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fifteen

Alice

“Good morning.”

I greet Farrah with a smile even though it’s zero dark thirty and I’m exhausted. Dalton spent his fourth night in a row in my room last night, and even though I made him promise we’d be sleeping by midnight, we were up until almost two a.m.

I’m grateful I do yoga--for the first time ever--because I’d be too sore to walk without it. Between riding him repeatedly, having my knees pushed up to my ears while he pounds me and being bent over more times than I can count, I’m still upright, and that’s a win.

“I was hoping you’d get here first,” Farrah says, her eyes narrowed. “I’m so fucking pissed, Alice. I don’t even want to do yoga today.”

Oh, hell yes. Maybe I can go back to bed for a couple of hours.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dalton’s a snake. That’s what’s wrong.”

My heart skips a beat. She knows. She’s going to fire me and I won’t be able to help my parents anymore. What was I thinking, being so selfish? I should have known better.

I’m about to spill my guts when she cuts me off.

“He’s sleeping with someone in the house, and we’re going to figure out who it is.”

“Um...what?” My stomach dips like I just tipped over the top of a huge hill on a rollercoaster.

“I knew something was up. He’s been so weird with me lately. I went to his room last night at eleven forty-five and he wasn’t there.”

“Oh.”

She doesn’t know it’s me. This is bad, though, because she’ll figure it out. How can I make her second-guess her theory?

“Maybe he was just walking on the beach or something. Or hanging out with JP.”

She shakes her head. “I checked everywhere and I couldn’t find him. And I went to check his room again on my way here, at”--she looks at her watch--“five forty-five a.m., and he still wasn’t there. His bed is still made.”

An alarm blares in my head. It’s pretty much just the word fuck , stretched out to last about ten seconds. How could we have been so careless? Dalton snuck out of my room around four a.m. after our first two nights together, but he asked if he could stay the night after the third, and it was too tempting to resist.

We thought as long as we arrived separately to sunrise yoga, we’d be okay.

“Mornin’, ladies.” Dalton strolls up with a lazy grin, and now that I’m paying attention, I can see what Farrah will see.

Under-eye circles. Bed head. The same shorts he wore yesterday. He might as well be wearing a shirt that says, “I just spent the night fucking.”

Ugh. I’m going to have to become a stripper to make the kind of money I make working for Farrah, and I don’t have the body or the mental fortitude for it.

“Good morning,” Farrah says, pasting on a fake smile. “How was your night last night?”

He shrugs. “Pretty quiet. Went to bed early. How was your date with Josh?”

“It was fine.”

She starts the yoga session, and I try to seem fresh and well-rested by doing every movement as well as I can and not complaining. It’s not the end of the world that she knows Dalton wants someone other than her; it’ll just be the end of the world if she finds out it’s me .

“Sorry, I overslept,” JP says as he walks up to us about twenty minutes later.

“That’s okay,” Farrah says lightly. “At least you’re honest. There’s nothing worse than a backstabbing liar.”

JP wrinkles his brow. “Yeah, I slept through my alarm.”

“Return to downward dog,” Farrah says.

I don’t dare even make eye contact with Dalton. My stomach is churning nervously because I feel like Farrah will see right through me no matter what I do.

“Did Josh keep you out late last night?” JP asks.

“No, not at all. I went to bed early last night, just like Dalton.”

She says his name pointedly, making me cringe inwardly. Maybe I should tell her the truth when she and I are alone.

No, I can’t. She’ll lose her shit. Say I stole him from her.

Can wheelchairs get repossessed? I imagine a couple of big, scary-looking guys lifting my poor father out of his specialized chair, setting him on the couch and leaving with the chair I haven’t quite paid off yet.

Fuck. This is awful. Why did I think this was worth risking my dad’s care?

“I feel sick,” I say weakly.

I’m desperate to end this yoga session, but I’m not lying. I could throw up any second now.

“Lie down, see if that helps,” Dalton says, approaching me.

I curl into myself in the sand, his hand on my shoulder like an electrical jolt.

She’ll see. She’ll figure it out. Why is he touching me?

“Let’s just call it,” Farrah says. “I’ll stay here with Alice until she feels better.”

“Yes!” I muster all the enthusiasm I can. “You guys go do your thing. Farrah will stay with me.”

“You want to see how much faster football players can run than hockey players?” JP asks Dalton. “I’ll slow myself down so I don’t embarrass you too badly.”

Dalton’s laugh is halfhearted.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks me.

I want to scream at him to leave. I need time to think before Farrah finds out what we’ve been up to behind her back.

There’s enough money in my bank account to pay off the chair. Will is getting paid now that he’s a resident instead of a med student. With my experience, maybe I could get a job as an assistant for another celebrity, even if they don’t pay me as much as Farrah does.

“I’m fine,” I assure Dalton. “Go run. I just need to rest for a few minutes.”

He and JP take off down the beach, my heart returning to a normal rhythm once they’re gone. Farrah plops down in the sand next to me.

“God, I hope you don’t have the flu or something.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I wish you’d listen to me about eating that shitty fast food. If the food doesn’t make you sick, the germs from the people’s hands making it will.”

“Uh-huh.” I press my cheek to the cool sand.

“So anyway, we need to work together to figure out who Dalton’s fucking. My money’s on June.”

“You’re probably right.”

“She made it pretty damn easy for him. She spreads her legs when he walks past.”

I laugh lightly because Farrah is a total hypocrite, but she’s my hypocrite. Despite her many flaws, I like being around her. I just wish I wasn’t around her sixteen hours a day, seven days a week.

“Why don’t you just go for JP? Like you said, he’s taller, and you want tall kids.”

She sighs heavily. “I probably will. But I still want to know who Dalton’s sticking it in. I can drop a bomb on him during filming if I want.”

My nausea returns as I imagine my parents watching Celebrity Love Malibu and finding out a contestant has been sticking it in their daughter.

“Are you okay to go back to the house?” Farrah asks.

I press myself up to a sitting position with my hand. “Yeah, I think so.”

“We’ll walk slowly.” She stands and brushes the sand from her clothes. “Also, you’ll need to wear gloves and a mask when you make my breakfast.”

The spark between Misty and Dom has taken Alex’s attention, which is an unexpected windfall. The camera operators have been taking shifts waiting outside both Misty and Dom’s rooms, catching them leaving after their interludes.

And from what I’m hearing, it’s not just in the mornings. Those two also like to have a go at it during the day if they can get away with it.

Good for Misty. She deserves to have a man completely wrapped up in her.

If I could get her alone, I might talk to her about my dilemma. I sense I can trust her. There’s not a chance, though. Dom is always there, his arm slung around her possessively.

“Hey, can I help out with that?” I ask one of the kitchen assistants. “I’m not busy.”

She looks up, her brows arched with surprise. “You want to take the lunch orders?”

I nod, desperate for an excuse to talk to Dalton. “Yep, no problem at all. Just the rest of the people on that list?”

She passes me the notepad and pen. “Yeah, that’d be great. Bring it to me in the kitchen once you’ve gotten everyone.”

“You got it.”

I track down everyone other than Dalton first, getting their sandwich and side orders. My nausea is much better, but it’s still a low-grade, constant presence.

If Farrah confronts me in front of other people, what will I say? Will I defend myself or burst into anxious tears? What if she does it on camera? And worst of all, what if it makes it onto the show?

The word fuck plays on repeat in the back of my mind, my soundtrack for today. I imagine it being the main word in popular tunes like “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” and “Happy Birthday.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck to you...fuck fuck fuck fuck to you....

“Dalton!” I find him on one of the patios talking to Ben, one of the production assistants. “Do you have a minute for me to get your lunch order?”

“Yeah, of course.” He nods at Ben. “I’ll catch you later, man.”

“Hey, so I just need to find out what you want for lunch.” I hold the pen over the pad like I’m about to write it down as we walk.

Once we’re alone at the far end of the patio, he says, “Do you know how hard it is not to kiss you right now?”

I keep my expression placid. “Farrah checked your room last night and this morning. She knows you’re sleeping with someone.”

“Damn, psycho much?”

“We can’t do this anymore.”

His expression snaps from carefree to serious. “What? No. She doesn’t know it’s you.”

“Yeah, and she wants me to help her spy on you so she can figure it out. Should I tell her I have a conflict from ten p.m. to four a.m.?”

He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. I write “ham and Swiss on wheat” on the notepad, so it looks like I’m doing what I’m supposed to.

“Babe, this isn’t a big deal. We’ll figure it out. You haven’t had a good night of sleep in a while, so everything feels more magnified than it is.”

He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t have anything on the line here, and I have everything on the line.

“Don’t come to my room tonight.”

“You’re serious.”

“Yes!” I write “fruit” on the notepad. “You know I can’t lose my job.”

“Hey...” His expression softens. “I’ve got you. If you need money--”

“No.”

He doesn’t get it. I can’t risk my dad losing his therapies. My mom losing her housecleaning and caregiving help. The word of a man I’ve been secretly sleeping with for less than a week isn’t enough to make me risk those things.

“Please respect what I’m asking.” I give him a final pleading look before walking away.