Lucy and The Love Pact: Young Adult Fake Romance (Love in Ocean Grove Book 2) Read online

  Like a nervous tic, I instinctively touch my hair but then pull my hand back. Not before she notices. “Even if the Johnsons would take me back, which they won’t, there’s no way I’m stepping foot back in the Academy. I’m sure Veronica is still having a field day over my epic failure.”

  “Veronica is a twit,” Finley says. They’d had some issues over Chase last year and never quite got past them. She’s not done, though. “At some point you’re going to have to move past what happened.” She looks at my hair. “You’re the only one that thinks it’s a big deal. Everyone has completely moved on. You know, Lauren got a tattoo last weekend. She can’t stop showing everyone. That’s permanent. Your hair is already growing back.”

  “It’s not about the hair,” I say. “It’s about how I handled it. How the whole world saw me melt down on television. I looked ridiculous. Vain. Egotistical.”

  “You’re none of those things.”

  “Aren’t I? I mean, the moment came for me to stand up for my aspirations and what did I do? I totally fell apart. And for what? To have no diploma? To live in this crappy place?” I shoot her a look. “No offense.”

  “None taken. I mean, it’s way less crappy now than when I lived here, but I get your point.”

  I drop my head back on the couch. “I had one shot, Finley. One, and I totally blew it.”

  She reaches for my hand and squeezes. “You don’t just get one chance in this life and you know it. We both do.”

  I look at my friend. She’s come so far from where she was when I met her. Everything in her life clicked into place. Family. Boyfriend. Basketball. And that’s the kicker; everything in my life clicked into place, too. I got on the show. I had my dream in the palm of my hand.

  Then I showed the world who I really am.

  Being forced to look at that person every day in the mirror isn’t easy, knowing that I don’t deserve another opportunity. Not when I keep destroying the ones I’ve already had.

  5

  Dean

  It comes to me the next day after school. I’m already in the gym, pushing through a grueling workout. I’m totally in the zone when it hits me.

  I know where I’ve seen her before.

  I rack my weights and grab my towel and water bottle.

  “Where are you going?” Tommy asks. I’ve got six sets to go and an ab workout.

  “I’ve got to check on something.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Later,” I call, ignoring his shocked expression. Not finishing a workout is out of character. But I can’t wait. I grab my keys off the wall board and walk out the door.

  The drive home only takes a few minutes. Ocean Grove is a small town and my family lives in the hilly area just above the beach. Technically, if you stand on the roof, there’s a view of the Pacific.

  “Hey, honey,” my mom calls when I walk in the back door. I drop my gym bag on the floor and she glares at me. “Really?”

  “Sorry,” I pick it up and hang it on the rack in the mudroom.

  “Dinner will be ready in a little while. I just need to send over these contracts.”

  “No problem,” I say, grabbing a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. She’s wearing her realtor name tag, which means she had a client appointment that day. “I need to shower anyway.”

  I head up the stairs, passing my sister Emily’s room. She’s lying on her bed, scrolling through her phone.

  “Have you seen my headphones?” she calls as I walk by.

  “Nope.” I shake my head to myself. She loses her headphones a minimum of three times a week. It’s like there’s a black hole or something in her room. I walk in my room and sit at the desk, laptop already open.

  It only takes three keywords entered into the search bar.

  Model Meltdown TNBM

  The video pops up and I press play.

  The scene unfolds just like I remember. I watched it in real time with Emily. She’s thirteen and a massive fan and well, I happen to be a big fan of pretty girls, so it became a thing for us to do together every week.

  The music that overlays the scene is dramatic and amped up for the scene. I recognize the waitress immediately, even with her long, dark hair. Her name is Lucy and man, she’s a knockout. She stands with such confidence as Fiona Caldwell gives the viewers a rundown of her story. She looks invincible. Even when Michal, the stylist, walks over.

  There’s movement behind me and I glance back, seeing Emily walk in.

  “You know this is my favorite episode!” she squeals and hovers over my shoulder.

  It is her favorite, because of the drama that ensues. Michal tells Lucy she not only has to cut her hair but shave it off completely.

  “That’s when it happens. Like, she totally breaks,” Emily narrates behind me.

  She’s right. The girl hears the stylist’s directive, that to stay on the show she has to completely shave her head, and something in the girl cracks. You can see it in those crystal blue eyes. Everything falls apart.

  “I can’t believe she did it anyway and then quit,” Emily says, watching as the video jumps to Lucy sitting in the chair, sobbing. Tears roll down her cheeks as pieces of her hair fall to the ground, like she’s losing part of her soul.

  Then she quits. Like that. She walks out.

  Fiona Caldwell, firm and unwavering, seems unconcerned about the reaction, using it as a warning to the other girls. To be in this business, you have to be strong.

  The clip ends.

  “Why are you watching this?” Em asks.

  I shrug. “Something made me think about it today.”

  “You know she’s from around here, right? Went to Academy?” Her eyes light up at the prospect of running into her at the Creamery or down on the beach.

  “Yeah, I think I did hear that.”

  Her hand lands on my shoulder. “Let me know if you find my headphones, okay?”

  “You got it.”

  She leaves the room and I shut the door behind her, booting up the video again. It’s not the spectacle that I’m watching—it’s the beginning. The part where Lucy looks so comfortable in her skin. The confidence and determination. I know that look. I have that look.

  But the girl I saw at the Pie Whole? There’s not a trace of that confidence left, and I desperately want to find out if it’s still in there somewhere.

  6

  Lucy

  It’s not exactly true that I dropped out of school. After quitting The Next Big Model and moving into the apartment with Maya, I signed up for online school through the state system. It was vastly different from the expectations on me as a student at the Academy, but at least I’ll get a diploma.

  Like most days, I spend my morning sleeping late and completing school work before I go into Pie Whole. Thankfully, the lunch crowd is busy and there’s not a lot of time for socializing with Irving or even Jennifer. Jennifer is nice enough; I may have broken down a few weeks ago and told her my whole tawdry tale and we’ve hung out a little, going to the beach together a few times.

  At the moment, having three pretty tight girl-friends is all I need. Boys have been off my radar for a long time. At first because I was focused on my modeling goal. I didn’t want to be tied down to a silly high-school relationship and second-guess my dreams. Now, post-humiliation, with my lack of trust in everyone, I don’t plan on adding them back in anytime soon.

  We’re between the lunch and dinner rush and I’m wiping down menus when the front door opens. I glance back to see if anyone else is around to seat the customers, but it’s just me up front.

  Me and the guy from the other night.

  The one with the handsome face and the sharp jaw. His hair is dark and wavy, one curl dipping in his forehead making him look rakish and unassuming.

  He’s alone and smiling.

  At me.

  “Take your pick,” I say, waving at the open seats, trying to pretend I’m not a little unnerved by his presence.

  “I can sit at the bar.”<
br />
  I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t look old enough to drink.”

  That doesn’t mean I have an idea of how old he is. His friends the other night looked my age—he appears a little older—but that may just be how he carries himself.

  “Are you going to card me if I get a soda?”

  “Do you drink soda?” I ask, remembering his order from the other night. I’d prepped his salad in the back for Jennifer. Even in a T-shirt and jeans, it’s pretty obvious he’s ridiculously fit. The shirt clings to his broad shoulders and his torso is long and trim.

  He shakes his head and eases up to the bar. He scans the menu. “I’ll have a water and a meatball sandwich. Hold the bread.”

  “Seriously?” I ask. “No bread? Are you allergic to wheat or something?”

  He shrugs. “Just trying to be healthy.”

  “I’ll put your order in. It’ll be ready in a bit.”

  “Thanks.” I feel his eyes follow me as I enter the kitchen, the door swings closed behind me.

  Jennifer peeks out the kitchen window and looks at me, jaw dropped. “What’s he doing here? Alone? In the middle of the day?”

  “You know him? Is this a big deal?”

  “That’s Dean Turner, he’s a year younger than me and goes to Ocean Grove. A senior now.”

  I shrug. I don’t know many kids from the public school. “So?”

  “He’s kind of a big deal in the drama program, and well, you saw his face.”

  I did see his face. He’s handsome. Very handsome. I can see him preening on stage.

  “Anyway, he comes in pretty often but only late at night with the same group of friends.”

  I fill a cup with ice and then water. I hand it over. “Take it to him. He’s probably here to see you.”

  “No way. He’s definitely not into me. His friend Tommy, on the other hand…”

  “Well, I know it’s not me, I not only made a huge mess on myself and him the other night, once he got a good look at me, he mocked my hair.”

  “What?” she asks, lighting up with anger. “What did he say?”

  “Nothing. It’s no big deal.” She knows I’m sensitive about it. She, along with a million other people that saw the episode, but Jennifer is nice enough not to mention it.

  She takes the cup of water from me and heads back out to the front. Irving stands behind a stainless-steel work table, prepping for dinner. His hands move quickly, drawing my eyes to the tattoos on his arms. He glances my way. “I know you hate your hair, but really, it’s kind of hot.”

  I glare at him. No one gets it. It’s not about the hair. It’s everything else.

  Jennifer walks back in, door swinging behind her.

  “Well, he’s definitely not here to see me.” She walks past me.

  “How do you know?”

  “A girl knows.”

  I nod. She’s right. A girl does know.

  Eric, the cook, calls up his order and I walk over and grab the plate. I take it back out front and place it on the bar. “Here you go, one pile of meatballs and uh, cheese?”

  “Thanks,” he says, lifting his fork and cutting one in half. Steam rises from the middle. He holds it up to cool, using his perfect lips to blow away the heat.

  Jeez.

  “So, you just started working here?”

  “A few weeks ago.”

  He nods. “I didn’t think I’d seen you here before the other night.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been training. Mostly the earlier shifts, but then someone quit and I got moved to nights.”

  Why am I telling him this?

  I start to leave but he calls out, “Lucy?”

  I pause and turn slowly. “How do you know my name?”

  Did Jennifer say something? I wonder, but that’s a fool’s wish. I know how he knows my name. I can always tell.

  “Look, I’m not trying to be weird or anything, but I thought I recognized you the other day and it took me forever to figure it out—”

  “Don’t,” I say quietly.

  “But my sister is a huge fan and I’d seen your episode—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I say louder this time. “Really.”

  He frowns. “Why not? It was a pretty epic moment on TV.”

  My heart starts to thrum in my chest, and my hands sweat. “It was humiliating.”

  “Why? Because you got upset? Or because you hate your hair, because—”

  “Don’t tell me it’s hot.” I glare back at the kitchen. “That’s not the point.”

  He lowers his fork. “Then what’s the point?”

  The anxiety shifts to something different. Anger. I have so much anger built up inside that I feel like I’m choking. I walk back over to the counter and stand across from him, hands flat against the bar. “What do you want, Dean?” He looks at me in surprise. “Yeah. I know your name, too. Did your friends dare you to come back in here to mess with the girl from TV? The one that couldn’t make it? The one that totally melted down for the world to see?”

  He blinks, those gray eyes holding steady.

  “My friends definitely don’t know I’m here, but yeah,” he admits, cheeks turning pink, “I did come back to see you. I thought maybe—”

  I hold my hands up. “No.”

  “No?” He seems astonished to hear the word. Like it’s never been used against him before.

  “Whatever you want, the answer is no.” I push away from the counter and walk back to the kitchen. Eric, Irving, and Jennifer all pretend they weren’t just listening. I keep walking, going out the back door and leaning against the brick wall of the alley.

  There’s a broken mirror by the dumpster and I catch my reflection. My nose and eyes are red, my hair only a few inches longer than the day they cut it. I don’t recognize the girl reflected back. Not just because of the haircut, but because the confident, secure, friendly girl I once was is long gone. And now I’m just left with this replacement, this ugly person filled with anger and self-doubt that I don’t know how to handle.

  7

  Dean

  At the bar, I have no real clue about what just happened. I only wanted to talk to her, maybe ask her out. Fine. I was totally going to ask her out. I mean, I guess it was a long shot. She’s a beautiful girl that went to the Academy and it would seem like we’re kind of from two different worlds, but I’m not sure that’s true. I think we could have a few things in common. Even so, I definitely didn’t expect her to get angry and storm out.

  The door pushes open and I look up, hoping she’s come back. Instead of Lucy, the other waitress walks back through, her expression apologetic.

  “You need anything else?” She gestures to my half-eaten plate of meatballs.

  “I guess not.” I stab my fork in one and eat it in one bite. After I swallow, I ask, “Any idea what that was about?”

  She leans forward, her reddish hair back in a ponytail. I think her name is Jennifer—she graduated last year. “She’s had a rough time.”

  “Why? Just because she dropped out of the modeling show?” Seems weak. It’s enough to make me reconsider my interest in her. I’m not really into weak personalities.

  “You watched the show?” I nod. “Remember what Fiona said about her dropping out of school and her family background?”

  I search my memory. I hadn’t really been paying attention to that. I could probably tell you what she was wearing that day in explicit detail. There were knee-high boots involved. “Something about foster parents?”

  “Yep,” Jennifer nods. “She gave up everything to be on that show. School, her friends, the family that took her in. In the end, none of it was worth it.”

  I study the girl in front of me. “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “I don’t know Lucy very well, but I do know a little bit about you.” She raises her eyebrows like she’s waiting for me to challenge her. I lean back in my seat and give her an encouraging look to continue. “You’re popular, talented, and confident. I saw you i
n the school play last year. You were good. And I know you’re shifting into some real TV and movie roles.”

  “Are you stalking me?” I ask, giving her a slow grin.

  She rolls her eyes. “Half the time you’re here, it’s to celebrate some success or the other. I also follow the high school twitter account. They love to share student news.”

  That checks out. “Okay, so what does my life have to do with that hot mess of a girl?”

  “I think she’s lost her confidence and could use a dose of it from a guy like yourself. You’re looking to get into the industry, you’re not one of those snobby kids from the Academy, and, well, you may actually be good-looking enough to go out with her.”

  I’m wondering if there’s an insult bundled up in all that. I shake it off. “Look, I tried to ask her out. She said no. A hard, definitive no.”

  Jennifer rests her hands on her hips. “Are you really the kind of guy that gives up on a challenge that easy?”

  Maybe this waitress does know a little bit about me. “There’s a fine line between persistence and being a creeper, you know.”

  “I think you can figure out how to walk it, don’t you?”

  She takes the plate from in front of me and jerks her thumb back. “She’s in the alley, if you want to give it another shot.”

  I run my hand over my hair, wondering what I’m getting myself into—if I’m even getting myself into something. It’s not like I don’t have enough on my plate already. I’m also not exactly prone to walking away from a challenge.

  “I’ll think about it,” I say, opening my wallet and tossing some cash on the counter. “Give her half of that.”

  I leave the restaurant and head to my car, tempted to go back to the alley and find Lucy. I don’t. Not just because I’m serious about the creeper thing (I do have a little sister), but because I’m not really sure I want to get involved with a girl carrying that much baggage. Now, if we’re talking about the girl that entered the competition, the one that took the risk?