of his SUV and opens the sunroof. I rest my arm against the edge of the car door and lean toward the window slightly, enjoying the tickle of the wind on my face. The road home from Bella Vista winds down through the mountains so that the starry sky seems to wrap itself around us as we descend. Sumac trees line the edge of the narrow roadway, curving softly overhead. The air in the car smells of Garrett’s lingering Burberry aftershave, with an edge of mint from the sugarless gum he’s chewing. The dashboard speakers are hooked up to his iPhone, which is currently playing Mumford & Sons. He drums his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the guitar.
Suddenly, he clears his throat, breaking the easy silence between us. “I had a good time tonight, Sutton,” he says, his voice low. I reach out and place a hand on his knee, liking the warm, solid feeling of his leg under my palm.
“Me, too,” I assure him softly. And suddenly, I mean it. Really mean it.
Garrett beams. “Oh. Okay. Great. I was wondering. . . . Well, I guess I heard some things . . . that you were seeing someone.” He frowns and fiddles with the remote for his iPhone, shuffling the music so a new song cues up. “Thayer, maybe?”
I flinch. That stupid fight by my locker. Did everyone see through it? Could they tell it was a lover’s quarrel? Or did Laurel start a rumor?
I set my jaw, thinking yet again of Mary’s giggle. She’s just a friend—hmph. “Nope,” I say breezily, giving Garrett’s khaki-clad knee a squeeze. “I’m definitely single.” Then I clear my throat. “And you?”
Garrett nods. “I’m single, too.”
I look down at my shoes. “I mentioned to Char that we were going out tonight.”
Garrett’s shoulders crunched up and then relaxed again. “Charlotte and I are better off as friends. She knows that.”
He pulls up alongside the curb in front of my house and shifts the car into park. Unfastening his seat belt, he turns to me. “So . . . bye,” he says, his voice husky.
“Bye,” I say, but I don’t move. I take in his bright, warm expression and the sparkle in his eyes. I grin, then lean in and kiss him lightly on the lips. The kiss is soft, calm, warm.
There aren’t any fireworks or that fizzy champagne feeling I always had when I kissed Thayer. Still, a tiny frisson of excitement blooms in my chest.
The excitement lasts as long as it takes for me to step out of Garrett’s car and onto the stone-lined path to my front door. And then, as his car growls off, the floodlights on our porch click on, illuminating Madeline and Charlotte. Charlotte’s arms are crossed at her chest and Madeline’s hip is cocked. Their expressions are stony.
And just like that, I know I’m in trouble.
4
WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS STAYS IN THE HANDBOOK
Charlotte exhales heavily, and Madeline’s Prada stitched ballet flats scrape the wide terra-cotta stones of my front doorstep. Cicadas chirp an accusing, rhythmic chorus.
“What up, bitches?” I say breezily.
Madeline arches an eyebrow and purses her lips and I flush briefly. I can swagger all I want, but I did just kiss my friend’s ex. Still, she said she was over him. She said I could go out with him. I don’t deserve this kind of attitude.
“We’re glad you’re home from your date.” Madeline snarls slightly on the word date. “We wanted to talk.”
“Okay.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Talk.”
Madeline puts her hands on her slender hips and fixes her blazing sapphire eyes on me. “We want to initiate a new member into the Lying Game.”
I take a step back, certain at first that I’ve heard her incorrectly. “Um, ladies, you know we’re an exclusive club.” The Lying Game is three people: Charlotte, Madeline, and me. That’s the way it’s been since we created it in junior high. “Did you actually have someone in mind?”
Charlotte steps forward, close enough that I can smell her Chanel Chance. “Laurel.”
I burst out laughing. Laurel playing buddy-buddy with my friends is one thing, but joining the Lying Game? Never. “Good one, guys. Nice. Laurel. Right.” I shake my head. “Can we talk tomorrow? I’m tired.” I reach an impatient arm out to the doorknob.
But Mads and Char don’t budge. Their expressions are resolute, unchanging. Slowly, it sinks in. “Wait, you’re serious?” I blurt, my voice cracking more than I want it to.
Madeline twirls a lock of