P.S. I Loathe You (20 page)

So you’re not mad?
Kristen asked with furrowed eyebrows as she and Dune walked toward the car.

“Unless you’re still too embarrassed to be seen with me,” she snickered, half joking but half not.

“I was never too—”

“S’okay.” Layne smiled, then leaned her shimmering head out the window even further and whispered, “Just talk to him for me and all will be forgiven.”

Kristen’s intestines dropped an inch. And then her LeSportsac vibrated with a text message.

Massie: Reminder. Tonight at my house. hope 2 c u there.

Kristen dropped the phone in her bag. She had never felt more wanted and less happy about it in her entire life. What was she supposed to do
now
?

A) Pretend she liked a surfer who hated soccer and called her friends OCDivas?

B) Pretend Layne still had a chance with Dempsey?

C) Pretend Massie still had a chance with Dempsey?

D) Pretend she and Dempsey had never had that conversation and avoid him like trans fat?

E) Pretend she didn’t feel the same way about him?

F) Pretend her own feelings didn’t matter so everyone else could be happy?

G) Pretend she’d ever have a friend in the greater New York area again if she didn’t choose A through E?

H) Pretend she also ate bad sushi, run upstairs, crawl under her covers, and stay there until she could figure out what to do next?

Without another word, Kristen gripped her stomach and chose H.

THE BLOCK ESTATE

BACKYARD

Friday, October 9th
7:28 P.M.

Dylan padded across the chilly grass in her brown lace-up Nomads and yellow terry beach tunic, questioning her decision with every crunchy step.

Was it smart to choose the pool party over a movie with Derrick? Was Massie’s apology text enough to cancel out her “triple B” comment?
And, the biggest question of all . . . Was she going to regret this?

An oasis loomed in the near distance, illuminated like a bonfire on a dark deserted beach.

Steam rose in wavy ribbons. Floating candles cast flickering shadows against the trees. Five brown-and-gold Louis Vuitton inflatable rafts were tethered to steps in the shallow end next to a floating tray stocked with smoothies. And Massie sat alone on the diving board wearing a Pucci silk robe and a matching head scarf. She was dragging her bare foot back and forth in the water, gazing dreamily at her toe-wake.

Dylan inhaled sharply as she stepped out on the deck and into the pale light. “Hey,” she called softly.

Massie lifted her chin with an elated smile. Then, like the mini-roll of belly fat Dylan often tried to push up toward her boobs, it fell.

“What’s Derrington doing here? This is girls only.” The alpha hurried toward them.

“He invited me to a movie, but I wanted to hang with you. So I brought him,” Dylan managed, taming her bucking nerves like a seasoned jockey on a bucking bronco.

“Ehma–
no way
.
You’re
the girl he’s been hanging out with?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Dylan snapped, refusing to be degraded for one more second.

“Because he likes me.”

“Not anymore,” Dylan stated evenly.

“Ladies, no need to fight over me,” Derrick tried to joke.

But the girls were locked in a serious stare-down.

“Puh-lease. That’s like trading cashmere for chenille.” Massie lifted her eyebrow in a “take
that
”
sort of way.

Dylan’s hands started to quake. Her breathing became choppy. And rage exploded from her like a compressed whitehead.
“I’m chenille?”

“If the size eight fits . . . ” Massie smirked.

“Well, if I’m chenille, you’re Lycra!”

“How am
I
Lycra?”

“Because you hold everyone back!”

Derrick snickered.

Massie’s mouth dropped open like a shocked emoticon.

“It’s true. You’re control-top pantyhose.” Dylan began to spill like uncontrollable diarrhea. The only way to find relief was to let it all out. “You try to run everyone’s lives and keep us all down so you stay on top.”

“Opposite of—”

“Oh yeah?” Dylan stepped forward, realizing for the first time that she was at least an inch taller than Massie. “Then why wouldn’t you let Alicia help choreograph? She’s a much better dancer than you. And why don’t you let us have friends outside the PC? And why won’t you lift the hold on Derringt—Derrick?”

“Derrick?” Massie giggled.

“Yeah, that’s his
name
.”

“Yeah!” He kicked a pebble into the pool for emphasis.

“Why would you want to be with someone that immature?”

“Why did
you
?”

“Oh, so you only like him because I did?”

“Hey, I’m not immature!” Derrick pouted.

“No, I like him because you
don’t
!”
Dylan blurted. Then, like a rainbow after a storm, everything around her felt magical. It was that tingly uplifting feeling that came with knowing you were 100 percent right. “If you still liked him, I would stay away. Because
I’m
a good friend. But you’re over him. You like Dempsey now. You told me, like a billion times. So what’s the big deal?”

Massie inhaled deeply. “So did you bring him to rub this in my face?”

“No.” Dylan smiled confidently. “I brought him so you could remove the hold.” She tilted her head toward the twenty-five thousand gallons of water beside them.

“Seriously?” Massie’s amber eyes darted from Dylan to Derrick, then back to Dylan.

Dylan nodded yes.

“Fine.” Massie shrugged, like she didn’t care a bit. With a forceful push, she slapped her hands against Derrick’s bare back and shoved him in.

Dylan was about to thank her when she felt the alpha body bump the right side of her body. “Ahhhhhhhhh!” She fell into the pool with a sloppy splash. Warm liquid filled her boots and saturated the fibers of her terry cloth tunic. No matter how hard she fought, the weight of her wardrobe was dragging her down.

“Sinking!” she spat.

Instantly, Derrick was at her side gripping her armpit. It was more romantic than Blair and Nate’s season one aqua-kiss.

“Happy?” Massie peered down at them as they reached for the edge. “The hold has been lifted.”

Dylan panted.

“Now you’re
both
free.”

“Both?”
Dylan peeled a slop of red hair off her forehead.

“Yup.” Massie put her hands on her hips. “No more Lycra. Hang wherever. Now get out of my pool.”

“Come awn, Massie.” Dylan hardly recognized the desperation in her own voice. “Let’s just—”

“Go!” Massie turned away. “My
friends
will be here any minute.”

Dylan’s stomach lurched. She dipped her cheeks in the water to hide her tears. There was no point in appealing to Massie now. She was hurt and embarrassed—an explosive combination. Instead, Dylan stomped across the grass, dripping water and leaking tears while Derrick sloshed along beside her.

“Why can’t I have
both
?” she heard herself whimper once they were back on the dark lawn.

“Because”—Derrick nudged her playfully—“maybe I’m all you need.”

Dylan sniff-giggled. The tingly rainbow reappeared. Only this time it was Derrick—her brand-new ah-dorable boyfriend—who was right.

THE BLOCK ESTATE

POOL

Friday, October 9th
8:49 P.M.

Lying flat on her back against the hard, scratchy surface of the diving board, Massie imagined she was in a glass coffin. Her Pucci head scarf had unraveled slightly, and dark hair fanned out around her head like Sleeping Beauty’s. Only this tale would not end with a handsome prince. Or a kiss. Or a happily-ever-after. It was forty-nine minutes too late for that. No one had come to her sleepover. She was already dead.

The stars, elegant crystal beads on a boundless black dress, were no longer something to behold. They were something to envy. Surrounded by others . . . looking down on the world . . . admired; how
she
used to be.

At 7:55 P.M., she had made a list of possible reasons why the universe had heralded Massie Block the victim for this unprecedented and mighty social eclipse. By 8:02 P.M. she had completed the list . . . and more.

REASON FOR ECLIPSE	SOLUTION	STATUS
Gawd wants me to suffer so I can rise from the ashes to teach people how to overcome.	Through prayer, remind Gawd that he already gave that job to Oprah. And that she’s doing a great job.	Completed at 8:13 P.M. Bean Block was a witness. See smoothie paw print.
Possible cell service outages kept Kristen, Claire, and Alicia from getting my text invite.	Call all service providers and investigate outages in tri-state area over last 24 hours.	Completed at 8:28 P.M. Bean Block was a witness. See smoothie paw print.
I never got pigeon-pooped. Maybe it really is good luck?	Place a spicy tuna roll on my shoulder to attract a pigeon, then hope for poop.	Completed at 8:33 P.M. Removed roll when realized there are no pigeons at night. Only bats. Bean Block was a witness. See smoothie paw print.
The soccer fans put a curse on me when they called me “the Curse.”	Ask housekeeper Inez how to remove it. (She’s ah-mazing with stains.) Then curse them back times ten.	Must wait until next soccer game.
I really am Lycra, and now everyone is mad at me.	Become an elastic waistband and give a little.	No.