#Scandal by Sarah Ockler Read Free Book Online Page A

party?” I say, acutely aware of the bed behind us. “Rebound girl?” 54

    Outside, clouds skirt back over the moon, darkening the room. Cole touches the red bow at my back, his voice a pale whisper to match the sky. “Not even close.”
    “T-shirts are in the top drawer,” Cole says. His parents asked him to keep everyone out of the other bedrooms, so we decided to crash together in here. Far from ideal, but there’s nowhere else to go. I’m spent, and I can’t face anyone downstairs. Definitely not Marceau. Especially not Griffin.
    She’ll know.
    “I’ll be back,” he says. “Just need to make sure no one’s driving.”
    “Tell Griff I’m . . . just tell her I’m passing out and we’ll talk tomorrow. And please apologize to Marceau.” Cole’s jaw twitches.
    “I totally ditched him,” I say. “Just . . . tell him I have a headache.”
    His eyes soften. “Do you want Tylenol?”
    “I don’t have a headache, Cole.” He sighs and unlocks the door.
    “Wait, I can’t.” Breathe, Lucy. I offer him my back. “I need help with the sash and zipper.”
    The floorboards groan as Cole takes three steps toward me. The air shifts, campfire and apples and beer, and then 55

    there’s a tug at my waist as he works out the bow Mom so expertly tied. I wind the red sash around my hands to keep from fidgeting. To keep from touching him.
    Knuckles brush between my shoulders as he grips fabric with one hand, zipper with the other.
    “There’s a hook at the top,” I say. “You have to undo it first.”
    He’s slow and delicate, like he’s afraid to do the wrong thing, to touch me. The tiny metal hook releases. The zipper opens, tooth by tooth by tooth, my back exposed to the chill in a long, narrow V , and I give in to a gentle shiver.
    “Sorry,” he whispers. One hand is still on the dress, fingers just beneath my left shoulder, breath tickling my neck, agonizingly close. He swallows. Twice. His other hand drifts to the curve of my hip, and Griffin’s words haunt me.
    It’s not like anyone would find out.
    “Thanks.” I slide past him to the dresser, my bound hands clutching the dress to my body. “Check on Prince Freckles? And grab my phone? I left it on the deck.” Finally alone, I open the drawer and dig out a pair of basketball shorts and a shirt from Estes Park. Bears love people! it says, right under a bear chasing a stick figure. They taste like chicken!
    I lay Ellie’s dress facedown on the bed and zip it up, 56

    remembering again how excited she was to find it. I was just playing dress up tonight, a Cinderella doll, but she loved this dress. She called it the one , her eyes glowing with possibilities about how the big night would unfold.
    How could she fake something like that? Why didn’t she tell me?
    When did we start keeping secrets?
    Four years ago . . .
    I drape the dress over the footboard, hang those stupid fairy wings over the post, remove the chandelier earrings Mom lent me, pull on Cole’s shorts and shirt, and shake the pins from my fancy Texas hair.
    By the time I crawl between the forest-green sheets, the transformation is complete. I’m no longer a princess.
    Just a girl with a twisted-up heart.
    I turn on my side and glue my eyes to the wall, to the calming ocean-blue paint. It doesn’t matter what Cole said, how long he and Ellie have been drifting or how much blame he takes. Ex or not, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.
    The kiss was over almost as soon as it started, but my feelings weren’t.
    Aren’t.
    And that’s the worst offense, because for the first time in four years . . . I think maybe he likes me too.
    Cole slips back into the room, shutting the door and 57

    sliding the lock in place behind him. Dresser drawers open and close. Buttons, zippers, legs sliding out of pants. Dress shirt tugged from arms, dropped to the floor. Shorts pulled up. Keys on the dresser, clicks and clangs, and then a camera flash like lightning.
    Say . . . magic pixie