Lost In Lies (14 page)

              “Hey,” he whispers, looking down at his phone. “Something, um, came up. Can you tell Nick I’m sorry for bailing?”

              My eyes light up in shock that he would just split like this at a crucial moment in Nick’s day, “Sure thing.”

              “Thanks, Peyton,” he winks and hustles away.                                                                     

              The game starts off simply with easy volleys back and forth, no real progress being made. In fact, it almost appears as if the girls have no idea how the game works, which means it’s going to drag on longer than I imagined. Finally, it gets into a groove I can approve of as Nick’s up two points, making the game 5 to 3. My eyes follow the different girls on Nick’s team, who are all blonde with push-up bikini tops on, while on Justin’s side, there seems to be a better mix among hair and swimsuit choices. In fact, his best player is a short, red-headed girl rocking a bright blue tankini, barely revealing any of her stomach unless she’s scoring. Nick didn’t get to pick his team, so I can’t say it reflects his taste, but I can say Justin’s reveals he really does like different types. With the first to 10 being the goal, Nick now at 6 and Justin at 4, I get the vibe like it’s going to be another night on the town with Nick, that is, until Justin’s team makes four perfect points in a row, leaving me to feel like this was a setup. Justin lets Nick make up two more to make things look good, and then, he finishes the game with a flair.

              The two come to grace me with their presence. Nick slowly extends his hand for Justin to shake, “Good game.”

              “It was indeed. Been a while since I’ve played against a worthy opponent ... at anything,” Justin’s eyes glance in my direction.

              “Well, I’m going to escort the gorgeous girl back to her room,” Nick grabs his clothes from me. “Apparently, she has plans.”

              “I’ll see you tonight,” Justin winks and cockily strolls off.

              Draping his pants and shirt over his arm, Nick ponders, “Where’s Dubs?”

              “Said he had to leave. Also said he was sorry.”

              “He just bailed?” Nick sounds hurt and disgusted.

              “Yeah. Is this…”

              “Dubs? Yeah. You could say it’s his MO.”

              The two of us head back to the hotel, Nick looking rather defeated but not like he’s quite ready to give up on me.

              Slightly swinging my bags, I sigh, “You played really well.”

              “Thanks,” he takes the compliment. “I guess just not well enough.”

              “Well enough to take me out tomorrow, lunch date,” I whisper, which reinstills hope in him that he will be the one to win my heart.

              “Good to know,” his hand finds its way to mine to hold. “Good to know.”

              I continue to lighten the mood by reviewing the different things we’ve done today that I really enjoyed. By the time we arrive, he’s basically forgotten how his pride was momentarily damaged.

              “I’ll text you later,” I inform him sweetly, placing a kiss on his cheek right outside the elevator. “See you tomorrow.”

              “Je vous manquerai de jusque-là comptant maintenant les minutes comme les souhaits sur les étoiles, souhaitant que je suis où vous êtes,” he kisses my cheek as well.

              Intrigued, I slowly back into elevator but stop the doors from closing, curiosity getting the better of me, “What does that mean?”

              “I’ll miss you from now until then, counting the minutes like wishes on the stars, wishing I am where you are.”

              Whisked away by his romance, I back into the elevator slowly, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

              After a small wave, the doors close, and I rest my head against the back of the elevator in a small trance over the way Nick and I spent the day together. While it had a few abnormal moments, after all, it is me we’re talking about, everything else was, well, like living like I imagine a normal teen would.

Chapter 5

              Strolling through the front door with a smile on my face, I twiddle a loose strand of hair around my finger as the sound of Nick’s voice speaking French rings in my ear. I wonder why I never took French. Well, I guess that’s because Italian seemed more relevant with my choice in hobbies. I start toward the stairs, not realizing that I’m literally floating.

              “Did you have fun?” Belle strolls out of the kitchen, a glove on one hand.

              Startled, my feet drop to the floor, “I thought you were with Dubs?”

              “Oh, honey, no,” she slowly pulls the glove off her hand. “It’s a game of cat and mouse. The more he chases, the more excited he gets, and the longer he’ll be after me. Besides, it’s primarily my job to keep him distracted long enough for you to take up all of Nick’s time.”

              Nodding that I understand, I point at her, “Smart.”

              “I know. Now, did you have fun?”

              “More importantly, did you get work done?” Aiden asks, peering over the railing from the upstairs loft.

              “I did. I’ll be right up.” Turning to look at Belle, I smirk, “I did. I really did.” Once I realize I’m twirling my hair again, I snap out of the reverie I keep slipping into, “I mean, as much as I needed to have anyway.”

              “I’m sure,” Peter comes out of their bedroom, a cup in hand, alcohol most likely in it. “That’s why you were gone all day?”

              “Some of us are more dedicated to our jobs more than others,” I sneer and head to the stairs with my bags loosely dangling from my fingers.

              “Were you dedicated standing up or lying down?”

              Appalled, I turn around to respond, “If only we were all so lucky to drink all day and boss others around.”

              “You should try it. It’s a blast,” his tone turns my face into a sneer.

              Almost all the way up the stairs, I hear a gust of wind, and I turn around to see Justin come in through the window. His grin is wide, his body is damp, and his attitude is in high spirits.

              With both hands on the railing, now that I've dropped my bags, I try to hide my anger, “What the hell were you thinking?”

              Innocently, he tosses his hands in the air, “What? Peter’s the only one around here who can take a dip in the pool?”

              “Yes.” Peter’s response is followed a sarcastic look from Justin.

              “The bet! That match! Are you trying to ruin my relationship—”

              “Relationship?” Peter, Aiden, and Belle croak up.

              “Connection, whatever,” the correction is quick as I grip the railing tighter.

              “What’s she talking about?” Belle says slowly, tossing the glove on the table, while Peter props his feet up.

              “Justin here decided to ruin my date with Nick by challenging him to a volleyball match. Winner gets to take me out for the night,” I say, watching Justin lean up against the wall closest to the window.

              “By the bitter tone in her voice, I take it you lost,” Belle sighs.

              “No, I take it he won,” Peter points his cup toward Justin.

              “Look, Peyton, no man wants a woman that another man doesn’t already want.” After a minute, it makes sense to us all.

              “Peter, is that true?” Dragging Peter into our court of argument seems risky, but since he is the only one to my knowledge currently dating besides us—well, kind of us ...

              “Very,” I bite my bottom lip angrily at Peter’s agreement.

              “Who wanted Belle?”

              “Dozens,” Peter gripes under his breath. “There was Jared the pilot, Dane the carpenter…”

              “Mike the bartender,” Belle trumpets, hopping on the dining room table. “God, he had the most gorgeous lips.”

              “I am in the room,” Peter mutters back from inside his cup.

              “Let’s not forget Dan the magician,” Aiden leans over the railing. “He definitely had some things that he wanted to show Belle he could make disappear.”

              “Still here,” Peter snaps chugging a little more.

              “Let’s not forget Alex on that list,” the information slip from Justin shuts everyone’s lips. His eyes set in on me, “Every guy wants a girl someone else desires. It’s human nature.”

              “Did you?” The question stuns Justin.

              Clearing his throat, “Of course.”

              “Like who?” I fold my arms. “Because before you and your fancy tricks, I was invisible, less than invisible, nonexistent. So you tell me who wanted the girl who wasn’t there.”

              “You’ve got Jake Monroe,” he starts. “Sat two seats to the left and one to the front. Made sure to leave his book three times a week in the art room, so he had a reason to come back to talk to you during your lunch break.” My memory tries to process who he’s referring to, but he leaves me no time as he continues, “Greg Hamilton, twice a week, would drop his pencil by your locker in hopes that you would pick it up and speak to him.” Taking a step toward me, he continues, “Blake James sat behind you in history, always asked for your notes even though his notes were more in-depth than yours. Liked the way you looked over your shoulder and smiled.” I feel my cheeks redden and look down until he says, “I like that too.” After a sigh, he shrugs and slides his arms across his chest, “No man wants a woman who someone else doesn’t already want. And no matter how invisible you think you are, you aren’t. The art isn’t learning to be visible. It’s truly learning how to be invisible.” After an awkward silence, he begins to smile, “Tell me. Am I wrong? Has Nick not texted you more in the past 10 minutes with sweet words and wishes until tomorrow’s date?”

              Rolling my eyes, unsure that he is right, I pull my phone up to see four missed texts from Nick. I open them as I ask Justin, “And how did you know that we have a date tomorrow?”

              “Lucky guess.”

              I hide my annoyed smirk, press my teeth together, and turn to toss my phone to Aiden, “I got every room and a few photos of the perfume.”

              “I didn’t need photos…”

              “But I did,” I clear my throat. “So please don’t delete them.”

              “I won’t,” he tilts the phone at me. “Let me get right on this.”

              My attention turns back to Justin, who is smiling his obnoxiously right smile. He announces, “Date’s at 8.” I shake my head. Justin turns to Belle, “Aren’t you going to assist her?”

              “Why? You’re not special,” Belle’s response warrants an evil eye from Justin.

              “Ouch.”

              Her eyebrows raise as she leans forward, gripping the table, “And if I do go to assist her, who is going to finish cooking?”

              “I will,” Justin shrugs, heading her direction.

              Belle hops down and hands him the glove, “Don’t burn anything.”

              She flutters her wings and meets me up in my room to get ready for what might actually be considered my first real date with Justin.

As Belle finishes adding curls to the bottom of my hair, I feel compelled to ask, “Was Alex really interested in you?”

              Belle bobs her head back and forth, “Not really a subject I prefer to talk about.”

              “Got it,” the heat on the back of my neck causes my body to tense up. “What about your first date with Peter?”

              “Oh God,” she grumbles, patting my hair. “It was a complete disaster. We decided to go to a dinner at the priciest place in town before catching a play,
Romeo and Juliet
.”

              “Really?” I ask as she pulls the curling iron out of my hair. “Interesting choice of play, you know, a romantic story with young lovers that, well, die together at the end.”

              “I will admit its similarities are striking, but I don’t think Peter and I are going to die at the end of our tale,” she fluffs out the curls and leans over my shoulder. “You look beautiful.”

              “Thanks,” I bite my bottom lip, a little nervous. “This is our first date. I mean, our first real date, one that’s not cloaked in cons and lies, I mean aside from the fact that Justin says he did this to make Nick want me more.”

              “That’s what he says.”

              “I think he just needed an excuse for us to go on a real date, one that’s just about us building, well, trust.”

              “You have no trust in your relationship,” she whispers, turning me around to touch up my soft, golden eye shadow.

              “Should you throw stones when you live in a glass house?”

              “Hey,” she tosses down her makeup brush. “It’s not that Peter and I don’t have trust in our relationship. I know what to expect. I know his eyes wander. I know his intentions aren’t pure with others. I know to expect him to sneak off when he gets a moment from under my thumb. In fact, I’ve come to trust in these things. They are how I know our relationship is the same as it always has been—that nothing’s different, nothing’s changing.” After a pause, she sighs, “That sounds twisted, doesn’t it?”

              “A little.” I watch Belle linger in her own mind, then I touch her hand gently, “Maybe, one day, you can tell me why.”

              “Maybe.”

              There’s a knock on the bedroom door before Peter saunters in, cup still in his grip, “I was sent to see if Cinderella is ready for the ball.”

              I smile and roll my eyes, “I’m coming.”

              He turns his attention to Belle, and something like joy flickers on his face, “You look cute with your hair like that.”

              She sheepishly touches her messy half bun, giggles, and shakes her head, “Thanks.”

              My eyebrow raises in confusion, and he frowns again, “What? You think your dingbat boyfriend is the only one who can complement a lady?”

              Standing up, irritated that he went from being sweet to a jerk in less than 30 seconds, I snap, “Oh, I know you know how to compliment a woman.” After a condescending pat on his chest, I strut past him in my heels, heading straight for the stairs, where Justin is leaning against the wall.

              Justin is striking in his pair of black slacks, bright-blue, pinstripe button down, solid black tie, and his fedora tilted down. How is it I manage to date someone who dresses better than me on a regular basis? Hm, is it that even really that hard?

              His eyes draw their way up to me, his jaw slides slightly open, and he tries to croak something, yet nothing comes out.

              Curious, I stop, my hand on the railing, “Speechless?” He nods, and I giggle, “That’s a first.” He laughs, and I touch the necklace around my neck, the necklace that helped free me, the necklace that drew him to me, the necklace that makes me a Darling. Justin continues staring, and I’m forced to say, “What? It’s not like you’ve never seen me dressed up.”

              “I have, but last time, I was focused on the job at hand.”

              “And now?”

              “I'm focused on the girl at hand,” his eyes follow down my low-cut, black, backless, halter-top dress that Belle somehow knew I would need, though for some reason, I don’t think she knew it would be for this. “Shall we?”

              I swap my clutch to the other hand and wrap my fingertips with his. The two of us grab a taxi a few blocks over to a restaurant that looks right up Nick’s pricey ally, which makes me wonder what trick is up Justin’s sleeve.

              Slipping out of the taxi, I ask, “Is this place any good?”

              “That’s the word,” he slides his hands in his pockets.

              I stop and cross my arms, “And what word would that be?”

              “Critics?” Raising my eyebrows, I wait until he confesses, “Got it off Nick’s credit card statements. He’s into you, so he must have good taste.”

              Unmoved from my position, though Justin has taken a few steps forward, I ask, “Is this work?” His body hesitates before turning to me. “Is that what this is? More footwork?”

              “With a little fun sewed in.”

              “Is it always about work?”

              Justin takes a few steps toward me, leans his face into mine, and whispers, “Until we return to Neverland, yes. Here, on this planet, there’s always something to chase, someone to pretend to be or not to be, something to run from. I promise you, from the bottom of my heart, when we get to Neverland, work won’t matter. You will be everything to me. And I promise, then, we will have a real date.”

              A smile tries to stop from crawling on my face, “So, what is the work we’re up to?”

              “I told you, to make him jealous. Nick likes this place. Frequent visits. Usually dates. A few waiters know him personally. I let it slip through the grapevine that this is where we’d be, so his spies inside are on the lookout. We need to make sure we give them a good show. So, I need you to be into me but not too into me. Think you can make that happen?”