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Chapter Twelve

Reed

S ome fucking wingman Fabian turned out to be. Turns out, Sinela’s backless dress was far more persuasive than my need to avoid Vivienne, because Fab and Sin have been holed up in a chair by the pool making out all night.

Granted we’ve only been here for about an hour, but still, if I’m gonna avoid Viv, it’s all on me. Except, I’m a little high, and kinda drunk, and that combo has me fucking focused. Laser sharp focus. I can’t write a line of code if my life depended on it. And I couldn’t drive a car.

But I am determined to find Vivienne.

To do what? I don’t know. I’ll decide when it happens. But before any boozy stalking can take place, I gotta pee.

I find a bathroom upstairs, since there are so many people at the Entrepreneur party tonight, the downstairs restrooms have become loitering spots for high school boys to exchange their father’s business cards.

Unzipping at the urinal, I let my head fall back and the relief flow, ready to think about what I’ll say to Vivienne if I find her, when the door whooshes open.

Three guys come stumbling in, laughing about something I’m sure isn’t actually funny but because they’ve been sipping champagne all night, they’re buzzed.

I’d love to play the college student card and look down my nose at them right now but the truth is, I’m not much better off. I’m tipsy and a little stoned, so when they line up at the urinals near me, I ask them what’s so funny.

“Even when they have money, they’re still so eager to fuck a guy if they think he’s gonna be the next Bill Gates,” one of guys says, laughing as he shakes his dick over the urinal.

“They?” I ask.

“The chicks. I mean, these girls are all pure-breds, right? They’re at Dulce and Mansly, all of them signed to ivy leagues, smarter than all of us combined,” he says, zipping up, forgoing the hand wash element of using the restroom.

Disgusting. “But we’re gonna go in those suites right now and find them waiting for us, waiting for us to tell them exactly what we want and the way we want it.

Because at the end of the day, it’s all about bagging the best guy. ”

Not only do I disagree wholeheartedly with this douche bag’s take, but it immediately makes me dislike him. A lot. A whole lot.

“I don’t think the girl you’re with is that way, though,” one of the others said as he flips his tie over his shoulder, turning on the sink. “She seems… Uptight. Like she isn’t gonna put out. ”

My mother has dragged me to this club too many times to count. Because of this, and because of how last year’s Entrepreneur party went, I’m aware that these guys have a plan. One that most likely involves the members suites up here.

And more alcohol.

And sex.

“We’ll see,” the big guy says through a laugh, tugging his sleeves to adjust the fit of his suit. “My dad got champagne in all of our rooms, and it’s not even nine.”

One of the other guys pats him on the back with a laugh. “Alright man, let’s do it.” He smooths a hand down his chest. “Ricky is fuckin’ hot. No doubt in my mind she’s gonna put out.”

Ricky.

Oh my god. These guys are meeting up with Vivienne and her friends.

Which means one of these spoiled cuntpops is going to try and fuck Vivienne.

I follow them out, stopping them in the hall, grabbing the biggest guy by the arm. “Hey, uh, I overheard your conversation in there, about meeting up with girls right now.”

“Sorry man,” one of the others says. “We only have three and eighteen year olds don’t really know about double teaming yet.”

Disgust crawls over my skin. These morons are talking like they’re older and far more experienced, but the truth is, they’re all eighteen. And they’re all one pump fucking chumps, no doubt.

Though if I had access to Vivienne right now, I’m not sure I’d be much better .

“No, I, uh, I overheard you guys talking, back there,” I say casually, nodding back toward the bathroom. My dress shirt clings to my back as beads of sweat form along my spine. Guilty sweat. So much guilty sweat. “I know Ricky and uh, I’d be careful with her, and her friends. Especially tonight.”

Their faces fall. “Don’t tell me they have a pregnancy pact or something?” The football player smacks one of the others in the chest. “Trying to get access to the WAG box early, guys.”

I really want to roll my eyes, but I can’t. Brooke, Ricky and Vivienne are all beautiful, attending the equivalent of ivy league high schools, and they all come from solid families. The idea that any of them would have to fuck one of these tools for a secure future is actually laughable.

“Yes,” I nod, going along with it because he’s served up a way out, letting me off the hook to come up with some lie.

My altered brain will take any help it can get, and I’d do just about anything to keep these tools away from Vivienne.

“I was just going to say,” I tell them. “Watch out. In fact, if I were you guys, I’d party downstairs.

Ten minutes in the suite, eighteen years of child support. ”

The football player’s jaw goes slack. “Seriously? I mean I was kind of kidding but…” he shakes his head, looking at the other two idiots.

“I mean it makes sense.” He smooths his hands over his lapels before checking his cufflinks, puffing out his chest. “I will probably see playing time on the field by sophomore year.”

He thinks that any of those classy women are trying to get pregnant tonight because he’s a bench warmer at Cal next year?

I swallow the lump of amusement forming in my throat, and nod.

“Yeah, man, you’re a total catch. That’s what they’re looking to do–bag a catch.

Whoever does it first, wins.” Sweat slides down the back of my neck as I lean in.

“Heard they poke holes in condoms, too.”

At this point, someone should ask wins wha t? Or, what’s the rest of the bet ? Or, wh y? They should ask something. They should question me in some form. They should at least bring the needle to the balloon and attempt to poke holes in this disastrously thrown together excuse.

But they’re high school seniors with champagne in their veins and the risk of teenage fatherhood put in their brains. They ask no questions.

“Dude, thanks man,” one of the others finally speaks up, “you really saved us.”

I pluck invisible lint from my chest. “Well, I’m Vivienne’s step brother.

The girls are always at the house, so I’m privy to their plans.

” I hate that I just played that card, and that it was a lie nonetheless.

Vivienne has had Brooke over once. Ricky just twice.

And the two of us go to extreme lengths to avoid each other, to do the right thing.

“Should we wait til they get out of the bathroom and make some shit up?”

One guy takes off his tuxedo jacket, wiping sweat from the back of his neck. “No, fuck that, if they were trying to bag us, lets leave. They’ll figure it out when they can’t go inside.”

“You reserved rooms?” I question, acting impressed but in reality, I need to figure out which rooms. I could also use another drink, because as my fuzz fades, the high settles in, dulling my decision making skills.

I don’t know how Fab gets such good grades smoking all the time.

If Viv wasn’t on the line right now, I think I’d be staring at the wall contemplating the universe.

“My dad did. Even had them stocked with champagne.”

I press my finger into his chest. “Go get your champagne, dude. Don’t let that go to waste.” I nod toward the corridor of doors. “I’ll be on the lookout while you guys get the bottles from the rooms.”

The three of them exchange a quick glance before heading toward the rooms. Murray uses his phone to open the first door, and while the other two follow him in, I flip the lock on the door, making sure it stays open.

They rush out, laughing, two bottles clinking together as they move to the next door.

I repeat the process, and by the time they come to the third door, I nudge Murray, redirecting him, saying, “I heard there are some seniors from Constance down by the pool.”

After three individual fist bumps, they leave. For once, men thinking they are the center of the universe has been advantageous for me. Thinking on my feet, I complete my plan, running into the first two rooms, writing a note in each.

Get undressed and wait for me. I went for more alcohol.

Next, I leave a note on room 3’s door, writing Ricky on it. The note on room 2’s door says Brooke , leaving room 1 with a note that says Vivienne .

I slip into room 1 and out of my suit jacket, finding the mini bar immediately. Murray’s dad is gonna foot the bill for this, and maybe tomorrow I’ll feel guilty about that, but tonight? Tonight I feel fucking brilliant for… for what?

For coming here to forget her and orchestrating the entire night to instead lead us to each other? What am I doing? I can’t even blame the weed or booze, because in my gut, I want her more than I’ve wanted anything. It’s irrational and physical but I can’t help it.

But I don’t have time to spin out, because a soft knock comes at the barely cracked door. A soft knock followed by a velvety, “hello?”

“It’s open,” I call, not disguising my voice but not recognizing it, either. Raw. Deep. On the brink of shattering, that’s how I sound, and it’s how I feel, too.

But with one easy lie tonight, I’ve rearranged everything to have her, when I’m supposed to be doing the opposite.

And even now, her black strappy heels clicking against the floor as she moves toward me, I would do it all again. In a heartbeat. Without a doubt.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on my spread knees, my breath catches as her silhouette appears. “Should I turn on the light?” she asks, reaching for the Tiffany lamp on the bureau.