Truth or Dare (5 page)

“And when Brad Wilkes tried to kiss you and you
didn’t
run away.”

Before Tenley could respond, Emerson came over holding a glass of Tenley’s spiked lemonade. “You totally ran off on me,” she said, nudging Caitlin with her hip. Jessie waved as she walked past with a few girls, and Emerson narrowed her eyes, looking anything but happy to see her.

“Sorry, Em,” Caitlin said apologetically. “This is Tenley. This insanely amazing house is hers.” Caitlin looked over at Tenley. “Ten, this is Emerson,” she added, as if Tenley needed an introduction to the girl who’d been in all of Caitlin’s photos for the past three years. “I can’t believe you guys finally get to meet!”

Tenley gave Emerson a quick once-over. She was wearing a tight black shirt tucked into a brightly patterned skirt—which was short enough to show off her model-long legs. In a tiny write-up last summer,
Teen Vogue
had compared Emerson’s looks to that of a young Alicia Keys, and unfortunately, up close, Tenley did see the resemblance.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, in a tone that implied exactly the opposite. “I’ve been wanting to thank you for being such a good friend to Caitlin while I was gone.”

“No need to thank me,” Emerson replied, her voice sugary sweet. “That’s what best friends are for, right?”

Tenley stiffened at her choice of words. But then she glanced down at the anklet she was wearing. She was the one Caitlin shared it with, not Emerson. Hooking her arm through Caitlin’s, she smiled brightly
at her. “We have so much catching up to do, Cait,” she said. “Want to get a drink? You have to try the spiked lemonade.” She gestured to the cup Emerson was holding. “Looks like Emerson already beat us to it.”

“Here, just share mine, Cait.” Emerson shoved her cup at Caitlin, who took a small sip.

“Oh my god,” Caitlin choked out. “What did you put in this, Ten? A whole distillery?”

“Possibly,” Tenley said thoughtfully. “It’s my mom’s recipe.”

Her mom had been all for Tenley throwing a party while she and Lanson were out at the Club’s gala. It had only been a month since Tenley had broken up with Dylan, her Nevada boyfriend, and already her mom was on her case for her to find a new guy. “
Sam Bauer’s
son is in your class,” she kept saying, as if the words themselves contained magic, like some kind of incantation. “Apparently Bauer Industries does work for the Secret Service!”

But Tenley only had eyes for one guy since she’d moved here, and he wasn’t the son of a billionaire tech wizard. Not that she planned on telling her mom that. Trudy Reed might have a money-trumps-all policy, but Tenley had a feeling it stopped just shy of her daughter dating her new husband’s son.

An image of Tenley’s new stepbrother flashed into her mind. Last night she’d been in her bedroom, wearing nothing but a tank top and a skimpy pair of black underwear, when he’d barged right in. The way his dark eyes had run down her body, lingering just a little too long on the sliver of skin between her shirt and underwear… well, it wasn’t exactly a
brotherly
look.

Tenley felt a shiver run through her. He had taken a step closer, so close she could feel his breath on her neck. For a second she’d been sure something—she couldn’t have said exactly what—was going to happen.
Her heart had pounded and she’d wanted to shove him away and pull him to her all at once. But then his dad had yelled out something from the next room and he’d backed away with a start, the moment collapsing in an instant.

Tenley shoved all thoughts of her stepbrother out of her mind as Cait attempted another sip of lemonade. Her face wrinkled up in disgust as she choked it down with a cough.

“Aw,” Emerson cooed, patting Caitlin on the head. “Too strong for our little Angel.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll just stick with beer,” Caitlin said.

“Want me to grab one for you?” Emerson asked—a little too eagerly, in Tenley’s opinion. “I told Marta I’d find her by the keg anyway.” Caitlin nodded, and Emerson made her way out to the back porch.

“Well,
I’m
ready for a shot,” Tenley said. She wound her arm through Caitlin’s. “Come with?”

At the bar, Tenley poured out two SoCo and limes. She pushed a shot glass over to Caitlin. “You’re not going to make me celebrate my return alone, are you?”

Caitlin groaned. “I should have known.” But she was smiling as she lifted her shot into the air.

Tenley raised her own glass. “To peanut butter,” she declared.

“To jelly,” Caitlin replied. Laughing, they clinked their glasses together, drinking their shots down.

“It’s too bad we don’t still have that costume,” Tenley mused. It had been their fifth-grade Halloween costume, handmade by Caitlin herself. Two slices of bread: one with jelly, one with peanut butter, so that when they hugged, they made a sandwich.

“Yeah.” Caitlin giggled. “It would have made the perfect first-day-of-school outfit.”

“Watch out, Echo Bay,” Tenley sang out as she refilled their shot glasses. “Peanut butter and jelly are back together again.”

Two shots later, Tenley was beginning to buzz. Even the air seemed charged with energy. This was the last Saturday night of summer, and no one seemed able to stop moving, as though if they just kept going, summer itself would somehow stand still.

“Delivery,” Emerson called out, plopping a red cup down in front of Caitlin. Marta followed behind her carrying a red cup of her own. “Sorry, Tenley,” Emerson said with faux dismay when she noticed Tenley’s empty hands. “I didn’t even think to get you one.”

Tenley shrugged her off. “I’m a mixed-drink girl anyway.” She reached for the pitcher of spiked lemonade, pouring herself a glass. As she took a sip, she noticed a tall blond guy glancing over at them. “Who’s that?” Tenley asked curiously. With his bed-head hair, yellow board shorts, and hemp necklace, he looked as if he’d stepped right off a surfboard. He wasn’t her type, but he was definitely cute—the kind of guy who drew your eyes to him whether you were interested or not.

“
That
,” Emerson said. “Is Tim Holland.”

“Totally hot, right?” Marta sighed.

“And totally in love with Caitlin,” Emerson added.

“Which is totally unfair to the rest of the female population,” Marta put in. “Since Cait has about zero interest.”

Caitlin groaned, taking a long sip of beer. “Do we really have to go over this again, guys? He’s—”

“Wait.” Tenley held up a hand, cutting Caitlin off. “Let me guess.” Caitlin was notoriously picky about guys. While Tenley had churned through guy after guy these past few years, writing Caitlin endless letters about the newest loves of her life, Caitlin had constantly come up with yet another excuse for why she didn’t like the guys who liked her.
One earlobe is longer than the other!
Tenley remembered Cait complaining to her once.

“Hmm,” Tenley said, studying Tim. “Normal earlobes… clean feet… no jewelry or fake tan…” As she ticked off a long list of Caitlin’s pet peeves, she was pretty sure she caught a look of envy flashing in Emerson’s eyes. She bounced a little on her toes, feeling pleased. “I got it,” she said suddenly. She watched Tim push back his long, messy hair. “It’s the hair! You like your guys’ hair short and sharp, like a hedgehog. Long hair means he’s wild. The type to go skydiving, maybe. Or,
god forbid
, eat dessert before dinner.”

Caitlin laughed. “I’ve heard he even breaks curfew sometimes,” she said, mock horrified.

Tenley was about to respond, but at that moment, her stepbrother walked through the pool-house door. Her breath, and her ability to speak, got tangled in her throat. He looked as hot as ever: his skin tanned, his dark hair tousled, his muscles peeking out from beneath his well-worn T-shirt. Tenley’s eyes went to the thin tattoo that wrapped around his wrist: three black lines looped together like a loose rope… and then, because she couldn’t help it, her eyes went to his perfect hands, and she imagined what it would feel like for him to touch her.

She
knew
he would come. When she’d invited him earlier tonight, he’d laughed, as if it weren’t even a possibility. “High school parties weren’t my thing when I was in high school, Tiny,” he’d said. She hated when he acted all haughty like that, like she was so childish. But she was hoping the Polaroid photo she’d not-so-accidentally left behind in his bathroom would change his mind. And clearly it had.

He had his camera hanging from his shoulder, and he pulled it to his eye as he walked toward Tenley, as if he were setting her up for a
photo shoot. She pursed her lips casually. According to her old pageant coach, her lips were her very best feature. “Hey, Tiny.” He dropped the camera when he reached her. “Found this photo floating around….” He pulled the Polaroid she’d left in his bathroom out of his pocket. The picture from Vegas. Tenley felt a surge of adrenaline. “Thought you might want it back.”

“Thanks,” she said smoothly, snatching it out of his hand. She was tempted to just drop it onto the counter, let Emerson see she wasn’t the only one with a connection to the modeling world. But she had a feeling Caitlin would be none too happy that photo existed. As good as Tenley looked in it, Caitlin looked equally bad. So she quickly pressed it facedown against her palm. What mattered was that her plan had worked. He’d seen it, seen
her
in it, and now he was here.

“Glad you decided to grace us with your presence,” she said. Her stomach was fluttering and her skin felt warm. She couldn’t help it. There was just something about him that drew her to him. She’d dated plenty of hot guys in the past, but that draw was unlike anything she’d ever felt. She just wished she knew if he felt it, too.

She turned to the rest of the group. “Everyone,” she announced, placing a hand on her stepbrother’s back. “This is Guinness.”

Guinness reached for the pitcher of spiked lemonade and Tenley watched smugly as Emerson and Marta not-so-subtly checked him out. “He lives here, too.” Tenley was careful to avoid using the word
stepbrother
out loud. The last thing she wanted was for him to think of her as a sibling.

As the girls all introduced themselves, Marta snuck Tenley an envious look. “You share a house with him?” she murmured.

“And a shower,” Tenley whispered back. It wasn’t exactly a lie; she
could
use his shower if she wanted to.

“What was that, Tiny?” Guinness draped an arm around her shoulder, his fingers grazing her skin. She froze in place, not wanting him to move.

“Oh, nothing,” Tenley said, craning her neck to look up at him. She liked how much bigger he was than her, how she could fold right into him. “I should probably go return this old photo to my room.” She paused. “Are you going to stick around?”

“For a bit. My plans for tonight got canceled, so why not?”

Tenley gave him a tiny smile before heading back toward the main house.
Sure
, his plans had gotten canceled. As she walked across the lawn, she flipped the photo from Vegas over in her hands, admiring it. More like he’d gotten a glimpse of what he was missing.

Tenley jogged up to her room, sticking the Polaroid back into its hiding spot underneath the dress of one of her Steiff bears, the princess one that had always been her favorite. She quickly double-checked her appearance in the mirror before heading back to the party—and Guinness. She’d just reached the pool house when she saw Fatty Patty—ahem,
Tricia
—heading out the front door. “Are you leaving?” she asked, giving Tricia a strange look.
No one
left her parties this early, especially not a girl whose idea of a wild time used to be the candy aisle in the supermarket.

“Tenley!” Tricia chirped. “I was just going over to the main house to use the bathroom.” She crossed her legs apologetically. “The one in the pool house has a line, like, a mile long, and I’ve had three glasses of your lemonade.”

Tenley couldn’t help but stare at her. It was hard to believe this was the same girl who used to come to school wearing a homemade shirt that said
SAY CHELLO TO MY CELLO
. She seemed like a whole different person now; she even hung out with Caitlin’s friends. She’d spent all
summer trying to convince herself that the mark she’d left on Winslow was too strong to fade—but suddenly she wasn’t so sure.

She hooked her arm through Tricia’s. The more friends she had on Tuesday, the better, she decided. “Well, lucky for you, pool-house rules say the hostess gets to cut the line.” She flashed Tricia a smile. “Come on, I’ll get you right to the front.”

Several hours later, half a dozen empty pitchers of spiked lemonade were scattered across the bar, they had moved on to a second keg, and several members of the football team had just finished up a cannonball contest in the pool. Tenley was sitting on the couch with Caitlin, Emerson, Marta, and Tricia, playing a game of kings. Guinness had left to do some photo work, but other than that, the party was still in full swing.

“Can you believe Fall Festival is in one week?” Tricia asked, shuffling the cards expertly. “Where did summer
go
?”

“Personally I can’t believe Fall Festival is happening at all,” Marta replied. “Hasn’t anyone heard of three strikes and you’re out? I’m pretty sure that counts for three
deaths
, too.”