I look at Lexa, taking in the expensive clothes and the Louis Vuitton she casually tossed on my bed when she arrived. She doesn’t get it because she’s never had to worry about where her next meal might come from. I have. “Some of those kids come from horrible situations, and if I can be a reason someone contributes . . . then I’ll do my part.”
Her face softens as she looks at me. “Gah, I am so sorry. You must think I’m an awful person. Of course, you want to help those kids. It’s who you are.” She waves her hands. “I’m just anxious for you because I know how much you want to go to NYU—and she isn’t going to let you.”
I bite my lip. I don’t want to think about that right now.
Oscar tosses a long arm around my shoulder and squeezes. “Ignore Lexa—she’s on her period. Just tell us all the juicy bits about your trip.”
So I do. I tell them about Spider—from the club last night, to the kiss, to the flight attendant, and then the stepbrother bomb.
There is a brief, wide-eyed silence before Oscar explodes. “You kissed a random dude on a plane? How did you not barf on him? I thought you hated flying?”
“I do.”
He spins in a circle, clearly excited. “Oh my God, you like your stepbrother. It’s so . . . twisted.” He rubs his hands together. “It’s like that movie Clueless where the heroine has the hots for her stepbrother. I love it.”
“I don’t like him,” I declare, but it feels wrong to say that, and I inhale a deep breath. “And have you forgotten the part where he screws the girl in the bathroom? You should be angry with him on my behalf.”
“True . . . and I am.” He pulls out his phone. “But right now, I gotta see this guy for myself.”
“And you’re going to see him tonight at dinner?” Lexa asks. “Maybe you can use your appetizer fork to poke his eyeballs out.” Her heavily lashed eyes are dead serious.
“You’re scary,” Oscar comments as he scrolls on his phone.
She thinks about it, a little glint in her gaze. “But seriously . . . here’s an idea: maybe you should go after this bad boy and then pull a whammy on him and break his heart.” She nods. “Yeah, I like that much better. Less blood and guts on the dinner plate.”
“Hmmm, maybe.” The idea does intrigue me. “I don’t think he has a heart to break though.”
Oscar holds up a triumphant pic of him along with members of his band, who I recognize from the show at the bar. “Holy shit, Sherlock, this dude’s gorgeous.” He scrolls down. “I’m on the band’s Facebook page, and let me tell ya, he is sex-ay.”
Lexa smirks. “Stop saying sex-ay. You’re not going to make it a thing, not here at Claremont, not in Dallas, and not in New York.”
He flips her off, and she giggles.
I look at Oscar. “Speaking of New York . . . did you hear back about your scholarship to NYU?”
“I’ve been accepted, of course, but I don’t know about the scholarship . . .” His voice trails off, and I hear the worry there. He’s at Claremont on a full ride because he’s super smart, but NYU rarely gives full rides, and without the financial aid the scholarship would provide—he can’t go. He should have heard something by now, and I’m holding out that he gets one.
He plucks at a string on his jacket. “I can always go to UT. They’ll take me.” His voice is uncharacteristically subdued.
I exhale, taking in his pensive face. He wants out of Texas as much as I do. I’m running to get away from my past, and he’s running from a dysfunctional family that looks down on him for being gay.
“We’ll get there . . . together,” I say to him. “Somehow.”
Oscar shrugs and I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it. He looks at the picture of Spider again. “I can’t believe you locked lips with this piece of deliciousness. Did you die?”
I shake my head at him and laugh. “No. I’m quite alive.”
I can’t help but lean over and study the group photo and get a peek inside Spider’s life. In the picture, he’s standing in the middle of his friends on a beach with a drink up in the air as if he’s toasting. Wearing a Union Jack hat and a pair of athletic shorts, he’s shirtless, his broad chest tan and muscled. He looks hot. It reminds me of him stalking around the stage in his mink coat. Unbidden, a small smile grows on my face. Something about him . . . even though I’m angry with him . . . calls to me.
I ignore it and forge on.
“He likes to be the center of everything,” I say.
“He can get in my center any time,” Lexa chimes in as she leans over my shoulder.
Oscar cocks his head, not looking too sure. “If you do decide to break his heart like Lexa said, you better be careful with this one. Those eyes . . .”
Tell me about it.
Lexa snorts. “You just want him for yourself.”
“I want everyone, sweetie.” He tosses his scarf around his neck and poses.
I laugh as I get up and open my closet. “I’m the one who has to have dinner with him tonight.”
Oscar jumps and peers inside, rummaging through the hangers. “If you’re seeing the hottie, then wear this!” He pulls out a silky red dress, one he and I found at a secondhand store downtown. With spaghetti straps and a keyhole in the back, it’s short and flirty and not Anne approved. I adore it. “It’s cut up to your butt crack and he won’t be able to stop looking at those long legs of yours. Pair it with those silver knock-off Jimmy Choos I found.” He kisses his fingertips. “Perfection.”
“I’m wearing my hair in a ponytail, old jeans, and flip-flops. I’m not even going to brush my hair, or my teeth.” I’m teasing, of course, but I love to see their faces.
Lexa giggles. “Anne will die.”
Oscar’s face is theatrically devastated. “Please, Rose. He’s a potential rock star. Impress him, then break his heart.”
“Nope.”
Lexa ignores my comment and rises up from the bed where she plopped down earlier and begins rummaging through my underwear drawer. “You need a thong for that dress.”
I laugh. “I’m not wearing that stupid dress to dinner. That’s enough from both of you. I need to finish up this assignment before Monday, plus I have a paper to work on.”
They grumble but comply. Lexa mutters something about hitting the mall, and Oscar says he has plans to see a movie. Eventually, I get them out the door and focus back on my studies, but every few minutes, I sneak a look over at the red dress Oscar hung on the outside of my closet.
A little spike of excitement goes through me as I imagine Spider seeing me in it.
But then there’s Anne. She won’t like it.
A small part of me doesn’t care. Maybe it’s because of the mini-Anne comment or maybe it’s because I know that Spider is attracted to me and I want him to suffer as I sit across from him at dinner.
Yes, a little voice whispers in my head. Wear it. Mess with the bad boy.
Spider
“THE FIRST RULE OF THIS house is you cannot, I repeat, you cannot fool around with Rose.” Waving his hands around, he continues, “We all know about your . . . reputation with women, but she’s your stepsister and has a bright future ahead of her.” My father’s tone is sharp as nails as I sit across from him in a hard chair in his study. We came in here as soon as we arrived from the airport.
Rose. I blow out a breath as regret eats at me over what happened on the plane.