Chapter Eight

Meg

The industrial paint mixer emitted a laborious sound as it meticulously shook the can of paint. The frazzled lady who had dashed in minutes ago, trying to beat closing time, flipped through a book of wallpaper samples as she waited.

I reached under the counter for an extra paint stick.

When I popped my head up, Luke was standing at the back of the store. The machine had drowned out the dinging of the bell. Noting I was busy with a customer, he began to wander. He plucked a can of spray paint off the display and held it in the air, shook it, and then mimed painting a mural on the window. I reflexively clenched my jaw, assuming he was mocking me. When he didn’t look at me once, I realized maybe he was just…trying it out? He seemed to be enjoying himself.

Our charade had been going on for a few weeks now. He had never stopped by before. This was another topic that hadn’t been touched on yet. My fingers itched, wanting to scribble in that green notebook.

When the machine stopped rumbling, I twisted around, pulling the can from its now silent clutches.

“Here you are.” I held out the can of Plum Dandy along with the extra paint sticks. “It’s ready to go, but you can take these in case you need to do any touching up later.”

“Thank you.” She scurried toward the entrance. Luke stepped in front of her, opening the door. “What a gentleman.”

I rolled my eyes. Show off.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded as he strode up to the counter.

“Can’t I stop by for a second?”

“I’m working.”

He glanced around the empty store. Not in a snide way, but more as if he was confused as to how that could be a problem. “You don’t look too busy at the moment. Can we talk?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “There’s something I want to give you.”

He handed me a white envelope.

“What’s this?”

“A gift. For you. Open it.”

I hesitated, not wanting anything from him.

“Just open it.”

I did as commanded. Two tickets slid out. The heavy ivory paper was embossed in gold writing. I quickly scanned the invitation before giving him a questioning look.

“They’re tickets for some art gala in the city,” he clarified.

Sapphire Bay was a half hour drive to the south. It was the biggest city in the area.

“I gathered as much.” I grimaced. “We have to go to this? Are you planning on boring me into compliance?”

His smile disappeared. “No. I thought you’d want to go.”

“Oh, right.” Too late I remembered he’d told me it was a gift.

“You don’t look happy.”

I shook my head in confusion. I had no idea what to say. I could tell I’d hurt his feelings.

“I thought it would be something you would enjoy,” he said. “You’re into art, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” I admitted.

“You don’t like art?”

“Not really. But we can totally go,” I offered.

“I don’t want to go,” he said. “I thought you would. If you don’t like art then what’s with the…” He faded off as he mimed spraying with a can of paint again.

I swatted his hand back down to his side. “Stop doing that. And no, art has nothing to do with it.”

“Then what—”

“It’s not something I want to talk about.”

“Fine.” He took the fancy tickets and stuffed them back into the envelope. “I’ll give them to my parents or something.”

I felt an unwanted twinge of guilt. “I’m sorry, Luke. The thought was really sweet.”

“Sweet?” His smile flickered back into place.

Dang. He had a nice smile.

I looked away, checking out the clock behind me.

“You should probably go so I can lock up.”

Ignoring me, he moved through the store, following as I flipped off the lights.

“Actually, could you come over?”

My mind whirred into action. “Sure.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “That was too easy.”

“I don’t have to.”

“No. I want you to. Adam and Trevor are going to stop by later. It will look good if we’re hanging out.”

My parents weren’t speaking at the moment. The house echoed with their deafening silence. I could hardly stand it. But it annoyed me that I’d rather spend time with the boy who was blackmailing me. Still, every time he asked, I found myself willing to go.

There was another perk of going to Luke’s. Maybe if I spent some time in his domain, I could dig up some dirt on him. What better place to look for aforementioned dirt than in his bedroom? What if I could find something I could use against him? What if I could blackmail him right back?

“Can I meet you there?”

“Sure.”

Closing up the store didn’t take long. The ride to Luke’s didn’t take long, either. As I cruised into the circular drive, I belatedly contemplated what his parents would think about a girl on a motorcycle zooming up to their house. I realized I didn’t particularly care. What could they do? Forbid him from seeing me? I could only hope.

I wasn’t sure where to park. I came to a stop next to the walkway that led to the front door. Most likely it wasn’t the most appropriate place, which made it perfect for me.

I told myself there was no reason to be nervous. I had no one to impress.

So what if Luke’s house was an enormous brick monstrosity? So what if his last girlfriend’s purse collection was worth more than my entire wardrobe?

Before I could ring the bell, the door was tugged open.

“You made it.”

“You doubted me?” He practically owned me. Of course I was going to do what he asked.

For now.

He flicked his head to the side, signaling that I should enter.

I felt like I was walking into another world—or at least a world completely different from my own. The heels of my boots clicked on the marble floor of the massive foyer. A staircase rose to the upper level and curved back down again. A chandelier glinted overhead. Uncomfortable ogling what this guy thought was normal, I swiveled my attention back to him.

“Let’s head to my room.” He led the way up the massive staircase. I followed him to the end of the hallway, where he shoved open a door. He motioned for me to go through first.

This was his bedroom? Apartments were smaller than this. A king-size bed with a matching bedroom set took up one side of the enormous space. A black leather couch acted as a divider between the sleeping area and the living area. There was also a recliner at an angle. All the better to get a view of the enormous flat screen that hung on the wall. A black lacquered coffee table was in front of the sofa. It was covered with homework.

“Should I grab drinks? Or are you hungry?”

“Actually,” I made an apologetic face, seizing the opportunity, “I’m starving. I always eat when I get off work.”

It wasn’t even a lie.

“No problem. I’ll be right back. Maybe you can find something for us to watch. The remote is next to the TV. Check out the movie channels if you want.”

He didn’t close the door. I scampered over and peeked into the hallway. I could hear his footsteps padding down the staircase.

I darted back into his room. His dresser seemed like an obvious place to start. A foray into his underwear drawer produced not a lot more than, well, underwear—boxer briefs, to be exact. He also had an absurd amount of socks. And aside from a couple of jock straps, there wasn’t much else to see.

I wiped my hands on my leggings, ridding myself of unseen germs.

I hurriedly rifled through the lower drawers but they were even more boring.

His nightstand was next. It produced a flashlight, a stack of Sports Illustrated, random writing utensils, and a few college brochures. The brochures sat at a suspicious angle. I pushed them aside, exposing an open box of condoms.

I froze as my heart did an unexpected dip, skydiving into my stomach. My traitorous mind taunted me with a flashback of the night on the baseball field. When Luke had his arms around me, when I’d been caged against his body, it had felt blissful. An unwanted ache coursed through me as I thought about being tangled up in Luke’s arms again.

I slammed the drawer shut.

How messed up was I? The boy was blackmailing me.

I blamed it on hormones. Stupid, traitorous hormones.

I let out a growl of frustration as I darted over to the closed door that was off his bedroom. It opened into a closet.

There were enough clothes in here to fill a small boutique.

“Unbelievable,” I whispered. Everything was arranged meticulously. Long-sleeve button downs arranged by color, then short-sleeve button downs arranged by color. Next came sweaters, again, arranged by color followed by shirts of a more casual nature. At the end of the line were at least a dozen suits and…yes, two tuxedos.

I wasn’t sure if I was impressed or appalled.

The boy owned more shoes than any one boy should be allowed to own.

A small table stood just inside the door. Two crooked piles of books were stacked on top of it. I assumed the eclectic pile was tucked away so as not to mar the perfection of his bedroom. He had Moby Dick, several titles by Stephen King, and what looked like a wide variety of everything in between.

A copy of Little Women had a blue highlighter sticking out of it.

Perplexing, but not exactly blackmail worthy.

I backed out of the closet, disappointed by its lack of secret hiding places.

“Whatcha doin’?”

I shrieked.

“You scared me,” I scolded as I twisted around. “I was looking for the bathroom.”

He held a serving tray in his hands. He motioned with his head toward the door that led off from the sitting area. “It’s that way.”

“Right. Okay.” I backed the rest of the way out of his closet and pulled the door shut.

I couldn’t bear to look at him as I crossed the room and disappeared behind the bathroom door. Once inside, I rested against it. I pressed my hand against my thundering heart, willing it to slow down.

I wasn’t sure what I had been hoping to find. I was pretty sure he wasn’t a pothead. Everyone had made it clear he was some kind of star ball player. Steroids maybe? If I found them, would I even know what I was looking at? Or maybe he’d cheated on Jaclyn. Or tests. Maybe he’d cheated on tests. It didn’t seem fair that a guy that looked like him, was as athletic as he was, and lived in a house like this should also have brains to boot.

Maybe he had a stash of purchased homework somewhere.

I knew I wouldn’t find anything in his bathroom. They undoubtedly had a housekeeper. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to keep anything incriminating in his room.

So maybe on his laptop?

Or his phone.

I flushed the toilet for show, and then scrubbed my hands on principal.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom Luke had settled on the couch. He balanced a plate in one hand while peeking at his phone with the other.

He hadn’t left the phone in his room when he went to the kitchen. How was I ever supposed to get it away from him? Besides, it was probably password protected. Come to think of it, his laptop was likely protected as well. My earlier determination began to fizzle into a state of dejection.

He patted the spot on the couch next to him. “Dinner’s served.”

It sure was.

I was momentarily speechless. I’d expected something along the lines of chips and salsa. Instead he’d taken the time to make sandwiches. Crusty croissants layered with ham, cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. Spears of pickles rested on the plate.

“I figured if you like root beer, you like root beer floats.”

“Love them almost as much as hot chocolate.”

He nudged me and widened his eyes in mock-surprise. “We have another thing in common. I love them almost as much as cookie sundaes.”

I shook my head. “Thanks for dinner. You really didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”

“You said you were hungry, and I can always eat.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what you like on your sandwich. I brought up mayo and honey mustard. If you want something else, I could probably find it for you.”

I settled in next to him. “No. This is good. I’m not picky.”

“Look at you, being all agreeable,” Luke teased. His knee playfully bounced against mine. “I think you might be starting to like me, at least a little.”

I thought maybe he was right.