Chapter 7
seven
There was no chaos quite like four teenagers in one house all getting ready for school on a Monday morning. It usually peaked around seven-fifty a.m., right when everyone realized they were running late simultaneously.
“Sebastian, if you touch my hair oil again, I am going to key your car!” Imogen’s voice screeched down from the top floor, punctuated by the sharp thud of her bedroom door slamming.
I looked at my brother, who was sitting at the breakfast counter, a piece of toast in one hand and his phone in the other.
“I didn’t touch your stupid oil, Imogen!” he yelled back toward the ceiling, taking a massive bite of toast. He glanced at me as I dragged myself into the kitchen, my blazer draped over my arm and my tie dangling loose from my pocket. “You look like you got dragged out of a dumpster.”
As if he looked any better, with his unbuttoned shirt and bedhead.
“I haven’t had tea yet, Seb. Do not start with me,” I grumbled, reaching for a mug.
“Leave your sister alone, Sebastian,” Mum muttered distractedly as she aggressively washed a pan in the sink. She was already dressed in her scrubs, today being a rare day that her schedule lined up with ours. “And has anyone seen my car keys?”
“They’re in the fruit bowl,” I said automatically.
“I’m off!” Lavender yelled from the front door, not even waiting for us to call bye before she walked out and slammed the door behind her.
“She’s leaving early,” Mum said with a quick glance at the oven clock. Sebastian and I exchanged a look, both of us silently agreeing not to point out that Lavender was probably giving herself extra time to go make out with Dean in the car.
I made some tea, pouring it straight into a travel mug because there was no chance of me having time to sit down with it before we had to go.
As I put the lid on, Sebastian threw an arm around my neck, pulling me into a rough headrub before I could dodge him, his green eyes sparkling with that easy arrogance he carried everywhere.
“Excited to drive with me this morning?” he teased.
I elbowed him in the stomach, and when that didn’t work, stepped on his foot as hard as I could. He finally let go, although I was positive that had more to do with him wanting to rather than me actually hurting him. If only I was wearing heels.
“Your driving is a hazard,” I said, shoving him, though I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “If I’m excited, it’s only for the adrenaline rush.”
Despite my words, I ran to the front door to put my shoes on and pull my bag together.
Imogen came running down the stairs just as I was lacing up my trainers.
I’d spent my whole life being told that Imogen and I looked exactly the same—we were identical twins, after all—but I still didn’t understand how people could get us mixed up when we worked hard to differentiate our styles.
Since we went to private school, we had to wear the same uniform, but I’d certainly put my own twist on it by covering the blazer in pins and buttons, wearing the blouse tied up, and rolling up the skirt to make it shorter, while Imogen leaned toward wearing it properly.
I usually wore my hair down, a break from the perfect ballet buns I needed for dance and shoving it into caps for swim team, while Imogen did hers in nicer styles.
She usually smelled like coffee and espresso now that she was dating a barista, and I smelled like whatever perfume I spritzed on my neck that day.
And still, sometimes it felt like to the rest of the world, we were just one and the same.
“You look exhausted,” I told her, because apparently it was a morning of insults in the Novak house.
“I was up until three in the morning talking to Cole,” she admitted as she pulled on shoes.
“Please tell me you mean on the phone and not that your boyfriend snuck into our house in the middle of the night.”
She only smirked in response, although I was pretty sure she was just doing it to tease me. Cole didn’t need to sneak over anymore, not when we all knew about them and had welcomed him into the family—although sometimes, I thought he climbed up to her balcony anyway just for the fun of it.
I climbed into the backseat of Sebastian’s car, blazer half-buttoned, tie shoved in my bag because I refused to deal with it until I was actually inside the building, and found Nora already in the front seat with her feet up on the dash in a way that would have gotten me yelled at within four seconds of trying it myself.
She looked over her shoulder to say hi to both of us, but that was all the conversation we managed before Sebastian turned the music up.
The bass in Sebastian’s sports car didn’t just play music—it nearly shook the paint off the exterior and rattled my teeth in their sockets.
He drove like he had a personal vendetta against speed limits and red lights, aggressively taking corners with one hand on the wheel and a wicked, faint smirk on his face.
“Oi, slow down!” Imogen shouted over the blaring track. “I’d actually like to arrive at school alive today, if it’s all the same to you, Seb!”
“Relax, Imogen!” Sebastian yelled back, not decelerating for even a second as he darted around a slow-moving Honda. His green eyes flashed playfully in the rearview mirror as he looked at my twin. “You want to get there before the bell or not? Besides, Nora and Ainsley aren’t complaining.”
Nora turned around in her seat, hair still damp from the shower, a massive grin on her face. “He’s just trying to impress me with his F1 skills. Let the boy dream.”
“I don’t need to impress you, Nellie,” Sebastian shot back smoothly, throwing her a quick, killer grin that had ‘trouble’ written all over it before slamming his foot on the gas to overtake another car. “My driving speaks for itself.”
I let out a breathless laugh, mostly from the terrifying G-force of the turn, but partly out of relief.
I needed the noise. I needed the chaos. Because if the car were quiet for even two seconds, my brain would immediately hijack my thoughts and drag them back to Saturday night.
Back to Justin’s house. Back to twenty minutes locked in a bedroom, hammering out a binding fake-dating treaty with Rhys Montgomery—the literal bane of my brother’s existence.
Back to yesterday being in a dressing room agreeing to go to a cabin with him.
Bad decision after bad decision.
Sebastian didn’t know I’d gone to the party. He definitely didn’t know I’d agreed to pretend to date his primary soccer rival just so Rhys could make his ex jealous and I could save face. If Sebastian found out, he’d probably throw himself—or Rhys—out of a moving vehicle.
I sank back into the leather seat, letting the violent rumble of the engine wash over me until Sebastian pulled into the Parkhurst student lot with a theatrical screech of tires.
“Try not to get expelled today, Seb,” I said, swinging my legs out.
“No promises,” he winked, grabbing his gym bag from the back and heading toward the sports block.
I walked with Imogen and Nora up to the front double doors, stepping into the chaotic wash of fluorescent light, locker thuds, and morning chatter.
I had precisely four seconds of calm before a blur of bright energy descended upon us.
“There you are!” Clementine appeared out of absolutely nowhere, the way she always did, like the universe kept her on retainer specifically to intercept people on the way to their lockers.
She had one arm around my shoulders before I’d even fully processed she was there, her bubblegum pink hair twisted up into a bun that was both messy and clearly the result of at least ten minutes of careful effort.
“Good morning to you too,” I said.
“Where’s Reese?” Nora asked about Clementine’s best friend.
“Ugh, don’t remind me. She’s stuck finishing some group project thing before first period. Some boy in her group did literally nothing all weekend and now she’s single-handedly fixing a PowerPoint at eight-twenty in the morning like a hostage.”
Imogen snorted. “I’m not sure you have a good sense of what happens in hostage situations.”
Clementine released me just long enough for me to spin my locker combination, then immediately reclaimed her spot leaning between me and Nora, arms crossed, practically vibrating. “Okay. So. You know how Parkhurst’s doing that whole spring fundraiser thing? The one for the new pool renovations?”
“Vaguely,” I said, which was generous. I was pretty sure I’d seen a poster about it at some point, but I could also have been easily mixing it up with something else.
I probably should have cared more since I was on the swim team and would be directly impacted by pool renovations, but I had far too much other stuff on my mind right now.
Imogen leaned around me to look at Clementine. “I heard about that! It’s a joint thing with Crofton, right?”
Clementine looked thrilled that somebody knew what she was talking about. “Yes! And apparently,” she paused for dramatic effect, “they’re sending a group from Crofton over today to do some kind of walkthrough with our student council. Which means Crofton boys. On our campus.”
My stomach dropped. Why today? Why now, of all days? If it had just been last week…
“So?” I said, aiming for casual and landing somewhere closer to strangled.
My mind was moving a mile a minute. The school must have as big of a student population as Parkhurst did, which meant if it was a small group, then Rhys probably wouldn’t be included.
But hadn’t he mentioned he was on the student council?
This seemed like the exact type of thing he would have to do with that.
But no, he would have told me if he was going to show up.
And what about Kelcey? She went to Crofton and her boyfriend went here, there was no doubt in my mind that she would try to end up on this trip, and heaven only knew what comment she might make if she saw me here.