The Backup Girlfriend (Grove Valley High Book 2) Read online

  I shake my head. “I’m supposed to find them to ask.”

  “Well we can do that right now,” she says, standing up and throwing her bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  I shake my head. I can’t right now. I need to process this first. “I’ll do it later.”

  “Okay.” There’s a long pause. “Well, we can help you study,” Jennifer says uncertainly.

  I actually do manage a soft laugh at that. No offense to them, but they’re not the best students either, and while they’re certainly not as bad as me and are actually going to graduate, if they helped me in math and chemistry, it would be like the blind leading the blind on certain topics.

  “Okay, so not us,” Sasha concedes. “Maybe we’d be better off helping you with the charity stuff. That’s more our scene.”

  I hadn’t even thought about the charity stuff.

  “You could ask Brett Sanderson to help you study,” Jennifer says. Her face lights up. “He’s the smartest guy in our class.”

  I have no idea who she’s talking about. “Who?”

  “Brett Sanderson,” Sasha agrees. “He’s super smart. You know he sometimes wins a smart award or whatever they’re called in assemblies. He’s cute—well, nerdy cute.”

  I have no idea who they’re referring to.

  “He helped me out last year when I wasn’t doing well in math,” Sasha says. “I’ve known him since elementary school. I can introduce you.”

  I shrug skeptically. I don’t really see the point in all this. “It’s not going to work.”

  “You have to try,” Jennifer tells me softly. “You can’t just give up.”

  I love them both in this moment. I love how positive they are and how they think they can help me figure this out, like this is actually solvable.

  “Come on, Abbie. You can do this. I know you can.”

  I nod because I know it’s what they want, but I can’t help feeling like I already have given up.

  3

  My sister looks beautiful tonight.

  But then, I suppose, she always does. She’s wearing a floor-length black gown with a sweetheart neckline that shows off her bust then pinches in at the waist, showing that she’s lost every ounce of baby weight she gained when she was pregnant with my nephew. Her perfectly highlighted blonde hair falls in waves down her back, and she’s gone for subtle shades with her makeup, which somehow makes her looks like she hasn’t tried at all even though I know she will have spent hours getting ready this evening.

  Turns out tonight isn’t just your regular Saturday night dinner at the country club; instead it’s some sort of benefit for a local politician, and her husband, Eric, is one of the major donors and supporters of this guy. He’s working the room with Ellie at his side, shaking hands and introducing himself to people. I’m sure this is all to benefit him eventually, but as I watch the two of them circling the space, hand in hand, I don’t think about that. I just think about how good they look together, her the blonde beauty and he the dark-haired, slightly older distinguished man in his tux.

  Really, it’s a shame I never have anything to say to him.

  Looks really can make a person seem a lot more interesting than they are, and I’ve found that to be the case with Eric ever since I met him.

  My mother waves at me from across the room, signaling that I should join her. I don’t move. When I got home from school on Thursday, still horrified that I’m failing so spectacularly, she didn’t even care. She’d already spoken to my coach and told me “These things happen,” and somehow it made me feel even more upset and worthless than if she’d gone crazy at me.

  At least then she would have cared.

  I don’t think she thinks I need an education. She just told me to do my best then poured another glass of wine, and I disappeared into my room for the rest of the night, my mind whirling.

  I still haven’t been to see my teachers.

  I still haven’t been able face it.

  I still haven’t stopped thinking about the humiliation of not graduating with my friends. It’s going round and round like a loop in my head.

  Sasha and Jennifer have been really sweet over the last couple of days, texting me to make sure I’m okay and checking in to see if I need anything or if they can help me get organized in any way. It’s been surprising and kind, and I probably don’t deserve it.

  Sarah hasn’t even noticed that there’s anything wrong with me.

  Laughter from a group of people to my right breaks me from my thoughts, and I take a sip of my water as I look around the room. There isn’t a single person here that’s my age. In fact, I’d hazard a guess and say my sister is the only other person under thirty (Eric hit that milestone last month), and I can’t help but check my phone again. It’s still early and I know this won’t be something that goes on late, but Aaron is throwing a party tonight and all my friends are getting ready together, pre-drinking and doing their makeup, and I know where I’d rather be.

  I continue to look around, and my gaze locks on the guy behind the bar.

  I stand corrected.

  The bartender in the corner is under thirty. He looks around Ellie’s age, and I watch him as he polishes glasses while his colleague prepares drinks and waiters circulate with champagne glasses. He’s kind of cute, actually. He has longish dirty blond hair that is brushed back into a neat ponytail—not a hairstyle I’d usually like, but it somehow looks good on him—and he has a tan.

  He looks like a surfer, I decide as I take a champagne glass from a passing waiter, turning away before they can get a better look at me. I doubt anyone would raise too much of a fuss about me drinking underage, certainly not my mother, but I don’t want to push it.

  I continue watching everyone mingle for another couple of minutes, watching my sister when she pulls away from Eric’s grip as he introduces her to someone before he cuts her a look and she steps back into his side. My mother is also chatting it up with a bunch of people I vaguely recognize, but then that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. She’s always been good at schmoozing, especially with the right people, as if she thinks it might get her somewhere.

  An announcement from somewhere tells us dinner is about to be served, and I make my way over to my assigned table, grateful that it’s finally underway and I’m one step closer to getting out of here. The table fills up around me, and my sister slides into the seat next to me. I turn to her, ready to tell her how great she looks, but I’m distracted by her fingers, which are smoothing down her already smooth dress and then start fidgeting with her napkin. I look closer at her face and see that her eyes are darting around nervously and she’s worrying her bottom lip with her top teeth.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask quietly.

  She looks at me in surprise, like she wasn’t expecting me to be here, even though we’re in a room full of people, sitting at a table for ten people.

  Eric slides in next to her and immediately drops a hand into her lap, stopping her fidgeting, and she briefly closes her eyes before slipping her hands out from his then smiling at him radiantly. She turns back to me, and while her smile is wide, it doesn’t meet her eyes. “Nothing’s wrong at all. I was just thinking about the baby.”

  I don’t believe her for a second, and as the meal progresses, I watch her carefully, trying not to be too obvious as Eric holds court at our table, my mother jumping in to support him when necessary and keeping everyone else entertained. It’s only when I see Eric give my sister a subtle but firm nudge in the arm that she starts to make any contribution to the conversation at all, and even then, it’s not her best work. She’s distracted and kind of all over the place, which honestly just confuses me because she was raised exactly the same way I have been, and we both know exactly how to act when at a dinner like this.

  Something has definitely shaken her.

  Luckily for her, the musical entertainment starts after the main course is served, and everyone turns their attention to that. That’s when I notice her eye
s dart to the bar more than once. It’s sly of her, really, because the bar is at a forty-five-degree angle to the entertainment, so it’s not very noticeable unless you’re like me and ignoring the music act entirely and instead watching your older sister. At first I don’t notice what it is she’s looking at because the bar is relatively quiet as everyone is seated. There’s just a couple of old guys standing over there drinking what looks like whiskey. It’s only after the fourth time I’ve seen her look over there in as many minutes that I quit watching my sister and instead watch the bar.

  This time I get why she’s looking that way.

  The surfer-looking bartender looks up from his glasses, and their eyes lock for a second before my sister is turning away again.

  He doesn’t look away, though. He continues to stare Ellie in a way that is entirely inappropriate when she’s sitting at her husband’s side.

  Maybe tonight just got a lot more interesting after all.

  “Are you having an affair with Ellie Lawrence?” I ask an hour later as the bartender in question leans against a wall, smoking a cigarette on his break. Once the band finished their set and dessert was served, Eric pulled my sister into the middle of the dance floor and this guy immediately disappeared outside, presumably for his break.

  I’ve been watching them since that first look they exchanged, and quite honestly, I don’t know how nobody else has noticed it. The sexual tension between them is palpable.

  He bursts out laughing at my frank question and throws his cigarette onto the ground, stubbing it out. I half-expect him to brush past me and head back inside, but he turns to me with bright eyes and a grin on his face. “No, I am not having an affair with Ellie Lawrence.”

  “Oh.” I feel quite disappointed at that. Granted, it would have been way out of character for Ellie to do something like that, especially since I’m pretty sure she loves Eric, but still, it would have been something, that’s for sure. “So then why do you guys keep watching each other?”

  He shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. “We’re not.”

  “You are, and she’s acting weird.” I pause. “If you were having an affair, you’d be doing a pretty bad job at hiding it.”

  “I assure you we’re not having an affair.”

  “Oh.” I pause. “I’m—”

  “Abigail, right?” he interjects before I can properly introduce myself.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Just do. You look just like your sister.”

  That makes me smile, because my sister is beautiful and popular and does everything just right and I have always, always wanted to be just like her.

  “You know Ellie?”

  “I did, a long time ago.”

  “From college?” I ask. Ellie stayed fairly local for college and would come back all the time to see me.

  “Nope. I didn’t go to college.”

  “You didn’t?”

  I find this way more interesting than I probably should, but I’m really drawn to people who don’t go to college, who don’t bow down to that pressure from parents to attend just for the sake of it, just because supposedly it’s the next step you take. For me, especially after the last couple of days, I’ve realized I’m really not academic enough to want to commit four years of my life to something I’m not passionate about.

  Wait, I’m being dumb. I don’t even know why I’m thinking about college. That’s definitely not going to happen since I can’t even graduate high school.

  “No. I was never interested.”

  “So what did you do instead?”

  “I work at a car shop down on the beach.”

  I must turn up my nose because he starts chuckling, not looking the least bit insulted.

  “We take in high-end cars and restore them or improve them to the standard that our customers want.”

  “Oh yeah?” That actually sounds a lot more glamourous. “What sort of cars?”

  “Bentley, Jaguars, Cadillacs. A lot of people like European cars, too, so we specialize in that.”

  “That must cost a lot.”

  He smirks. “Some are definitely on the expensive side, for sure. That’s actually why I’m working here at the moment. The tips are good, and I’m saving to open my own place.”

  “Your own car shop?”

  “Yeah, I reckon I’m about halfway to saving the money I need.”

  “Wow.”

  He laughs at my enthusiasm. “The dream is to start off here and maybe one day turn it into a franchise, open up branches across the country.”

  I’m pretty sure I’m staring at him in amazement. Most people probably wouldn’t care so much about that, but to me, the idea of starting your own business from the ground up is amazing. I think it takes real bravery and courage to put yourself out there like that and actually pursue something you want to do.

  “All just a dream at the moment,” he says.

  I nod, glancing away but not quite ready to go back to the benefit yet. “So how do you know my sister?”

  He goes silent at that, assessing me, like he’s not quite sure what he should say. Eventually, he replies, “We went to high school together.”

  I narrow my eyes; Ellie went to a different high school than me. We moved to town right after she graduated, and her school was an hour away. I’m pretty sure I’m not getting the full story here. I open my mouth to ask for more details, but my name is called from behind me and I turn to see my mother standing there, looking at me in annoyance.

  “What are you doing out here?” She doesn’t even glance at the bartender. “I want you to meet the McDonalds. They have a son a couple of years older than you, and it would be good for you to make a good impression.”

  Well that’s my mom in a nutshell. She might be desperate for me to get back with Chase, but she’s definitely a fan of keeping her options open and expects me to do the same. The McDonalds are probably really wealthy and have some annoying son I’m expected to swoon over just because he has some money.

  I roll my eyes, but I don’t argue with her. I know better than to do that, and I turn to follow her back inside, waving to the bartender as I go.

  I’m almost at the side door I ducked out of when I hear my name being called again, this time by the bartender.

  I turn back to him. “Yeah?”

  He shifts on his feet in front of me, hesitant, and then: “Is she happy?” It takes me a second to realize what he’s referring to. “Is your sister happy in her life?”

  I look at him, this good-looking guy with all the ambition in the world, and I think about the fact that he’s working a bar in a country club while my sister, someone he clearly has history with, is getting twirled around the dance floor by her wealthy husband. I think I know what’s going on here. “Yes,” I tell him. “Yes, she’s happy.”

  He smiles, almost like he’s pleased for her, and I turn and walk away, not entirely sure I did tell him the truth. Up until this conversation, I wouldn’t have doubted her happiness for a second, but after seeing the way she’s behaved tonight and the way she’s looked at him…

  Now I’m not so sure.

  4

  I’m eventually allowed to leave the benefit just after ten, and I waste no time in ordering an Uber the second I get home. I run upstairs and quickly change into a tight-fitting top that shows a couple of inches of my stomach and my new skin-tight black jeans, touch up my makeup, and brush through my hair with my fingers so that I look a little less put together. I take one last look at myself, pretty happy with what I see, before I see my Uber pull up, and I head out to Aaron’s house.

  When I arrive, I know immediately that it’s a typical Aaron party, and by that I mean he’s gone big.

  There are so many people that at first glance, I barely know anyone. Plenty of the junior and sophomore classes are here too, wanting to be close to Aaron, and Chase, and that magic he and his friends possess. I smirk to myself as I make my way through the crowd. That would have been me at the start of h
igh school, constantly thinking about how I could get invited to a ‘popular kid’ party and how I would act when I got there.

  I would turn myself inside out over it.

  And then I got there, and started getting invited to parties regularly, and making friends, and then I turned myself inside out over trying to keep that coveted position in the popular crowd.

  I should probably warn them that they should get over that pretty quick and actually concentrate on their classes or they could end up like me, dumped by the hottest guy in school, not sure if my best friend even likes me, and about to drop out of high school because I’d rather do that than not graduate.

  I step through the crowds that are hovering immediately inside the door, pretending not to notice when they step out of my way, giving me room and shy smiles. This is what I wanted so badly when I was a freshman, what I worked so hard for at the start—to be revered and admired, to be popular. It seemed like the most important thing in the world to me. Now that I have it, I’m not sure it was worth all the effort, because if they knew the truth, they definitely wouldn’t want to end up like me.

  I’m just some loser who got dumped, isn’t sure who her real friends are, and is about to not graduate.

  What a damn mess.

  “Abigail!” I turn to the right and spot Sarah standing at the bottom of the stairs with Sasha next to her. “You’re here.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” I reply. The sass is unnecessary, but I’m still kind of pissed at her from earlier this week. All she’s done is bitch at me about this girl Brendon gave his number to, about another junior girl she doesn’t like for whatever reason, and about the fact that Jenna, another cheerleader friend in our group, is getting far too confident and above herself, whatever that means. She’s been so busy being a bitch to other people that she hasn’t even noticed I’ve been walking around completely out of it with misery, and to be honest, it’s left me wondering what our friendship even is.