These Boots Are Made for Stalking (9 page)

“Better.” Layne said, typing Claire’s words as she spoke.

“‘Being in eighth is waaaaaaaaay cooler than being in seventh.’” Claire consulted her list. “‘In eighth, you’re the alphas
of the whole school.’”

Layne grinned. “Take it slow, Mo.”

But Claire was on a roll. “‘Plus, crushing on eighth-grade boy alphas is like being alpha squared. So when you’re the alphas
of the alpha grade, with alpha crushes, it’s like the ultimate alpha experience.’”

“Say ‘alpha’ one more time,” Layne deadpanned to her laptop screen.

“It’s fine. Massie’s fluent in alpha,” Claire said. “‘That’s why I’m so bummed about eventually moving on to ninth,’” she
continued, the words automatically rolling off her tongue. “‘In ninth, you’re at the bottom of the heap again. Which is the
opposite of alpha.’”

“Yeaaaah!” Layne’s cheer echoed in the deserted bathroom. “Sing it, sister!”

“‘I mean, I’m glad Massie has a cute high school crush and all, but to be honest? I’m kinda worried. If she spends all her
time with guys in ninth, she’ll miss out on the best alpha year of her life! Which would be beyond depressing.’”

“Ayyyy-men!” Layne’s fingers flew over the keys.

“And then just sign it ‘XO, C,’ and send.” Claire breathed in Layne’s excitement like it was an aromatherapy candle. The letter
was Pulitzer worthy. Maybe, just maybe, they’d be able to pull this off after all. And once again, Claire would be responsible
for keeping together the Pretty Committee and their crushes.

A nagging thought buzzed at the back of her mind, cutting through her tingles of triumph. Why was it always up to her to keep
her friends from falling apart? If she wasn’t saving them from the perils of upgrading, she was reminding them how much they
loved one another. She was like a matchmaker for alphas, only without her own show on Bravo.

“Okay, it’s sent.” Layne nodded. “And now for my reply,” she murmured, her face glowing blue in the light of the laptop screen.
She opened up a new e-mail and started typing. “‘C,’” she read aloud, “‘For reals. But I’m sure M knows the deal. Ninth-grade
crushes = social death. XO, L.’”

Claire burst out laughing. “Perfect.”

“Almost done…” The keys clicked beneath Layne’s fingers. Suddenly, she stopped and glanced up at Claire with a look of mock
horror on her face.

“Ohhhhhhh nooooooo!” With dramatic flair, Layne pressed the back of her hand against her forehead and collapsed against the
beige metal wall behind her for support. “I accidentally sent the e-mail to Massie instead of you!” she wailed.

“Ohhhh nooooooooo!” Claire giggle-echoed, lifting her palm to high-five her friend. This plan was a little bit genius and
a whole lot foolproof. Massie would read the e-mail, realize what a terrible idea the crush upgrade was, and somehow find
a way to convince the Pretty Committee that ninth-grade crushes were more out than Lance Bass.

“Ecc-hem!” A cough sounded in the next stall.

Claire’s head snapped toward Layne in disbelief. Layne stared back, her fuchsia-lined eyes wide. But before Claire could say
a word, the toilet flushed, and the stall door next to theirs flew open.

“Gig’s up, Kuh-laire.” Massie’s voice sounded on the other side of the door.

“Massie?” Claire slapped her hand against her forehead. Strike two. “What are you doing in the basement bathroom?” Then she
turned to Agent L. “Layne!” she hissed. “You didn’t check the stalls first?”

Layne pushed herself to her feet, looking sheepish.
Sorry,
she mouthed.

Claire reached for her tote and dragged herself out of the stall.

“Nice try, girls.” Massie was standing in front of the sinks, her iPhone in her jeans pocket.

“Huh?” Claire crinkled her nose in a last-ditch attempt, her desperation skyrocketing. “I don’t know what you’re—”

Yap! Yap! Ya—

“Is that the SnoopDawg Web site?” Claire demanded.

Massie jammed her thumb into her iPhone to silence the barking, but it was too late. Her face went paler than her cream cowl-neck
sweater.

The girls stared at one another, their blown cover stories hanging heavy around them in the Lysoled air. After a few beats
of silence, Layne snorted. Massie side-glanced at Claire, her glossy lips twitching. Finally, they all cracked up. But even
though she was laughing, part of Claire wanted to go back in the stall, lock the door, and cry.

“Ahhhhhh-tention!” Massie twisted the dimmer switch on the tiled wall next to the sauna, plunging the wet section of the spa
into complete darkness. She let her fingertips linger on the switch a few seconds longer, the humid darkness shielding her
from view while she tried to swallow the 9-karat anxiety lump forming in her throat. “Are you girls ready for your upgrade?”

“Yaaaay!” the PC echoed. When Massie flicked the dial back to position, the track lighting spotlighted Kristen, Dylan, and
Alicia, who were perched on the marble edge of the bubbling Jacuzzi, hugging their knees to their chests and bouncing in place
like shivering birds on a wire.

“Same,” Massie lied, wondering if it was too late to claim bad sushi. Or maybe bad bronzer? Toxic waterproof mascara? Gloss
poisoning? She triple-knotted the halter on her canary yellow Milly Shimmer Sorrento bikini top, locking in her A-cups. What
had she been thinking, inviting her crush and all his friends to see her in her bathing suit? It was a bigger mistake than
Kim Kardashian going blond.

“We need tunes.” Kristen leapt off the edge of the tub, her bare feet slapping against the slick tile floor as she headed
for the wall-mounted iPod dock next to the shower. “Layne e-mailed me all the songs on her brother’s shuffle, and I made a
ninth-grade mix.” She hovered over the dock, her fluffy center-parted waves falling over her eyes. In seconds, the gravelly
sounds of Kings of Leon filled the spa.

“Good thinking.” Massie tensed her abs to the rhythm of the churning Jacuzzi jets, hoping to speed-tone them in the last few
minutes before Landon arrived.

“Are you gonna take that thing awf?” Dylan wrinkled her nose at Kristen’s pink and black Roxy wet suit. “I don’t think ninth-grade
guys like girls in full-body rubber.”

“For one thing,” Kristen said defensively, tucking her pouffy hair behind her ears, “this wet suit is exactly like the one
Hayden wore to save the dolphins.” She gripped the zipper beneath her chin, and with a dramatic flourish, yanked it down to
reveal a sporty red two-piece underneath. “Plus, my mom would never let me out of the house in this,” she grinned, cranking
up the volume on the iPod.

“Ow, ow!” Dylan hooted over a drum solo. “Way hotter.”

“Are
you
gonna take
that
thing off?” Alicia dunked the tips of her toes in the Jacuzzi, flicking water at Dylan’s gauzy, black floor-length caftan.
“’Cause I know ninth-grade guys don’t like girls in muumuus.” She retied the bows on the sides of her skimpy plaid Burberry
bikini.

“But you guys said this was sexy, in a nawt-too-obvious kind of way.” Dylan tightened her high pony, looking panicked.

“We meant sexy in a not-obvious-at-all kind of way,” Alicia cracked. The humidity in the spa was making her own voluminous
waves grow bigger by the second. Was it making her C-cups grow too? Massie could have sworn they weren’t this big last week.

“Focus,” Massie clapped. She glanced at her reflection in the steamy green glass of the shower stall door. Thanks to one of
Jakkob’s legendary blowouts, the moisture-dense air couldn’t touch her perfectly smooth tresses. Her bright yellow bikini
played off the gold flecks in her eyes, and her Pilates-sculpted arms were toned without being Madonna-scary. Objectively,
she was a 10, even if her nerves were off the charts.

The spa was a 10 too. In less than a week, Massie, Alicia, Dylan, and Kristen had transformed both themselves and the spa
into a high school boy’s dream. So her legs ached from canvassing the entire island of Manhattan for the perfect bathing suit.
And her index finger and thumb had almost frozen in their AmEx-swiping position. But looking around her, she saw that it had
all been worth it.

Fragrant sandalwood drifted through the spa’s surround-scent system, replacing the sweet hint of lavender that usually filled
the air. The rich, spicy aroma made the spa feel a hundred times more guy friendly. On the flat screen in the dry section,
Guitar Hero: Smash Hits was prepped and ready to rock ’n’ roll. And in the corner were two fluffy dog beds for Bark and Bean,
custom-ordered from Bark Jacobs. Massie had even put together special doggie bags for the puppies, filled with water wings,
tiny beach towels, and two miniature lounge chairs for when they wanted to relax Jacuzzi-side.

“So give us the rundown again.” Alicia twirled the diamond post in her left ear at top speed.

“Landon’s bringing four guys,” Massie explained, hovering over the dimmer switch and easing it to the left and right to get
the mood lighting perfect. “One for Claire too, in case she comes to her senses in the next few hours.”

The girls exchanged glances that said,
Doubt it
.

Massie flicked her hair over her shoulder. “First is Scott. He was the one who DJ’d at the Ho Ho Homeless benefit. Super-tall,
blond, blue eyes.”

“Mine!” Kristen slapped her rubber-shellacked thigh.

“No fair!” Alicia pouted, elbowing Kristen in the ribs. “I like music.”

Kristen elbowed her back. “Well, I like blonds.”

“There’s more,” Massie said reassuringly. “He’s also bringing Aidan, who’s into photography, Luke, who’s some sort of genius
on the drums, and Jackson.”

“What’s he do?” Dylan tugged at her caftan.

Massie shrugged. “I think he’s a vegetarian?”

Dylan wrinkled her nose. “Pass.”

“Claire can have him,” Massie decided. “His eyes are the same color, but apparently one side of his hair is buzzed and the
other is ear-length.”

“That’s kind of the same,” Dylan conceded.

Just then, Bark Obama’s high-pitched
yap
sounded outside. On cue, Bean sprinted into the spa from the next room, wearing a teeny purple bikini and metallic booties.

“They’re here!” the girls whisper-shrieked in their huddle.

“How’s my hair?” Alicia hissed, patting her gigantic, humidity-infused waves.

“Fine,” Massie said without looking. Even though the spa was warmer than her favorite Theory sweater poncho, goose bumps suddenly
surfaced on her oil-slicked skin. “Remember, don’t ask them lots of questions about what it’s like to be in high school.”

“OMG, good call.” Kristen fiddled with the zipper of her wetsuit, sliding it up and down.

“And don’t say ‘OMG’ or ‘BFF.’ In ninth, they think that’s immature.”

Dylan chewed her bottom lip. “But I don’t speak Nine-eeeeese!” she whisper-wailed. “What if I say something stupid?”

“Don’t.” Massie straightened up and spritzed a final layer of Sephora Super Sheen Bronzing Mist on her face. Then she focused
her megawatt smile on the doorway. Her PC upgrade was about to begin. It was more exciting than the opening night of Paris
Fashion Week.

“I’m telling you, dude, it was totally off the chain.” Landon’s friend Scott, in red board shorts and a gray Jimi Hendrix
T-shirt, ducked through the doorway first.

“Right?” Landon came in next, carrying Bark, whose paw was cradled in a stylish olive-green nylon sling.

“Oh, heyyyyyy,” Massie said casually, like she’d completely forgotten the boys were coming. She took a few cautious steps
toward Bark, who shrank into Landon’s white cotton V-neck–covered chest.

“What’s up?” Landon tossed his dark waves away from his eyes. He lowered Bark to the floor, and the puppy limped excitedly
toward Bean, who showered him in tiny tongue kisses.

“Good. I mean, nuh-thing.” Massie forced a smile, even though Bark’s rejection stung like ocean water on freshly shaved legs.
She had sent Bark his own personal invite to her pet-friendly Facebook page and had texted get-well wishes every morning for
the past three days. What more could the puppy possibly want?

Three more guys herded through the door behind her crush.

“So this is Aidan, Luke, and Jackson,” Landon announced.

“Holla.” Aidan lifted his tanned palm, tossing shiny, dark bangs out of his eyes.

Alicia swallowed. “Hey.” She batted her thick, quadruple-coated lashes.

“Cool… dress?” Luke, a tall blond in brown cargos and a hoodie, nodded at Dylan.

“Uh… thanks.” Dylan’s cheeks flushed redder than Kristen’s bikini.

“Kings of Leon!” Scott grin-acknowledged Massie and headed straight for the iPod dock. “This album totally changed my life.”

“OMG, me too!” Kristen wiggled out of her wet suit and kick-flicked it across the floor.“I mean… yeah. Same.”

Jackson, a skinny hipster in gray jeans and a flannel shirt, tucked the jaw-length side of his hair behind his ear. “Thanks
for the invite,” he said, flashing the girls a smile that almost made up for the half-buzzed cut.

Massie nodded, then refocused on Landon. “So how’s Bark?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and sucking in her abs.
She was glad the Jacuzzi jets were going full-speed. Hopefully, they’d drown out her thumping heart.

“Better.” Landon’s single dimple looked extra adorable in the dim lighting. “But he could definitely use some Jacuzzi time.”

“He’s not the only one.” Luke tugged his hoodie over his head.

With a deep breath, Dylan gripped her caftan and yanked it off in less than two seconds flat. Then she slid into the Jacuzzi
in record time. Alicia and Kristen followed. Massie lingered behind with Landon, who had crouched to the ground and was slipping
Bark’s sling from around the puppy’s shoulder.

“Thanks again for the SnoopDawg,” Landon said, straightening up again. His arm brushed against Massie’s bronzed skin, sending
seismic love waves pulsing through her body. “I’ve been checking on Bark between classes and stuff. Makes me feel a lot better
to keep an eye on him and see what he’s up to, ya know?”