揑抦 surprised you抮e still hitting the nightclubs, Olivia. Don抰 you think we should leave that to the teenagers??
I feel Crew抯 eyes on me.
揙h, I do. Aside from the occasional girls?night out. I抦 sure you can appreciate that, Scarlett. You抮e so卛ndependent.?Olivia抯 voice holds just as much sugar as mine as she edges back a half-step from Crew.
揧es, I am.?
揥ell, it抯 lovely to see you. This has become the only event I know I抣l see you at.?
揥ork has been busy.?
Olivia抯 lips purse at the mention of Haute. 揧ou抳e worked miracles with that little magazine. I抎 hardly even heard of it, and suddenly I see people mentioning it everywhere.?
揑 prefer to think of it as wise investing and effective marketing than miraculous,?I reply. 揂nd didn抰 your father place a bid on my 憀ittle?magazine??
I know he did. I outbid Joseph Adams by ten million and have already made it back tenfold.
揑 believe he considered it,?Olivia replies. 揌e decided print is a dying market.?
揚ity. Our earning statements tell a different story,?I respond, savoring the way her lips tighten.
揓ust what you need. More money,?Olivia retorts, a bit of her sweetness dissolving.
揗y thoughts exactly,?I reply.
Awkward silence falls. 揑抣l let you two catch up,?I add. But before I walk away, I turn my head and whisper into Crew抯 ear. 揑抦 not getting wasted tonight. We抮e sharing a bed, after all.?
I don抰 wait for his reaction to the implication. I smile at the Spencers and then head toward the pool.
When we reach the sand, I kick my heels off. The feel of the rough grains between my toes lightens the anxieties I抳e carried around all night. Rachel and Penelope, two women I went to boarding school with, are laughing and stumbling as we approach the roaring bonfire built on the beach. A bottle of Dom Perignon dangles between Rachel抯 fingers as she talks a million miles an hour, occasionally almost falling flat on her face.
The bonfire is an annual Fourth of July tradition I抳e never participated in, which is something Penelope has pointed out three times in the ten minutes it抯 taken to walk the boardwalk from my parents?place to here in the dark. It抯 exactly what I pictured it to be. Forced small talk with my social peers is one thing. Drunken debauchery is another. I抳e seen too many fake smiles followed by back-handed compliments.
As an Ellsworth, I抳e always been held to a higher standard. I know it. So does everyone else. People on pedestals appear perfect. Until they fall.
I抦 no longer an Ellsworth, though. I抦 a Kensington. Untouchable. Not only is Crew rich and connected, people like him.
We reach the group loosely gathered around the flickering flames. I glance over familiar faces, taking a quick inventory of everyone here梑asically everyone who was at my parents?party under the age of thirty. I catch Crew抯 gaze across the fire. He抯 standing with a group of guys, looking more relaxed than I抳e ever seen him. There抯 no tie or suit in sight. Just a pair of navy swim trunks and a white button down that抯 mostly unbuttoned. His hair is mussed. By the wind卭r by something else. Would he do that? At my parents?party with me present? I don抰 know. I haven抰 seen him since our interaction with the Spencers. If he wanted to, he easily could have slipped away for a while.
Rachel pops the champagne with a squeal, drawing my attention back to her and Penelope. Sprays of white foam hit the sand as she directs the stream of golden liquid into the crystal glasses Penelope carried down. I take the offered one with a thanks. Bubbles tickle my throat as I down half of it in one sip.
Down here, in the dark, I feel different. I don抰 feel on display. The compulsion to appear perfect and know exactly what to say is gone. Familiar warmth trickles through my veins as I drain my glass, lightening and loosening my movements.
I抦 comfortable enough to chime in on Rachel and Penelope抯 commentary. Soon, they抮e taking bets on who is most likely to go skinny-dipping. I laugh as they recount previous years?anecdotes while deciding who抯 likely to go for a repeat.
揥hat about Crew??I ask, when he抯 the only guy they haven抰 mentioned.
Rachel and Penelope exchange a look. 揅rew never comes to the Hamptons in the summer,?Rachel tells me.
揙h.?
揚eople had bets on today, you know.?She laughs at my surprised expression. 揇on抰 worry, I bet he抎 be here. Only idiots didn抰。 They抮e the same people who call you a stuck-up bitch梩hey should know better.?
Penelope hisses, 揜achel!?
I don抰 react. I know that抯 how people see me. It抯 different to hear it spoken in such blunt terms though.
Rachel shrugs. 揥hat? It抯 hard not to hate someone who gets everything she wants.?