anything, necessarily. But instead, when she spotted him, he was standing at the drinks table.
Surrounded by about ten girls.
It was exactly like that horrible vision she tortured herself with, except the vision was usually Daniel Fletcher and his seventeen European bimbos. Trey and a bevy of girls was a new twist, but really, so very much the same old thing. Cassie winced. It turned out new wasn’t always so good after all.
“I’m such an idiot,” Cassie muttered, looking away from Trey and his girls. She forced herself to smile. “And I didn’t even get a kiss out of it.”
“Everybody falls for his act,” Greta said, her voicemoving from flat to something more sympathetic. “You can’t beat yourself up about it.”
But Cassie was furious with herself. This was why she’d agreed to the ten-boy summer in the first place. She was supposed to be focused on racking up the kisses, not serious romance. She obviously couldn’t rely on her own intuition. She would have happily let Trey play her—all because she was a sucker for a guy who showed earnest interest in things she cared about.
But no more. No more trying to get close. No more letting herself fall for guys, no matter how delicious it felt. No more.
“Hey,” she said, nudging Greta with her shoulder. “You know what would hit the spot right now?”
“A little Trey Carter bashing?” Greta asked wryly. “I could be into that.”
“Cheese fries,” Cassie said. She wanted to be over Trey Carter and his womanizing ways. “Gooey, hot, and in all ways bad for us comfort food.”
Greta grinned. “The only thing better than Trey Carter bashing,” she said with a laugh. “Let’s go.”
Cassie stood without a backward glance.
She told herself she didn’t even want to look to see if Trey noticed.
But not turning around was the hardest thing she’d done all summer.
Chapter Six
T he morning after the party Cassie’s alarm went off way too early. Nothing about getting up at 6 a.m. was okay—even if she’d gone to bed at eight the night before, which she definitely hadn’t. Cassie moaned, bleary-eyed, and staggered into the shower. She didn’t really wake up until she was halfway down the freeway toward her 8:30 a.m. ferry, sucking down the cold-brewed coffee she’d brought with her from home.
Sweet, sweet caffeine. The only thing that made the long commute bearable. That and the fact that she didn’t really have to appear bright-eyed or bushy-tailed until she arrived at the bike shop—which was another hour ahead of her. Cassie had figured that her ferry ridewould provide a much-needed extra hour of rest on difficult mornings. And this was definitely a difficult morning.
Cassie parked and made her way onto the ferry, settling into her favorite seat up top. It was windier outside and sometimes got a little cold so early in the morning, but she hated being cooped up inside the boat’s cabin. She liked to see the sunlight bounce off the waves as it gained strength. She liked to ride the swells and see the California mainland get smaller in the distance, so that even the great sprawl of Los Angeles began to look manageable.
The ferry finally got under way, and Cassie relaxed as the engine thrummed beneath her. She stared off at the water in front of her and wondered what the day would hold. She knew she should probably eat something for energy, but she was still full from last night’s Denny’s stop with Greta. They’d gone to town on the cheese fries, and while Cassie didn’t regret a single bite, she’d had no appetite at all for her usual eaten-while-commuting bagel. Luckily, she always carried a few Luna bars in her backpack for inevitable moments of starvation on a tour.
Cassie let the morning wash over her—fresh sea air and the salt sting—and was feeling pretty great about life in general when she noticed a guy leaning against the rail a little ways away from her, closer to the bow of the boat.He was propped up on his