Pepped Up and Ready (Pepper Jones #3) (5 page)

“Yeah, I figured,” she says with a shrug before stealing my glass and taking a swig.

“Hey! Get your own!”

I can feel Kayla watching us, and I wonder if she recognizes that she’s out of place here in her hot pink shorts, white sleeveless button-down, and French manicured nails. I’m a sweaty mess and Zoe looks like she just rolled out of bed.

“How’d you get here, anyway?” I ask Zoe. “I didn’t see the Burton mobile outside.” Zoe usually gets around in the family minivan.

“I got a bike!” she tells me excitedly. “I went running with Jenny yesterday afternoon, since
you
never called me back,” she feigns hurt, “and her parents were having a garage sale and just, like, gave me this old road bike for free. It’s sweet. Lots of character.”

Zoe and I banter back and forth for a few more minutes before I sense Kayla growing restless, waiting her turn to jump in.

“So what’s up, Kayla?” I finally ask.

She smiles brightly. “Well, I wanted to invite you, both of you, to Theta Kapp’s first party of the year,” she announces with formality.

I stare at her blankly, and I imagine Zoe shares my confusion. When we don’t react, she must realize we need further explanation.

“It’s actually a pretty big deal,” she informs us, leaning her hip against the counter. “Every August, Theta Kapp and Sig Beta – you know, the hottest frat at UC,” she adds like it’s an uncontroversial fact, which it might be, “throw the first major event of the school year. The only people on campus are the sororities, fraternities, and athletes for preseason. And sometimes some randoms but they don’t usually get an invite,” she adds dismissively. “The main point is to get goodwill going between the houses and the athletes.”

This all makes sense, except it doesn’t explain why Zoe and I should be there.

“Right, well, that’s cool of you to think of us but we’re not UC students, Kayla, so…” I let her reach her own conclusion. I’m not going to be someone who shows up where she doesn’t belong. I’ll be in college next year, and I can go to the party then.

But Kayla has zeroed in on Zoe, whose eyes are alight with excitement. “Are you kidding? This sounds awesome! Pepper, we are so going.”

“We have the annual cross barbeque at Coach’s place, remember?” I point out.

“Yeah, but that’s over early enough. When do people show up for the party?” she asks Kayla.

“Most people start getting there around eight or nine. Earlier than a lot of parties because the athletes are worn out. But they’ll rally. Most of the teams have hardcore practices the first few days and then the coaches give them the morning off after the party. It’s tradition.”

One thing I do know is that sororities and fraternities are all about tradition. I’m sure Jace will be there, but I’m not so sure he’d want me along. I don’t want to invade his space.

Not to mention… “Our first day of school is the next day.” Yeah, there’s no way Zoe’s getting away with going to that party, and even Gran won’t be down with it.

Zoe doesn’t look fazed. “I’ve already got a sneak-out plan ready to implement,” she says proudly. “I figure I can only lie about so many sleepovers with you before my parents get suspicious.” It doesn’t surprise me that Zoe is planning on going to a lot of parties this year. But I don’t have much interest in joining her.

Zoe and Kayla chat on about the party but I zone them out. It’s dawning on me that senior year without Jace might be lonely for entirely different reasons than I originally feared. If I want to be the national cross champion again, I’m not going to be spending as much time with Zoe, who seems to have a completely different agenda than mine. She’s not even sure if she’ll run competitively in college.

Kayla became our friend over the past year, but I don’t entirely believe she’s invited us to this important semi-exclusive college thing simply because we hang out occasionally. My presence must give her, or her sorority, some sort of power, and I’m sure it has to do with Jace. Who knows the inner workings of college Greek life and how a girl like me might matter in their games? Does Zoe realize we’re just pawns to them?

Kayla seems somewhat surprised that I’m not more flattered by her invitation. Her reaction just shows that she really doesn’t know me that well. I finally realize the girls won’t give up on convincing me to go until I at least give them something more than a flat-out no way. Eventually a vague, “We’ll see,” gets them out the door.

I only did a five-mile loop this morning but my legs are trashed. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to take some Ryan Harding medicine and rest tomorrow, but I’m reluctant to give up my 84-day streak of not taking a day off from running. Besides, we usually do our first semi-long run as a team before the season kick-off barbeque tomorrow. And I’m not planning on sitting it out.

I’m rummaging through the freezer looking for something to ice my aches and pains with when the front door – still partially open from the girls leaving a moment earlier – swings wide open. “Pepper!” Wes calls before seeing me only a few feet away, a bag of frozen peas in my hand.

“Oh, hi you.” He leans in for a hug, despite my state of post-run stink.

“What hurts?” he asks when we break away, eyeing my bag of peas. Only athletes are familiar with the real purpose behind frozen peas.

“Everything,” I answer.

“You should take an ice bath,” he suggests.

“That sounds like a form of medieval torture.” I grimace just thinking about a bath full of ice. Only if I’m in so much pain I couldn’t walk would I put myself through that.

“Or we could go to the creek for a swim. It’s pretty fucking cold.” Wes is grinning, and I can’t help but grin back, happy he’s emerged from the emotional turmoil I witnessed the other night.

Perhaps it’s because I know it’s just beneath his fun-loving exterior, all the anxiety and hurt he suppresses, that I say, “Sure, why not?” I almost never hang out with Wes without Jace, but we used to a long time ago, and it’s not so hard to remember that easy friendship that wasn’t complicated by me and Jace being, well, the so-much-more than friends that we are today.

It feels even weirder when Wes stops by Jace’s house to borrow a pair of swim trunks. This isn’t going to become, like, a thing, is it? Me and Wes hanging out without Jace. Why do things keep changing in ways I don’t expect?

For some reason, on the way to the creek, I’m under the false impression that no one else will be at the swimming hole. It’s still early in the day, and when Jace is off immersed in football I sometimes feel like the rest of world is momentarily on hold too. But that’s definitely just my imagination because there are at least a dozen other cars at what I always thought was a fairly secretive spot.

A part of me is relieved. Though we aren’t doing anything wrong, it just feels disloyal to hang in my bathing suit with another guy. Even if it
is
with Wes, who’s like family. I never asked him why he showed up at my apartment in the first place. We haven’t been on stopping-by-unannounced-terms since middle school. I guess he’s stopped by without plans before when he’s with Jace, but that’s different. Or is it? Maybe I’m overanalyzing everything, but I just get a feeling Jace wouldn’t like it.

Wes stops us at the top of the trail leading down to the creek. We look over the ledge and take in the series of swimming holes. The water is clear and enticing.

“It’s all guys down there,” I point out as I take in the absence of bikinis and ponytails.

Judging by the size of the bodies below, I’m assuming it’s UC students. I’m glad it’s no one I know, I’m not really in the mood to be social. I’m too exhausted and all I want is the cold water to ease my achy legs and then I was hoping for a snooze by the creek with the warm sun heating the rocks and my skin. At the sight of a keg and the loud laughter coming from below, my napping plans go out the window.

“It’s just Sig Beta guys,” Wes says, his tense shoulders relaxing. I wonder if he still worries about running into Wolfe or Rex, ghosts from his drug-dealing past.

“Sig Beta?”

“Yeah, they’re hosting that party with Kayla’s sorority tomorrow night.”

“How do you know about that?”

“I ran into Kayla and Zoe outside your place,” he admits. “I’m supposed to convince you to show up.” Wes chuckles and throws his arm around me. I love that he won’t try to make me do something he knows I don’t want to. “You don’t have to go but I’m totally hitting that up. Theta Kapp girls are smoking.”

I roll my eyes and take in the tan muscled bodies as we reach the creek. That’s right. Sig Beta are the hottest guys on campus, according to Kayla, who probably meant to imply that her sorority has the hottest girls.

“Well, you should take Zoe then. That way maybe she won’t give me a hard time for staying home.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Wes agrees before swiping my towel and pushing me in the deepest swimming hole with one fluid movement.
How did I not see earlier that Jace and Wes are brothers?
I think, as the icy cold water hits me. Both are freakishly smooth and athletic in their movements. Sneaky, as well. I rise to the surface sputtering.

“You little shit!” I say between gasps. The cold water has taken my breath away. But I don’t get out of the water. Wes and I realize at the same moment that about twenty heads have turned our way and they all seem to be staring at me. There’s no way I’m getting out in my polka-dotted string bikini, shivering, I might add.

My heart is already racing from the sneak attack and freezing water, but it picks up another notch when my eyes skate over Clayton Dennison. I pretend not to notice that I’ve spotted him as I tread water and return my focus to Wes. Clayton’s eyes are shaded by a baseball cap and I can’t tell if he was looking my way.

Baseball doesn’t have preseason because their main competitive season is in the spring. So I guess he’s just hanging out with his fraternity friends. But really, it’s a huge school, how is it possible to run into him twice in as many days?

A guy is making his way over to Wes, who’s hanging our towels over a branch.

“Jamison, what’s up, man?” a voice I recognize but can’t place greets him.

“Gage, hey,” Wes sounds significantly less pleased to see him. Gage Fitzgerald. The annoying fraternity president who helped, or tried to help, Jace move in to his dorm.

I dive under the water, irritated that I can’t escape this college world, a world which was so distant to me only a few days ago. As I make my way to the bottom of the creek, grabbing a stone and pushing back up to the surface, I wonder why I’m irritated. Isn’t it a good thing to be part of Jace’s new life? Maybe, but if it means hanging out with the Gage Fitzgeralds of the world, I’m not exactly thrilled. I slowly break the surface again, hoping everyone will forget I’m here so I can find a discreet rock to sunbathe on.

But I’m not so lucky.

Clayton has appeared beside Gage, says something I can’t hear, and all three pairs of eyes turn to look at me. Wes’s mood is rapidly declining. An internal warning light flashes.

Instead of rescuing him from two guys he clearly doesn’t want to talk to – if his body language is any indication – I wait as long as I can in the creek, swimming over to a ledge where I can sort of sit while keeping most of my body under water. I try to ignore the fraternity guys glancing in our direction, but it’s hard when I’m also trying to ignore the freezing cold water. Eventually I start to go numb, and that helps. After all, it’s good for my achy legs. A group of guys farther down the creek are talking and gesturing toward Wes, Gage, and Clayton. I wonder if they know Wes, and if so, why.

Clayton’s from Brockton and even though Wes went to the private school – Lincoln Academy – instead of Brockton Public, their acquaintance isn’t surprising. They are both athletes and their paths were bound to cross. And Gage… he seems to be the kind of guy who tries to know everyone who might matter, and I guess even in high school Wesley Jamison had important status. After all, he was the Jace Wilder of Lincoln Academy: the leader of the social scene, the best athlete, hottest guy, yada yada.

Eventually the three seem engrossed in conversation enough for me to risk grabbing my towel without attracting attention. Remembering a spot farther up the trail that Jace took me to a few weeks ago, I slip on my flip-flops and snag my towel from the branch before heading that way. But the conversation stops when they see me, and in an effort not to be super rude, I turn and wave before bee-lining back to the trail.

I’m lying on my back on the warm rocks when Wes joins me a few minutes later.

“You didn’t tell me you met Gage Fitzgerald.” He sounds angry, and I’m on the defensive.

“Uh, yeah, he had some pledges try to help move Jace in the other day. What’s the problem?”

“He’s a prick.” Wes’s voice is contemptuous.

“Yeah, that’s obvious. Do you guys have a history or something?” Wes hangs out with social-climbers like Gage all the time and they usually don’t bother him, so there must be more to it.

“I used to sell him drugs,” Wes explains matter-of-factly. “He doesn’t like his new dealer and wants me back in the business. And he likes that my dad has connections. So he wants to be my buddy, you know how that goes.”

“He does drugs?” I ask, wide-eyed. I mean, I’m not totally naïve about these things. I know a lot of people do drugs, but Gage comes across as a pretty clean-cut dude.

“I guess. I think he bought a lot for his fraternity brothers. He was like a sub-dealer, I guess you’d call him. Sold at parties and shit. Probably didn’t do a lot himself. Or maybe he did. I don’t really give a shit.”

That makes more sense. I don’t see him as a regular user. He has his shit together too much for that. Some people deal for money, others for power and control, or both. Not that I’ve known a ton of drug dealers, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out their motives. Gage probably falls into the latter category.

“And Clayton Dennison? Is he in Sig Beta?”

Wes’s head swings from looking toward the creek back to me. “He’s a prick too, Pepper. You know that, right?”

“I don’t really know him,” I respond honestly with a shrug. He’s never come off as an arrogant asshole like Gage Fitzgerald did on first impression, but I’m suspicious of Clayton given his history with Jace.

“He’s not a Sig Beta brother,” Wes gets back to my question. “But Sig Beta is kind of like the frat for UC athletes to hang with. Only athletes on the major sports, no offense to cross, Pep.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. It’s a relief cross country is not as popular as football or baseball. And it’s not news to me.

Wes smiles too, and I hope his mood turns back to happy. I’m not used to him being moody like this.

“Sports teams don’t have time to be in their own frat or sorority, so they just mooch?” I ask.

“Pretty much,” Wes says. “It’s what we call a symbiotic relationship,” he tells me with a grin. “The athletes get the benefits of the parties and social stuff but don’t have to do any of the work, and the frats get the benefit of having all the hot athletes at their events, making them more popular.”

“Makes sense.” But I don’t like it. If it means Jace will be hanging with the Sig Beta guys, I have a bad feeling.

The guys don’t bother us anymore, and after a couple hours napping in the sun, Wes drops me off at home. He offers to come in and wait while I change for my shift at the Tavern, but Gran’s already planning on giving me a ride. I’ve got my license, but no car.

It’s my last shift at the Tavern until next summer. It’s a decent place to work, and I got promoted from bus girl to hostess this summer. Another plus is that my teammate Jenny Mendoza started working here this year. She’ll only be a sophomore and stands at 4’10” but she’s got enough spunk to make up for her littleness.

The restaurant’s busy, as usual, which makes the night fly by. Just when things are starting to slow down, a group of guys and girls walk in. They look college-aged, and I’m a little surprised they’ve chosen the Tavern as a place to hang out at ten at night. It’s a nice restaurant, and we don’t usually see a lot of college kids, unless they’re on a date or with family.

When an especially tall guy maneuvers to the front of the group, I realize there might be another reason for their presence.

Clayton’s cleaned up from the creek earlier, and it looks like he’s ditched the fraternity guys in favor of fellow athletes. When he feigns surprise at seeing me and then attempts a hug, I can’t help but scowl at him.

He pretends not to notice. “Man, I’ve run into you a lot over the last couple of days, Pepper. I’m a lucky guy.”

“You guys headed to the bar or do you want a table?” I ask, ignoring his comment.

“We’ll take a table.” He circles his hand around his friends. “For eight.”

The restaurant is emptying, and a large circular booth is available. I lead them to it, and pull up two chairs on the end so the whole party can fit. I can feel Clayton’s gaze burning into the back of my head. Though it could just be a coincidence that he’s here, I doubt it. It’s not a stretch that he knows I work here, since I’ve been working at the Tavern every summer in high school.

Before I can escape, Clayton begins introducing me to all of his friends, acting as though the two of us are old buddies from high school. I try to step away from the hand he places on the small of my back, a gesture he’s surely aware demonstrates a familiarity we do not possess.

Two of the girls are on the soccer team and the other two play softball. The three other guys are baseball players. Each of them is attractive, and I have no doubt they hold some social clout at UC. That’s why he brought them and why he’s putting on this show. He wants people who matter talking about me with him. He wants to get underneath Jace Wilder’s skin.

He’s sneaky but not subtle enough for me. I discovered what he was up to years ago at Brockton Public, and apparently he’s still at it.

When I return to the hostess table, Jenny’s reaction tells me that his plan is so-far successful. Now doing my old job, she passes me with a bucket of dishes. I’m not on her route to the kitchen, and I know what she’s there for when she pauses, balancing the bucket on her hip.

“Pepper! Do you know who that is?” she asks with hero-worship written all over her face. “My brothers and dad have been making me watch Clayton Dennison’s baseball games forever! I can’t believe you know him. And it seems like you guys are pretty close. Can you introduce me?”

Sighing, I take the bucket from Jenny and carry it into the kitchen. “We’re not friends. I hardly know the guy.”

“Well, he wants to be your friend. He was totally checking out your ass when you were taking them to the table, and he put his arm on you that way guys do when they’re telling other guys you’re taken.”

“How do you even know that kind of thing, Jenny? You’re fifteen and never had a boyfriend.” I’m not trying to be insulting, but sometimes Jenny seems more knowledgeable about the ways of the world than I am, and I’ve got two years on her. I’m genuinely curious about how she knows these things.

She shrugs. “Older siblings, I guess.”

A waiter is taking their orders when Jenny and I come back from the kitchen, but I can still feel Clayton watching us.

“God, Pepper. You must cast some sort of spell over hot guys. You’ve already got Jace Wilder and now Clayton Dennison is looking at you like he wants to eat you up.”

I can’t help the laughter that bursts out upon hearing my eighty-pound friend say the words “eat you up” in a sexual context.

“Would you stop?” I try to sound serious through my laughter. I’m not going to go into the whole reason behind Clayton’s presence here, and his pretend interest in me. “Seriously, Jenny, it’s nothing.”