Chapter 20
Five, four, three, two, one, up!
I rise into two-point position at the perfect moment, shoving my hands higher.
The rough gray strands of Apollo’s braided mane rasp against my knuckles as she soars over the combination, that addictive dip appearing as we remain airborne for a few thrilling seconds.
Hooves hit sand footing as Apollo clears the jump, cantering toward the final crossbar, and I sink back down into the saddle.
We clear the final hurdle with inches to spare, and Alice shouts praise as I tug Apollo to a trot.
I’ve only ridden at this stable a few times before, never spending long enough in the Hamptons to make it a regular recurrence.
Apollo arrived yesterday from the Connecticut stable she normally stays at.
I figured, if I was going to commit to a summer here, I might as well go all in.
I tug on the reins, and Apollo slows to a walk. I kick my feet out of the stirrups, crossing the leather straps over the saddle’s pommel, letting my legs relax and my toes flex.
“All good?” Alice calls.
I flash the head trainer a thumbs-up. She nods, smiles, then heads back into the barn.
I push the brim of my helmet up so I can swipe the sweat off my forehead, then pat Apollo’s damp neck.
I only get to ride her a couple of days a week at home, and I might not have the chance to come here that much more frequently now that I’m working at the yacht club.
I’m still glad that I applied for the waitressing job.
I like the other waitresses, and I like the satisfaction of completing a task that has purpose.
I like looking for Sawyer every time I step into the kitchen, although I’d never admit it.
This silly fascination with him has lingered for eleven months.
Now, surely, it’s close to disappearing?
Until it does, I’ve had plenty of practice at pretending it has.
He thinks I dated someone else, and most of the other marina guys—particularly Aaron—flirt with me every chance they get.
There’s no way that Sawyer suspects I’m not over our fling.
Once Apollo has cooled down, I lead her back into the barn, untacking and then deciding to hose her off.
I get soaked in the process, too, and one of the grooms graciously offers to turn Apollo out for me.
I kiss her muzzle, change into shorts in one of the restrooms off the tack room, and head for my car.
Gia calls as I’m pulling out of the stable’s parking lot.
“You’re still coming to Leah’s, right?”
“Yeah, I—” I check the time on the dash. “I got caught up at the barn. I just have to swing home and change. Twenty minutes. Thirty, tops.”
Gia sighs. “Hurry! Everyone’s asking where you are.”
Dad is outside, fiddling with the sprinkler settings, when I park in front of the house my parents rented for this summer. It’s nice, not as big as Scarlett and Crew’s, but also located directly on the water. Waking up to views of the ocean didn’t take any getting used to.
I climb out of my convertible, and Dad raises his eyebrows, glancing up at the clear sky.
“Passing shower?”
“Apollo needed a bath,” I explain. “And I’m late to meet friends, so …” I spin toward the house.
“I had an interesting talk with Hanson Ellsworth earlier,” Dad calls after me.
My steps slow.
“He wanted to let me know it was an ‘unfortunate look’ for my daughter to be staff at a ‘preeminent establishment.’ ”
I wince before spinning to face my father. “What did you say?”
“That it was none of his business how or where you spend your time. If I’d had any idea you were waitressing at the yacht club, I could have come up with a better response.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I was going to tell you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t—I wasn’t sure what you and Mom would think.”
Dad exhales, walking past me and taking a seat in one of the rocking chairs that line the front porch. After a moment of hesitation, I do too.
“What made you decide to work there?”
“I don’t like that people might see me as …
helpless. As inept because we have so much money and because of all the advantages that go along with that.
It’s one thing back home, where all my friends have similar backgrounds.
Or when I was younger. But as an adult, heading to college in the fall?
I don’t want to be the sheltered rich girl who has never changed her sheets or ridden in an older car or cooked for herself.
I figured this summer was my last chance to change that, so I’m trying to …
branch out. I didn’t want you or Mom to think I was ungrateful, or—”
“We would have been proud, Wren. I am proud. Your mom will be too.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course. I know what it’s like for people to make assumptions.
I grew up with the last name Kensington too.
I know it can be a burden more than anything else.
It took me too long to exert some autonomy over it, but you’ve never been afraid to break away from the expected.
” Dad smiles. “Maybe too unafraid at times, but this isn’t one of them.
If you want a summer job, I think it’s fantastic. ”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Anything else you want to tell me?”
I think, then shake my head. “Nope. We’re good.”
Dad stands. “I’m going to pretend that pause didn’t terrify me. You still have a curfew, Wren. Don’t think your latest birthday changed that.”
I roll my eyes, then head inside to change. Truthfully, I don’t hate that my parents are constantly checking in. They’ve always been that way. And I know a lot of peers whose parents let them do whatever they want, which sounds appealing but actually sort of sucks.
I change, braid my hair so that it’s not flying in my face while I’m driving, and head back downstairs.
There’s no sign of Dad. I’m guessing he snuck into the room that’s been designated as his office, even though he told Mom he wouldn’t be working on weekends while we were here.
Not that Mom’s much better—she’s currently at work, overseeing the construction site.
Driving to the Rausings’ place—Leah is hosting this afternoon’s pool party—takes about twenty minutes. I park at the end of the row of cars, swinging my bag over my shoulder and whistling as I walk along the gravel driveway. Some bits get stuck in my sandals, so I walk over the grass edge instead.
“You finally made it, huh?”
I glance left, at Tanner Whitney. He’s leaning against a silver Range Rover, smoking a cigarette.
“Aw,” I say, pausing. “Were you waiting for me?”
“Nah, just noticed you weren’t here. Party was boring.”
“Are you leaving?”
“Not unless you want to.”
“I just got here,” I remind him.
“We see these people all the time, Wren. Literally, it’s just the same people. Don’t you ever get bored?”
Yes, I think. All the time.
But I get bored around Tanner too. His dad works for mine, and we’ve gone to school together since kindergarten. He’s attractive and occasionally charming, but that’s about all I can list as his positive attributes.
“I don’t like the smell of smoke,” I say, then keep walking.
Leah’s house is unlocked and empty. Screeches and splashes echo from the backyard pool, so I follow the sounds through the first floor and outside.
“WREN!” Gia greets me with an overeager hug, nearly splashing me with the contents of her cup. “Finally.”
“I’m only”—I check my phone—“two hours late. That’s practically a record for me.”
Gia grabs my wrist, pulling me over to the outdoor kitchen. “Strawberry margarita?”
“How sweet are they?”
“Sweeter than you,” she teases.
I take the cup offered by Maya Lauren, another former—that’s still weird to say—classmate, and sip. The cocktail is sweet, but the lime juice and salt rim cut it some. It’s delicious, the burn of alcohol barely there.
“Are you really working this summer, Wren?” Mabel Stewart asks, strolling over.
“Yep,” I reply, swallowing more margarita.
“You are?” Gia asks, sounding stunned. “Since when? Where?”
“This was my first week. I’m waitressing at the yacht club restaurant.” I shrug a shoulder. “My mom’s project is going to last all summer. Wanted to stay busy.”
“Busy waitressing?” Gia says, her tone thick with disbelief.
“I can’t believe your parents let you pick UCLA and …” Leah’s voice trails off as I glare at her.
Some hostess she is turning out to be.
I arch an eyebrow. “And?”
Wisely, she reaches for her drink, adding nothing.
I know everyone was surprised by my choice of college. It’s a good school, but it’s not an Ivy. It’s not where I was expected to go because I could have gone anywhere.
“My parents support me,” I tell Leah. “Sorry if yours don’t.”
Her lips purse, but her mouth stays shut.
“What’s working at the yacht club like?” Mabel asks me. “My parents rented a boat there last summer, and the guys who worked there were really cute. There was one with dark hair who was super broody and not very friendly, but he was so hot.” She pretends to fan herself, making Gia laugh.
“I don’t see the marina guys much,” I say. “The restaurant is separate from the boat stuff.”
“Maybe Dad will want to rent a boat again,” Mabel muses. “I’ll have to ask.”
God, I hope not. Not only would it be weird, waiting on a friend, but I’m ninety percent sure the hot guy she’s talking about is Sawyer. And watching Mabel flirt with him, no matter his level of interest in her, would be … awful.
“I hate boats,” I announce, prompting scattered laughter.
“It wasn’t that much fun,” Mabel admits. “Sort of boring.”
“Right?” I say. “Nothing to do, and you’re literally stuck in the middle of a giant puddle. What if the motor breaks down? Or there’s a storm and you’re getting tossed around like a toy ship?”
“We went sailing, so there wasn’t even an engine,” Mabel says, laughing. “Maybe I won’t say anything to Dad.”
I shrug, like it makes absolutely no difference to me, then resume sipping my margarita.