Love the One You're With (22 page)

Rhys looked at Issy. She was wearing a large silver nameplate necklace that read
ISOBEL
in rhinestone letters. Her silver eye makeup matched her dress, and he could just make out her dirty blond roots. She’d be
pretty if she didn’t try so hard. But mostly, she sounded nice. And Rhys needed a friend right now.

A friend with benefits?

He drank the rest of his Scotch for some liquid courage. “Let’s talk somewhere quieter.” Maybe he should just get the stupid
pact over with. At least then he wouldn’t feel like a loser tomorrow, when all the swim team guys got here.

“There’s a good lad.” Issy leaned in toward Rhys and kissed him. He could feel her fake acrylic fingernails on his neck, and
her mouth tasted like cigarettes and Red Bull. Still, he wasn’t about to be picky. He kissed her back.

Rhys heard footsteps behind him, but he didn’t care. So what if they got kicked out of the bar? They could just go to her
room and get it over with. Then maybe he could fall asleep and everything would be better tomorrow.

He felt a tap on his shoulder.

“I’m busy,” Rhys hissed, even though he instantly knew who was behind him. Why was Owen butting in, after basically telling
him they weren’t friends anymore? Rhys turned back to Issy. But Owen wouldn’t let go of his shoulder.

“Sorry, he needs to go,” Owen explained to Issy, pulling her off Rhys.

“No need to get all stroppy. We were just gettin’ to know each other, just bein’ all friendly like,” she protested, pouting
as she stood up. “And by the way, mate, Elsie’s looking for you. You’re a right man to just blank her like that,” Issy said
indignantly, straightening the strap of her dress that had fallen down her shoulder. “Now, where were we, love?” She sat down
on Rhys’s lap.

“Dude, we have to go,” Owen said, moving closer to Rhys. There was urgency in his blue eyes. “I know you like Avery. She’s
your marlin.”

And Issy’s no catch.

Rhys tore his eyes away from Issy’s exposed cleavage and stared up at his friend. It was as if hearing the name Avery turned
on a sober switch in his mind. Even if no other part of Owen’s sentence made sense.

“She likes you. I mean, she
liked
you, before she thought you were like a pimp or something. But you won’t have any chance with her if you don’t come with
me now,” Owen said sternly.

That was all Rhys needed to hear. Even if he only had a
chance
with Avery, that was enough. And if this meant Owen was okay with it…

Rhys practically shoved Issy off his lap and drunkenly followed Owen out of the bar and to the golf cart parked outside.

Way to make a clean getaway.

Texting during calc. Skipping a week of school to ski in Switzerland. Eating endless desserts at Payard. Why is it that when something is forbidden—by our teachers, by our parents, by ourselves—we just want to do it that much more? And what happens when formerly forbidden things get a stamp of approval? Either you become totally debaucherous—hello, gross twenty-first birthday parties where people act like they’ve never drunk before—or the activity totally loses its appeal. (Remember when you were six, and all you wanted to do was cross the street by yourself? Now, wouldn’t you just rather be driven everywhere via town car?)

The same applies to love. If you’re faced with the choice of going out with a guy whose mom is
your
mom’s best friend, or a smoldering stranger who’s barely allowed in your building because of his shaggy hair and bad boy rocker look, is it any question who you’d choose? They say the heart wants what it wants, but I’d like to add a layer to that: The heart also wants what it can’t have.

your mail

q:
     Chère Gossip Girl,

So, I am living in New York and going to school here and I met a darling American boy and had hoped that we’d spend this weekend of thanks together in his town house, but today he just informed me he is heading on an unexpected tropical island getaway and is not bringing me. What to do?

—tragique

a:
     Dear T,

Sadly, it seems you may have been this guy’s belle de jour. My advice: Take a tropical vacation of your own.

—GG

sightings

H
and a bevy of St. Jude’s swim team boys, getting in a town car and heading toward
Teterboro
airport. Out of the pool and into the ocean?
J
and
G
, racing through the swimsuit section at
Barneys
—last-minute shopping? Hurry, or you’ll miss the plane!… A sad-looking
J.P.
, all by himself watching a matinee of
The Umbrellas of Cherbourg
at the
Paris Theater
in Midtown.
S
and an elderly, pearl-wearing lady getting matching tattoos at some gross place on St. Mark’s. Talk about cross-generational bonding!

You know you love me.

gossip girl

Avery awoke to what sounded like rain. She’d been having a dream that she was a princess who sent messages in bottles to find
her prince, but the only guys who responded were Abraham Lincoln, Owen’s gross friend Hugh from the swim team, and Jim the
grandfatherly doorman. It had really disturbed her. She sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. They felt puffy and she
briefly worried about what she’d look like tomorrow during the wedding.

Doesn’t she mean today?

She heard another sound. It didn’t sound like rain anymore; it sounded more like someone knocking on the door. But, glancing
at the clock, it was only 5 a.m. What the hell?

Avery swung her feet onto the cool stone floor and padded over to the sliding door. It was probably just Layla coming back
from the guys’ villa or something. But, glancing at Layla’s bed, Avery could just make out her stepsister-to-be, sleeping
fitfully. Weird.

Avery opened the door to see only a note, written on the white resort paper in jagged black pen.

Look under your bed.

Avery went back to her bed and gingerly knelt down, her beige Cosabella mid-thigh-length silk negligee skimming the floor.
She hoped this wasn’t a practical joke by Owen. She knew he’d probably want to make her feel better, but she simply was
not
in the mood. She picked up the bed skirt, and, in the semi-darkness, could just make out a picnic basket with a bottle of
champagne sticking out. She pulled it out and into the sitting room, where she turned on the lights. There was another piece
of notebook paper.

If this is better than a monster, come outside.

She grinned and ran to the door, not even bothering to change into something more appropriate or put down the picnic basket.
There, standing in the shadows, was Rhys. He was wearing khaki shorts and one of Owen’s Nantucket Pirates T-shirts and looked
like he hadn’t slept at all. He smiled shyly as he saw Avery.

“I had Layla sneak that under your bed. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Hi,” Avery said. She didn’t know what else to say. She shivered as the surprisingly cool breeze hit her skin.

“Here.” Rhys held out a large maroon St. Jude’s swim team sweatshirt like a peace offering. “In case you’re cold. I thought
we could have a picnic and watch the sunrise. You know, before the craziness today.”

As if it could be any crazier than yesterday?

“Right.” Avery nodded. She wondered if this was still a dream. But Rhys’s strong hand on her shoulder felt very real to her.
They walked together in silence, toward the beach.

“You know, I want to apologize,” he said finally as they reached the sand, where the sun was just starting to come up.

“I know. I talked to Owen,” Avery said. After their talk last night, she’d come to bed and stared up at the ceiling, thinking
it all over. She knew she’d overreacted—with Rhys, and with Jack. And she felt badly about that. But she also knew she’d reacted
so strongly for a reason. “I shouldn’t have run off like that. I got carried away. It’s just—I like you,” Avery said in a
rush of words. She stared straight ahead at the white beach, which seemed almost illuminated. On the horizon, she saw the
slightest sliver of light.

“I like you too,” Rhys said shyly. He stood in front of Avery so that she couldn’t look anywhere else. And then, not bothering
to set down a blanket, he pulled her down onto the sand and kissed her.

And they lived sappily ever after.

Baby adjusted the straps of her bridesmaid dress and frowned at her reflection in the mirror on the bedroom doorway. The dress,
which Avery had picked out, had a scoop back that was sexy without being slutty, and was a deep purple color that looked surprisingly
good on everyone. Baby liked the short length, which showed off her newly tan legs. Still, she had a low-grade headache from
last night and was dreading seeing Layla. After her talk with Jack, she knew she had to tell her the truth. While it wasn’t
exactly going to be fun, she had to let Layla know that her boyfriend was going around telling people they were about to break
up and making out with said people and basically breaking their hearts. Not that she was bitter or anything.

Of course not.

“Do you need me to zip you?” Layla asked as she walked in, wearing the same dress as Baby. She’d just had her hair done in
the other room, which had been taken over by the resort’s salon and transformed from villa sitting room to something resembling
John Barrett’s at Bergdorf’s. Her curly blond hair was loose, with four or five tiny braids holding an orchid in place and
giving just the right touch of hippie-elegance to her look. Her tribal tattoo was visible, and she looked comfortable and
confident.

“I’m good,” Baby said as she twisted to pull the zipper into place. “Actually, I need to talk to you
.
” Baby settled on the bed, not worrying if her dress would get wrinkled, even though Avery would kill her if it did. She felt
like she was in an updated version of
Cinderella
, except somehow, she’d landed the wicked stepsister role.

Which is at least better than the wicked witch role.

Layla sat down next to her and nodded. “Totally. I’ve had a lot on my mind too, seeing my dad and your mom together. It’s
just made me think, you know?” Her green eyes suddenly got a faraway expression, before they snapped back to Baby. “I’m sorry,
I’m totally interrupting. You go first!”

“No, you go,” Baby managed to croak. She knew she was delaying the inevitable, but she needed a second to collect herself.

“Okay, well, don’t tell anyone, because I’m not going to do it until after the wedding.” Layla chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully.
“I’m breaking up with Riley.”

“What?” Baby was speechless.

“Don’t say it like that!” Layla held up a hand. “I feel like everyone will say that. I mean, we’ve been together forever,
you know? We started a freaking
band
together. But, honestly, we’re not in love.” Layla shook her head. “I mean, your mom’s weird and my dad’s a total freak.
But together, they
fit
. It’s not easy like that with Riley. It’s the opposite, actually. It’s always just so
hard
.” Layla sighed.

“But you guys seemed very…
together
last night,” Baby said before she could stop herself. She blushed. Not wanting to reveal that she’d been in Riley’s room,
she backpedaled. “I mean, you didn’t come home last night, so I figured—”

“Breakup sex,” Layla said matter-of-factly. The topic didn’t make her blush in the slightest. She looked down, playing with
the hem of her floaty purple dress, before drawing her eyes back up to Baby. “But as nice as it was to fall asleep in his
arms, when I woke up there early this morning, knowing I had to go get ready for my dad’s
wedding
, it was like, what am I
doing
? I know Riley’s not right for me in the long run. I know we can’t keep this relationship up. So why drag it out, you know?”

Baby slowly nodded, not sure what to say. So Riley had been telling the truth. And now, it seemed, the relationship had taken its natural course. Of course she still knew that she’d done something wrong. Of course she wished things hadn’t happened the way they had. But she also felt like a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders… and she also felt a glimmer of hope. Riley would be single soon. Maybe, after an appropriate period of time…

“Baby, you have your hair appointment now!” Avery marched in, breaking the quiet mood. She was holding a clipboard and looked beautiful, with her hair pulled back behind her ears, one orchid attached with a jeweled butterfly-shaped brooch to hold it in place. It would be so easy to keep everything that happened with Riley to herself. After all, Layla would never know. But then she’d always have this secret. Forever.

“Thanks,” Baby said to her sister. “I need a few minutes.”

Avery frowned but backed off upon seeing Baby’s determined expression. “If you’re sure… but five minutes.” She trailed off and turned on her heel into the bedroom.