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Authors: Emma Harrison

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BOOK: Escaping Perfect
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“Please. Not a chance,” Jasper said, sliding into the water. “This girl has ‘puritan' written all over her.”

“I'm in!” I said.

Jasper's jaw slackened. He reached out to hold on to the raft for support. “That worked faster than I thought it would.”

“I'm not in because of your lame attempt at reverse psychology,” I said, splashing him in the face. “I'm in because I'm doing this thing where I'm trying stuff I've never tried before.”

“Well.” Jasper's eyes went smoldering. “That sounds promising.”

I splashed him again and started to swim, following a handful of people who were headed to the far side of the lake. A couple dozen yards from the water's edge, when I could just feel my toes sliding against the slippery bottom, everyone stopped. I glanced around at the half-dozen strange faces and started to question my sanity. I didn't know any of these people. Was I really going to get naked with them?

Jasper and Ryan finally caught up. Ryan swam into the center of the circle, and within seconds his bathing suit was thrust in the air. All the girls cheered.

I started to hyperventilate. Slowly I eased back from the crowd, back toward the rafts, but then I bumped into something. Or, rather, someone.

“Are you okay, Red Sox?”

His voice was a low rumble in my ear. When I turned around, he was clutching his bathing suit in one hand. I yelped and pushed back.

“Oh, wow. You really never have done this before.” Jasper glanced around. “Here. Come with me.”

“What? Where?” I asked. With all the gasping for air, I wasn't sure how much longer I could tread water.

“Over here where you can stand. Before you have a heart attack.”

He grabbed my hand and tugged me behind one of the trees, its branches stretching up from beneath the shallow water. When I put my feet down, I felt them scrape something solid. Tree roots.

“You okay?” Jasper asked. His hand was on my shoulder, but he was keeping a respectful distance. “Look me in the eye and breathe.”

I did as I was told. After a few deep, meditation-style breaths, I forgot that he was naked under the water. All I saw were his blue eyes.

“You really don't have to skinny-dip. It's lame anyway,” Jasper said.

He let his hand trail down my arm, and my skin shivered. Behind him I heard a whoop and a laugh, but I couldn't see anyone else beyond the tree's thick leaves. The bouncy-house rafts shuddered and shimmied, the peals of laughter seeming very far away.

If I was ever going to do this, the time was now.

“One sec,” I said. Then I sank beneath the water's surface.

Just do it. Just do it do it do it. You're Lia Washington now. You can do anything.

My hands shook as I lifted the bathing suit strap over my head, then shoved the whole thing down. Water rushed in over my bare skin, tickling me all over. It was insane how removing that one skinny layer of fabric made me feel light as air—both brave and silly all at once. The suit was right around my knees when my lungs began to scream for air. This was it. I kicked the thing free, grabbed it up in one hand, and broke the surface, gasping.

When I rubbed the water from my eyes, Jasper was open-mouthed.

“Are you?”

“Yep!” I replied with a grin.

“No way,” he said, and laughed.

“Yeah way.” I was laughing too. Our mutual nakedness was making us giddy.

“No
way
!”


Yeah
way!”

All at once it hit me. This intense moment of déjà vu. Me standing with my hands on my hips in the park at the center of Sweetbriar, trying to make Jasper believe I could climb this big old oak I had no business trying to climb. Our exchange
back then had been exactly the same. All the way up until I'd tried to climb it, gotten to the first limb, and then cried until Gigi got me down.

I looked at Jasper now, and my heart thunked. His expression mirrored mine. Then his gaze traveled over the tree next to us, and my toes curled into the thick bark beneath me.
Oh no, oh no, oh no.
Please don't. Please don't remember me.

A sudden splash startled me, and suddenly Shelby came swimming around the outermost branches of the tree. Her shoulders were bare too, and her hair was slicked back from her angular face, making her look like she was ready for the cover of
Sports Illustrated
.

“Thought I'd find you over here!” she said, swimming right up to Jasper, and she slung one arm around his neck in a familiar way that must have brought all sorts of naked body parts into contact with one another. Her eyes sliced right through me. “You can go now.”

“Shelby!” Jasper said, then looked at me. “You don't have to—”

“Yeah, I really do,” I said.

He called something after me, but between the swimming and the humiliation and the residual panic, his words were entirely lost.

Chapter Eight

The next morning
, Britta was gone before I woke up, and I was feeling antsy. My meditation and tae kwon do exercises calmed me slightly, but not for very long. Jasper had almost recognized me. I was sure of it. Or maybe he had and I just didn't know about it yet. And also? I had skinny-dipped.
Skinny-dipped!
I had been naked inches away from a very hot, also very naked
guy
.

Yeah, there was no relaxing for me.

I had a shift at the diner starting at noon, and I needed to show up if I wanted to pay my rent and not end up sleeping on the street. But until then I had to get out of the house. I showered and dressed quickly, grabbed my backpack, and headed out. The morning sky was overcast, bathing the town in its dim, gray light. I looked around as if the
world might drop a new adventure at my feet, but the town was extremely lazy this morning. Aside from a couple of kids flipping their skateboards in the park, there was nothing going on.

At a loss, I turned toward Peach Street to see what message the mysterious midnight painter had in store for me today. I paused at the sight of the green and blue lettering.

DO SOMETHING TODAY THAT YOUR FUTURE SELF WILL THANK YOU FOR.

Huh. Interesting. But what? And what could I do today that my future self would thank me for . . . for free? My stomach grumbled, and I decided to go to Second Chances. Maybe Tammy would have some more of those muffins to give away—and some suggestions for what to do around here. And if not, maybe I could just hang out with her.

When I shoved open the door of the shop, it was Shelby behind the counter again, this time in a light pink sundress with a shimmering cherry print. Her lips puckered at the sight of me. I wasn't exactly thrilled to see her, either. What was the deal with her and Jasper? If they weren't currently together, why was she so obsessively possessive of him? And worse, why did he let her act that way?

“What do
you
want?” she snapped.

I decided to play it cool. Act like last night hadn't affected
me. The last thing I wanted was for this girl to think she had something over me.

“Is your mother around?” I asked.

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I . . .” I couldn't exactly say I'd been hoping her mommy would feed me, so I gestured toward a line of footwear against the wall. “She told me to come back and make an offer on those boots.”

Shelby sashayed out from behind the counter and crouched, the skirt of her dress fluttering artfully to the floor around her. “Which ones? These?”

“The black ones with the steel toes,” I said.

With a smirk I couldn't guess the meaning of, Shelby plucked the cowboy boots from the floor and whacked me in the chest with them. “They're yours. Just stay the hell away from Jasper.”

With a flip of her hair she returned to the counter, forcing me to grab the boots before they could hit the floor.

“I'm sorry . . . what?”

“Back off,” she said, her hands flat on the glass countertop. “He's mine.”

I laughed. “Okay, first of all, I've talked to the guy exactly four times. And second, I hate to tell you this, but the first time I met him he was crawling out of some random girl's window.”

Shelby's perfect skin flushed, but she didn't break eye contact. “I'm aware of Jasper's extracurricular activities.” She took out a black velvet tray full of glittering bracelets and began to carefully rearrange them. The overhead lights were reflected in the perfect cherry-red lacquer on her nails. “We're on a break right now while I allow him to sow his wild oats.”

It didn't look much like a break last night,
I thought.

“Really? And it doesn't bother you?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh, believe me. I'm sowing a few of my own as well,” Shelby said, though she seemed so tightly-wound I could hardly believe it. “But Jasper and I?” Here, she looked up and folded her hands primly on the counter. “We're meant to be. We will be together in the end. So don't waste your time.”

“Well, thank you for your concern about my precious time, but I can take care of myself.”

With that I walked out, feeling shaken, but also a little bit proud as I turned up Main Street. I'd never been in a fight with a mean girl before. I felt like I'd just survived some sort of milestone or pledging ritual. It wasn't until I was half a block away that I realized I was still clutching the boots and that I hadn't paid for them. God, I wished I'd tossed some money on the counter and said something about not taking
charity. Why was this only coming to me now and not when I'd had the opportunity to pull it off? I'd have to go back and pay Tammy for them later.

The scent of frying bacon made my stomach grumble, and I realized I was closing in on the diner. I was just wondering if Hal offered an employee discount on food (it was free when I was on shift) when a sleek black Town Car pulled around the corner of the park onto Main Street. My pulse began to thrum in my ears as the car ever so slowly trawled its way toward my corner. I couldn't see who was behind the wheel, but it was completely out of place among the pickup trucks and minivans that populated Sweetbriar. I knew I should run, that I should duck inside the closest shop and hide, but I couldn't seem to make myself move. And besides, whoever was inside that car had already seen me. I was standing out in the middle of the open air like a sitting duck.

The car drew closer, and I knew in my heart of hearts that it was going to stop at the curb in front of me. That the driver would get out and open the rear door, and out would step my mother, the red soles of her Louboutin heels crunching against the pavement.

Well. It was fun while it lasted.

I held my breath, but the car kept right on driving. Maybe Gigi was smiling down on me and had momentarily
distracted whoever was in the car so they'd turn away before they could catch me. Or maybe it was just some livery driver lost on his way to the airport. Whatever the reason for this stroke of luck, I turned on my heels and ran straight to the diner. When the door closed behind me, I waited to feel safe, to feel like everything was going to be fine. But that feeling never came.

I reached up to touch the flying-bird pendant that hung against my collarbone. Why did I suddenly feel as if there was a ticking clock on my newfound freedom?

*  *  *

“We have to take this girl water-skiing at Lake Pleasant, ASAP,” Duncan said, reaching around me with a plate of fries that night. His torso leaned against my back as his arm brushed mine, and I got the distinct feeling that he lingered there a second longer than was strictly necessary.

Was Duncan interested in me? He wasn't unattractive. And he'd be a much safer bet than the possibly taken, definitely playing Jasper.

Not that I was looking for romance anyway. Romance was not my focus. Living was my focus. Trying new things, experiencing life. At least until the Wicked Witch of the Senate descended on Sweetbriar with her flying FBI agents. Ever since my close encounter with the black sedan earlier this
morning, I couldn't stop thinking about it. To my lifelong East Coast–dwelling mother, Sweetbriar was the serious middle of nowhere, but what if she did, somehow, find me? I had to live each second as if it were my last. Which was all the more reason I was loving the current trajectory of our conversation.

“Do you water-ski?” Fiona asked, sliding a bottle of ketchup toward me.

“Never have,” I said. “But I'm in.”

“That's my girl.” Duncan squeezed my shoulder, then doused half the fries in ketchup. Outside the plate-glass windows rain was falling at a steady pace, and it had been for the last few hours. A baseball game was playing on the flat-screen TV that hung in the corner, the volume muted, and the atmosphere inside the diner was equally hushed. It was after eight o'clock now, post–dinner rush and pre–late-night snack binge, so the diner was mostly empty. A family of four with two well-behaved little kids occupied a table near the door, and a teenage couple sat on the same side of one of the two-top booths, making out between sips of their sodas. Other than that, the three of us, Hal, and the two chefs in back were alone.

“What else do you need to do to call yourself a true Sweetbriaran?” Fiona mused, leaning sideways against the counter while Duncan and I munched on our fries. It was all I could do not to shovel them into my mouth by the handful.
Aside from a quick bowl of cereal right before my shift, I hadn't eaten all day.

“I like Sweetbriarite better,” Duncan said.

I narrowed my eyes thoughtfully. “It does have a ring.”

“Race bikes down the Brookline hill,” Duncan said, snapping his fingers.

“Yeah, if you're twelve,” Fiona chided. “Oh! You have to try the dim sum at Jimmy's.” She leaned toward me to whisper, “Best food in town.”

“Don't let Dad hear you say that,” Duncan chided. “What else do we do for fun around here? You could come to one of my soccer matches.”

“He's only saying that because he wants to show off,” Fiona told me. “He does this spin-kick move that makes all the girls swoon. In his opinion.”

Duncan's face fell. “Hey! Way to be supportive, Fi.”

“Just trying to look out for my new friend here.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” I said, popping a fry into my mouth. “But I think I should be able to survive the sight of a soccer kick without fainting dead away. No matter how glorious it is.”

Duncan lifted a finger as if he was about to make a very important point, but he was cut off when his father walked out of the kitchen carrying two large paper to-go bags.

“Lia, your shift's almost up. You mind delivering this over to Daria Case's house? Apparently Jasper's band got hungry mid–jam session.” His tone was slightly sarcastic, as it was whenever he spoke about Jasper.

There was a distinct shift in Duncan's posture, his expression darkening.

“Daria's house? I thought she lived over the salon.”

The three of them looked at me kind of funny. “Daria hasn't lived up there in years. She's got a house over on Greenwood,” Hal said.

“Oh.” Crap. There went my stupid mouth again. “I . . . uh . . . I guess I just assumed . . .” I grabbed the bags from Hal. “Yes, I can bring them. No problem.”

Anything to get out of here right now.

Besides, the thought of seeing Jasper was definitely intriguing. I'd promised myself I'd stay away from him, and I had also been warned in no uncertain terms to stay away from him, but I needed to know if he'd remembered me last night. And also, okay, I
wanted
to see him.

So much for romance not being my focus.

“I'll do it, Dad,” Duncan said, eyeing me as I untied my apron. “She doesn't even have a car.”

“It's a short walk,” Hal said. He tore a page off one of the order pads and scratched out directions on the back before
handing it to me. “She can take one of the umbrellas from the lost and found.”

“Yeah, but—”

“It's fine,” I told them both. “I could use the fresh air.”

Hal passed me an umbrella and I headed for the door, cradling the bags. Duncan looked so forlorn, I felt a small twinge of guilt. It was nice to be noticed by someone like him. It was nice to be noticed by anyone. And I felt like I was squashing his hopes under the heels of my new black boots.

“I do appreciate the chivalry, though,” I told him.

Duncan grunted. “You just remember that when you're in the presence of the great Jasper Case.”

*  *  *

Aside from a few porch lights, the house at 221 Greenwood Lane was dark, but the detached garage was ablaze with light. Rain battered the umbrella over my head as I shifted the straw handles on the bags inside my palm. The bags were heavy, and the straps had been cutting into my flesh throughout the walk. It was a warm night, even with the rain, and a trickle of sweat wove down my spine. In fact, I felt clammy all over and wished like anything I had looked in the mirror for wayward swipes of chocolate or ketchup on my person before trekking out to see Jasper. Which was probably why I didn't notice the lack of music until I was almost right outside the
garage's side door. That's when a cymbal crashed and almost scared the life out of me.

“What the f—”

“You know, I'd heard you were a controlling jackass, but I chose not to believe it,” someone shouted. “Bad on me.”

“Benny,” a girl's voice said in a conciliatory tone.

“Well, excuse me for trying to get our name out there!” Jasper's voice. “I was just hoping to get us some exposure!”

“That's all well and good, but you can't just go around booking gigs without runnin' 'em by us!” the first voice shouted again. “My baby girl's birthday party is that day, and there's no way I'm missin' it. Cheryl'll kick my ass to the curb if I do.”

Silence.

“So?”

“So . . . what?” Jasper asked.

“Are you gonna get us out of it or what?”

“I can't! If I cancel now, they're never gonna ask me—us—to play there again!”

“God. You are so transparent.” The girl's voice cut in now. “It's all about you, isn't it? Always has been, always will be. I'm outta here.”

The door shoved all the way open, and I jumped. The girl—the drummer—stood there for a second, as surprised as I was, then shook her head and stormed off to a big, fairly
badass motorcycle parked nearby. As she pulled her helmet on and started the engine—a roar that I actually felt inside my chest—the other two band members walked out. Neither of them acknowledged me. They simply flipped their hoods up over their heads, trundled over to an old Buick, got in, and peeled out.

There was another crash from inside the garage as I slowly approached the door. Jasper was sitting on a worn-out old couch with his head in his hands, his chest heaving. The two high hats from the drum set had been toppled over, and one of them was rolling across the floor.

BOOK: Escaping Perfect
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