A new member. It’ll take some getting used to, but maybe it’ll be okay after all. Four is a rounder number—we’ve been shorthanded for our pranks sometimes. And Laurel has gazed at me appreciatively all night, randomly giving me hugs. It’s a little bit annoying, but a little bit sweet, too.
Afterward, we head to The Bank, the club at the Bellagio, where Garrett, Tucker, and Marcus are waiting for us. The club is loud and crowded, but the lights onstage are dim while stagehands set up for a live performance that’s coming on later. Garrett got a tip that there’s going to be a surprise appearance happening, and given who we saw outside Saucy the other night, we have our fingers crossed for a Rihanna drive-by.
Dance music kicks up over the sound system, and a smoke machine rolls a sweet-smelling haze over the room. Laurel, Madeline, and the boys weave toward the dance floor, and when my sister reaches an arm back to beckon to me, I follow.
Before I reach the dance floor, a hand circles my wrist. It’s Charlotte, her face so close to mine when I turn that I can make out each individual fleck of glitter in her MAC eye shadow. She cups a hand around her mouth and leans even closer.
“So what was with the breather you took during the last challenge?” she shouts, clearer than I would have thought possible given the noise level in the club. “If it was too easy for you, you should have said so.”
I step back, bumping into a bleached blonde with dark roots. “What are you talking about?” I ask Char. “What breather?”
Charlotte puts her hands on her hips. Her midnight-blue manicure shines against the beading on her draped tunic top. “Sutton, I saw you. It was after the treasure hunt started, and I ran back to the Bellagio because I forgot my phone. And then I spied you by New York-New York. You were talking with some guy.” She rolls her eyes. “You really wanted to ride that thing, huh? Next time you’re trying to go incognito, though, you should step up your game. You need to do better than a ratty T-shirt and a ponytail. The Lying Game has standards.”
I blink. “I wasn’t at the roller coaster. I was doing your treasure hunt. It was plenty hard.”
Charlotte doesn’t look convinced. “Sutton, I totally know you’re lying. I just hope you weren’t over there figuring out a way to cheat.”
“I wasn’t there,” I repeat. What can she possibly be talking about? Is there some random Sutton doppelg?nger out there in Vegas?
Charlotte’s already shrugging like it doesn’t really matter. But something else does.
I touch her arm. “I need you to be straight with me: Are you really okay with me dating Garrett?”
Charlotte licks her lips, clearly torn. “I don’t know.”
“You should have told me that to begin with.” I look her straight in the eyes. “I’ll break up with him.” The thought makes me feel sad—it’s been nice having a sweet, regular, public boyfriend these past few days—but no guy is worth hurting my friend over.
Charlotte purses her lips and then shakes her head shortly. “No, don’t. You guys are good for each other, I can tell. Besides”—she smiles—“knowing you, it’ll last for, like, three days before you get bored and move on.” The glint in her eyes tells me she’s teasing. “I’m cool with it, I promise.”
I glance over to where Garrett is moving on the dance floor, allowing Mads to lead him in a goofy tango. The sight of him having fun with my friends makes me grin. “Thanks,” I say.
Garrett catches my eye from over Mads’s shoulder and waves me over. Once I’m close, he slips an arm around my waist and tilts me away from the group. Light strobes against his face. All around us, people are dancing wildly, infected by the beat.
“Listen,” he yells over the music. “I just wanted to tell you that I had a really great time this weekend.”
I open my mouth to give a patented Sutton, confident, snappy retort. But Garrett’s face is open and vulnerable and, instead, I snuggle closer to him, feeling his heart beat through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. “I did, too.”
He clears his throat. “I, uh . . . the thing is, Sutton, I like you a lot.”
I clasp my hands behind his neck gently. “I like you, too,” I say. “And I want to see where this goes.”
With Char’s permission, I feel like I can. And just like that, I set Thayer free. This is my new future. This is the new Sutton.
I think I’m going to like her.
14
THE LESSER OF TWO HOTTIES
There’s something to be said for being back home. It’s Tuesday night, and I’m cuddled up in my bed, my hair piled on top of my head in a messy bun, my legs clad in soft sweats. I sip a Diet Coke as I flip through the Facebook photos Mads, Charlotte, and Laurel posted of our Vegas weekend. Thankfully, there isn’t anything incriminating I need to untag myself from. It just looks like a fun weekend away, nothing more. I pause on a picture of Garrett, a rush coming over me. There’s that tingle I’ve been waiting for. I’m finally starting to feel something for him for real, and it’s pretty amazing.
I hover my mouse over the shot of Garrett, about to post a comment, when there’s a knock at the door.