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Wicked Grind (Stark World #1)(40)

By:J. Kenner


"I always knew she was a little slut, but I never thought she'd take me seriously." The voice belonged to Grace, and even though the last thing in the world he wanted was to get back on Grace's radar, he couldn't stop himself from eavesdropping.

She was perched on the edge of a chaise lounge, leaning forward as she talked animatedly with Marsha and another girl he didn't recognize. She glanced up as he settled into a chair to eat some pancakes and try to get his mind off Kelsey by reading a mystery. As he settled in, he thought Grace smiled at him. But when she didn't look his way again, he decided that she'd simply been looking his direction, but hadn't actually noticed him.

"So what did you say?" Marsha asked.

"I told her it was a hundred bucks and our undying respect and devotion for any girl to bang a celebrity or celebrity spawn. Extra points if she managed it first."

"You're serious?" Marsha asked. "This is like a real thing?"

"Oh, please. Sleeping with the stars is the only thing. You want status anywhere in SoCal, then you either need to be a celeb or be screwing one."

"Have you?"

Grace giggled as her hand flew to her chest, Southern Belle style. "A lady never kisses and tells. But it's so much more fun not to be a lady. Of course, I have. My point is that I didn't think she would."

"How'd she even know? I mean, she cleans tables." Marsha's nose wrinkled.

"She overheard me and Amy talking," Grace said, nodding to the blonde pixie.

Amy nodded. "She was wiping down a table, but I could tell she was listening to us."

"She came up to me later," Grace said. "She was all shy at first, just saying how nice it must be to be a member and how she hated being invisible because, you know, she was staff."

Wyatt's stomach clenched as he recalled his conversations with Kelsey about how she felt invisible, and how even though celebrity was a pain, at least people noticed him.

"She wanted to hang with me. Asked if I wanted to go to a movie after work or something." Grace raised a shoulder. "I told her I really couldn't, and she asked if there was anything she could do to change my mind."

"What did you say?" Marsha asked.

"Well, I said I couldn't think of a thing, but she kept pestering me, so I told her about the contest. I guess she thought it was a good idea. I mean, you heard about what happened at Patrick's party, right?"

"No!" Marsha leaned in closer. "What happened?"

"She fucked Wyatt Segel!"

Amy and Marsha's eyes went wide. "Seriously?"

"Mmm-hmm." Once again, Wyatt thought that she glanced his way, but he couldn't be sure. And he looked down at his pancakes before she clued in that he was listening. "I met her on the stairs as she was leaving. Came flying down. Said that she was in now, and wanted to know if she got a trophy. Honestly, I was too shocked to answer. I just watched her race out the front door. I guess little Miss Young and Innocent was too embarrassed to stay with him after she banged him."

"He's sitting right there." Amy's low whisper was barely audible.

"Oh, shit," Grace said, though she didn't sound too perturbed. "Do you think he heard me?"

"He's not looking," Marsha said. "And there's a book by his plate. I don't think he heard a thing."



       
         
       
        

"Oh." Grace paused. "Well, that's good, then. We should go. I reserved a court for nine."

They stood up en masse and headed through the gate, their continuing chatter like so much noise in his head.

What the fuck?

What the horrible, awful, wretched, humiliating fuck?

He waited until he was sure they were gone, then he stood up, intending to leave. But he was too messed up to leave, so he sat back down again. Patrick saw him and started to walk toward him, but Wyatt waved him off, afraid that he'd fly into a rage if anyone came near. Or, worse, that he'd start crying like a baby.

She'd played him. She was just like all those girls his dad warned him about. The girls who only saw celebrity, but never saw him.

But no. Was she? Not Kelsey. Not really.

He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it.

And yet all the evidence pointed that way. She'd disappeared on him. And she damn sure wasn't going out of her way to let him know where she was.

He closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. He was seventeen years old and he was leaving for Boston in just over a week. He was practically an adult. And yet instead of handling this like a grown-up, all he wanted to do was have his mom hold him and his father tell him it was going to be okay.