Aveena:I’m going to need a full story with details and receipts, thank you.
I snort out a laugh.
My best friend’s never been interested in school drama. Aveena’s shy, keeps to herself, and wouldn’t be caught dead gossiping about some cheerleader sleeping with her man’s best friend—I’m looking at you, Brielle Randall—but when it comes to my drama?
Aveena Harper turns into a detective.
Dia: Remember when I said I was supposed to be alone with the Richardses’ dog for the summer?
She knows right away.
Aveena:You’re kidding.
Dia: Am not.
Aveena: Please don’t tell me you’re going to be spending the summer with Finn Richards.
Dia: Do you want me to lie to you?
Aveena: Girl, run! They don’t pay you enough for this shit!
Dia: Actually, my boss just gave me a raise…
Aveena: See? Even he knows his son is crazy. What did your dads say?
Dia: I told Mr. Richards I’d ask them if it was okay, but I sort of… didn’t.
Aveena: Do you think they’d let you work there?
Dia: And leave their little girl alone with a boy for two months? Are you high?
Aveena: Shit, D, what are you going to do?
Dia: No idea.Just avoid him for two months, I guess?
Lexie cuddles up to my leg before Aveena messages me back. I can’t contain a smile, trying to pet the top of her head and laughing when she licks my hand instead.
I already adore Lexie.
She’s sweet, loving, protective.
I hadn’t even been here one day before the nine-year-old golden retriever started following me everywhere. She’s the only silver lining to this job so far.
I clean up after Lexie and come to the conclusion that I can’t avoid Finn forever. I’m going to have to go back to the house eventually. I might even try to make peace with him if he lets me.
The walk back to the Richards estate is a quick one. I catch myself dragging my feet every two steps, but Lexie won’t let me off the hook, pulling on her leash when she feels me slowing down.
I prepare a speech as I amble up the long driveway, rehearsing a fake apology in the hope of restoring some civility between Finn and me.
Until I reach the top…
And I realize “restoring civility” was never an option.
The first thing I see is the duffel bag I use as a suitcase tossed into the water fountain in the center of the driveway.
Then I spot my T-shirts, shoes, swimsuits, shorts—even my goddamn underwear—littering the lawn to the million-dollar mansion. They’re everywhere, every single piece of clothing I brought with me, dumped outside like garbage.
My makeup is smashed all over the concrete, including the liquid lipsticks I got for my birthday and the ninety-dollar eyeshadow palette I borrowed from my sister.