Settling the Score (The Summer Games #1) - R.S. Grey Page 0,20
head past my doorway, but I didn’t bother glancing up; I knew she’d have judgy eyes.
“Jeez, it’s a mess in here.”
She wasn’t lying.
I’d systematically removed every piece of clothing from my suitcase and tossed it aside after a quick inspection. I was trying to find something to wear down to the pool. I’d packed two bathing suits, both of which were bikinis, neither of which I would be caught dead wearing around Freddie—who was, by the way, either a card shark or a lucky beginner. Or the devil. I still hadn’t decided.
“Why do you need a bathing suit?” she asked.
I tossed another t-shirt aside. “Because I have to go swimming.”
“Right, so just wear that bikini you have behind you.” She was pointing at the skimpy light blue one. “It’s very Rio.”
I slapped my hand over my eyes and shook my head. “Yes, obviously. That’s the problem. My boobs look too good in that one. I need one that says ‘I’m boring and unavailable’ which I figured would be right up your alley.”
“I’ll have you know that Liam still thinks I’m really sexy. Just because we’ve been married for a few years doesn’t mean our sex life isn’t still amazing. Just yesterday, we tried this new thing where I spin—”
“NOPE. NADA. NOPE.” I held up my hand to stop her from continuing. “You can stop it right there. I don’t need to hear how gross you two are in the bedroom.”
“Fine, but I’m sorry, I don’t have a nun’s habit for you to wear to go swimming. Just wear that bikini like a normal person.”
I moaned really loudly, hoping it would scare her away, but it didn’t work.
“Who are you going swimming with anyway?”
I paused with a t-shirt gripped in my hands. “No one.”
“BECCA! GET IN HERE.”
“NO!” I shouted.
There was no time to prepare. Before I could run and lock myself in the bathroom, Becca and Kinsley had worked their dynamic duo voodoo magic on me. Becca had my hands pinned to the floor and Kinsley had my feet. I tried my hardest to thrash them off me, but it was no use.
“Who are you going swimming with?” Kinsley asked again.
“You’re not supposed to end a sentence with a preposition,” I replied.
“Stop changing the subject! With whom do you plan to swim?!”
“No one! I like to swim laps every now and then!”
She shook her head. “Becca, go fill up a cup. We’re going to have to waterboard her.”
“NO!”
“Kinsley, I think that’s a war crime, even in Rio,” Becca warned.
“Well if she likes the water as much as she claims, it shouldn’t feel like torture.”
“Let me go and I’ll tell you! I promise.”
“Tell us and then we’ll let you go,” Kinsley countered.
“Ow, my wrist!”
Becca was technically holding my bad wrist and though she wasn’t really hurting it, my ruse still worked. She loosened her grip just enough that I could break free and twist out of their grasp. I jumped off the floor and reached for something to throw at them in case they came near me again. A cleat was the first thing I grabbed for, but Kinsley was faster. She yanked my favorite t-shirt off the floor, the Harry Potter one with a picture of Rupert Grint across the front and the words “King Weasley” underneath.
“Tell me or Ron gets it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”
She stretched the material near the neck, just enough to show me she was serious.
I dropped the cleat and held my hands up in surrender.
“Fine, you death eater, I’m going swimming with the duke.”
They exchanged a knowing glance and then Kinsley let my t-shirt drop to the floor. I ran for it and picked it up, confirming that Ron was indeed unharmed.
“Why would you go swimming with him? He’s betrothed to another girl.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know that. But there’s been a development.”
“Go on…” Kinsley implored, clearly waiting for some kind of explanation.
“Truthfully, it’s because we—he—made a little bet about it at poker night. He told me he wasn’t good at poker—which was a huge lie by the way—and I lost. So, now I have to go swimming with him.”
They did another one of those “oh dear, this situation doesn’t look good” glances.
“Would you two stop? Nothing is going on. And even if something was going on, it isn’t me that is initiating it.”
I wasn’t even lying. Freddie and I had played a few hands of poker the night before and it’d been fun to let my hair down and relax. I knew