Playing the Player(32)

I hoped there were no hidden nanny cams in Max’s house to reveal our reality TV show drama to the moms. What happened on our watch should stay just between us.

It was disconcerting to imagine Slade’s mom reading my email. Maybe she’d read it on her phone while they ate breakfast tomorrow, with Slade sitting across the table. The mini-movie playing in my head made my stomach roil.

How long could I keep up this charade?





Chapter Thirteen

Slade

Saturday, June 8

Usually I enjoyed hanging out at the club, but not today. I was lifeguarding, subbing for Lindsay, who’d sprained her ankle and called me in a panic.

It should’ve been a perfect day: lots of hot chicks to check out, friends to joke around with, and free food from the snack bar because the girls working there never charged me. But I was distracted.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Trina. BB. Whatever name I called her, it didn’t change the fact that she was taking up more way space in my head than she should.

This never happened. Or at least it hadn’t for a really long time, not since the evil Kristen had steamrolled my heart. Ever since then, I’d made sure not to get attached. I picked girls who weren’t interested in long-term relationships. Or if I accidentally did hook up with one of those girls, I bailed as soon as possible.

This thing with Trina was weirding me out. I wanted to stop obsessing over her, but it was like I had no control over my thoughts. Who was that Glen guy she’d mentioned on the phone? She’d said he “needed” her. For what? My jaw clenched as I imagined her entwined with some guy, some total player telling her how much he needed her.

Some guy just like me.

I looked at the shimmering water, the fluorescent swimsuits, the beach towels flung like discarded superhero capes across lounge chairs. This was my turf; I practically owned this pool, presiding over it like a king, bestowing jokes and favors on my minions.

But today I felt like an impostor.

Especially when a familiar blonde caught my attention with a wave and swam toward me. Crap. Evidently ignoring her texts wasn’t enough. I was going to have to do this the hard way.

I hoped Alex had his tissues ready.



“I swear it’s the last time,” I told Alex around a mouthful of chicken burrito. We sat at an outside table at Chipotle, inhaling our food. We’d swum laps together after my lifeguarding shift, and now it was like we couldn’t eat fast enough.

“Dude, get real. It’s the last time, until next month, or whenever you do this again and the next Barbie falls apart, begging me to tell her why you’re such an ass.” Alex crunched on a handful of tortilla chips. “Which, ya know, is a legit question. Why are you such an ass?”

I sucked from my straw, glaring at him. I’d spent the past twenty minutes trying to convince him that I wasn’t going to cause any more female meltdowns this summer, but he didn’t believe me.

“Remember our bet, dude?” he asked. “Why don’t you focus your energy on Bird Brain instead of breaking random hearts?”

He’d stumbled too close to the truth. “What bet?”

He snorted. “You forgot already? Cool. That’s an easy fifty bucks for me.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I remember the bet. But like I told you before, even I can’t turn the Bird Brain into a party animal.” I cringed a little, calling her that.

“No signs of life, there, huh? Even after a full week with you and your magic moves?” Alex grinned wickedly. “At least with Trina I don’t have to worry that she’ll come crying to me. She can’t stand you.”

I grabbed my burrito and stuffed it in my mouth so I didn’t have to answer him.

Alex watched me closely. “She’s giving you crap, isn’t she?” He laughed. “Man, I wish I could be a fly on the wall with you two. It’s gotta be better than a World Wrestling match.”

I snorted. “Yeah, you could say that.” Though the idea of actually wrestling with Trina made me reach for my soda.

“How’s that crazy schedule of hers working out for the kids? Does she carry a stopwatch?”

I laughed, but then I pictured her in tears, surrounded by the shredded guts of her binder. I crumpled my burrito wrapper and threw it at him. Hard. It bounced off his head and landed on the floor.

He stuffed another handful of chips in his mouth and chewed, still watching me. I hated it when he turned all psychoanalyst. He was worse than my parents.

Then he twirled the straw around in his cup. “Soo,” he drawled, “maybe I’m wrong about Trina ending up crying on my shoulder? Is that horrific event in my future?

I stood up abruptly, my chair screeching behind me. “No,” I snapped. “It’s not. We’re partners. That’s it.”