The Lion's Den(10)

Summer gave a little wave as she sauntered away, her skirt flouncing. I followed her up the steps to the clubhouse. “Are you actually going to play with them?” I whispered after the door closed behind us.

“Of course.” She shrugged, browsing through the bikinis on the swimsuit rack. “And you are, too.”

“He’s our teacher. I’m pretty sure we’d get in trouble if the school found out.”

“It’s just a game of tennis. And they’re not that much older than us. Come on.” She batted her eyes at me cartoonishly. “Pretty please? Be my partner in crime. It’ll be fun.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Tyler was cute, and she was right. They were only a couple of years older than us. It could be fun. “I’ll think about it,” I said.

She grabbed my elbow and nodded toward the cash register, where a curvy blonde was paying for an armful of merchandise with a black Amex. A rock the size of Texas glistened on her ring finger as she put her wallet back in her designer tote, then gathered her shopping bags and breezed out the door, sliding a pair of dark sunglasses over her eyes.

“Haley Youngblood,” Summer breathed. “That was the latest Dior bag, and did you see those sunglasses? They’re the new Chanel ones with real diamonds on the hinges.”

We watched through the window as the girl fired up a white Range Rover with dealer tags.

“Makes sense,” I said. “Her dad owns, like, half the city.”

“Her husband,” Summer corrected me.

“Ew! No! Seriously?”

She nodded. “She’s from some Podunk town where he has a farm. Apparently she was his waitress. Lucky bitch.”

I pictured her husband’s ample frame. “Define lucky.”

“She can have whatever she wants whenever she wants it.”

“Except love,” I said.

She tilted her head, considering. “There’s different kinds of love, Belle. And after a while, any dick gets old.”

“Literally,” I conceded.



The designated Monday rolled around sultry and hot. As Summer and I pulled out of her driveway in her mom’s red Mitsubishi, the sun slipped behind dark thunderheads gathering on the horizon. I peered up at the sky, praying for thunder. “We should cancel. It’s gonna storm.”

“Too late.” She turned up the hill that led away from the club.

“Where are you going?”

“Silver Creek.”

“Why?” I asked. “I thought we were playing at River Run.”

She shrugged. “Ryan changed it. Probably didn’t want to be seen with us. They live there, and the courts are pretty nice.”

A knot tightened in my stomach. “Oh,” I said.

She looked at me, as though reading my thoughts. “I swear I told you when I dropped off the outfit yesterday, and you totally said you were fine with it, or I wouldn’t have said yes.”

I had no recollection of this, but I’d also been in the middle of a three-page essay in French, so I may not have heard.

“Thank you again.” I smoothed my pristine tennis whites. It was the outfit she’d been wearing when we played last week. I wouldn’t let her buy me one, so she’d given me hers and bought a new one for herself. The thought that maybe she didn’t want to be seen with me in the old one had crossed my mind, but she was my friend, and anyway, my mother taught me you don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, so I put it out of my head.

“If you don’t wanna do it, I can take you back,” she offered. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s fine.” Thunder rumbled overhead. “It’ll be fun.”

The song on the radio switched to our latest Madonna favorite, and she turned it up. “It’s a sign: You’re frozen.” She sang along, and I joined in, trying to force myself to relax.

The first fat drops of rain were just beginning to fall as we got out of the car at Silver Creek; after dashing the hundred yards from visitor parking to Ryan and Tyler’s apartment, we were drenched.

A clap of thunder cracked as Ryan swung open the door. We darted inside, dripping all over the carpet.

“Sorry,” I said, shivering in the air-conditioning.

“Tyler, towels!” Ryan shouted over his shoulder.

I wrapped my arms around my chest, acutely aware that my soaked tennis whites were now completely transparent. Summer was unfazed, giving Ryan a kiss on the cheek as though she hung out at her teacher’s apartment every day of the week.

Tyler emerged from the back with towels, and I immediately remembered why I agreed to this. He flashed a lopsided smile and wrapped me up in a big towel, lingering with his arms around me. He smelled of Drakkar Noir. I could feel his muscular chest and strong arms, the scruff on his chin roughing my forehead. None of the guys in my class had strength or stubble like that.

“So I guess we’re not playing tennis today,” I said stupidly, looking up at him.

“Guess not.”

“I ordered pizza,” Ryan offered.

“And we have beer and bourbon,” Tyler added.

“Perfect,” Summer said. “I’m usually more of a Scotch girl, but a shot of bourbon sounds like just the thing to warm me up. Who’s with me?”