"My mother's requesting your presence at the annual Kinsley-Ehlert summer pool party," I said to John over the phone that morning. "It's where the Who's Who of Ithaca come to schmooze and brag."
"Sounds fun," John said enthusiastically.
"Trust me, it's not. Anyway, it's this afternoon if you can make it." I capped the bottle of Make Me Blush nail polish and blew gently on my fingertips.
"I'll be there."
"You don't have to come," I said. "I mean, I don't want you to feel obligated just because we're dating."
"So, it's official?"
"You bought me chili and cornbread. In my book, that makes it official. But seriously, I know it's last minute, so if you've got other plans . . ." I left the sentence hanging, giving him an easy out if he wanted to take it.
"As your official boyfriend, I am absolutely obligated," John said. "What about Zach, though? Won't he be there?"
"He and his family conveniently have other plans. One more thing," I said before ending the call. "My mom insists that you bring Ian."
"Then I suppose I should speak to him about minding his manners," he commented, sounding a little less enthusiastic now.
"Ian is a big boy, John. I'm sure he'll be fine."
"One can hope."
No sooner had we hung up with each other when Olivia Facetimed. "I heard from Sarah Redbird, who heard from Allie Bishop, that class schedules are being posted online Monday morning," she said, as soon as I connected.
"Finally," I said. "I'm dying to see if I got that illustration and design class I wanted. I have a full schedule this year so my mom had to sign some special waiver that said they would assume full responsibility if my brain exploded from course overload."
"How many AP classes are you taking this semester?"
"Three. Why?"
Olivia snorted. "You are a hopeless overachiever. This is senior year, Blake! It's our year to sit back and coast to graduation."
I laughed. "As if my parents would allow that. How many AP classes are you taking?"
"Only two."
"Slacker."
"You know it. Will John be at the party?"
"Yes, and he's bringing Ian."
"Ooh la la," Olivia sing-songed. "I can't wait to meet our resident vampire."
"Don't you dare bring that up," I warned her. "If you embarrass me, I'll—"
"You'll what, suck my blood?" she said in her best impersonation of Dracula.
"I'm hanging up now."
"No, no!" she said in a rush, laughing. "I'm sorry! I really did have a reason for Facetiming. What are you wearing?"
I held out the phone and angled it down, completing a full sweep of my body. "I was doing yoga."
"I meant what are wearing to the party?"
I raised the phone to my face. "It's a pool party, Libby."
She ignored my sarcasm. "The reason I'm asking is that I have to know if there will be any cute, unattached guys there. Can I get away with a boring one-piece, or should I break out the sexy bikini?"
"What about Gabe?" I asked, my interest piqued. "Did you finally come to your senses and break up with him?"
"Let's just say I'm keeping my options open. I've had my eye on this guy at the coffee shop for the past few weeks."
"Really?"
"His name is Marcus, he's super cute, and his caramel mocha lattes are to die for."
I turned the phone away from me and pumped my fist in the air, mouthing a silent YES! Turning the phone around again, I said, "Is 'caramel mocha latte' a metaphor for something else?"
"Don't be disgusting, Blake. Just tell me what I should wear."
"I'm going conservative," I said. "Swim shorts and a tankini top. Sporty and stylish, yet appropriately modest."
"Sounds positively Amish," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Well, Andrew Larsen will be there," I said, as though that explained everything.
"Ugh. That guy gives me the creeps."
"Me, too. Choose your outfit wisely."
"Duly noted," Olivia said. "I'd better go. Mom's shoving a toilet brush in my hand and giving me a totally parental look." She turned the phone around. "See? Wave 'hi,' Mom." Olivia's mother obligingly waved hello. Olivia turned the phone around again. "I'm thinking of changing my name to Cinderella. If I start talking to little woodland creatures or sewing my own clothes, go hunt down Prince Charming to rescue me."
**********
My parents had me on drinks and hors d'oeuvres duty, despite the fact they had hired caterers, which meant I had to walk around saying things like So nice to see you and Can I get you a refill? and Would you like a napkin with that? about a million times as I shoved platters of finger food under everyone's noses.
Olivia finally showed up with her parents, saving me from an afternoon of servitude. "Are the guys here yet?" she asked.
"John texted me a little while ago and said he had to take care of something first."
"Sounds mysterious."
"It's probably something to do with work," I said dismissively. "Whatever it is, he said it wouldn't take long."
We made our way to the kitchen where I added the platter of spring rolls still in my hands to the mountain of food already laid out on the counter. As far as I was concerned, the caterers could worry about what to do with it all.
"Where's the perv?" Olivia whispered in my ear, scanning the faces in the back yard as we stood at the French door.
Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I squinted against the summer sun as I searched the faces of our guests. "Over there," I said with a discreet point of the finger, even though there was no chance of him hearing us. "Creepy Andrew Larsen."
Olivia followed my finger and frowned. "What a shame he's so weird. He's so hot!"
"He's, like, thirty!"
"Doesn't mean he's not hot. If I were five years older . . ." She gasped. "Look at his shoes! Are those Jimmy Choo loafers?" She squealed. "Omigod, I think I'm in love!"
I gave her an exasperated look. "He told me I smelled nice."
With impeccable timing, Andrew looked in our direction. Our eyes met and he raised his glass of white wine to me before returning his attention to the person he'd been speaking to.
Olivia clutched my arm as though she was about to fall over and fanned herself with her hand. "I think his eyes were actually smoldering."
I pushed her off me. "I'm about to dump that bucket of ice over your head if you don't stop, Libby. Whenever I go into my mom's office, he stares at me with this grin on his face. It makes my skin crawl."
"Have you told your mom?"
"Yeah, but she can't fire him just because I think he's strange. Still, whatever you do, don't get caught alone with him. I'd hate to think—"
"Ladies!"
Olivia and I jumped in unison, bumping heads. "Ian," I said, massaging the tender spot at my temple. "Way to sneak up on us."
"The front door was open," John said. "I hope it's okay we let ourselves in."
"It's fine. Ian, this is Olivia," I said, gesturing between them. "Olivia, this is John's pain-in-the-butt cousin."
She grinned as her eyes traveled over him. "Well, hello."
"Well, hello to you, too," Ian said, matching her tone.
I pointed to the buffet the caterers had set up. "When you can manage to tear your eyes away from each other, help yourselves to food and drinks. My dad's got the grill going, too."
"Your parents really do know a lot of people," John said as he stood at the doors looking out.
"The Kinsley-Ehlerts are like celebrities," Olivia chimed in, standing much closer to Ian than was necessary.
"No, we're not."
"Please," said Olivia. "Your family is definitely the 'it' family around here."
"How interesting," Ian said with a sideways glance at John.
"Don't listen to her," I said, feeling my cheeks burn. Grabbing John's hand, I tugged him into the sunshine, Olivia and Ian following closely behind.
Dad was at the grill, and he waved through a cloud of smoke when he looked up and saw us approaching. "Hey, John! Glad you could make it."
"Hello, Mr. Ehlert."
"So is this the famous cousin I've heard Blake talking about?"
"You've been talking about me?" Ian said. "How flattering."
"You're assuming I was saying nice things."
"Regardless," Ian said as he shook my dad's outstretched hand. "Thank you for having us."
"I love your accent," my mother remarked as she sidled next to my dad. "But I'm sure you hear that all the time."
"Don't encourage him, Mrs. Kinsley-Ehlert," said John. "His ego is big enough."
She laughed. "Help yourselves to food and have a fun time."
"Girls against guys?" I suggested after my mother walked away, pointing to a Badminton set sitting untouched in a shady area of the lawn.
"It's been ages," Ian said with a gleam in his eye as he took off in the direction of the game. "I'll go easy on you," he called over his shoulder. "But try not to cry when you lose, aye?"
He selected a racket and gave it an expert twirl in the palm of his hand. "Did you know the game of Badminton dates back to eighteenth-century India?"
John rolled his eyes. "Here we go."
"It evolved from the children's games of battledore and shuttlecock."
Olivia giggled and I shot her a look. What? she mouthed, shrugging her shoulders.
"This," Ian said, holding up the racket, "is a modern-day battledore. And this—" He held up the birdie— "is a shuttlecock."
"He said shuttlecock," Olivia whispered in my ear with another giggle.
"Stop," I muttered under my breath, elbowing her in the side. Still, I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
"You probably know it as a birdie," Ian said. "Now—"
"Are you going to give us the entire history of Badminton," John interrupted, "or are we going to play?"
"Badminton," Ian continued, as though John hadn't spoken, "got its name when it was first played at Badminton House, which was the Duke of Beaufort's estate in Gloucestershire. Now, the game hasn't been without controversy. Those wretched British—"
John yawned dramatically. "Boring."
"Yeah, we usually just whack the birdie back and forth over the net," Olivia said. "We don't even keep score."
Ian's shoulders slumped as he eyed each of us in turn. "Such an unrefined lot." His eyes cut to Olivia, the hint of a smile returning to his face. "All right, then. I'm up for a good whacking if you are, sweetheart."
Olivia grabbed a racket. "Is that a challenge?"
John shook his head. "I warned you not to encourage him."
After a half-hour of playing, during which we determined that all of us pretty much sucked at the game, Olivia suggested going for a swim. Almost no one swam at my parents' parties, too concerned with preserving their impeccable personas, so we had the entire pool to ourselves. I sat on the edge of the shallow end, dangling my feet in the cool water as I watched Ian and Olivia splashing each other while pretending not to flirt. At last, John swam over to me and offered me his hand, and I let him ease me in.
"I can't remember the last time I saw you in this pool," my dad said some moments later, looking down at me.
"I was five," I said. "You tossed me in. Remember?"
He gasped with mock incredulity. "I wouldn't do that to my own daughter, surely."
"And yet you did."
"It worked, didn't it? You finally learned to swim."
"Sorry, Dad. You don't get the credit for this one."
With a dismissive wave of his hand, he went back to the business of tending the grill, which meant getting in the caterers' way.
After some encouragement, I mustered the nerve to submerge my shoulders and head. Opening my eyes underwater, I came face to face with Ian staring back at me. I waved, my hand moving in slow motion under the water. He waved back and then lunged forward, surprising me with a kiss on the mouth. He pulled away and broke out in laughter, the air escaping in large bubbles that floated to the surface. Laughing, too, I pushed up for air, though I stopped laughing when I saw the look on John's face.
"Ian is hot," Olivia commented as we were changing in the downstairs bathroom later that afternoon.
"You said that about Andrew Larsen," I reminded her. "Maybe you think of another adjective?"
"You're allowed to think more than one guy is hot," she said, ignoring me.
"True," I agreed. "And to be fair, Ian's hotness is an indisputable fact. If I were you, though, I would steer clear."
"Why?"
Stepping into my dress, I turned to let Olivia zip up the back. "I don't know if I trust him."
"These trust issues don't have anything to do with the fact he's a vampire, does it?"
"He is not a vampire," I said. "Anyway, I get the feeling John doesn't trust him either. They have this strange relationship. I haven't figured out what their deal is, but something is going on."
"I love a good mystery," Olivia said. "And Ian's a mystery I wouldn't mind solving."
"Forget it. He's too old for you. Besides, weren't you just telling me about this Marcus guy and his mocha lattes?"
"Ian's not that much older."
"I'm sure your parents would beg to differ."
Olivia shrugged as she applied a thick coat of lip gloss. "My parents couldn't care less. Besides, isn't being young about having fun?"
"I guess, but—"
"And fun is all I'm having, so don't worry about me." She capped her gloss and yanked open the door, bumping into Andrew Larsen on her way out.
"Hello," he said, wrapping a hand around her arm to steady her.
"Oh. Hi." Her eyes darted uncertainly to me. For the first time in her life, she seemed incapable of speech.
Andrew smiled. "It's Olivia, right? I believe we've met before at such one of these parties."
Her eyes darted to me again. "Yeah."
"Olivia . . . What a lovely name. Like a . . . a fine wine that lingers on the tongue. Or a bouquet of roses."
Olivia's eyes widened. She looked like she didn't know whether to laugh or vomit.
"Are you having a nice time, Mr. Larsen," I cut in, noticing he'd yet to remove his hand from Olivia's arm. His eyes raked over her, settling on the twin hills of cleavage peeking from the neckline of her top. She saw the look and hastily grabbed the fabric, tugging it up.
"Yes, thank you." He leaned forward then and inhaled deeply. He didn't even try to be inconspicuous about it.
Olivia's jaw dropped and she tried yanking her arm free, but Andrew's grip tightened. "Dude, take your hand—"
"Do you mind, man?" Ian interrupted, popping up unexpectedly at Olivia's side. "She's with me."
"Is she?" Andrew said, his nostrils flaring.
"I am. Take a hike, Grandpa," Olivia said, finally managing to extricate herself.
"Grandpa?" Andrew looked from Olivia to Ian, and then back again. He laughed, but without feeling. "Ouch."
"What's going on?" John said as he approached.
"I was just saying hello to Miss Ehlert and her lovely friend Olivia," Andrew replied, his eyes fixed on John. "I'll be going now. Be sure to take good care of her. Miss Ehlert, I mean." He patted John on the shoulder and walked away.
Olivia shuddered and rubbed her arm where Andrew's fingers had been only moments before. "God, he is so creepy."
"I told you," I said.
"He's a lot more than that," Ian commented.
I met Ian's eyes. "What do you mean?"
He opened his mouth to respond but then quickly shut it. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing at all."
*****
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