2. Fallon

“This is not real,” I say as we pull into the small parking lot that serves as a driveway. “This place has to be bigger than the White House.” I lean down, trying to see the entirety of the rental house where Adelaide’s bridal and bachelorette party is being held.

Lexie merely rolls her eyes. Despite the fact she grew up with wealth, I know she’s shocked, maybe even impressed, but her mood has been set to sour today.

“We should keep our phones on us at all times in case we get separated. We might need to send a search party for each other.”

Not even the hint of a smile flashes across her face.

A pristine, white car pulls up beside us, and a woman opens her door, causing me to close mine and wait while she gets out. Quinn. I recognize Adelaide’s best friend since high school.

“This is going to be hell,” Lexie remarks. She dislikes Adelaide’s friends a thousand times more than her sister, especially Quinn. The two are regrettably sharing the title of maid of honor, forcing them to spend more time together, much to their mutual dismay.

Quinn has long, dark hair that is always styled and glossy. Colorful tattoos cover most of her arms and shoulders, and her breasts, which are the size of my head, are barely contained by a thin sundress. She’s gorgeous, unique, and fiercely opinionated, attributes I’ve always been jealous of, but it’s not my jealousy that makes Lexie and I dislike her. Quinn is the epitome of a mean girl: bossy, rude, overbearing, and constantly demanding control in every situation. Somehow, this works for her. Guys fall at her feet, confirming Taylor Swift is right. Men only want a relationship when it’s torture.

I glance down at my denim shorts and simple top with a wince of regret that I hadn’t gone shopping for something more stylish for the weekend. I spend nearly half my waking hours in a gym or on a soccer field. Therefore, the majority of my closet consists of workout clothes. Most days, I don’t apply makeup because it sweats off, and my light brown hair is often unruly and rebellious due to the frequent humidity in Oleander Springs, and therefore often pulled back in a messy bun. Though my hair has been straightened and I’m wearing makeup, my attempt to dress up feels amateur and almost naive compared to Quinn’s.

I hate how inferior I feel and try to shake off the feeling as I get out of the car.

I follow Lexie to the trunk to retrieve our bags and stare at the house for another moment. “What do you think this place was built for? I can’t imagine many people need or can afford a house with eighty rooms.”

Lexie turns, finally acknowledging the house, her suitcase in hand. “It’s usually rented out for corporate retreats.”

My parents have always worked blue-collar jobs. My dad runs his own painting business that my brothers help with, and my mom has worked at a call center for the local utilities company since I was eleven. The closest my mom has come to attending a corporate retreat is getting a catered lunch and an extra thirty minutes added to her break to celebrate Christmas.

I’m in way over my head. Still, I grab my suitcase and close the trunk before leading us across the expansive cobbled driveway. I’m itching to see the interior of this place, but even more, I’m excited to see the ocean. One of the reasons I love calling North Carolina home is the beaches. I’m convinced they’re the best in the country.

The front door is open as Quinn stands in the middle of the foyer, eyes wide as she takes in the space. “This place is insane.” She drops her bag and begins taking a series of selfies.

Lexie frowns as she rolls her eyes. Her glacial mood has me attempting to play it cool and not stare at every arch and stunning detail that makes me forget about my outfit, untrained hand at makeup, and why this weekend will be rocky because staying here feels like I’ve just won some kind of grand prize.

We’re high on the Outer Banks in Corolla, where wild horses and exclusivity lure tourists. Growing up, our family trips to the beach usually consisted of going south to Wilmington because it was half the distance and far more affordable. I’ve never been here and have been looking forward to visiting more than I’ve been willing to admit.

Quinn turns, flashing a smile that is both too wide and too beautiful. If only people’s insides were reflected in their appearance. “Hi, Fallon. I’m so glad you could join us.”

“Hey. It’s nice to see you.” If I were Pinocchio, my nose would be growing, but I hate confrontation nearly as much as I loathe people not liking me. “This house is gorgeous.”

Quinn beams. “Isn’t it?”

“Where’s Adelaide?” Lexie asks.

Quinn’s eyes narrow, but her smile broadens, filling me with unease. “She drove up yesterday with Asher and likely baptized half the rooms in this place.” Her eyes pin on Lexie, clearly assuming—correctly—Lexie’s crush on Asher. “He sent her to the spa for the morning to help her recover.”

“Perfect,” I say, making my tone as fake and cheery as hers. I grip Lexie’s hand. “We’re going to tour the house.”

Quinn’s gaze snags on my shorts, but she doesn’t say anything, turning back to take another selfie.

“There you are!” Aunt Janice, Lexie and Adelaide’s mom, strides into the room, wearing a white sundress and high-heeled sandals. “Lori! The girls are here,” she calls out to my mom. “How was the drive?” She looks at Lexie, and I wonder if she notes the signs of heartbreak with her sagging shoulders, like I do.

“Long,” Lexie says.

“Did you have trouble driving on the beach?” Aunt Janice turns, addressing me though I was the passenger.

I shake my head. “No, but it was kind of wild. I didn’t realize we were going to drive on the actual beach. What happens when it’s high tide?”

Aunt Janice laughs and shakes her head. “I have no idea.” She hugs me and then moves to Lexie. “But if we’re stranded, at least we’ll be stranded in style. We have cases of champagne, wine, and enough cheese to sink a boat. Come look at these views.” She wraps her hand around Lexie’s, pulling her farther into the house.

I wander close behind, taking in the high ceilings, intricate details, gorgeous artwork, and ornate fireplaces. We stop at one of the walls of windows that look out on the beach. The overcast skies do little to dull my excitement. It’s stunning, and the faint sound of crashing waves has me yearning to step outside and explore.

“Look! There’s a dolphin!” Aunt Janice cries. “Do you see it?”

“Three of them!” I gasp, spotting their dorsal fins. I glance at Lexie to see if she notices them, and to my relief she looks equally amazed.

Aunt Janice’s phone rings, and she makes a quiet apology about it being about the wedding before ducking out of the room to answer.

I bump Lexie with my shoulder. “How’s your throat feeling? I think mine might be sore.” I fake a cough.

Lexie’s lips twist with a reluctant smile, but the sound of the doorbell has her shoulders sagging further.

“I’ll get it,” I say. “Go reserve our rooms. Preferably ones at the very end of a hall, wing, or whatever.” I gently squeeze her arm and then retrace our steps to the foyer.

I open the front door with a false sense of calm that withers as I come face to face with Chrissy, my ex-teammate who publicly criticized me on social media just days ago and encouraged others to do the same before unfriending me.

Anger burns in my veins, inspiring me to slam the door in her face that doesn’t appear half as smug as I would have expected. Instead, I grapple for words as I once again scour our two years of friendship, searching for signs of her cruelty, wondering if I should have expected to see that side of her.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

Before she can answer, a woman with dark hair, flawless makeup, and a crop top joins Chrissy at the front door. “Hey!” she calls out, warm and affectionate like we’re friends.

Quinn appears beside me, and I quickly realize the greeting was intended for her. “Hey, Daphne. Hi, Chrissy. I’m so glad Tobias let you out of his sight, and you were able to make it.”

My gaze snaps to Chrissy, and the accusations and names she’d directed online at me seem insignificant compared to the sharp blade of betrayal stuck in my chest. She doesn’t meet my inquiring stare. Instead, she merely nods at Quinn, looking equally as lost at being here as I feel.

Daphne steps around us. “Oh. My. God. Look at this place!” She turns in a circle and then eyes me with the same focused look of appraisal. “You look familiar. Have we met?”

I feel like I just got hit in the stomach with a sandbag. I want to scream, but I can’t. I’m a peacemaker to my core. Maybe it’s because I’m the youngest of four or because I hate the jilt of being unliked, but people-pleasing is a trait in me that is as absolute as my light brown hair and blue eyes.

I pull my shoulders back and force a friendly smile in Daphne’s direction while my thoughts spiral. “I’m Fallon, Adelaide’s cousin.”

She nods. “You two look alike.” She turns, examining my side profile. “You’d look great with some falsies. Your natural eyelashes are a little short. Did you have work done on your nose?”

I run a self-conscious finger down the bridge of my nose. “No...”

“Lucky, bitch,” she says before flashing a smile. “If you want your chin or cheekbones done, I know the best surgeon in Oleander Springs.”

It’s the strangest and maybe most offensive compliment/insult I’ve received since Chrissy attacked me online, criticizing me as a soccer player, a person, and then my appearance.

“And what about you?” Daphne asks, turning to Chrissy.

“This is Chrissy Fawkes.” Quinn glances at me and has the common sense, or maybe decency, to appear remorseful.

“I’m dating Asher’s little brother,” Chrissy says smugly.

Dating.

The word squeezes my throat shut, making it impossible to breathe.

He moved on with one of my ex-teammates—my ex-friend.

Daphne laughs. “You and half of Oleander Springs, from what I’ve heard.” She turns. “Tell me Asher stocked the house with booze. Do we need to get our own drinks?” She looks around, and autopilot has me about to assure her there’s plenty of alcohol when my mom and Lexie step into the room.

“A caterer will be here tonight along with servers,” my mom says.

Servers.

I definitely would have sounded like the lower-middle-class person I am had they not appeared when they did, but relief isn’t even a faint breeze on my shoulders.

“Chrissy. It’s good to see you.” Though my mom’s voice is tight, it lacks surprise, leaving betrayal tattooing along my straightened spine.

Lexie moves to my side, brows drawn with a matching confusion to mine. “I’m sorry. Are you lost?” Lexie asks Chrissy. “This is a private event.”

“She was invited.” Quinn’s eyes are as sharp as her tone. “Come on, ladies. Let’s see what kind of drinks we can find.” The three walk toward the kitchen, leaving Lexie, my mom, and me in the foyer. The mansion on steroids suddenly feels way too small.

Mom’s cheeks turn pink with guilt, and she averts her gaze.

“Why was she invited?” Lexie rages, reaching for her phone. “How in the hell does Adelaide even know Satan’s spawn?”

“Because she’s dating Tobias,” I tell her.

Lexie’s eyes snap to mine so fast she nearly drops her phone. “What? Since when?”

Mom glances toward the kitchen as though afraid the others might hear us. She’s the ultimate peacekeeper. “Quinn told us when we got here, but it didn’t sound like it was a for sure thing. I didn’t want to call you and tell you just in case it didn’t happen because I didn’t want to ruin your weekend.”

“I don’t care who Tobias is dating.” Or I didn’t, until five minutes ago when I learned it was someone I know—someone who might have been a complete ass to me online because of my past with her current love interest.

Lexie squeezes me closer and glances toward the kitchen, but the doorbell rings again before she can say anything.