Lies I Told(59)

I moved through the day in a haze, trying not to feel guilty every time I looked at Logan. Every time he looked at me. I braced myself to see Rachel in AP Euro, but I still felt my cheeks flush when she entered the room. Now I was sure about her suspicions. And she knew I knew.

All the cards were finally on the table.

She dropped something in front of me on the way to her desk. “Here are my ideas for the project.” She slid into her chair and leaned over just as Mr. Stein walked to the front of the room. “Nice performance with my dad, by the way. But I don’t buy it.”

I took a deep breath and shook my head, hoping the gesture passed for you’re crazy instead of why can’t I shake you? I spent the period rehearsing explanations and comebacks for what was probably an inevitable confrontation with Rachel. When the bell rang, she followed me out of the room.

“Whether we like it or not,” she said behind me, “we’re going to have to finish this project together.”

I turned toward her, stepping aside so the flood of kids trying to get to class didn’t mow us down. “Tell you what: why don’t you do the explanatory essay and I’ll put together the board game. We can hand it in at the same time.”

She was silent for a minute. “It must be hard.”

I sighed. “What are you talking about, Rachel?”

She shrugged. “I just think it would be hard to be around someone who’s onto you, that’s all. Someone who doesn’t buy your little story.”


I stepped closer to her, my earlier insecurity morphing into anger. True, I’d been off my game since the beginning in Playa Hermosa. I’d made mistakes. Violated the rules. All of that was on me. But I still couldn’t help wanting to blame Rachel. She’d been all over me from the very beginning. It hadn’t helped. And who was she? Nobody, that’s who. A spoiled peninsula princess who had a hunch. That’s all.

“You know what’s hard?” I stood so close to her that she leaned back a little. “Dealing with someone who’s so crazy that she clings to a delusional fantasy. Someone who’s so miserable, so ashamed of Daddy’s sexual forays, that focusing on her little fantasy world is preferable to real life.”

Her mouth dropped open, her eyes widening in shock. I was surprised, too. I wasn’t a mean person. I didn’t hurt people intentionally. Not like this, anyway. But I had reached my limit. Everything that could go wrong had. I was on the defensive at a time when I couldn’t afford to be anything but offensive. When I couldn’t afford to be distracted by what Rachel Mercer believed. What she might tell someone else.

“I don’t know what you’re up to,” Rachel said, recovering, “but I promise you I’m going to find out.”

“Or maybe you’re just going to realize that you were wrong all along.” I turned and walked away, waiting until I’d turned the corner to duck into a bathroom as the late bell rang for next period.

I rushed into the last stall and slammed the door, leaning my head against it. My pulse was racing, the blood rushing through my veins so fast that I felt light-headed. All the fear and uncertainty of the past couple of months—the past few years—welled up inside me, fighting to escape the confines of my skin.

I took a few deep breaths, concentrating on the sensation of the cold metal door against my forehead, the slow intake of breath, the measured exhale. I told myself it would be okay. Rachel had nothing but accusations. Accusations that had been addressed by the perfectly logical explanations my parents had given Rachel’s father.

But deep down I knew it wasn’t that simple. A light had been shone on us. All of us. There would be no easy end to the Playa Hermosa con. No quiet slinking away explained as another opportunity for my dad, another chance to back a promising new company. We would steal Warren Fairchild’s gold and leave without a word. And when it was all said and done, Rachel would come forward.

Then everyone would know what we really were.





Forty-Six


“Logan . . . stop.” I laced my fingers with his, moving his hand from its position on my stomach to a safer zone up by my shoulder.

We were on the beach, wrapped up in a blanket and each other the night before he and his parents were leaving for his cousin’s wedding in Santa Barbara. Things had been heating up between us, our deepening emotional connection only adding to the physical fire that seemed to build every time we were alone. I wanted him. More than I’d ever wanted anyone. But the last thing I needed was another reason to feel connected to Logan Fairchild. Another reason to make it hard to say good-bye.

“I’m sorry,” he said, running his hands through my hair as he dropped gentle kisses on my forehead, my temples, my nose. “I don’t want to rush you.”

I nodded, trying to swallow around the lump that had lodged itself in my throat. “I know. And it’s not like I don’t want to. I just . . . I want to be sure, that’s all. I don’t want to ruin what we have by moving too fast.”

“I understand, although I hope you know that nothing could change the way I feel about you.” He pulled me close so that my head rested on his shoulder.

The rush of waves on the beach was a match to the rush of blood through my veins, the desire that threatened to pull me into the too-deep waters of my feelings for Logan. I couldn’t afford to go there. I’d drown for sure. Was already drowning.