My mother ended up loving the dress so much, Kora let her keep it. It’s still hanging in her closet, reserved for special occasions.
A blast of cool air drags me back to the present as I step outside the sliding glass doors. Having no luck finding Hayes inside, I make my way toward the backyard. LED lights in the Olympic-sized infinity pool pulse and shift colors in sync with the bass thumping from the outdoor speakers. The whole place is lit up with tiki torches and small clusters of fire pits are scattered across the lawn, their flames flickering against the night sky.
I pause for a moment, letting my eyes sweep over the space. Hayes’s place has one of the best views in all of Laguna Hills. Rolling green hills on one side, and the Pacific Ocean on the other. If I squint hard enough, I can just make out where the dark sky meetsthe even darker sea. It’s the kind of view that usually feels magical, but right now, it just feels like a distraction.
People I vaguely recognize from classes and Hayes’s apartment complex hover around more kegs and the greasy pizza boxes piled high on the outdoor tables. I notice, with disgust, that all the pizzas are topped with revolting olives—Hayes’s favorite. Because of course they are.
Unfortunately, none of the people stuffing their faces or the half-naked guys splashing around in the water are Hayes.
And he’s not in the pool house either.
I bite back an annoyed grumble and retrace my steps, heading back inside. If he’s not dominating at the pool table or flashing his abs in the hot tub, he must be in the kitchen, playing bartender. That’s his other go-to move at parties.
On my way to the kitchen, I spot my sister.
It’s exactly as I’d feared it would be. She’s holding court on the main staircase. Her back is turned, but I’d know that mane of platinum-blonde hair anywhere, fluttering down her back as she tosses her head, laughing along with her friend Brooke. They’re dressed almost identically—tiny, bright-colored skirts and low-cut tops. And standing right between them, like he belongs there, is Hayes.
My stomach dips.
Amber leans in, one manicured hand resting on his shoulder as she whispers something into his ear. Her body language is unmistakable. Smiling, flirty, fartoo close. She’s clearly set her sights back on my best friend. And she’ll get him too.
Amber always gets what she wants.
But that doesn’t mean I have to stand around and watch it happen.
I spin toward the front door, head down, my dark hair falling forward like armor. If I can make it out of here without being seen, I’ll count that as a win. I don’t even care anymore about talking to Hayes about my mother, or if he thinks I bailed on his party. I just want out.
My hand is already on the doorknob, twisting, and then?—
“Hey, Alligator! Get your ass over here!”
Shit.
I freeze.
Maybe if I move fast enough, I can still make it to my car and pretend I never heard him calling after me.
But before I can take another step, I feel a pair of arms wrap around my waist, and I’m lifted clean off the ground like I weigh nothing.
“Where you going?” Hayes asks, grinning as he sets me back down. “Didn’t you hear me yelling your name?”
“Oh… hey,” I say, my voice too bright, too fake. “Didn’t realize that was you. How’s the party?” I plaster on a smile. “You having fun?”
“I am now that you’re here.”
He gives me that look—the one thatsends a swarm of extremely unwelcome butterflies through my stomach.
“Now come on,” he says, taking my hand and tugging me back inside. “Let’s get you a drink.”
He drops a cold beer in my hand and then steers me over to the staircase—right into enemy territory. Tiffany has now joined my sister and Brooke. Amber’s friends glance at me with mild indifference, their polite nods just a step above lukewarm. Though I’ve never been close with them, they’re cordial enough when we’re forced to be around one another.
It’s my sister I have to worry about.
“There you are, Ally!” Amber squeals in a saccharine-sweet voice that’s as fake as her glued-on eyelashes. “I’m so glad you made it. Hayes said you might show up.”
I muster up the phoniest smile I can manage. Two can play this game.
“Yep, here I am.”
