Page 16 of Dirty Liars
She’s grinning like a cover model in front of a Nikon; flipping her hair back and forth over one shoulder while crossing her legs and giving them a good, obvious look. It wouldn’t look nearly so odd if both Alisha and Laura weren’t starting to copy her, while looking on out of the corner of their eyes for cues.
I’m really starting to wonder what in the world she’s doing it for until I happen to raise my eyes and see three boys leaning against one of the big old trees, talking and taking in the view. The brief storm left a shimmer to the grounds that makes everything appear just a little … magical. My stomach tightens at the sight of them. It’s Astor Hawthorne, Wills Stryker, and another boy I haven’t seen yet.
They look like they’re the worst half of the three musketeers; all for one.
The third boy catches me staring. He’s different from Astor and Wills. Even from here, I can see the green of his eyes that seem to pierce everything they look at, and those eyes are seriously set off by his dyed silvery white hair. There’s mischief in his smile, one cheek punctuated with a dangerously adorable dimple.
This is not good.
It’s been my experience that anyone with dimples is trouble.
He looks over and I can see him blatantly checking me out. He gives me a wink and a full-blown smile, and I feel my breath catch in my chest.
I look away quickly and focus on Victoria again, trying to reignite the conversation I was hoping to have with her about school clubs that might look good on a college resume, but she’s completely distracted with trying to catch Astor’s eye. The problem is, he’s not looking at her … he’s looking at me.
But it’s not with admiration. It’s disdain.
It’s like he can look right through me, right past Sadie toTeddy.
I suddenly feel so out of place. I wonder if old money can smell poverty, and before I find out for sure, I leap to my feet. I’m not going to just sit here and let Astor ogle me like a piece of meat he’d like to eat … after he’s stabbed it first.
I tell Victoria I’m heading to class, and she just waves me on.
I stop once to glance back at her, and I have to shake my head. She really did just drag me out here so she could pose in Astor’s direct line of sight for an enticing effect.
Wills’ words come back to me from earlier. What a waste.
I’m nearly to my next class when I hear a sultry voice over my shoulder, in my ear.
“Sexy Sadie,” it purrs.
My eyes grow wide and I turn on the spot to see who could possibly be so bold. It’s stunning to see the silvery haired boy who was with Astor just a few minutes ago standing so close we nearly touch.
He grins, his dimple deepens, and he gives me a flirtatious wink. “I’m Blair. It’s very nice to meet you.”
I have no idea what to say to him. There are only a few rare moments in my whole life when I’ve been speechless, but this is definitely one of them.
“Uh … Blair.” I nod and try to get some kind of hold on the whirlwind of surprise going on inside me. “Hi,” I say at long last, feeling seriously dense.
He leans a little closer to me and I can feel the warmth of his body and the scent of his cologne, which is enticing to say the very least. “We’re in this class together. Why don’t you come and sit next to me?” he offers, his green eyes glittering as he studies mine.
An inner, depraved, part of me aches to say yes.
His eyes, the voice, those dimples … they’re nearly enough to make me throw all caution to the wind and agree. I know this isn’t just an invitation to sit together. That look in his eyes, it’s asking much, much more.
But this Blair … no one can be that close to Astor and Wills without making the alarm bells go off inside my head.
“Well, I …” I begin, still mulling it over in my head as I try to decide the least committal way to turn him down, but he cuts me off.
“You can tell me all about your swim in the lake today.” He whistles low and drops his eyes to the white blouse I’m wearing. “I wish I’d been there. I’d have loved to have seen that.”
Ah fuck. I hadn’t thought of that earlier.
Wills must have really got an eyeful.
My cheeks begin to burn, and I tug the books in my arms up higher in disgust. The boys at this school leave so much to be desired. At least his comments have helped me make up my mind.
“Thanks, but I only have reservations for one,” I say. I leave him in the hall and walk into class, sitting at the front where my attention will be on the teacher and not on any of the other, far more distracting, students.
