Daphne's Questionable Bet, page 6
“It’s amazing,” I said, checking out the scales.
Veronica clucked her tongue. “You’re not getting a tattoo, Javy.”
Javier glared at her. “It’s my body, V. I can do what I want.” He pulled a piece of paper from his backpack and handed it to me. “Those are all my other designs. I’m going to be a tattoo artist once I graduate.”
I wasn’t sure how to react. I mean, the boy had pure talent. His drawings blew me away. But Veronica was not having any of it, so I guess I had to side with my friend. Or, I could just keep my mouth shut. I handed back the paper with a soft smile.
“Well, good luck getting Mom to sign off on that,” Veronica said.
Javier scoffed. “I don’t need Mom’s permission. I can get Dad’s.”
Veronica’s hands tightened around the wheel, and, oh, dear, she was about to blow. Couldn’t have that happen, especially when she was the one driving.
I motioned for Javier to put his earbuds back in, then turned my attention to Veronica. “Back to my mom. You do realize there’s a smaller age difference between him and me than my mom and him, right?”
Her hands slowly loosened their death grip, and, honestly, the steering wheel owed me a thank you. It had been about to get demolished. “I wasn’t really thinking about that. I was thinking he was hot, had some fun interests, and would be good for your mom.” She flipped on her blinker and came to a stop at a stop sign, waiting for the oncoming traffic to pass. “Which means he would be good for you, too.”
I snorted, taking some of the hair hanging over my shoulder and twirling it around my finger. “I don’t need a twenty-four-year-old dad.”
“It’s one date. No one said anything about marriage.”
I stared out the window, watching the palm trees pass by. I hoped I never took the sight for granted. It was one of my favorites.
“It’s just weird,” I said.
Veronica reached over and patted my leg. “You shouldn’t even be worrying about that. We need to focus on Bentley. Do you have a game plan?”
“Yep. Not make a fool out of myself.”
Veronica scoffed. “Let’s not pretend that’s not going to happen. We both know you’ll end up doing something stupid. The important thing is to come out the winner.”
I gave her a thumbs-up. “Thanks for the encouragement.”
“Listen, Sierra’s nice, but I think Bentley would have a better time with you. You’re more fun to be around.”
“He may not feel the same.”
“Uh-uh.” She waggled her finger. “None of that attitude. You can win, Daphne.”
I pumped my fists in the air. “I can win!”
She slammed her palm against the steering wheel. “That’s my girl!”
Since my first and only class with Bentley was after lunch, I had all day to think about my approach. Did I want to be subtle? Slowly work my way into his life? Or did I want to dive right in? I mean, he was a diver. Although, I wouldn’t be as nearly a graceful diver as he was. I had a good chance at belly-flopping.
Zander and I ran into Bentley before we got to the English building.
“I’m excited about the bonfire,” Bentley said with a grin. “Even if it’s in January.”
I did a little shuffle with my steps. “There will be dancing, and we’ll be in onesies. We’ll be fine.”
He chuckled, highlighting a dimple on his cheek. He really was gorgeous. “It will definitely make for an interesting night, that’s for sure.”
“It was a little weird that Sierra invited herself, wasn’t it?” I asked, glancing over at Zander. We’d practiced this during lunch.
Zander nodded a little too vigorously. The guy was definitely not an actor. “So weird. Someone’s needing some attention, am I right?” He elbowed Bentley on the arm.
I held in a sigh. Way to be subtle.
Bentley scratched the side of his head. “I didn’t see it that way. She probably just thought it sounded really fun.”
I shot a glare at Zander behind Bentley’s back. Zander threw out his arms and mouthed, “What?”
I answered with an eye-roll.
Shock ran through me when I entered the classroom. Sierra was already in her seat, which wasn’t all that surprising. It was what she was wearing. Pastel. No black to be found. She’d even replaced her red lipstick with a light pink. It so didn’t suit her personality. Or her complexion, if we were being completely honest here.
Bentley sat down in his seat, looking over at Sierra, his eyebrows pinched in confusion. “New clothes?”
Sierra’s smile faltered. “Just thought I’d try something new.”
“Huh,” Bentley said, still staring.
“Was that a good or bad, huh?” Sierra asked.
“Neither,” Bentley said. “Just different.”
“It’s a weird different,” Weston muttered on the other side of me.
I turned to him, keeping my voice low. “I was thinking the same thing. It’s just not … her.”
Weston nodded in agreement.
“So, Bentley,” Sierra said purposefully loud to catch my attention. “I could use some help in history. Could you come over tonight and help me? I swear you get the best grades in our class.”
“Sure!” Bentley said. “I love history.”
When I glanced over at Sierra, she shot me a smug smile. It was one study session, but it also gave her the chance to make the first move. I would need to keep a close eye on them and make sure nothing happened.
Thank goodness I lived next door.
What had Dax said about being sneaky? The art of distraction.
“So, Sierra, what are your plans for the bonfire?” I asked.
Her eyes lit up as she pulled a binder out from her backpack. She flipped it open quickly, tearing a page, before showing us the list she created. “It’s going to be so much fun!”
Man, I loved that she was so organized and took the whole thing seriously. For a fraction of a second, I forgot she was my enemy.
As she rattled off her plans, Bentley focused on the binder along with Sierra, I took out my phone and texted Veronica and Taylor.
Me: First spy mission tonight. Be at my house at six. Wear something comfortable.
Taylor: Shouldn’t we wear black?
Me: I’d rather be comfortable.
Veronica: You can have both, ladies. Black sweats ftw.
Me: Ftw?
Even though I only received a text back, I could hear the sigh from Taylor coming through.
Taylor: For the win. You’re hopeless.
Veronica: She’s sportsless, is what she is. We gotta start taking her to some games. It’s basketball season. Good one to start with since it’s only two hours.
I turned to Weston. “Do you know what ‘ftw’ means?”
Weston scratched the back of his head. “Uh, fix the weather? Fill the water? Friends that wander.” His eyes lit up. “Fashionista turned water-skier!”
I twirled a piece of my hair, thinking. “Fix the waffles!”
“Ms. Richards?” Mr. Buckley’s voice cut through my excitement. “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll start class.”
I shrank in my seat, but not before sharing a smile with Weston.
So much for being discreet.
Chapter Eleven
I was sitting down in the kitchen, catching up on sling bag orders. My sewing machine was still in Utah, ready to be packed up and shipped down to us by a moving company, my Aunt Shannon overseeing it all.
Thankfully, Grams had an awesome sewing machine. She was an amazing seamstress, all her costumes from her community theater days filling up their attic as proof. Even when mine arrived from Utah, I’d still probably use Grams’. It was that awesome. It included a digital screen and everything.
The doorbell chimed, and I jumped in my seat. I needed to get used to the new sound with the system we just installed. It wasn’t that different from a normal bell, it was just way loud, and Mom and I couldn’t figure out how to turn it down.
The camera feed popped up on my screen, letting me know who stood on the porch. Confusion swept over me when I saw the man standing there. The Pirates of the Caribbean theme song came into my mind, and for a second, I flung out my hands, conducting an imaginary orchestra in the kitchen.
“Uh, Mom?” I yelled out, setting my current bag—the pink cotton covered in cute llamas—on the table. “Why is Jack Sparrow standing on our porch?”
The man was dressed just like the pirate, makeup done perfectly, and even his long beard had been braided, beads attached.
Mom hustled into the kitchen wearing a wench costume, and I about had a heart attack. She quickly tightened the red and black striped sash tied around her waist, which was holding the fake sword at her side. A matching sash was wrapped around her hair, tied in a bun at the side. Her tall boots laced all the way up to her knees, the heels at least four inches off the ground. Gold hoop earrings dangled from her ears, so big I wondered if I could get my fist through the hole.
She lifted the top of her silk blouse to cover up most of her cleavage. “How do I look?”
“Like a wench.”
She frowned. “Don’t use that word. I hate that word.”
I lifted an eyebrow, still trying to process everything I was seeing. “How about a pirate hooker? Pirate escort? Whichever you prefer.”
The doorbell rang again.
With a grin, Mom hurried toward the front door, fixing her blouse again before she opened it.
“Wow.” The guy’s caramelly sweet voice added to his pirate swagger.
Standing, I crept toward the door, maneuvering myself so I could see the guy. He wore a brown vest and trousers, a white pirate’s shirt, boots, a sword tied at his waist, and a replica Jack Sparrow hat.
And he was totally checking my mom out.
Gross.
“I’m hoping you’re Cody,” Mom said, a slight nervous quiver to her voice.
He held out a hand. “Aye! Where are me manners? I am the one and only Cody Brooks.” He winced. “I need a better pirate name.”
Mom quickly shook his hand, their clasped hands holding on tight. “Laura Richards. Don’t worry, I don’t have a pirate name, either.”
His mouth quirked up into a devilish smile, revealing a gold tooth that I was pretty sure was fake. Hopefully.
“We can work on that,” he drawled.
They were still “shaking” hands. Eww.
I hurried forward, skidding to a stop next to Mom. “Hello. Daphne Richards.” I pointed to Mom. “Her daughter. Teenage daughter. Sixteen, to be exact. Almost seventeen, actually. No one told me we needed pirate names.”
Mom chuckled, putting her arm around my waist and finally letting go of the pirate’s hand. “Cody, this is my very beautiful and unique daughter, Daphne.”
He reached his hand out to me, giving me a nice, solid shake that lasted a normal amount of time. “Nice to meet you, Daphne. Your mom has told me all about you.” He tugged on one of the braids dangling from his beard. “She said you’re a huge Cherry Coke fan. Even carry cherry syrup around with you in case of an emergency.”
I turned wide eyes to Mom. “Holy crap. Have you been telling this guy everything about me? Does he already have my menstrual cycle down?”
Mom’s eyes went wide in return, her lips pursing in her way of telling me to watch myself.
Cody just laughed and pulled out a small bottle he had tucked in his trousers. “Vanilla for me. You always gotta be prepared, right?”
“Right.” I looked at the bottle. “Hey! That’s the same brand I use!”
“That’s because it’s the best.” He tucked it back into his pants’ pocket. “It’s the perfect blend of sweetness and flavoring without going overboard.”
I found myself smiling, then quickly stopped when I realized this was the twenty-four-year-old guy taking my mom out on a date. I wasn’t supposed to like him.
“So, why are you dressed like pirates?” I asked.
Mom dropped her arm from around me. “Costume party.”
“Costume party,” I said dryly. “In January.”
Cody didn’t miss a beat, his smile staying fully intact. “My friend loves them. Throws one every month. Theme and everything.”
I actually liked the sound of that and wanted to meet this said friend. But I wasn’t about to admit that out loud. “Huh. Weird.”
Mom slapped my arm, her pursed lips scolding me again.
Cody looked at his empty wrist. “Oh, I forgot. Left my watch at home. No smartwatches for pirates.” His gaze swept to Mom, taking her in again. “We should probably get going.”
Mom blushed. Like, actual cheeks and neck turning pink, even under all the makeup. Though it was beyond weird for me, it was probably nice for her to get checked out. I mean, Cody wasn’t hiding his attraction for her at all.
Wait, neither was Mom. Her eyes practically zoomed in on his lips.
I clapped my hands, breaking both of them from their trance. “Have her home by nine.”
“Nine?” Mom asked.
“It’s a school night.” I mean, who even has a costume party in the middle of the week? Was it with his frat brothers or something?
Mom rolled her eyes. “For you, not me.” She kissed my cheek. “Don’t wait up.”
Ha. Like that was going to happen.
Cody turned down the walkway, so I grabbed Mom’s arm and shook my phone at her. “Remember, I have an app that can track you.”
Mom’s jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t do that.”
I folded my arms. “This is a two-way street, Mom. If you’re going to track me when I’m out with friends or on dates, you better believe I’m tracking you on your little rendezvous.”
Mom tugged up the top of her blouse again. “I guess that’s only fair.” She pointed a finger at me. “Do not follow me.” She nodded at the Winters’ home. “You have your own scouting to do, remember?”
I loved that Mom was totally down for me spying on Sierra. Her love of winning was sometimes out of hand.
Chapter Twelve
After Mom left, I changed into my green Good Luck Bear onesie, hoping to soak myself in all the good luck vibes.
“Alexa, play ‘Girl on Fire’ by Alicia Keys,” I said.
Letting the music fill my soul, I twirled around the room, singing along and getting myself pumped for the night. I could do this. I could win the bet. Sierra Winters had nothing on me.
My phone vibrated in my side pocket, ending my magical moment. Right as I turned down the music, a lady’s voice rang through my phone. Taylor Thomas is at the door.
I opened the app to see Taylor standing on the porch, bouncing a little like she was preparing for a fight.
Grinning, I ran out of my room, down the hall, and swung the door open.
Taylor immediately threw her arms into a low circle, flexing, like she was about to enter the WWE ring. She growled, showing off her teeth. “Who’s ready to devour the competition?”
I threw my arms in the air, pumping my fists. “I am!”
She made a show of punching my stomach—barely tapping it—and I hunched over, grunting.
She put her hands on her hips. “You’re so not ready.”
I stood up, smoothing out my onesie. “You punched me.”
“Fake punched you. You should have fake slammed me to the ground or something.” That was the thing with Taylor growing up with all brothers. They taught her how to wrestle. She pushed past me, coming inside the house. “Please tell me you have food. I’m starving.” She’d also gotten her lack of tact from them.
I shut the door and followed her into the kitchen. “I thought you were having dinner with Zander?”
She opened the pantry, scanning for something she liked. “His work was short-handed and called him in. He’s saving for prom, so he’s taking all the hours he can get.” Pulling out a bag of potato chips, she unrolled it and sniffed. Apparently satisfied it wouldn’t kill her, she shrugged and popped a chip into her mouth.
“Prom is months away.” I sat down on the stool in front of the island and opened a delivery app on my phone.
She took the stool next to me. “He wants to go somewhere nice for dinner since it will be our one-year anniversary.”
“It’s been that long?” I scrolled through all the options, not sure what I wanted to eat. Everything looked and sounded good.
“Crazy, right?” Crunching on some chips, she leaned over my shoulder to check the list with me. “No Indian. Had that last night.”
“We just had Mexican, so we can cross that out.”
“Italian?” Taylor pointed at a restaurant listed on the screen.
I shook my head. “My stomach hates Italian. I need to be fully functioning for tonight, not having an intimate relationship with the toilet.”
“TMI, Daphne. A ‘no’ would have sufficed.” She laughed when I glared at her. “Oh!” She pointed at a burger joint. “Best burgers and shakes.”
Opening their menu, I scanned the options. “How are we going to spy on Sierra? Her room is on the second floor. This is a one-story house.”
“You have trees outside.” She leaned toward me, a very convincing monkey noise leaving her mouth.
I made my selections from the menu and handed the phone over to Taylor for her to choose. “Why isn’t Veronica here yet? She should have been here by now.”
“Isn’t she studying with Weston?” Taylor asked.
For some weird reason, my cheeks heated at the sound of his name. I liked it. Weston. So fun and charming.
“She said they’d be done before dinner.”
Taylor handed the phone back to me. “Text her.”
I ordered the food and then shot Veronica a message. She responded within seconds. Sorry. Stuck on a stupid math problem. Be there ASAP.
“So, what’s the game plan for Bentley?” Taylor asked, turning her body to face me. “Have you invited him to do anything with you?”
“We only have the bonfire scheduled as of now.”
Taylor’s eyebrows drew together. “In January?”
I shrugged. “I felt like a bonfire.”
