Lies I Told(27)

Rachel hesitated, glancing at me before turning her gaze on Olivia with a smile. “Definitely. Sounds like fun.”

Later, when I was saying good-bye to Logan after making plans to get together Saturday night, he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and smiled.

“You don’t have to win Rachel over for me, you know. I don’t care what she thinks.”

“Yeah, but I do,” I said. “You’ve all been friends a long time. I don’t want to be the one who makes that awkward. I just don’t get why she hates me so much.”

Logan laughed. “She doesn’t hate you. She’s just . . . Rachel. It takes her a while to trust people. It’s crazy, but she’ll come around.”

I gave him a hug good-bye, his words echoing through my mind. There was no way to tell him that Rachel wasn’t crazy at all.

She had every reason not to trust me, even if she didn’t know why.





Twenty


I raced home from school and did a quick check of the house. I knew it was irrational. We were careful. Had been trained to be careful. Other than Parker’s lapse at the Cove, we never even spoke about the con outside of the War Room, and we definitely didn’t leave anything incriminating lying around the house. Our work meant being up close and personal with our marks for weeks or even months. People dropped by, invited themselves over.

Anything could happen.

Still, I wanted to be sure. I’d never had people over before. Had never wanted to risk it. Working an angle meant knowing stuff about everyone else, not letting them in on the details of my own life. I’d gotten good at manipulating people into inviting me places instead.

So why, then, had I invited Selena and the others to my house? Why risk it when I could have suggested a girls’ night somewhere out on the town?

I didn’t know, but I’d felt off ever since arriving in Playa Hermosa. Like I was slipping. Like there were details just beyond the periphery of my vision. Things I should be seeing, needed to see, but just couldn’t. I was distracted. By Logan and my attraction to him. By Selena and the desire to have a true friend. By Parker and the distance that was wedging itself between us like an immoveable mountain.

I suddenly wanted to call the whole thing off, to tell Selena and the others that I’d changed my mind, something had come up, I wasn’t feeling well. But it was too late. They were on their way. I’d just have to make the best of it.

I combed the living room, reassured by the photos of Parker and me with our parents. There weren’t many—and they’d been carefully chosen, taken in places that couldn’t be identified with all of us looking like we looked now—but it was enough to make the house look like a home.

I had finished my pass of the second floor and was checking the door to the War Room, making sure it was closed, when the first knock sounded from the front of the house. It was Selena, dropped off by her dad. Rachel, Harper, and Olivia followed, and I ushered them inside, trying to calm my nervousness as I showed them the first floor of the house. We ended up in the kitchen, where everyone settled around the island as I poured iced tea. I listened, taking it all in as they talked about school and college and the guys. It was nice. Normal. Even Rachel seemed comfortable, although there was no way to know if it was an act or if she was really coming around.

It was almost five when my mom showed up with takeout salads and sandwiches. I’d sent her a warning text about the sleepover, and she looked calm and unruffled as she unpacked the food. She was regaling us with stories about a woman at the gym who was in her eighties and ran the treadmill dressed head to toe in a hot pink Juicy sweat suit when I noticed Rachel’s gaze fixed on something across the room.

I followed her eyes to the massive farmhouse-style dining table near the window. Or, more specifically, to the price tag still attached to one of its legs.

Shit.

I scanned the room surreptitiously, looking for other evidence of our all-new decor. But there was nothing. No way for Rachel to know that all our furniture had come from Mortise & Tenon in Hermosa Beach. Or that everything had been bought a week before we’d moved in, right down to the sheets on the beds, brand-spanking-new.

I needed to chill. Not let Rachel get under my skin.

It was too early for dinner, so we stuffed the food in the fridge and headed out to the pool. It was still warm, and Olivia and Selena wasted no time diving into the deep end. They were animated, splashing each other like kids and floating around on foam noodles, chatting nonstop while Harper sat on the edge, moving her legs idly through the water.

I snagged a lawn chair next to Rachel, clad in a tiny black bikini, her eyes invisible behind the lenses of huge gold-rimmed sunglasses. I didn’t bother trying to make nice. It would only backfire with someone like her, so I just sat there, head tipped back to the sun, hyperaware of every move she made.

A few minutes later she spoke without turning to look at me. “You got your dining room table from Mortise and Tenon’s.”

I opened my eyes, momentarily thrown. “I don’t know.” I tried to sound bored. “My mom bought it. Our other one was old. No point paying to move it when we could just buy a new one here.” I laughed. “Or that’s what she told my dad anyway.”

“My mom’s a designer,” Rachel said, turning to look at me. “One of her best friends owns M and T’s. I practically grew up in that store. I know every stick of furniture there.”