Someone Like You (Someone To Love Series) (15 page)

“You and me?” Her eyes widen, amused by the offer. “You’re not thinking anything illegal, are you?” Her lips curve with approval as if she’s already warming to the illegal implications of it all.

“No, I would never do that.” Except on the rare occasion I feel the real me creeping out of my shell. A part of me wishes I could let down my guard around Kendall and Lauren, fill them in on my budding dancing career, even if it is temporary. I can’t help but feel like I’m forever trying to be something I’m not.

Kendall leans in and we glare over at Blair together.

“Let’s do this,” she whispers.

“It’s so on,” I say, looking right at the wicked witch.

Blair Lancaster is about to go down in flames.

Now all I have to do is come up with a way to make it happen.

And I will.

Morgan and I are both off from the club tonight. Well, he’s sort of on probation until next week, and Tess has removed me from the schedule until Dell cools off.

Rutger called and invited me to Pen’s get-together later, so I’ll have the misfortune of witnessing Blair trying to climb Mount Morgan.

“So…” I head over to the couch where the tattoo titan is reading a book. And dear God, there is nothing hotter than a boy and his book. I trace out the curves of his biceps with my eyes, the thick rope-like veins that thread just under his skin. I wish I could trace them out with my tongue. Given the next opportunity, I just might. “You read?” I’m actually caught off guard by this. I flip the cover back a little. It’s some sci-fi thriller I’ve never heard of. Nevertheless, it’s as thick as a Bible and no pictures, to boot.

“Yes, I read.” His dimples flex as he presses out a wry smile.

“So, um”—I try to think of a million reasons to convince him we should both stay home tonight—“heard you were heading over to Pennington’s.” I’m not sure why I want him to say that he’s not, that he’s going to stay here with me. And if that were the case I’d call Rutger and tell him I’m too busy. I’d much rather stay in and read books with Morgan than hang out with Rutger and his snobby friends. That “bad girl” crack still has me pretty pissed. Besides, if Morgan and I get tired of reading we can always find something better to do—in the bedroom.

God, what am I saying? This is Morgan. He’s practically the male version of me, and God knows I’m the worst thing that could ever happen to either of us.

“Are you going?” He squints at me with those delicious blueberry-pie eyes.

“Maybe.” I bite down on my lip, not sure how to instigate a game of chicken with him. “I mean, Rutger asked.”

“Mmm.” He glances down at his book with a look of disappointment. “Blair asked.” He shrugs. “So I guess I’ll see you there.”

“I guess you will.” Crap. “Everything go okay on the drive to the gym?”

“It went great.” He looks up at me from over his book. “Was something supposed to happen?” There’s a curve on his lip just begging to break into an all-out grin but he won’t give it.

“No, it’s just—” My mouth stays open, wanting to protest the idea of him ever seeing her again, or fill him in on the fact that Blair is a grade A bitch who happened to get me fired this afternoon. Well, in a roundabout way. But then I remember her daddy’s bank account could rival the US Treasury, and Blair would probably never set her designer stilettos in Pretty Girls, let alone work there. She has her own place, her own car, and for sure doesn’t have a child she had to give up anywhere on the planet. “Blair is definitely someone who can pull you up in life.” It comes from me weakly. I spring to my feet to ready myself for another date with Rutger. Rutger is okay—I glance back at the demigod taking up residency on the couch—but Rutger is no Morgan Jordan.

By the time I finish primping myself to perfection, Morgan has already taken off to pick up Blair. My stomach turns at the thought of the two of them having a good time together. I can just imagine her wrapping her skinny, pale arms around him, relaxing her skeletal frame against his tanned, well-hewn body.

A horn blares outside, quick and angry, and I snap to attention.

Rutger manages to show up a whole forty-five minutes late. It would figure, since I’m anxious as hell to get to the party.

“Hey, babe,” he says in a bored way as I climb into the passenger seat. His hair is encrusted with gel, and some of his severely long bangs fall in his face. He’s got on his signature polo in a mint green, and the collar is turned up the way he likes it. For the first time I notice his arms are neither tanned nor toned. They sort of straddle the wheel like pale noodles.

“So where were you?” I ask, buckling up as he tears down the road at breakneck speed. “You were a little late.”

“Enough with the bitching. I’ll get you to the ball, Cinderella.” He rolls down the window and hawks a live one right out onto the street.

Eww, seriously? Ten years in the finest boarding schools and he has the nerve to talk to me that way
and
hawk a loogie in my presence? Nice.

Rutger drives us to Pen’s palatial estate in his father’s antique roadster. He rattles on and on about how he’s taking it to a car show this weekend at the country club, where there will be a bevy of other boys showing off their daddies’ classic rides.

I give a complacent smile since I can’t get a word in edgewise. So this is what it would be like with Rutger: car shows and country clubs, lots of silence and tolerance on my part, and—holy shit—trips to fantastic houses like the one we just pulled up in front of.

“Geez.” I try to sound underwhelmed but my heart just jumped in my throat at the sight of the opulent estate. I knew Pen came from money, but I never imagined him living in style like a king. This mega-mansion is ripped straight from the pages of one of those oversized real-estate magazines you see at the doctor’s office. It’s almost hard to believe that only one family lives there. Well,
did
live there. Pen’s mother is in Europe, and his dad is at the bed-and-breakfast, although I have no idea why. “This place is magnificent.”

Rutger looks out at it through the windshield, his face frowning at the estate as if it freshly insulted him. “It’s okay. New money. What are you going to do, right?” He barks out a laugh and slaps me on the back.

We stride up the stairs and Rutger’s hand fondles my ass all the way to the door.

“Rutger,
stop
,” I say, gently placing his roving digits back to his side.

“What? You’re my bad girl. You like that kind of stuff, remember?”

“No, I don’t remember,” I whisper, mostly to myself as we head inside.

A breath gets caught in my throat at the sight of it. I can’t help but take pause at the sheer extravagance that went into this place—crystal chandelier in the entry, marble staircase. The room just off the entry is the size of a warehouse. A monolithic oil painting hangs in the oversized sitting area to my right. It’s of Pen and his parents in happier times. I gravitate over and spot an entire herd of people I know from Garrison.

“Odd, isn’t it?” Kendall pops up beside me, and we take in the painting.

“I think it’s totally cool. I’d love to do that one day. Wouldn’t you? Of course I’d need the mega-mansion to go with it.”

“I don’t know.” She makes a face. “I don’t think a painting like that would fit in the bed-and-breakfast.” She wrinkles her nose. “Maybe a scaled-down version—something more down to earth. I don’t think I could ever live in a mausoleum like this.”

“Are you kidding? Look at this place. It’s gorgeous. It screams that the people who live here never have to work a day in their lives. It’s everything I’d ever want.”

“Really?” She looks perplexed by my statement.

“Yes, really. You have to be nuts not to want this.”

“Well, the fact the people who are supposed to be living here have decided to vacate the premises should clue you in that this isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. In the meantime, Pen is using it as his palace of perversion. It’s not
things
or fancy houses that make the world go around, Ally, it’s love—and it just so happened this place didn’t have any.” She shrugs.

Blair cackles like a witch from across the room, and both Kendall and I twist in that direction.

Morgan says something to her and she continues to guffaw like an idiot at whatever spews from his mouth. Blair has on a red satin dress that hugs her nonexistent curves, but her hair is curled super cute in long luscious waves and her bright-red lips give her that old Hollywood feel. And unfortunately for me, she looks glamorous. She looks like she belongs in a place exactly like this. Morgan looks pretty dapper himself, all decked out in a pale-blue button-down and a pair of chocolate chinos. Oddly enough, he too looks like he could take up residency here.

“I look like crap.” I take a step back and the buckle breaks on my strappy heels. “Perfect.” I reach down and confirm the fact it’s ripped right from the seam. “I’m so tired of running to the thrift store for anything I put on this body.” I pluck at the floral dress I picked out of a bargain bin. “I swear I thought this looked good when I picked it out. And now I feel hideous.”

“Are you high?” Kendall averts her eyes as if it were ridiculous. “You look fantastic. And if Rutger doesn’t think so he can roll up his thesis and smoke it.”

“Right, Rutger can smoke it.” I say it low but I can’t seem to take my gaze off Morgan. He’s perfectly attentive to whatever the hell bullshit is streaming from Blair’s nonexistent lips, and I can’t help but feel a tiny bit jealous. Rutger didn’t let me get two words in on the way over. Come to think of it—ever. “Well”—I let out a depressed sigh—“I better go find him.”

“He’s with Cruise and Pen.” She nods behind me.

We strut off together, and I swivel my hips a little rounder than usual in the event Morgan happens to look my way.

By the time we hit the sofa, Blair and Morgan have joined our circle.

“Hey.” I smile at Rutger as I fall into the seat beside him. His cologne is so strong it nearly bowls me over. Doesn’t that stuff dissipate after a while? Then again it’s probably the good stuff, and rumor has it the only way you can get rid of the stench is to rub yourself silly with dollar bills.

“Hey yourself, doll.” He wraps an arm around me and gives my right boob a hard squeeze. Instinctually I glace up to see if Morgan saw the bawdy exchange.

Morgan raises his brows and frowns at me before shooting Rutger some serious lasers of hatred. Morgan is just on autopilot. He’s still playing the part of the bouncer, thinking he needs to protect me from roving hands. Although in this case I wouldn’t really mind.

I nestle into Rutger to give Morgan the impression that I’m totally fine with the pervert next to me molesting my nipple in public, which I’m not.

The vicinity lights up with laughter at something Pen just said; I missed the punch line but I nod as if I totally didn’t.

“Hey, babe.” Rutger slaps his hand over my knee a couple of times before finding a home for his fingers on my inner thigh. “Why don’t you get us a drink?”

“Oh, sure.” I glance up at Morgan like a reflex before returning my attention to Rutger and his roaming digits. “Not a problem.”

Pen lets out an egregious belch that should come with a decibel warning, and Erica laughs as if it were the cutest thing ever.

Gross. Leave it to Blair’s skanky bestie to appreciate the crude and the lewd.

“Girls love that shit.” Pen espouses his not-so-sage wisdom without provocation.