Charlotte Bishop pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head as she stepped out of the convertible. She wore a sleeveless silk blouse, a short, floral skirt and a white blazer. She had delicate leather sandals tied to her slender ankles. On her ears were diamond studs as big is my thumbnails.
"I thought that was you Peyton," she called out, her long strides feline and elegant as she made her way to us.
Her glossy blonde hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, a lock of it wrapped around the elastic that held it in place. She paid attention to details like that.
Always polished, always perfect. It was hard to believe we were the same age.
Pale blue eyes flickered over her brother's face, traveled down the length of his body, and finally landed on the pile of my clothes at his feet.
I was behind him, one foot already on the dock. Having no other choice, I stepped out of the water. I was as naked as the day I was born. And just as vulnerable.
"Is that you Layla?" Charlotte asked, peering around Peyton's body to look at me. She gave me a slow, agonizing once over and my chest flushed with humiliation.
Instinctively, Peyton glanced at me over his shoulder and shifted his body to the right to shield my nakedness.
Oh. Perfect.
"Hi Charlotte," I said, wrapping the towel around myself. Keeping my movements as nonchalant as I could, I turned my back on them and squeezed the water from my hair, back into the lake.
"I'm sorry," she said, taking one last look at me before turning her attention back to Peyton. "I didn't realize I was interrupting." She lifted herself to her toes and pressed her cheek briefly to her brother's.
Christ. Air kisses between siblings. It really was a different world. I felt the chasm between us grow and laughed at how silly it was for me to think it was something that could be bridged. You were either born into this kind of stuff, or you weren't. Simple as that.
"I thought you were in Europe," he said flatly.
So had I. I'd heard she was spending the entire summer there and had rejoiced at the news.
"I was, but I came back last night."
Peyton said nothing so she continued.
"We weren't expecting you back until next week," she said, clasping her hands in front of her and rocking back on her heels.
He shrugged.
"Nevertheless, I'm glad you're home," she said.
No one could mistake the two of them for anything other than siblings. Thoroughbreds, the pair of them were tall and beautiful in the most classic sense with their fine bone structure and aquiline noses. But where Peyton's beauty was warm and inviting, hers was icy cold. His eyes were a brilliant deep blue, hers the palest shade of Sistine. His hair was honey blonde, hers almost platinum. His skin tone was golden and rosy, hers nearly translucent, fine enough for her blue veins to show through.
In terms of personality, I didn't know her well enough to make a comparison.
No one really knew Charlotte Bishop, not even her closest friends.
She played her cards close to her chest and controlled Canyon High though manipulation. She was the mastermind behind everything that happened in - or I should say, to -the town's teenage population.
Yes, Charlotte went to West Canyon High.
Like her brother, Charlotte had been sent to a boarding school on the east coast starting in ninth grade, but she'd returned to West Canyon five months later for reasons no one ever talked about.
There were a few whispered stories of expulsion, but even those quickly died down.
I'd moved to West Canyon three months prior to her return. My mom's reputation had cemented mine, so I wasn't making friends easily. Even the few I made fell away as parents started discouraging associations with me. I suppose I could understand that. I suspect my daddy would've done the same to me if I started hanging out with someone with my home life as they perceived it to be.
I often wondered though, if it would have been different had I not been beautiful.
If I wouldn't have stood out from the crowd, gossip wouldn't have been as quick to spread. And without the boys' attention focused on me, jealousies wouldn't have been roused.
Oh, the boys came sniffing around from the very beginning, but once they heard who my mother was, they were relentless in their pursuit to a point of constant harassment. I went out on one awful date with Jordan Mills after which he told his friends that he had fucked me. I saw how futile it would be to dispute this so I left it alone. Soon, more and more boys came forward, claiming that they too, had fucked me. The stories spread like wildfire and before I knew it, people snickered behind cupped palms about 'Easy-Lay.'
Still, life wasn't terrible because the hostility wasn't overt. I was simply out casted and left alone. Things changed once Charlotte arrived. She fixated on me immediately. The uneasy smiles and shifting eyes quickly turned into sneers and cruelty. And though I never told him so, it worsened dramatically once Peyton became part of my life.
But Charlotte Bishop herself, never once was anything other than cordial to my face.
Not once.
I never understood the reason behind her obsession. I supposed I could've asked Peyton, and I think he would've told me, but I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
Because Charlotte Bishop scared me.
No, she terrified me.
There was something disturbed about her. Despite the physical beauty of her face, she wasn't attractive. Something was off-putting about her, about the flatness of her eyes, about the forced and unnatural expressions of her face. If you watched her closely, you'd notice that her facial expressions were always slightly delayed, and sometimes inappropriate, as if she had were mimicking them instead of feeling.
Awkwardly, I shifted on my feet. I wanted to get dressed. And I wanted to leave, put as much distance between myself and her as possible.
Peyton still stood in front of me, his body serving as a solid barrier between us. Spine stiff, he stood at his full height, his feet shoulder width apart. His arms were loose around his sides, but his hands were fisted.
Alert.
Defensive.
Charlotte delicately shrugged a single shoulder. "Okay. I guess I'll see you at home then." She glanced at me before addressing Peyton again. "You are coming home tonight aren't you?"
"Give it a rest Lottie," he said. "You know I'm coming home."
She smiled an overlarge smile. "Wonderful. Daddy and Mother would be disappointed if you didn't." She peered over him one final time, addressing me. "Bye Layla, It was really good seeing you," she said sweetly. "I'll see you around a lot more, I guess, now that Peyton's home."
We watched her go, ponytail swaying in rhythm to her gait. The engine purred to life and she threw the car into reverse, offering us one last wave before she sped off.
Peyton and I remained silent, each lost in our own thoughts long after her taillights were no longer visible.
"I'm getting dressed," I said.
He didn't move or say anything. I dressed quickly.
"Ok. You can turn around now."
He did, and smiled, but it never reached his eyes.
There was that knotting in the pit of my stomach again. I didn't know what or why, but I was certain there was more to the animosity Peyton felt for his sister than her actions towards me. A lot more.
I planted my hands on my hips. "What did you see?" I demanded with a bravado I didn't feel.
He grinned, and this time he was back to himself. "Everything."
I blushed to the roots of my hair and slapped him hard on the side of his arm. "We will never speak of this again. Understand?"
He laughed and jerked away so I chased him and slapped him again.
And again and again and again until we were both laughing. Again.
Because we never talked about Charlotte Bishop.
Not if it could be helped.
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