Page 33 of The Pretender

Vee shrugs, adjusting her seatbelt. “I don’t know. Something about spring break.”

I cock a brow. “Trouble in paradise?”

She shakes her head. “No, just typical Bennett and Aspen drama.”

See? Told you. They need to bang.

“So your parents are really close friends too, right?” I mean, I know Aspen and Vee grew up together.

Vee chews on her lip, watching the road intently. “My dad used to be homeless. Aspen’s mom took him in when no one else would.”

Oh.

“I didn’t mean to pry—I didn’t realize…”Way to go, Sebastian. Bring up something super sensitive for her.

She shrugs. “I’m not ashamed of my dad. People think we’re all close because we all lived on the same street, but the truth is, we’re family.”

It’s definitely not your basic family history. “Do you ever feel smothered with all the attention?”

She grins. “I assume you mean by the guys?”

That’s exactly what I mean. Drew, Bennett, and Fenn watch her and Aspen like I watch Ramen noodles boil in the microwave. Well, when I can sneak them in. My sister refuses to buy them for me.

I nod.

“They can get a little bossy, but I don’t let it stop me. I was raised around six Marines. Von Bremen and the twins aren’t shit compared to my dad and uncles.”

My heart sinks. “Your dad is a Marine?”

“Yeah.”

Well, this conversation just took a turn. Who knew her history with Aspen and the guys was so intricately connected?

I can feel her eyes on me when I turn onto the next street she points to. “So,” she drawls, changing the subject and easing the tension. “Do you have plans for spring break?”

The lines in my forehead crease. “I don’t know. Maybe. Most of the time I go with Mav to see his Pops.” I shrug it off. “My parents travel a lot,” I lie.

Vee nods. “Mine do too, they travel to California a lot to see my brother.”

“He’s in the movies, right?”

I know a little bit about Vee’s brother, simply by the pictures of him on the walls at Havemeyer. He’s apparently a musical legend around these parts.

“Yeah, he writes scores for movies. My parents are super proud, so they try and see him as much as they can.”

Something in her voice tells me she’s not all that excited about her famous brother.

“Is that why you went into film? Because of your brother?”

She lets out this scoffing noise like that’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. “No. I went into film because of my uncle Felipe.” She smiles like she’s remembering something. “He’s always loved the theater, so I grew up watching him apply a mean eyeliner while singing Céline Dion.”

Her eyes narrow, and her voice turns hard. “But you knew that.”

The comment is a reminder that this isn’t like old times. It sobers us quickly and casts an uncomfortable quiet over the rest of the drive. That is, until I put the Jeep in park and eye the monstrosity in front of me. “You wanted tacos out of a food truck?”

She gets out of the car and cuts me a look through the window. “Is the diva too good to eat from a taco truck?”

I hate when she says shit like this. “Ugh, no. But I figured since Brick is filming this ‘date,’ you might like something a little classier than a food truck.” I hop over the door of the Jeep—it was too nice out to leave the top on. “I thought you’d want all your fans to swoon over something romantic.”

---