Page 2 of Never Kiss and Tell

I want to argue with him, but I decide it’s not worth it. I step to the large window that spans the entire circumference around the light and lean my arms on the frame where the glass used to be. At this height, the party doesn’t seem so bad.

“Everyone looks so small from up here.”

Charlie steps up to the window beside me, eyeing the party below with annoyance.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” I ask, pointing to his dad, Charles, and Marcus, now holding a conversation on the terrace.

Charlie shrugs. “Probably business. That seems to be all your dad talks about.”

“Step-dad,” I correct. “And he’s a lawyer. Isn’t that what they all do?”

“Andi told me you were rich, but she didn’t tell me you were an heiress to a kingdom.”

I grit my teeth. “I’m not,” I shrug. “That would be my mother. And all of that will probably go to the favorites.”

I point out Mila, still hiding in her alcove.

“The quirky one that likes depressing music and video games more than her actual friends,” I say, pointing to Mila with a smile.

“Do you have any other siblings?” Charlie asks, taking a drink of what looks like whiskey from a glass tumbler.

“Two. Mason, my older brother. He’s not here. And that one,” I point to Savannah who is surrounded by a gaggle of friends, all with their faces shoved in their phones. “The impossibly chic and fashionable rebel.” I roll my eyes. “At least, that’s what our mom says.”

“And what are you?” Charlie sits his glass down and leans with his back to the window and the party below, focusing his eyes on me, instead. I feel too . . .seenunder his gaze and it makes my skin tingle. It’s like he’s able to read my thoughts. I don’t like it.

I let out a sigh to steady myself and lay my head in my hand. Who knows? “The goody-two-shoes who does everything she’s told, I guess.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Well, believe what you want,” I murmur. “I’ll still be stuck going to business dinners where I have no idea what’s going on, attending garden parties with my mother and fighting to keep my sisters out of trouble, probably for the rest of my life.”

He extinguishes the butt of his cigarette on the brick wall of the lighthouse, tossing the butt out the broken window.

“You don’t ever think of rebelling?”

My heart flutters nervously at the thought and, instinctively, I check around me for any sign of my mother. She seems to have eyes and ears everywhere. If she knew I was uphere right now instead of down at the party, with another man, no less, there would be hell to pay.

“And doing what?” I ask timidly. I sound like a child. Charlie probably thinks I’m a snob.

He eyes me like he’s holding something back. “Whatever you want. I don’t know what you rich girls do for fun. Wear blue lipstick instead of pink for a day?”

I roll my eyes and shove at his shoulder, but it makes me smile. It’s a mistake, because the moment I touch him, heat radiates through my palm.

“I’m going back to the party before you give me crazy ideas. I’ll be a delinquent in no time hanging with you.”

“Wouldn’t want to taint your perfect reputation,” he chuckles, taking another drink of liquor and turning back to the window.

I smile and shake my head as I make my way back down the spiral staircase and out onto the sand. I can’t say the thought of rebelling against my mother’s wishes doesn’t send a shiver of excitement through me. What would I even do? Stop combing my hair? Buy a motorcycle and change my name to Stitches?

Just like Charlie, I have no idea what rich girls do for fun.

I slip my heels back on before I ascend the stairs to the terrace. On the last step, I slip my mask back on and step back into my place beside Drew, listening to a boring story about the laws surrounding jaywalking that he’s carrying on with one of his Cornell classmates.

I try to pay attention and look interested because my mother is watching, but I find my gaze drifting back to the top of the lighthouse, wondering just what it would be like to rebel in the form of stormy grey eyes and rough voice.

Charlie

Fucking hell, I hate funerals.

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