Read Online The Fine Art of Pretending by Rachel Harris - Free Book Online
Authors: Rachel Harris
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to stare at girls in skimpy clothing. I narrow my eyes in concentration as they leer over the net. I spike the ball, land it in the perfect spot between them, and adjust the strap of my new hot-pink sports tank that has a built-in bra clearly not made for a chest like mine.
Welcome to my turf, boys .
As our official historian, Gabi snaps a picture of our victory hug, and a hum of whispers rises from the crowd. I giggle, high off the win. “They think we’re totally smitten,” I say, playing up my Southern accent and batting my eyelashes like a belle.
Brandon rolls his eyes and picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder as he jogs to the sideline cooler. I squeal and bang my fists across his sweat-slicked back. Grains of sand stick to his skin, and when he returns me to my feet, I avert my eyes.
I take a long sip of Evian, relishing the feel of the cold water sliding down my parched throat, and swipe my arm across my forehead. A definite benefit of not wearing my usual clothes is the ventilation. I grab my towel and pat off a layer of sweat.
A prickly sensation creeps along the back of my neck, and discreetly, I turn to scan the audience, expecting to find Lauren nailing me with another one of those lethal stares. I have to say, having those things directed at me? Not a fan. But when my gaze lands on the person giving me the prickles, I freeze.
And my stomach flip-flops.
Justin’s standing opposite me in black swimming trunks—and nothing else. His bare chest glistens with a sprinkle of sand dust. His eyes roam over my exposed skin, causing a slow-burning fire to spread throughout my body, and when his gaze meets mine, his mouth kicks up in that famous, lopsided grin.
Holy cannoli .
Just as I begin to think my dream is stepping into reality, a different muscular chest disrupts our contact. I step back, confused, as Brandon holds out a towel with a tight-lipped smile. I wave the one I already have in the air.
Brandon knows about Operation Sex Appeal. He knows it’s my mission to get Justin’s attention. You would think he’d be happy to see my progress. The sooner Justin gets interested, the quicker Brandon can go back to his string of adoring fans.
I circle my finger in front of his angry face. “Everything okay there?”
Brandon nods curtly.
“On your word?” I ask, still not getting the tension radiating from his shoulders and eyebrows. He has seriously annoyed eyebrows.
He blows out a breath. “Yeah, I just need you focused. We still have another team to kill, remember?”
That makes sense. I nod and take another pull off my drink, excitement over the next match already bubbling up.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, grabbing Brandon’s empty bottle. “Last night I saw a recycle bin over by the bonfire.” I alter my voice to a snooty tone, an echo of our science teacher, Ms. Burns, and say, “After all, everyone must do their part.”
I get the laugh I wanted, erasing the creases of tension from his forehead, and I take off for the bin. On my way back across the uneven ground, the crowd parts and Lauren steps in my path. My foot rolls at the hatred in her eyes, and I trip, busting my ass in the dirt.
“Shit, that hurts.”
Brandon runs over as I push to my feet, testing my weight on my ankles. “Are you all right?”
I take a moment to assess and then nod, dusting off my wind shorts. “I’m fine.” Brandon’s green eyes show concern, and I smile with assurance I don’t feel. And pretend I don’t hear the snickers trailing behind me.
Operation Sex Appeal was designed to get people to notice me, and I can honestly say I don’t feel invisible right now. But I can also say that, for the first time since we arrived, I’m wondering if maybe being a Casual isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Under the hot spray of the shower, I rinse off my favorite birthday-cake-scented shampoo. I’m still floating from my moment with Justin, and the bathroom is empty, so I start humming my
Welcome to my turf, boys .
As our official historian, Gabi snaps a picture of our victory hug, and a hum of whispers rises from the crowd. I giggle, high off the win. “They think we’re totally smitten,” I say, playing up my Southern accent and batting my eyelashes like a belle.
Brandon rolls his eyes and picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder as he jogs to the sideline cooler. I squeal and bang my fists across his sweat-slicked back. Grains of sand stick to his skin, and when he returns me to my feet, I avert my eyes.
I take a long sip of Evian, relishing the feel of the cold water sliding down my parched throat, and swipe my arm across my forehead. A definite benefit of not wearing my usual clothes is the ventilation. I grab my towel and pat off a layer of sweat.
A prickly sensation creeps along the back of my neck, and discreetly, I turn to scan the audience, expecting to find Lauren nailing me with another one of those lethal stares. I have to say, having those things directed at me? Not a fan. But when my gaze lands on the person giving me the prickles, I freeze.
And my stomach flip-flops.
Justin’s standing opposite me in black swimming trunks—and nothing else. His bare chest glistens with a sprinkle of sand dust. His eyes roam over my exposed skin, causing a slow-burning fire to spread throughout my body, and when his gaze meets mine, his mouth kicks up in that famous, lopsided grin.
Holy cannoli .
Just as I begin to think my dream is stepping into reality, a different muscular chest disrupts our contact. I step back, confused, as Brandon holds out a towel with a tight-lipped smile. I wave the one I already have in the air.
Brandon knows about Operation Sex Appeal. He knows it’s my mission to get Justin’s attention. You would think he’d be happy to see my progress. The sooner Justin gets interested, the quicker Brandon can go back to his string of adoring fans.
I circle my finger in front of his angry face. “Everything okay there?”
Brandon nods curtly.
“On your word?” I ask, still not getting the tension radiating from his shoulders and eyebrows. He has seriously annoyed eyebrows.
He blows out a breath. “Yeah, I just need you focused. We still have another team to kill, remember?”
That makes sense. I nod and take another pull off my drink, excitement over the next match already bubbling up.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, grabbing Brandon’s empty bottle. “Last night I saw a recycle bin over by the bonfire.” I alter my voice to a snooty tone, an echo of our science teacher, Ms. Burns, and say, “After all, everyone must do their part.”
I get the laugh I wanted, erasing the creases of tension from his forehead, and I take off for the bin. On my way back across the uneven ground, the crowd parts and Lauren steps in my path. My foot rolls at the hatred in her eyes, and I trip, busting my ass in the dirt.
“Shit, that hurts.”
Brandon runs over as I push to my feet, testing my weight on my ankles. “Are you all right?”
I take a moment to assess and then nod, dusting off my wind shorts. “I’m fine.” Brandon’s green eyes show concern, and I smile with assurance I don’t feel. And pretend I don’t hear the snickers trailing behind me.
Operation Sex Appeal was designed to get people to notice me, and I can honestly say I don’t feel invisible right now. But I can also say that, for the first time since we arrived, I’m wondering if maybe being a Casual isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Under the hot spray of the shower, I rinse off my favorite birthday-cake-scented shampoo. I’m still floating from my moment with Justin, and the bathroom is empty, so I start humming my
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