Page 10 of Counter Bet

“I don’t know about you,” Steph whispers, pulling up at the curb. “But I can’t wait to see the golden boy lose his temper.”

I drag my eyes away from the sprawling driveway. My lips curve in a Cheshire smile. “It’ll be fun to ruffle his feathers a bit.”

* * *

Music and laughter filter from the backyard as we walk up the winding drive filled with parked sports cars. It looks like a page out of a car magazine.

I scan my eyes over the white pillars and the wrap-around balcony. Award-winning rose bushes line the house. I think we even saw statues on the gate pillars earlier.

Emily and Rick run in the same circles too. All the kids at this party are bored, overprivileged rich kids with too much money to spend.

“Over here!” Steph whispers, motioning to Jamie’s canary yellow McLaren. It’s a beauty. No wonder he likes to lean against it in the parking lot with one foot crossed over the other, blue eyes hidden beneath his Ray-Bans while girls flock around him.

He’s not my type, but I can see the appeal if you’re into popular jocks. The car certainly adds a little extra. How many girls has he fucked on the hood?

Urgh!

I hate my own thoughts sometimes. I drag my eyes away from his defiled hood. The gravel crunches loudly beneath my chucks as I make my way over to Steph. She hands me a green can before grabbing one for herself, and we get to work.

Laughter filters from the backyard. The spray paint hisses with every stroke. I paint the leaves and stalk first, then root through the bag for a purple spray can and set to work on the petals.

“Psst!”

I pause, listening.

“Dallas!”

I kneel down, pressing my cheek to the gravel. Steph grins at me from the underside of the car. “How’s it going.”

“Splendid!” I reply in my best British accent.

“What are you painting?”

“A flower. You?”

Steph blows a strand of hair away from her face. “Little alien people.”

“Little alien people?” I repeat, sucking my lips between my teeth to suppress a laugh.

“My imagination failed me. It was the first thing that popped into my head.”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “Some would argue it’s very imaginative.”

She grins.

“The gravel hurts my cheeks.”

“I know, right. Maybe we can make gravel indentations a new fashion trend?”

I laugh, inadvertently digging my cheek further into the gravel.

“I just like the craziness of us kneeling on the ground and talking to each other through the clearance of Jamie’s McLaren. We should do this more often.”

“You think?”

She nods. “Definitely. Let’s make this a regular thing.”

I laugh and then wince, picking a piece of gravel from my lipgloss. “Which part? The one where we kneel and talk to each other through the undercarriage of a car? Or the spray painting?”

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