Page 20 of The Summer List

I start to splutter a reply that doesn’t turn into actual words, which makes Priya squeak again and drop her own bags before running over to slam up against the door beside her sister.

“We did not hook up,” I choke out.

Shal snorts and doesn’t bother turning around to answer me. “What? A girl just randomly appeared in the backyard in a bikini? Damn, Naomi, I must say, I was not expecting you to make the fastest progress on the list, but I’m impressed.”

I groan and then speed-walk over to the other side of the kitchen, sparing a glance at Andrea on the way. As far as I can tell, she hasn’t moved or looked up to notice my friends giving her creepy pervert stares.

Or maybe I’m the only one doing the creepy pervert thing.

My burning face flames even hotter.

“Get over here,” I squawk at Shal and Priya. “Quick.”

Shal lets out a peal of delighted laughter tinged with pure evil as she takes her sweet time joining me in the living room—or sitting room, or whatever this one of several rooms filled with couches and sculptures worth more than my college tuition is called.

Priya trails behind her, her face stricken like she’s witnessed a gruesome murder scene and not a living, breathing woman chilling out by the pool. I can’t blame her. I’d be just as shocked if I walked into her house and saw some random shirtless man she’d never even mentioned before lounging around like he’d just spent the night in her bedroom.

“We did not hook up,” I repeat as Shal sprawls on one of the couches while Priya gingerly takes a seat on the edge of the cushion beside her. “She broke into the house last night.”

At least now they both look horrified.

“What?” they demand, in one of the rare instances when they fulfill the twin stereotype of looking and sounding exactly the same while speaking in perfect unison.

“I mean, she didn’t break in,” I add, still on my feet as I face them like I’m giving a boardroom presentation. I wish I had some charts and diagrams to back me up; it’s hard to remember last night when most of my brain is still on high alert, wondering if Andrea caught us staring and is about to burst into the room and confront me. “She’s my dad’s boss’s daughter, so she has all the door codes and stuff. I thought I heard something in the kitchen, so I grabbed a lamp and—”

“Wait, hold up.” Shal lifts a hand. “You grabbed a lamp? To, what, confront a robber?”

“I mean, I was pretty sure it was just the cats, but I didn’t want to take any chances.”

I decide to leave out the fact that I also grabbed a miniature Venus de Milo. They still have enough interruptions that a good ten minutes pass before I’ve got everyone up to speed on how Andrea King came to be sitting by the pool this afternoon.

I collapse onto the couch across from theirs as soon as I’m done, groaning as I drag my hands down my face.

“I can’t believe she saw my pickle pajamas.”

Shal chuckles until Priya smacks her arm.

“It’s not that bad,” Priya says in a soothing tone. She gets up and comes over to sit down beside me, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Anyone would have felt awkward after meeting somebody for the first time under those…very specific circumstances, and I’m sure she’s not actually mad you mentioned her to her dad. How were you supposed to know it was a secret?”

I shake my head and slump against her. “Maybe I was supposed to know. I’m pretty bad at subtlety sometimes. Maybe it was obvious. She hasn’t talked to me since, so she must be mad.”

Priya strokes my hair with her free hand, but Shal goes for a more blunt approach.

“She hasn’t talked to you because you’ve been hiding from her all day. You literally just ran past the kitchen door so she wouldn’t see you.”

She might have a point.

“Okay, yeah, I haven’t been in the same room as her since she came down for breakfast, but that doesn’t prove she’s not mad.”

Shal shakes her head and then gets to her feet. “I’m gonna give you two a few minutes to do your whole introvert thing while I put the snacks away.”

As soon as she’s gone, Priya removes her arm from my shoulders to clasp both my hands in hers instead, giving them a squeeze.

“You okay?”

She doesn’t make a big deal out of it when I can’t meet her gaze. Even with someone I trust as much as Priya, sometimes eye contact feels way too overwhelming, especially when my anxiety is already bad enough I’m fighting to breathe.

“What do I do?” I ask, my voice wheezy. “Am I supposed to just share the house with her now? Does she want me in the house? Do I leave? Is she the house sitter now? Is that supposed to be obvious to me?”

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