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“What face?” I ask grimly.

“The one you made at me that night on the beach.”

Bubbles rise in my skull, bringing memories up from the depths. The bonfire on the beach … he still thought about that? I hadn't forgotten that night, but for different reasons. Now I can't help but wander through the history … trying to see what Dezmond is.

The fire is huge. Bigger than normal. Some kids, younger siblings of the girls visiting from college, went overboard with lighter fluid. But everyone is loving it. Or the alcohol is making them love it. I don't know because I'm not drinking, I'm standing back as far as I can, shivering where the tide can lick my bare feet.

Cadence sees me, hurries over with her dimpled smile. “I'm so glad you decided to come, Lori. It feels like I don't see you anymore.”

I offer a pathetic attempt at my own smile. “Sorry. It's been … weird, lately.”

“Because of your dad's lotto win, yeah?”

I eyeball her warily. “Yeah.”

“How much did he win again?” she asks, and it's an innocent question, but I'm too frayed by everyone always asking. Everyone wanting something.

"I don't know."

"A hundred mill, I think? Right, Lori?"

The faces that were laughing around the fire, I think they're watching me. Maybe they always were. I'm Lorikeet Jones, daughter of a multi-millionaire in Crestwind, and rumor is if you ask nicely enough, you'll get a handout. It's not true. I don't have the money to give, even if they ask.

Cadence reaches for me as I walk away. She doesn't call my name, doesn't stop me, and that creates a new wound in my heart.

“Hey! Hey, wait up!” It's not Cadence calling out, it's someone else.

I stop short in the sand. There's a guy approaching me, it takes a second to recognize him. Dezmond Hartford graduated same year as me, though I wonder how he managed to pull that off. He barely came to class. Gym was one of the few places he showed his face, and he used to get pissed when I kicked his ass in basketball. He's never really said a word to me before.

He's dressed in cargo shorts and a polo shirt. It hugs his muscles, which is deliberate, because looks are all he has. Everyone in town knows he's trouble. No one with brains would let him get near them. “What do you want?” I ask.

“I'm Dez,” he says, grinning. “I know you from school.”

“Okay,” I say, feeling the attention shift to us. People are getting nosy.

“We never talked much before,” he says. “You're Lorikeet, right? I always had a crush on you.”

My heart jumps—it's such a forward thing to admit. Endearing, and since it's from Dezmond, it surprises me most of all. I reconsider him, wondering if I read him wrong. It's not like I knew him well, and I hate when people assume things about me.

He glances over my shoulder, aware of our onlookers. His voice gets louder. “You think about modeling? You've got the body for it. I always had a thing for your long legs. The way your ass would bounce on the basketball court in your little shorts, you're hot as hell, babe.”

A flash of disgust echoes in me.

He smirks, saying, “Big girls like you get me off, it's fun when I get them on their knees, you know?" It's unnerving how fast he's on me. One hand jerks out, aiming for my hip, landing there before I can stop him, and then he's reaching for my ass like he owns it. "Let's get out of here. I'll make you feel tiny, especially when I stick my huge co—”

“Fuck you,” I snap, kicking sand at him. He backs up, gawking as he brushes it from his face. “You're disgusting. I'd never let a pathetic little boy like you even breathe on me. Ugh.” I look down my nose at him, seeing him as the creep he is.

His face twists up like someone is yanking all the tiny muscles in different directions.

Whirling, I march past the crowd of people. All at once they begin laughing.

Their jeers fill the air, the bonfire hot on my back as I go around it. I can't see anything behind me from the bright flare, the beach is dark for miles around and my eyes are adjusting to the shift. That's fine because I'm already forgetting the encounter.

And when I get home tonight, and see what's waiting for me …

I'll forget about Dezmond entirely.

“There it is again,” he says, bringing me back to the present. “You look at me like you think I'm garbage.”