He's the One (23 page)

That was so not going to happen to Brooke. ‘I don’t wear shoes like this all the time, and I have not got ugly feet,’ she said through gritted teeth. Why was he saying all these mean things to her?

‘No, I’m sure everything about you is perfect in every possible way,’ Flynn replied, not particularly nicely Brooke felt.

‘I’m sure it is,’ Mila put in kindly. ‘You’re soooo pretty.’

If only Brooke could return the compliment. ‘Thanks,’ she muttered.

‘So do you want to be an actor? You’ve definitely got the looks for it,’ Mila continued enthusiastically. ‘I bet
the camera loves you. I could only ever get character roles – I’m not leading lady material, I’d always have to be the fat funny one.’

There wasn’t really an answer to that last comment as Mila was spot on … so Brooke ignored it. Mila might not be her kind of person but she didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

‘Yep, being an actor is all I’ve ever wanted to do. If I had my way I’d skip college and go straight to drama school. But my mom’s hung up on the whole college thing. I don’t know why, she never went and she’s a really successful actor.’

‘Is she?’ Mila said excitedly. ‘What’s her name? I’ll have to Google her.’ She whipped out her phone in anticipation. Did she have, like, no idea how to play it cool? She could at least have waited until she got home. That’s what Brooke would have done.

‘She’s called Liberty Evans.’

‘Maybe do it after the meeting?’ Flynn suggested, as if embarrassed for his friend. But Mila had already accessed images of Liberty and exclaimed, ‘Oh my God! She’s absolutely beautiful!’ She held up her phone for Flynn to see.

He whistled in appreciation, and Brooke was torn between feeling proud that her mom was such a beauty and jealous at the response her picture had provoked. Mila thought Brooke was pretty, while her mom was beautiful. She would have preferred it to be the other way round … Brooke sulked all the rest of the way, giving Mila monosyllabic answers in reply to her many questions about what Liberty had been in and what she was doing now.

Their drama teacher, Ms Wilson, seemed nice enough, though Brooke found the whole introduce-yourself-to-the-class an exercise in cringe. And far
from seeing anyone who looked like a kindred spirit, everyone there was as casually dressed as Mila and Flynn. Minimal if any make up, no designer labels she revered. Everyone looked so scruffy in their unimaginative uniform of jeans and trainers. And did these people not have orthodontists? She had never seen so many crooked or less than perfect teeth in one room in all her life! She had always thought it was a stereotype that Brits had bad teeth. Apparently not. Brooke had spent years wearing a brace to straighten hers, still slept in a retainer at night to ensure they stayed perfectly straight, and regularly had them bleached. Everyone she knew in LA had done the same. Maybe there was a mass shortage of dentists in the UK. There had to be some reason for the snaggled, greyish horrors she saw before her. Or maybe they all thought it would help them get parts in some period drama where bad teeth were the norm …

She was just daydreaming that she was back home in LA when the door opened and in walked an absolutely drop-dead gorgeous guy. Hallelujah! That’s what she was talking about! Brooke watched him saunter across the room, apologising for being late with an easy charm. Perfect features, check; immaculately styled brown hair, check; sexy, bad boy grin, check. Gorgeous body, shown to maximum advantage in a tight white t-shirt, black skinny jeans and silver-studded black belt round his slim waist. Check! She could tell the clothes were designer, check! Brooke immediately sat up straighter, stuck out her chest and shook back her long blonde hair, willing him to notice her. For good measure, she rifled through her bag and quickly spritzed on some more perfume. Maybe college was going to be bearable after all.

She noticed Flynn looking across at her, as if he
knew exactly what she was up to, and felt slightly self-conscious. But when Good-looking came and sat next to her (yay!), she immediately flashed him her most winning smile and said confidently, ‘Hi, I’m Brooke.’

‘Hi, I’m Harry. Love the jacket, is it Balmain?’

He knew the designer! He really wasn’t like the others in their grungy baggy jeans and hoodies. And he had good teeth! In fact, he had perfect, white, shining teeth! He had American teeth! Brooke’s smile got wider. She was itching to carry on talking, or rather flirting, but Ms Wilson was in full flow so Brooke dragged her eyes away from Harry. He even smelled gorgeous, of a lovely citrus aftershave. Could be a Dior or Gucci, she mused. Definitely not Hugo Boss, which was what that bastard Christian had worn. No, no, back to happy thoughts. Harry – that was a nice name, the same as that hot royal prince she had always fancied, even more so when he got caught out playing strip billiards in Vegas and she and Kelly had Googled all the pictures.

She didn’t get another chance to talk to him until the session finished and they were all spilling out of the room.

‘So where are you from?’ Harry asked.

‘LA … Santa Monica.’

‘Oh my God! I so want to go there! And all those iconic places – Chateau Marmont, the Hollywood sign, Rodeo Drive! And Santa Monica is supposed to have such a cool, stylish vibe. I’ve always wanted to go to Venice Beach.’ He seemed genuinely thrilled; there was no trace of Flynn’s judgmental bullshit.

She beamed at him. A kindred spirit at last!

‘So why are you over here? If I lived in Santa Monica, I swear I’d never leave. Well, maybe to go to my apartment in New York or my estate on Martha’s
Vineyard. Oh, and I suppose I might have a house in the Hamptons for holidays. And then I’d have to go skiing at Aspen, I suppose. But I’d always go back to LA. It would be, like, my lodestar.’

Yay! These were some of Brooke’s most favourite places as well!

‘My mom’s English and she was brought up in Brighton. She split up with my stepdad a few weeks ago and wanted to move back home. A fresh start, I guess.’

Harry pulled a sympathetic face, as if he totally got how tough that was for her.

‘Never mind, sweetie, I’ll show you all the cool places here. And we’re not far from London, which I always think can hold its own against New York. It really won’t be as bad as you think.’

He was adorable!

‘D’you have any brothers or sisters, Brooke?’ Mila piped up then.

‘Nope, I’m an only child.’

‘That’s a pity,’ Mila said cheekily. ‘I bet any brother of yours would be stunning.’

Like any brother of Brooke’s would be interested in someone who thought grey sweatpants were a fashion statement! And who needed to drop at least four dress sizes, get her hair done, and buy an entire new wardrobe of clothes! Though in fairness Mila did have quite good teeth, by comparison to everyone else.

‘We’re going to have some lunch – there’s a great café nearby,’ she continued.

‘Oh, I don’t usually have lunch,’ Brooke replied. ‘I have to really watch what I eat, if I’m going to make it as an actor.’

Instantly Mila went bright red, and Brooke was aware of Flynn giving her the stink eye. She hadn’t
meant to upset Mila. She couldn’t help it if the girl had zero self-control. And if you wanted to act, it was important to realise that it was a brutal world where looks were everything …

‘It’s really unhealthy to skip meals,’ Flynn muttered. And Brooke was tempted to say,
So what? So long as it keeps me slim!
But thought better of it. And she didn’t want to bicker in front of Harry. It hardly said sexy, hot new girl. It was just that there was something about Flynn that made her want to provoke him. And he clearly felt the same way.

‘Oh, come with us, Brooke,’ Harry put in. ‘You can always have a Diet Coke.’

‘Yeah, that’s really nutritious. Maybe she could chew on the ice cubes and suck a slice of lemon, or would that be too many calories?’ That from Flynn, who continued, ‘Maybe just tap water then, though I’m betting you don’t drink anything but mineral water. You probably bathe in Evian, don’t you?’

Brooke wanted to retaliate that she had only ever washed her face in Evian one time at summer camp when there was a problem with the water supply. And as for not drinking tap water, that was just a sensible precaution. But she didn’t want to spark a row with Flynn and hadn’t realised that the gorgeous Harry was friends with these two – she’d better rethink her strategy.

‘Sure, lunch would be great. Why not? I haven’t got any other plans.’ She hadn’t intended the comment to sound so dismissive, but Flynn burst out laughing. ‘Are you always this rude? You’d better tone it down when you start working at Marco’s or you’ll end up with no tips.’

Crap! She hadn’t wanted Harry to know that she was going to be waiting tables; it hardly went with the
achingly cool image she was hoping to project.

But Harry didn’t seem at all bothered. ‘When I come and eat there I’ll give you a big fat tip, sweetie,’ he told her. ‘Anyway I bet you’ll get loads of tips – the pretty ones always do. Learn from Flynn. He has a special smile for the older ladies and gay gentlemen, to ensure they tip him well. It works like a dream every time. Don’t be taken in by him pretending to be all holier than thou. He’s an absolute tart and knows perfectly well how to use his good looks.’

Flynn rolled his eyes at that, but Brooke appreciated the way Harry had showed him up as well as the compliment to herself. It was just about the first one she’d received since arriving here. England, the place of bad teeth and rarely given compliments … No one had even told her to have a nice day when she bought coffee. No wonder everyone was so miserable here.

What they didn’t mention was that the café was a fifteen-minute walk away on the seafront, and by the time they arrived there Brooke was hobbling.
So
not a good look.

‘Are you okay, Brooke?’ Flynn asked. ‘You’re walking strangely. Is it your bunions playing up?’

‘For the last time – I haven’t got bunions!’ she shot back through gritted teeth. But frankly she was ready to chuck her designer boots in the bin; her feet were in agony.

However, she was pleasantly surprised by the café with its choice of smoothies, juices and delicious-looking salads, which almost looked as good as the ones in her favourite café in Santa Monica … almost. And the sun was actually shining. And there were even some people rollerblading by, and others running. It wasn’t quite Venice Beach – there was no expanse of golden sand for a start, just banks of brown and
orange shingle – but it wasn’t so bad either. And maybe it wouldn’t hurt if she had a salad. She’d skipped breakfast and was starving.

The boys, lucky things, could eat whatever they wanted and ordered burgers and fries that looked and smelled so tempting. Ketchup and fries were one of Brooke’s guilty pleasures, that she allowed herself once a month, but she wasn’t going to tell them that. Mila ordered a salad like Brooke. She would probably sneak off to Krispy Kreme Doughnuts later, Brooke thought bitchily. And then felt guilty as Mila had been kind to her, which was more than could be said for Flynn.

She surreptitiously unzipped her boots and slipped them off. Her feet were actually throbbing. She would have to walk back home barefoot at this rate. Mila, Harry and Flynn clearly knew each other very well; they had been to secondary school together, which Brooke assumed was like high school. They bantered easily with each other, Flynn taking the piss out of Harry who admitted that his new Prada sunglasses cost over £150.

‘But what’s the point of buying cheap stuff?’ Brooke spoke up. ‘It never lasts. It’s much better to make an investment purchase. And it’s better for the environment too because more expensive things don’t get thrown away.’ She smiled, rather proud of herself for that last comment.
See
, she wanted to say to Flynn,
I’m not the airhead you think I am
.
I think about things. I have opinions
.

It didn’t go down well with him. ‘Not everyone can afford to make “investment purchases”. You’re clearly only working at the restaurant to get a bit of extra pocket money – no doubt to buy some more uncomfortable designer shoes – but some people have
to live off those wages, run a home, bring up a family. Do you even have any idea what the minimum wage is?’

‘Not enough, I know,’ Brooke muttered. She
hated
being criticised and couldn’t think of a smart comeback.

‘She doesn’t need a lecture, Flynn, it’s her first day, don’t be mean to the new girl,’ Harry spoke up for her. ‘Play nice.’

‘Okay. Right. Sorry,’ Flynn managed, not sounding especially sincere in his apology.

Brooke pushed her salad round on her plate. He obviously didn’t like her and she felt awkward around him. She was used to people
adoring
her. Flynn’s less-than-adoring attitude was completely unsettling and made her feel even more homesick.

‘So where are you living?’ Mila asked her.

‘Oh, just along the seafront, you know, beyond the lagoon.’ She gestured vaguely in that direction.

‘Oh my God! You live in that row of houses with their own private beach! I have always,
always
wanted to see what they look like inside! They are so glam. Have you met any celebrities yet? Zoe Ball and Fat Boy Slim live along there, you know,’ Harry exclaimed excitedly.

He and Flynn were like a positive and negative charge. She knew which one she preferred.

Brooke rewarded him with a beaming smile. ‘Well, you’ll have to come over and check it out.’ Shit, she didn’t want them all to come, but it would look bad if she didn’t extend the invitation. ‘You all will. I’ll fix something up. The place is in a bit of a mess at the moment because we haven’t unpacked.’ She thought of her bedroom with clothes strewn all over it, the half-empty coffee cups she had abandoned, the cans of Diet Coke spilling out of the bin. Her way of saying to her mom that she hated living there. No, she didn’t want
them to see that – it would just confirm Flynn’s opinion that she was some rich brat.

‘Don’t you have staff to tidy up?’ he asked. She guessed it was a question designed to show up how spoiled she was, but frankly she didn’t care what he thought, so answered flippantly, ‘Not any more. We used to in LA. I mean, OMG, only this morning I actually had to squeeze toothpaste on my own toothbrush myself! And then, would you believe, I had to run my own bath, and make my own bed? It was exhausting
and
I nearly broke a nail doing it. I’m going to have to speak to my mom about the slave-labour conditions she’s keeping me in … I mean, there are laws about that, aren’t there?’