Love the One You're With Page 6

  Jiffy sidled up to her, carrying an ugly peach-colored camisole on a light pink padded hanger. “You should wear this, with just your pointe shoes. Doesn’t every guy have a ballerina fantasy?” she asked eagerly.

  “That’s gross,” Jack said shortly. At this point, she’d rather have gone shopping with the stepbrats than with her friends. “Look, I’ll meet you and Gen somewhere. I just need to concentrate.”

  “I thought you wanted us to come with you.” Hurt registered in Jiffy’s pert, freckly face.

  “Jif, let’s go.” Genevieve called from across the room, causing the saleslady to glare angrily at her. “If Jack doesn’t need our help, she doesn’t need it. Besides, J.P.’s the only one who matters. And he’ll love it. After all, you’re having sex with him!” she called over her shoulder, just to piss Jack off.

  “Shut up!” Jack hissed, feeling her face turn bright red. She didn’t usually get embarrassed, but she was in her favorite department store, surrounded by her two immature friends screaming about sex.

  Just then, a group of loud, chattering girls burst into the otherwise quiet corner of the floor.

  “It’s her hen party!” one of the girls exclaimed in a burry Scottish accent, gesturing to a tall, curly-haired girl with bad skin. “We want her to get all tarted up, then we’re going to Marquee!” she added, pleased to share her news with anyone who would listen. Jiffy nodded eagerly, obviously wanting to be part of an underwear-shopping experience more like that one.

  Jack rolled her eyes. The girl who was getting married—the hen?—was sort of chunky and had bad teeth, but she looked radiant and happy. Jack imagined having her own bachelorette party, surrounded by Jiffy and Genevieve. They’d laugh as they looked back on this day, which by then would seem ridiculously far in the past. But she couldn’t quite conjure up the image. If she was getting overwhelmed just thinking about sex with J.P., how were they ever going to get married? Jack took a deep breath and tried to focus on the task in front of her. It was just underwear. It was just sex. It was just J.P., her loving, caring boyfriend. “Perfect,” she chanted quietly to herself, her own personal mantra.

  Usually, she said it when things weren’t perfect at all.

  “I need to go,” she announced. But Genevieve and Jiffy were giggling along with the Scottish girls, not even listening to her.

  Fuck this. She’d just go and buy underwear by herself, which she should have done in the first place. Maybe at La Petite Coquette, that adorable store in the village. Somewhere quiet, discreet, where people weren’t haranguing her about ballerina fantasies or shrieking about their tacky weddings. Somewhere she could just plan her special day with J.P. and not freak the fuck out. Jack stormed back to the elevator and pressed the down button, anxious to get downstairs and out of Barneys.

  Isn’t she glad she doesn’t live there now?

  vacation, all a ever wanted

  Avery peeled her avocado green Milly cardigan off her shoulders as she exited the tiny North Eleuthera airport. Behind them, a porter was busily pushing a cart piled high with Avery’s Louis Vuitton luggage and Edie’s army green duffel.

  “How was your flight?” Rhys asked shyly, coming up alongside Avery. He was still wearing his black Ralph Lauren sweater and his pressed khakis, small beads of sweat forming at his hairline.

  “All right,” Avery said as she pushed her Coach sunglasses on top of her wheat blond hair. All right? How lame was she? She felt like she’d been chewing on an old sock. She took a small tin of Altoid mints out of her tote. “Want one?” she offered.

  “Sure.” Rhys grabbed two mints and crunched them between his front teeth.

  “Wallis party?” an elderly man asked, opening the door to a stretch SUV. Avery smiled in satisfaction. She’d been worried that this would be one of those totally gross back-to-the-elements vacations where people paid thousands to hike in a desert and stay in a yurt. But the SUV looked appropriately luxurious.

  “This is lovely,” Edie cooed, apparently not doing the math on the SUV’s carbon footprint. She’d removed her leg warmers and was wearing a pair of ugly earth-friendly straw sandals. “Remington, thank you!” Edie flung her arms around Remington’s neck and kissed him.

  “Mom,” Avery hissed. The PDAs had to stop.

  “You kids.” Edie shook her head. Over by the curb, Layla and Riley were holding hands, while Baby sat on her duffel, hugging her knees. This was the weirdest group of people ever. Before, Carlyle family vacations had consisted of visiting Edie’s far-flung friends or tagging along with their grandmother Avery on one of her intercontinental adventures. One year, they’d helped make hammocks at a self-sustaining Vermont commune. Another, Avery had gone on a Mediterranean cruise with Grandmother Avery and had been the youngest on the ship by at least fifty years.

  “We’re in the back!” Layla giggled, ducking into the SUV. Avery carefully climbed into the car. Once the bags were situated, the SUV lurched away from the airport, turning onto a dirt road that hugged the coast. The island was about an hour’s drive away, separated from the mainland by a causeway.

  “You okay?” Baby whispered to her sister. Avery nodded. Usually she got sort of carsick, unless she focused on one particular thing that wasn’t moving. Now she found herself focusing on the back of Rhys’s neck. It was a nice neck—not too skinny, but not too thick, with a couple of freckles in an uneven starlike constellation.

  Finally, the car rolled up a dirt road and stopped at a cluster of glass-walled villas surrounded by palm trees on one side, the ocean on the other. Shelter Cay was a ten-square-mile property that held a private resort with adjacent villas, along with a few privately owned cottages. The villas were connected by a wraparound birchwood deck, and the sliding doors were flung open, the organic-cotton curtains blowing in the slight breeze. Avery sucked in her breath happily. This was where they were staying?

  “We’re here, guys!” Remington boomed. “You can put the bags there,” he directed the driver. “What do you think?” he asked, winking at Avery. Avery smiled giddily back. Her luck was finally changing.

  “Okay, troops. So, you ladies can stay here, the guys can go over to the villa on the left, and your mom and I will be in the back,” Remington commanded. “Go out and explore!”

  Avery made her way into the girls’ villa. It was bright and airy, and only had three walls, the fourth looking out to a large swimming pool and the beach below. There were three single beds in the master bedroom, and a large sitting room, where a bottle of champagne was nestled in a sterling silver bucket.

  Bottoms up!

  “Cheers!” Avery announced, holding up the bottle. She put it between her knees and expertly popped the cork, the champagne releasing a spray on the bamboo floors. She felt a little giddy already.

  “I need a glass,” Baby announced.

  “Make that two!” Layla yelled, emerging from the master bedroom. Avery glanced up. Layla was standing in her underwear, her impossibly perky 34B chest on display. A tiny gold ring dangled from her belly button, but it was so small it looked cute rather than skanky. She ducked down and rifled through her oversize camouflage duffel bag that was flung on the floor, triumphantly pulling out a tiny white string bikini.

  “Baby, can you help me tie this?” Layla called. “Riley and I always go horseback riding as soon as we get here. I’m not big on riding, but there’s this really cool beach on the other side of the island. You girls want to come?” She smiled sweetly. She had a tribal tattoo around her skinny bicep. Even that was cute.

  “Don’t you want to unpack?” Avery wrinkled her nose. They’d only been here for five minutes, and it already looked like a bomb had exploded in the bedroom.

  “We’re on vacation! Ignore my anal sister.” Baby rolled her eyes at Layla. “I’ll come,” she said, plunking down her champagne glass on the marble counter of the kitchenette. She’d spent a lot of time thinking on the drive over, and was annoyed with herself for acting so sulky earlier. Sure, she’d thought Riley was c
ute in the magazine stand, and it was kind of disappointing to realize he hadn’t been flirting with her at all, just being friendly. But it was a two-second crush, and no good reason to ruin her vacation. Layla was cool, Riley seemed cool, and Baby was going to just chill out too. She loved horseback riding, and wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity.

  She took off her own Brooklyn Industries T-shirt, displaying her skinny rib cage and a black bra.

  “Guys!” Avery screeched, pulling the curtains closed. Layla and Baby didn’t seem to care that anyone walking by could see them.

  Half-naked peas in a pod.

  “Lighten up, we’re in the islands!” Baby called, rifling through Avery’s suitcase, knowing that’d really annoy her sister.

  “You better not take anything with a tag on it,” Avery allowed, glancing over Baby’s shoulder. “And be careful,” she added as Baby haphazardly threw a white 3.1 by Phillip Lim dress on the floor.

  “You guys are so funny.” Layla laughed at their sisterly banter. “Sometimes I wish I weren’t an only child.” She smiled at Baby. “Ready?”

  “You sure you don’t want to come, Ave?” Baby asked.

  “No thanks.” Avery finished off her champagne. Horses were dirty and smelly. Not her idea of a tropical getaway.

  “Fine.” Baby stuck out her tongue and followed Layla out the door.

  Avery poured another glass of champagne and walked around the villa. She carefully pulled her clothes out of her suitcase, shaking them slightly. Unlike Baby, neatness was important to her. Before she could even think about exploring, she needed to have bathing suits in one drawer, tank tops in another, and dresses hung in the expansive walk-in closet.

  Once her sandals were neatly arranged in the closet, her bathing suits stacked according to their appropriateness for the beach versus the pool, and the champagne half-gone, Avery felt like she was really on vacation. She pulled a billowy magenta Calypso dress over her head and smiled at the mirror in satisfaction. It was the type of dress that looked shapeless on the hanger but amazing on. Especially since she’d sneaked in a scrub and color appointment at Bliss early this morning, and her skin already had a summery-bronze glow.

  She stepped onto the balcony, still holding her champagne glass. There was a soft breeze, and in the distance she could make out the thatched roofs of other villas. But it felt extremely private where they were, as if they were marooned on a totally fabulous tropical island. Manhattan seemed very far away.

  “Hey!”

  Avery whirled around. Standing there, wearing a white linen button-down shirt and khaki shorts, was Rhys, Ray-Ban aviators on his head.

  “Hi.” Avery bit her coral-colored lip, suddenly shy. She gripped the hand railing.

  “Owen went for a run and Riley went horseback riding or something,” Rhys explained. “I stuck around unpacking. Besides, I sort of like to forget the exercise routine when I’m on vacation.” He shrugged. “What are you up to?”

  “I don’t know.” Avery cringed. Another brilliant line. “Want a glass?” She held up her own empty glass. Oops. When did that happen?

  Somewhere in between stacking sandals and color-coding camis.

  “I’m okay. We opened our champagne too.” Rhys smiled and rested his hands against the deck railing. “You know, I totally owe your brother. If he hadn’t invited me, I’d be foxhunting right now.”

  “Really?” Avery giggled. She knew Rhys’s parents were British, but foxhunting? Actually, after watching Tea with Lady Sterling, she could sort of believe it. Most of the time, the show was over-the-top, even for her. But her stomach leapt every time Lady Sterling mentioned Rhys’s name.

  “Actually, it’s brutal. A bit worse for the foxes, though,” Rhys allowed. “What about you? Do you guys have any weird family traditions?”

  “Not really,” Avery lied. She was not going to talk about how her mom used to make the triplets recite poetry or do weird interpretive dances at her dinner parties.

  “Your whole family seems so cool,” Rhys continued. “You’re lucky. I always wanted a brother or sister.” He shrugged, and Avery followed his gaze out to the ocean, wanting to see what he was seeing. She could just make out tiny boats bobbing on the robin’s egg blue ocean. It was the exact color of a Tiffany box. It almost didn’t look real.

  “It’s so beautiful,” Avery murmured.

  “Want to go for a walk and explore? I haven’t been to the beach in forever, unless you count Bournemouth, which I don’t.” Rhys rolled his eyes.

  “Sure.” Avery smiled.

  “Here.” He held her arm as he helped her down the limestone steps that led from the terrace down a hillside and toward the beach. He pulled his sunglasses over his eyes. “Which way?”

  “Left,” Avery decided. The sun was setting to the left, casting a romantic, orangish glow over the water.

  “That was my choice too. Anyway, I’m so glad Owen invited me. He’s a great friend. Especially now that…” Rhys trailed off, a cloud passing over his brown eyes. Avery had a feeling he was thinking of his ex, Kelsey. That whole love triangle was so weird, and she was glad it seemed to be in the past now. The not-so-distant past, apparently, but maybe being on vacation would take Rhys’s mind off it. “Well, he’s just cool,” Rhys finished lamely.

  “He wasn’t always,” Avery confided. “He used to torture Baby and me when we were little. He went through one phase, when we were five or six, where he used to collect sand crabs and put them in our beds.” She blushed as the words left her mouth. Crabs in her bed? Could she have thought of a more embarrassing conversation topic?

  Only time will tell….

  “Really? That asshole! Like this one?” Rhys bent down toward the water and plucked a tiny crab from the marble-colored sand. Its little legs desperately clawed the air.

  “Ewww!” Avery giggled as she ran down the beach, loving the feeling of her hair whipping against her face. She suddenly remembered what it was like as a little kid, playing by the ocean back in Nantucket. She wasn’t worried if her boobs were bouncing or her dress was in danger of slipping off her shoulders, or even if she was getting salt water on her new dress. Instead, she just felt free, in a way she hadn’t since arriving in New York.

  “Okay. He’s gone!” Rhys called, easily jogging up to her. “Truce?” He held up his hands to prove that he wasn’t carrying any crabs.

  “Truce!” Avery giggled. She wasn’t sure if it was the sunset or the champagne or just the easy way Rhys wasn’t afraid to tease her, but suddenly, Avery didn’t feel shy anymore. “Until I get revenge,” she added, grinning.

  “Yeah? It’s on.” Rhys grabbed Avery’s hand and goofily shook it.

  Avery slowly, reluctantly, took her hand out of his. “Low tide,” she noted. The sand stretched for what seemed like miles into the horizon. Back in Nantucket, knowing the tide was as second nature as breathing.

  “Should we sit for a bit?” Rhys suggested.

  “Sure.” Avery smoothed out a spot of sand with her hands.

  “Wait!” Rhys pulled off his shirt and set it on the sand. “We can sit on this.” He had a defined six-pack and his chest had a slight hint of a tan.

  Seems like two people just missed each other at Bliss this morning!

  Just then, a buzzing sounded from the front pocket of the shirt. Avery glanced down in confusion.

  “Phone,” Rhys explained hastily as he quickly yanked it out of the pocket. He really hoped it wasn’t his mom. He pulled out his iPhone and glanced at the display.

  U a man yet? Remember, chicks love sunsets, champagne, and private beaches. Consider this ur tip of the day.

  Hugh. Rhys blushed. It felt really romantic being here with Avery, but Hugh’s texts made him feel like he was just putting the moves on her.

  “Your phone works here?” Avery asked in surprise.

  “Yeah, sorry. I’m turning it off.” Rhys firmly pressed the power button. He sat down in the sand, aware of Avery’s hip brushing his. All he wanted t
o do was sit here and relax, not think about Hugh’s playboy suggestions. Why had he even agreed to this absurd virginity-losing plan? This wasn’t some comedy starring Seth Rogen, it was his life. And when it came to Avery, sex was out of the question. She was Owen’s sister. And now that he and Owen were closer than ever, the last thing he wanted was to jeopardize their friendship by going for Avery.

  Avery lay back, her stomach neatly concaving from her ribs. She cutely sprawled her arms out in the sand, like she was making a sand angel. Rhys resisted the urge to take her hand or kiss her. Avery wasn’t the type of girl you lost your virginity to. She was too beautiful and precious and special. For now, they should just stay friends. They could do that, right?

  Right.

  animal attraction

  “Slow down! I swear to God, he always does this to freak me out!” Layla yelled as Riley slammed his foot against the gas pedal of the Gator golf cart that came with each villa.

  “Layla has issues with rough riding,” Riley yelled. The wind was whipping his longish brown hair. “You okay, Baby?”

  “Beats a cab!” Baby grinned, glad she’d decided to tag along. Layla and Riley had been joke-fighting the entire ride, but at least they weren’t an ultra-gross PDA couple who sucked face in front of her all the time.

  On their left, an identical golf cart filled with sunburned guys in their twenties chugged up beside them. “Backseat betties, nice job, man!” one of the guys called approvingly to Riley.

  Baby stuck out her tongue flirtily. Instantly Riley hit the gas, zooming away from the other cart and taking a tight turn on the lush green path.

  “Ow!” Baby cried as her hip slammed into the side of the molded plastic seats.

  “Sorry ’bout that,” Riley said, not sounding sorry at all. “I just didn’t want to share you girls.”