Daphne's Questionable Bet, page 23
He sighed. “She just hasn’t been the same lately. I miss the old her.” He fiddled with his bowtie, clearly annoyed with it. “She’s acting weird in front of my parents, too. All uppity, like this is normal life for her.” With a grunt, he finally ripped off the bowtie, shoving it into his pocket. Then, he undid the first few buttons of his shirt. “I hate tuxes. I hate this whole party.”
“You need to liven it up a bit,” I said.
He quirked an eyebrow as he undid the buttons on his cuffs. “Any suggestions?”
“Is there any way we can change the music or something?” I offered. “Maybe get some pizza rolls up in this joint?”
“I like the sound of that,” a deep voice said from the side of me.
I turned to see Whitaker Anderson loosening his bowtie with one hand, the other resting in his pants’ pocket. He smiled softly at me. “Apologies, Daphne. My wife doesn’t know the meaning of subtle.”
My face reddened, not wanting him to think I was complaining. I stuttered out the next words. “This is totally fine! I mean, the band is, you know, like live, and the food is, you know, um, fancy and stuff.”
Bentley snickered next to me, so I punched him in the stomach, causing his laughter to grow.
Mr. Anderson placed a soft hand on my shoulder. “Well, you’re the birthday girl. What would you like?” The gesture, and the gentle tone of his voice, reminded me of my dad, and I had to blink back tears.
I took a shaky breath. “If it’s not too much to ask, maybe get rid of the band? Play some pop music we can dance to?” I bit my lip. “And, for the food, maybe snacks that don’t require living things to die?”
“Hey, that coconut shrimp is amazing,” Bentley said, pointing his finger at me. He shrugged. “The escargot I could do without.”
Mr. Anderson retrieved his phone from his pocket. “I’ll make some calls. We can get the other ballroom set-up immediately. Get a DJ and some of those pizza rolls you were talking about.” Putting his phone to his ear, he turned away, already talking to someone about food teenagers would actually eat.
I looked at Bentley, my jaw practically on the floor. “The other ballroom? How many do you people have?”
“Just two,” he said, smiling. “Sometimes so many people come to his shindigs that he likes to have a back-up place for the overflow.”
I snorted. “Next, you’re going to tell me you have a fancy library like in Beauty and the Beast, complete with a rolling ladder.”
He stared at the marble floor. “Uh, it’s down the hall, on your left.”
My eyebrows hitched up. “Really? I might have to check that out later. I’ve always wanted to ride one of those ladders.”
Sierra glided out of Ballroom One with a smile so light and airy, I waited for the birds to show up, chirping at her shoulder like a freaking Disney movie.
She paused at our sides. “What’s going on?” She set a hand on Bentley’s arm. “You’ve been gone so long.”
Bentley checked his watch. “It’s only been a few minutes.”
“Good news,” I said. “Mr. Anderson is setting up a real party in the other ballroom.” I held up two fingers. “They have two!”
Sierra frowned. “What’s wrong with this one?”
I started to laugh, but then realized she wasn’t joking. I cleared my throat. “Hey, if you like it, then that’s great. My party will have a DJ and edible food.” I shimmied. “Plus, my sweet dancing.”
Sierra plastered on a smile, but her jaw twitched in anger. “Well, good luck getting people to go to your childish party.”
Bentley pointed at the open ballroom doors. “You’re actually enjoying that, Sierra?”
Her smile faltered. “Yeah, of course. It’s so refined and—”
“Snobby?” I said, nodding. “Agree.”
Bentley chuckled, causing Sierra’s cheeks to turn pink. She looked desperately at Bentley. “I thought you liked this lifestyle.”
He shook his head. “That’s my parent’s lifestyle, not mine.” He huffed. “Well, it’s my mom’s. Dad would enjoy Daphne’s version of a party.”
Sierra went speechless, her mouth moving like she was trying to find something to say, but nothing came.
Then, she suddenly stomped her foot. “I wore this stupid dress for nothing?”
Bentley and I shared a confused look.
Sierra motioned to the pale pink dress. “I thought this is what you wanted.”
“Why on earth would you think that?” Bentley asked.
I slowly backed away, wanting out of the conversation. I didn’t need to be around to witness the argument. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to end well.
The problem was, my sneakers kept squeaking against the marble, making it difficult to walk out unnoticed.
Both Bentley and Sierra whipped their heads toward me.
I came to a screeching stop, then used my thumb to motion behind me. “I’m just gonna see myself out.” Then I spun and ran, heading into the foyer and out of their sight, silently cursing my squeaking shoes.
Mr. Anderson stood in the open doorway, staring out at the sunset, still on the phone. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard my shoes declaring my presence—okay, maybe Mom had been right about not wearing tennis shoes. He smiled at me before he ended the call and came to my side. “Everything is set. DJ is on her way, and the food is being prepped in the kitchen.”
“Whoa! You don’t waste any time, do you?”
He laughed, sounding like Bentley. “It helps to have connections.”
“But the food? Do you guys have a grocery store out back or something?” Honestly, it wouldn’t have surprised me if they did.
He leaned in close, like he was telling me a secret. “Between you and me, I was hoping this would happen. Had my kitchen staff make sure there was soda, chips, ice cream, pretty much the works, on hand.”
No grocery store, but a kitchen staff. What a life. I’d make them stock up on Cherry Coke and Watermelon Sour Patch Kids. Lifetime supply, always available.
“Even have pizza rolls.” He stood straight, rubbing the back of his neck. Another Bentley trait. Like father, like son. “Now, I have to go break the news to my wife.”
“Thank you, Mr. Anderson,” I said. “You didn’t have to do any of this, so I’m beyond grateful.”
He grinned. “Happy to help. Bentley told me about your father. I’m sorry to hear of his passing. He must have been one amazing man to raise a daughter like you.”
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I flicked them away. “He was the best. And he loved birthdays.”
“Then let’s make sure you have a party he’d be proud of.” He moved toward the ballroom. “Oh, and please call me Whitaker. Anyone who wears sneakers with a fancy dress is a friend in my book.”
I now fully understood why the public loved the man so much. He was friendly and easy to talk to. Not stuck-up at all.
I did a little dance in the foyer before I ran into Ballroom One to tell my friends and family the good news.
Chapter Forty-Four
Thirty minutes later, my family and friends were in Ballroom Two, getting our groove on. It had been a pretty even split, those that came over to my party, and those that stayed at Sierra’s. Sierra had seemed disappointed that so many switched over, but I cared nothing about the numbers. I just wanted to make sure those with me were having a good time. From the laughter and smiles all around me, the party was sure not disappointing.
Taylor, Veronica, and I stood near the refreshments, each holding a red Solo cup of Cherry Coke.
Taylor held up her cup in a cheer. “To Daphne, for coming back to California and gracing us with her amazing presence.”
“And her sweet dance moves,” Veronica said, lifting her cup.
“Hear, hear!” Taylor said.
We clinked our plastic cups together before each taking a sip.
Ivy ran up and threw her arms around me. “This is the best party ever!” She dropped her arms before jumping up and down with a squeal. “I got a guy’s number!”
“Wait, what?” I asked, shaking out some Cherry Coke that had jumped out of the cup and down my hand because of Ivy’s bear hug. “Who?”
With a wicked grin, she pointed to a guy on the center of the dance floor, his charisma stealing everyone’s attention.
“Javy?” Veronica looked at Ivy, lifting her hand in the air, setting a bar. “Might want to aim higher.”
Ivy’s enthusiasm faltered, a frown forming. “Why? He’s super hot!”
Veronica grimaced. “Is he?”
Laughing, I pushed her away from us, then smiled at Ivy. “It’s her brother. I adore Javy, but just so you know, he’s a lady’s man. The girls at his school love him.”
Ivy sighed, her hands clasped under her chin. “I can see why.”
Man, I hoped Weston didn’t freak out when he heard. I glanced around but didn’t see him anywhere. I turned back to Ivy. “Where’s your brother?”
Ivy went pale, her eyes searching the floor.
Taylor and Veronica shared a look, neither of them looking like they wanted to say anything.
“What?” I asked.
Veronica threw her hands up. “I can’t right now. I’m too ticked off about it.” She turned around, going to the middle of the ballroom and joining her brother on the dance floor.
Ivy was hot on her heels, like she couldn’t get away fast enough.
Taylor put her hands on my shoulder, her eyes full of so much sympathy, it killed me. “Listen. Um. Here’s the thing.” She pursed her lips, thinking.
“Just spit it out.”
Taylor squeezed my shoulders. “Weston stayed at Sierra’s party. With that other girl.”
Usually, when I heard his name, heat flooded me. This time, though, cold air washed over me, making me shiver. Goosebumps broke out on my arms. Taylor started rubbing my arms.
I tried to say something, but nothing came out.
“He was acting really weird,” Taylor said. “Veronica has even asked him again what’s going on, but he just said he was interested in someone else. End of story.”
Shrugging away from her, I hurried out into the foyer, hitting Weston’s number the second I entered. Yeah, he was only in the other ballroom, but I didn’t want to talk to him with a whole bunch of witnesses.
Voicemail.
Did I leave a message? Demand an answer?
No. I’d probably end up blubbering like a fool.
Instead, I texted him. My party isn’t the same without you. You and Mercy are both welcome.
Okay, Mercy wasn’t really welcome, per se, but I still wanted to be the guy’s friend, even if that meant him having another girl in his life.
I paced the foyer, waiting for a reply.
None came.
Me: I hope everything’s okay. I hate not having you here.
That probably sounded super desperate, but oh well. It was how I felt.
Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I checked out Sierra’s Instagram, wanting to see if she posted any photos.
My stomach sank all over again, a dread in me I hadn’t felt for the longest time.
Sierra had uploaded a ton of pictures, which wasn’t really the problem. Of course, she was going to make it look like it was the best party ever.
It was the pictures of Weston and Mercy that got to me. Dancing together, laughing, her kissing him on the cheek with him blushing.
Wow. He’d really gotten over me fast. Unless he never liked me that way to begin with.
But Weston had liked me, right? He’d told Veronica. He’d flirted with me. Asked me out on a date. Brought me flowers. Almost kissed me. Thanks, Bentley, for totally ruining that moment.
If he got over me quickly, then so be it. I couldn’t stop him from liking another person. But that didn’t mean shutting me out of his life.
Why couldn’t he be friends with me? Did he have to be so rude? Especially on my birthday. This was the first party I’d had since my dad passed, and I wanted it to be memorable.
I wouldn’t stop thinking about Weston until I knew what was going on. I wanted answers. And I wanted to end everything with Sierra once and for all.
Even if that meant the most embarrassing picture of me gracing the world forever.
Gathering up every ounce of courage I could muster, I balled my fists and stormed into Ballroom One.
Chapter Forty-Five
I frantically searched the room until I found Weston and Mercy dancing near the jazz band, all formal like some old couple. His right hand was on her waist, her left hand on his shoulder, while their other hands clasped together as they swirled around.
At the sight of them, my courage faltered, so I swooped in, not really thinking my actions through. I had to confront him while I had at least an ounce of courage left in me.
Coming up behind Mercy, I tapped her on the shoulder until she looked over at me.
“Mind if I cut in?” I asked. I didn’t wait for a response. I grabbed Weston and practically yanked him away from her, dragging him off to a corner.
“Daphne.” Hearing my name on Weston’s lips tormented me. How had I fallen for this guy so hard and so quickly?
And how had he gotten over me so fast?
He stood in front of me, a pained look in his eyes. When I took a step closer to him, he stepped back, holding out his hand.
“Please, stay there,” he said.
Okay. I was done.
I folded my arms. “What’s going on?”
He ran his shaky fingers through his hair. “Nothing. I … uh … I met someone else.” His eyes were on the ground, unable to look at me.
“And that requires you shutting me out of your life completely?”
He finally looked up at me, so much sorrow in his eyes. “This is killing me, Daphne. Just, please, leave.”
An acoustic version of “Killing Me Softly” by the Fugees strummed in the back of my mind, providing a tragic feel.
“No.” I rushed to him, planting myself in front of him before he could react. “Weston, I like you. A lot.”
Swallowing, he checked over his shoulder, like he was searching for someone. Probably Mercy. I placed my hands on his cheeks and forced him to look at me.
“If you don’t feel the same, then fine,” I said, still holding his face. “But you can’t deny that we’re great friends. We have so much fun together! Why can’t we be friends? Did I do something to upset you?”
His soft hand landed on one of mine, holding tight. “Trust me, I want to. It’s just, things are complicated right now.” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Being this close to you and not …” He sighed, his eyes opening back up. A tiny tear ran down his cheek, landing on my hand, the warmth contrasting with the coldness radiating in my heart.
I moved closer, resting my forehead against his. “Talk to me, Weston. Please.”
“I can’t,” he said, so shaky and soft. Pulling back, he pressed his warm lips to my forehead before dropping his hand and stepping away from me. “Just know, this is not how I wanted things to go.” He looked me straight in the eye. “You have to stay away from me.” Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he backed away. “I’m so sorry, Daphne.”
With that, he turned and left the ballroom, Mercy running after him, but not before shooting me a dark look. I shot it right back, twofold.
That hadn’t given me the answers I wanted. Clearly, something was keeping him away from me. An easy guess would be Sierra. But what had she said to him that would cause this reaction?
Someone tsked behind me, causing me to twirl around. If I hadn’t been in such a foul mood, I would have loved how my dress poofed out with the spin.
Rosalind stood there with her arms folded, nose in the air, a look of triumph in her eyes. She wore a floral jumpsuit that looked amazing on her. I was about to say as such when she spoke.
“That’s too bad things didn’t work out with Weston,” Rosalind said. “Crazy that, of all the girls he could fall for, it’s Sierra’s cousin.”
“Mercy is Sierra’s cousin?” Had she set them up? I sought her out, only to find her looking in confusion at Rosalind and me.
Rosalind checked her nails. “Small world, right?” She sighed, looking completely bored with the conversation. “You’re going to lose the bet. No one would blame you for raising a white flag.”
“So you can upload that picture of me? No, thanks.”
She pursed her lips. “Speaking of pictures, some photos that were on my phone have been deleted. You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?”
“Why would that even matter? I know you guys have other copies.”
Her mouth twisted into a cruel smile, making me shiver. “Oh, I have so much more than that. Photos and videos of you that you definitely wouldn’t want anyone to see. Same with your mom. Veronica. Taylor. So much I could use.”
“You’re stalking all of us? Why?”
Her nostrils flared. “I’m not stalking anyone!”
“Says the girl that has secret photos of everyone I love.”
“You have secret photos?” Sierra suddenly came into view, her confused gaze on Rosalind.
The smugness in Rosalind’s eyes faltered for a fraction of a second, then she was back to full-on diva mode.
“It’s called insurance,” Rosalind said.
“Insurance for what?” Sierra asked.
Rosalind scoffed like she was completely surprised Sierra would ask such a question. “For the bet.” Her eyes narrowed on me. “She can’t win.”
Sierra shook her head. “This is not how I wanted to win. You know that, Rosalind.”
I turned to Sierra, hands on my hips. “You blackmailed me with a photo from the very beginning! It was all your idea!”
Sierra pointed to Rosalind. “It was hers!”
“How convenient,” I snarled. “Someone for you to blame it on instead of taking responsibility for your own actions.”
Sierra rolled her eyes. “You sound like an old person.”
Kimber approached us, putting a hand on Sierra’s and Rosalind’s shoulders. “Girls, maybe you should talk about this outside?”
