Interception (Love Triangle Duet Book 1) Read online

  But I have this stupid thing called pride.

  I try to be understanding of her position because truthfully, I didn’t know what a life without privilege was like in my first eighteen years, either. And then my father’s scandal broke and everything was ripped away from us overnight.

  But they couldn’t take away my diploma from the high school I graduated from along with all the daughters and sons of the upper crust Beverly Hills elite.

  Prestbury Academy was by far the best school in the area, and there was never a question as to whether my brothers and I would attend despite the steep, mid-five-figure yearly tuition. According to my parents, it was well worth it.

  Until my estate attorney father gambled away our family savings, embezzled money from his clients, and ended up in prison, leaving my mother who lacked any real skills apart from shopping to figure out how to support my brothers and me.

  My older brother, Theo, was the lucky one. A special trust was set up for each of us, and it was granted to us on our first day at a university. He got his since he went off to college three years before I did, but my younger brother, Porter, and I weren’t so lucky. Dad spent our trust funds before we had the chance to step foot on a college campus.

  So Theo went from an elite high school onto an elite college and into an elite profession.

  While I had dreams and aspirations of becoming a surgeon who could travel to foreign countries to care for the poor of the world, I couldn’t afford the schooling. So I worked odd jobs, took out loans, and went for a degree that still sounded like something I’d love but had much fewer years of schooling involved.

  I’d always planned to dedicate my life to helping others since I had the means to do so...and I do still help others in my position as a teacher. But I no longer have the means, and my measly paycheck tends to cover rent and food.

  Not new dresses with price tags that rival new cars.

  Rose pulls out a vivid sky-blue dress. It’s silky and has a smattering of silver sequins placed in a messy chevron design at the neckline and again just below the waist. It’s perhaps the most gorgeous dress I’ve ever seen.

  “Oh, Dee. This is perfect for you.”

  I sigh, because she isn’t wrong. I glance at the price tag with a gasp. I shake my head. “No, Rose. I can’t.”

  She holds it up near me and squints. “Oh my God, your eyes glow hazel with this dress. You have to.”

  I shake my head again. “Stop. I can’t, and you know I can’t.” I step away from her because I don’t want to see that perfect dress and wish I could wear it when we both know I can’t. I don’t want to look perfect for the reunion I don’t want to attend because I’m sure as shit not perfect.

  Instead of merely stepping away like I intend, I walk all the way out of the store. There’s a bench just outside, probably meant for husbands instead of broke friends, and I plop down on it. Rose doesn’t come out right away, but I don’t really expect her to. She probably doesn’t even know I walked out.

  My mind wanders back to Chase Camden.

  He’s the only reason I want to go, and he’s the real reason I want a dress like the one in there that I can wear for just one night...one night that’ll knock his socks off.

  He was the quarterback and I was the head cheerleader. We belonged together. Prom king and prom queen. We dated our entire junior and senior years. I lost my virginity to him, among many other firsts we shared during what felt like a much simpler time. I was sure it was love, and I was sure it was forever.

  And then he broke up with me just before he left for college—two nights before I, along with the rest of the world, found out the Lockwoods were flat broke and the course of my life changed forever.

  I think back to that dark time of my life. I somehow managed to pull myself together, withdraw from Stanford, and start with a few classes at the community college while I found a job.

  I’ve always been a go-getter, but even so, it feels like life constantly tries to pull me down. And this reunion is no different.

  I’m embarrassed to show my face after a scandal that was very public right after I graduated with all the people who will be there. I don’t want to see everyone who had the means to easily obtain success while I’ve struggled and worked my ass off with no breaks since the day we lost everything.

  But Rose wants to see Liam, and she plied me with liquor until I said I’d go.

  And now, as I sit on a bench and watch traffic zoom by a block over from Rodeo Drive, I can’t help but wish I’d never agreed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I walk my usual pattern in my classroom as my fourth-graders take their last vocabulary quiz of the school year. “Frequent,” I say, and then I repeat the word three times slowly so they can spell it. I can hardly believe another year has come and gone, and as I look at the little faces in my classroom, I can’t help but think how much I’ll miss these kids.

  It’s been a great year, a year of laughter and learning, a year of feeling safe and loved in the environment I’ve worked so hard to create, and it’s always a little bittersweet for me as we close in on the end of the year. Fourth grade is a fun age to teach. They’re not the monsters of junior high yet, but they’re not quite babies anymore. They can work independently to some degree, and they can work with others in small groups. But this group of kids has been really special.

  I look around the room and wait until it looks like everyone has had a chance to spell the word, and then I say the next one. “Generosity.”

  I think of Rose as I repeat that word three times.

  She says the reason I’ve thrown all my time and energy into my classroom this year is because I don’t want to put the time into my personal life, and maybe she’s right.

  Not that she’s exactly a good example of putting relationships with men above her work. In fact, she’s even worse than me.

  Yet my best friend is a great example of generosity. She took me out to lunch after the dress store, her treat, and she let me guide the discussion. I talked about one of my students, Olivia, who I’m worried about as we transition into summer. My eyes flick over to her as I think about what Rose and I talked about.

  Olivia comes to school hungry every morning, which breaks my heart. I’ve taken to allowing her into my room early and bringing something for her to eat—a muffin, or a granola bar, or a little box of cereal and some fruit. Where will she get her breakfast from when she’s home for the summer? Can her family afford to feed her?

  And, most importantly, what can I do to help?

  This is just one example of how humbled I’ve become since stepping out on my own. I had to learn how to pay my way through school, how to manage my own finances, how to make sure I have enough money for rent and bills every month—plus, now, feeding a nine-year-old breakfast every morning.

  But it’s Rose to the rescue. Her solution? Give each kid a going away present, funded by her.

  As much as I hate taking charity from her, it’s not charity for me. It’s for my students, and that’s different.

  So I took it, and I’ll be making sure Olivia has enough breakfast food to last her through the summer. Once school’s back in the fall, I can talk to her teacher next year to make sure she doesn’t go hungry. The other kids will all get something nice, too—a book, or a small gift card, or a toy depending on needs and what I’ve learned about them this year.

  “Heroic,” I say. I repeat it three times again. I guess what Rose is doing could even be considered heroic. She calls it a business write-off, but I call it something more. She’s saving these kids, and they won’t even know she’s a hero to them.

  She shows her generosity again when my doorbell rings the morning of the reunion a couple weeks later. I’m not expecting anybody, and I don’t know if Porter is. His bedroom door is still shut, which either means he’s still asleep or still entertaining the screecher—my nickname for the nice young lady he brought home last night.

  My younger brother and I live together in a t
iny apartment. It’s halfway between the school where I teach and the hospital where he works. It’s perhaps an unconventional living arrangement, but we both needed someone to split the rent with and neither of us was too keen on the idea of living with our parents.

  Porter put himself through school to become a doctor, and he’s currently interning under one of the best staff doctors at Los Angeles Medical Center. I’m proud of his accomplishments and do my best not to feel jealous that he went after his dream while I settled for less than mine...but, then, dreams change. I don’t even know what mine is anymore...or if I still have one.

  I run to answer the door and find a delivery man standing there holding a huge, white garment bag. “Delaney Lockwood?” he asks.

  I nod as my brows furrow. “Yes?”

  “Delivery for you. Please sign.” He holds out his phone for me to finger sign.

  “Who’s it from?” I ask before I accept the package.

  “Rosalind Kincaid.”

  The moment he says the name, I know immediately what’s in the bag. I heave out a breath. Goddammit, Rose.

  I sign on the line, resigned to my fate even as images of silky blue fabric and silver sequins haunt me. It’d be rude not to wear it, wouldn’t it?

  I thank the delivery man, take the bag, and close the door behind him. I toss the bag over the little black kitchen table and slide my phone out of my pocket to send Rose a protesting text, and as soon as I look at the screen, a text comes through.

  Rose: Please don’t be mad. I really wanted you to have it. And one more thing...come over at three and we’ll get ready together. I’ve got a team coming in for hair and make-up and you know I won’t take no for an answer.

  As much as I spout that I don’t want her charity because I don’t, I’m not so prideful that I wouldn’t take a day of pampering before heading off to face the judgment of my former classmates. Ten years have passed in the span of time since my family’s fall from grace. Certainly that’s enough time to forget the past and move forward. Right?

  Trick question. I certainly haven’t forgotten, and I definitely haven’t moved forward.

  “Who was it?” Porter asks, walking out in just a pair of pajama pants.

  “Put a shirt on. It was a delivery for me.” I nod toward the bag.

  “What is it?”

  “A dress for tonight from Rose.”

  “That was nice,” he says, stepping into the kitchen and opening the fridge. He pulls out the orange juice.

  “It was overstepping and it’s way too much.” I make a face of disapproval as I slide into a chair at the table.

  “Get over it, Dee. So she paid for a dress.” He grabs two glasses down from the cabinet, one for him and one for the screecher.

  “A dress that cost more than I’ll make in the next six months,” I mutter.

  “Tonight’s important for you.” He nods toward the juice. “Want some?”

  I nod, and he grabs another glass.

  “It’s the first time you’re seeing a lot of these people in a decade.” He pours the juice. “I don’t know anything about clothes, and frankly I don’t care, but don’t you want to dress to impress?”

  “You sound like Rose. I don’t want to be some fake version of myself. And while we’re on the subject, I don’t even want to go.”

  He places a glass in front of me, and I mutter a thanks while he walks back to the kitchen to grab the other two glasses.

  He shoots me a look of sympathy before he heads down the hallway toward his bedroom. “You’ll knock ‘em dead, big sis.”

  “Thanks, Porter.”

  A few hours later, I’m sitting in a chair in Rose’s expansive bathroom as one stylist holds a curling iron to my long, auburn hair and another sweeps powder across my cheeks.

  “Do you think Liam still smells like Joop?” I ask.

  Rose laughs. “I bet he upgraded when his first album went platinum.”

  “You think he wore the same cologne all through college?”

  She lifts a shoulder. “You think Chase still smells like Aqua di Gio?”

  I go to shake my head, but the hair girl, Mandy, has me locked in. “I’d peg him for something more like Polo these days.”

  She giggles. “He always was such a preppy boy. I bet he bathes in it in the locker room. Like you can smell him when he walks by after the game.”

  “I remember him doing that with Gio after our high school games. To this day I can identify that cologne.”

  “Did you follow the Broncos last season?” Her voice holds more tenderness now.

  I roll my eyes. “Is the pope Catholic?”

  “The question is whether you were cheering for them or against them.”

  “I was never a Bronco’s fan.” I’ve always been a Rams fan, even back before they moved to Missouri and back to LA. “Yet I can’t help staring at their star wide receiver.” Chase played quarterback in high school, but the colleges who scouted him pegged him for a wide receiver position because of his speed, agility, and ability to catch.

  And I know this because I’ve scoured every article I could find with the name Chase Camden in it. I haven’t gone so far as to save them or print them (barring that one with his rookie photo), but I can’t help looking him up every now and again. It’s stupid of me to do it, and I’m only hurting myself, yet I can’t seem to stop myself. I need to know.

  And it’s also how I know he dated a girl named Theresa for almost a year before they had a very public break-up a few months back...which means he just might show up single tonight.

  Not that it matters. He broke my heart all those years ago, yet now that I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m actually going to this shit show, I’m some mixture of nervous and excited to see him again.

  Once my hair and make-up are done and I’ve slipped the silky blue fabric over my shoulders and buckled the perfect shoes to accompany the dress, also courtesy of my best friend, I stand in front of Rose’s full-length mirror staring at my reflection.

  “Don’t make some stupid joke about how you clean up nice,” Rose says as she steps behind me. Her brown doe eyes have a gorgeous pop against the burgundy dress she chose for herself, and her dark hair cascades around her shoulders in gorgeous waves.

  “I won’t,” I say, holding up both hands in surrender. “Even though I do.”

  She giggles. “I knew that dress would make your eyes glow. Just gorge, Dee.”

  “Back at you. If I wasn’t into dudes, I’d totally take you to bed before we head out to this shindig.”

  Her eyes widen in mock horror as her hand flies to her chest. “And mess up this hair? Never.” I laugh, and she links her arm through mine. “Ready to do this thing?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. But it’s time to leave anyway.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I drive a Honda Civic that just passed a hundred thousand miles. My best friend, on the other hand, has a brand-new, white Audi SUV that comes with a driver. I don’t even think she renewed her license after she got the one on her twenty-first birthday to prove she could drink at bars. She often works in the back of the car while she’s toted through the busy traffic of Los Angeles on her way to the next event that either she planned or is attending. She’s part of Los Angeles royalty. She was born into it, and she grabbed life by the balls and never let go.

  It’s just one way that we’re totally different people, but that hasn’t changed the fact that we’re close friends. We have been since first grade, and no matter what our positions in life might be, that’ll never change.

  “I stalked some Beyond Gold pics last night just for shits and giggles,” she says as we draw nearer to the Waldorf.

  “Oh yeah?” I murmur. My mind isn’t on Beyond Gold, the band fronted by two of the guys we were close friends with throughout our time at Prestbury. It’s on Chase...as always.

  “I’ve seen the pictures, but damn girlfriend. Have you taken a look at how nicely Gavin has filled out in the last ten years?”


  I wrinkle my nose. “Gavin? My skinny band nerd best friend?”

  The truth is that I have seen the pictures, but I still see the Gavin I always knew in them. The Gavin who moved in next door to the Lockwoods just before our freshman year, the same Gavin who I went to our sophomore year Homecoming with as just friends. Even back then, I thought he was cute in his own way, but I never felt the pull deep in my belly the way I did when I was around Chase.

  Our graduating class was small at just seventy-three students, so we all sort of ran around in the same crowds. Gavin and I became close since we were neighbors. As a way to help the environment, something he was conscious of but I never was, we carpooled to school together. He waited around for me until cheer practice was over on the days Chase’s practices ran later than mine. He jammed with his buddies after school in the band room, and even back then I had some inkling that he’d find success as a musician.

  Finding success in nearly any career takes money, and everyone who attended Prestbury had it.

  But some of us lost it.

  Rose giggles, allowing me to shift my focus away from that train of thought. She taps around on her phone before she flashes me a recent photo of Gavin. “He was never a skinny band nerd, Dee. He was always cute; you just never saw it because you were blinded by Chase.”

  “You may be onto something,” I murmur, my eyes widening at the image on her screen.

  His stormy blue eyes the color of the sky on a cloudy day and dark hair give him an edge of mystery, and Rose is absolutely right. He has filled out—maybe even more than the last picture I saw of him a few months ago. He’s gripping a microphone in this image, and he isn’t wearing a shirt.

  He isn’t wearing a shirt.

  When he came swimming in our pool over the summer, he sure didn’t have abs that looked like they do now. He’s still lean, but his arms have bulked up and now he’s got some muscle on them.

  And the scruff lining his jaw? Lord have mercy.

  This is a man I could get into some shenanigans with. This isn’t the just friends material of sophomore year.