The Lies They Tell(15)

In the same instant that she realized it was a condom wrapper, she felt Bridges standing behind her. She jerked around.

He was looking at the wrapper, too. He shifted slightly, lifting his gaze to her. “It’s not true, you know.” When she stared, flushing, he gestured back to the boat, where manwhore had become a five-foot-long burgundy smear. “Quinn’s crazy.”

“Okay.” Her toes curled against her flip-flops.

“I brought the coffee. If you still want it.”

She nodded, grateful to move. She sat on the lip of the boathouse floor, swinging her feet, willing herself not to be the kind of girl who got flustered, whose whole body blushed.

They drank cups of Dad’s Folgers and watched the tide. Gulls had dropped mussels and clams on the rocks, shattering the shells to dig out the meat; iridescent fragments were everywhere. “I’m surprised Akil missed this.” She cleared her throat, took a sip. “I thought you guys were grafted.”

“I’m a morning person, he’s not. He’ll have to get his ass up next Saturday, though.” At Pearl’s look: “For the regatta. Race starts at ten a.m. Are you going?”

“Hadn’t planned on it.”

“You should come. Tristan’s racing his dad’s Islander. We’re his crew. We’ll just hang out, drink, whatever. It’s Tristan’s show. You know if it was anything like work, Akil wouldn’t be there.”

She ran her fingers over the step. “Tell me something. How did Akil’s family manage to keep their club membership after he stole that golf cart last year?” Bridges laughed, ducking his head. “Seriously. Last summer was the Malhotras’ first season here. I’ve heard about new members getting kicked out for wearing socks with sandals.”

“Hey, you know how it works. You abuse the club, they hit you in the wallet. His dad paid for a new cart and made a huge donation for pain and suffering or whatever. Plus, his dad’s business partners with Timothy Frazier. That carries a lot of weight. Fraziers have been summering here forever. They recommended the Malhotras for membership, even though some people think their color kind of clashes with the scenery, you know?” He shrugged. “Akil didn’t exactly steal it, anyway. He borrowed it. Took a joyride.”

“Too bad that telephone pole ran into him.”

“So he was wasted. Go easy. He was nursing a broken heart.”

“Anybody I know?”

“Cassidy Garrison.”

Pearl’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding.”

“Weird couple, right? It only lasted a few months, but he was crazy about her. Really messed him up when she ended it. After what happened . . . he’s having a hard time.”

Beautiful, slender Cassidy, fingers on the keys, the deep blue luster of her dress under the lights. Not weird; unimaginable. “Why’d she dump him?”

“She said it was because of the long-distance thing, with summer ending and all. Akil blamed her dad. He thought David made her break it off.”

“Did he?”

“Probably. It was the kind of thing he’d do. Power play.”

“Was David one of those people who didn’t like Akil’s color?”

“Maybe.” Bridges paused. “But Cassidy . . . she was different. Smart and talented and everything, but kind of fragile, too, you know? I think she hung out with her little brother more than anybody else. Couldn’t really blame David for being overprotective when it came to her.” He flicked sand from the hem of his cargo shorts. “She needed somebody to look out for her.”

“Are you always this fair?” When he shrugged again, she said, “Sounds like you knew them pretty well. The Garrisons, I mean.”

“Some. We used to hang out at their house. Up in Tristan’s room.” Some of the color had left Bridges’s face beneath his tan. He set his cup down, giving himself a shake. “Holy caffeine rush. Okay, now you tell me something. Why are they like that?” He gestured to her eyes.

“Oh. It’s called heterochromia. It’s a genetic thing. I’ve got a cousin with one green, one blue.”

“But that’s not as cool. I mean, yours are totally different.” He considered her face so steadily, so frankly, that she was compelled to look back. “Almost like they belong to two different people.”

She reached up, touching the skin near her right eye. “Really?”

Bridges leaned in. This time, she closed her eyes, too, feeling his lips part against hers, moving deeper, her body responding without waiting for permission. She finally put her hand against his chest. “Bridges . . .”

“Too soon, right. Damn it.” He sat back, giving her a sidelong look. “Did you mind?”

Pearl bit her lip, then shook her head. No way was she getting into Reese with him, or the real reasons she’d said yes to the party last night, or why she was here right now; not with his body heat still on her. “You know, you’re not making a very good case for yourself.” She nodded toward the boat with its clouded slur. “Maybe Quinn and I should compare notes.”

For an instant, she was sure she’d gone too far. Then his face relaxed, and he leaned back on his elbows. “You seem like you can make your own decisions.”

“Ha. Nice technique. You’re all set for Psych 100 next semester.”