand near her hip simply held onto his root beer bottle.
I blinked. Their strangely couple-looking arrangement didn’t change. The air stalled in my lungs. Lydia had been laser-focused on Carter last night. Why was she sitting on Beck’s lap today?
Beck caught me looking at them. His lips twitched, much as they had last night. Instead of saying anything, he simply took a drink from his root beer.
Daisy flipped her sketchbook closed. “If y’all want to play with us, you’ll need to get your stuff,” she told Lydia and Raelynn in her no-nonsense voice. “We’re making the most of our hour.”
I envied Daisy for having a backbone when I couldn’t. She wouldn’t mince her words about her boundaries. It’d been a skill she’d picked up from corralling her four siblings at home, I knew, whereas my spine bent in half if anyone pushed.
Raelynn scampered off to fetch the paddles, and even though there was now an empty chair, Lydia made no move for it.
She was content enough in Beck’s lap. “You know, Eleanor,” she said to me, lowering her voice.
“You and Carter looked so cute last night. You talked to each other like you knew each other.”
I gave a polite smile. “I guess so.”
“Are you going to keep all the details to yourself? We’ve all been telling each other what we talked about, that way there are no hard feelings.”
“Hard feelings?”
“You know. Over who he picks.”
“I didn’t realize Alderton-Du Ponte was hosting this season’s The Bachelor,” Beck muttered.
Daisy scoffed. “You’re just jealous everyone’s focused on his arrival and not yours.”
“I did, indeed, pick the wrong night to make my grand entrance.” Beck even went as far as to pout a little. “Upstaged by someone named Pembleton.”
Another new voice joined in. “I agree, it’s not the coolest name out there.” Carter had inexplicably spawned beside our table, just as quiet as Beck had been when he’d walked over. “But it is a family name, so what can you do?” He gave an awkward shrug.
Lydia launched off of Beck’s lap as if he’d suddenly burst into flames, tripping over her feet. She smoothed her palms down her workout skirt, hands trembling. “Oh my gosh, hi! You’re here! What a lovely surprise!”
“Eleanor mentioned she was playing out here,” Carter said, soft eyes finding mine. “It’s good to see you again.”
I thought about how I looked in an almost analytical way.
The pink tank top I wore matched the pink and gray shorts I had on, and my dark hair was swept up into a sleek ponytail.
Despite the impending workout, I’d put on a little bit of makeup, knowing who I’d be meeting.
C-U-T-E, I’d thought to myself before I left the house.
“Good to see you, too. Our chat was cut short last night, wasn’t it?”
His eyes darted around me, as if too embarrassed to look me in the eye. “Unfortunately.”