Carter seemed surprised by hearing his name on my lips. “You—you know me? I mean, you knowme?”
I nearly laughed. Jamie had worried for nothing—Carter was probably more worried thatI’dkidnaphim. “I’m feeling a little betrayed,” I teased, taking a half step closer so I could lower my voice. “Here I was hoping I’d be the only one who knew Mr. ASMR.”
More than betrayed, though, I felt relieved.
Carter’s lashes jumped as he blinked, nearly five times in a second. “You are,” he whispered back. “That’s my alter ego.”
“Ah, so Iamstill special?”
“I-It was never in question.” He dropped his hands from fiddling with his buttons, fingers now fluttering to fiddle with the hem of his suit jacket. “At least, not in my mind.”
All the girls around us were watching, some with narrowed eyes, no doubt wondering why it looked like we were connecting so instantly. They’d wonder if we had history. They’d turn to each other, spreading the hottest gossip of the night:Carter Pembleton and Eleanor Brighton just clicked.
A thrill raced down my spine at the gift that’d fallen into my lap.L-U-C-K.
In that split second, I knew I could abort half of the mission. I didn’t have to worry about charming Carter-slash-Mr. ASMR so he’d introduce me to his father all in one night. We already had a connection. I had time now. Time to do it right.
“Are you going to ask me to dance?” I smiled at Carter. “If you wait any longer, they’ll start the ceremony, and you’ll miss your chance.”
Carter’s cheeks pinked. “I don’t think tonight is our last chance to dance together,” he said, holding his hand out to me. “At least, I hope it isn’t. But just in case, Eleanor, would you like to dance? I promise to try not to step on your toes.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “If you step on mine, I will step on yours.”
“Deal.”
Carter’s fingers were soft as they curled around mine, and he led me from the outskirts and onto the dance floor, where a few other couples were swaying to the strings playing from the corner.
And when Carter turned me around, I found myself with a straight shot to the ballroom’s doorway—where Beck leaned against the threshold. And his gaze was solely on me.
Lydia was at his side, her arms folded across her chest. Beck’s head angled toward hers as her lips moved quickly, and even when our eyes locked from across the room, Beck made no effort to look away. Instead, one corner of his lipscurled up in a smile that had my stomach feeling like I was on a rollercoaster, about to drop.
Beck lifted his now-refilled drink to his lips, hiding his smile, and then someone stepped between us, obscuring him entirely.
My world spun as I sucked in a breath, momentarily oxygen-deprived.B-E-C-K-H-A-M J-E-N-N-I-N-G-S.The letters of his name raced across my mind, unbidden, and I had a sinking feeling it’d be that way for the rest of the summer.
“It’s great to finally meet you in person,” I told Carter as his right hand became a firmer pressure around my own, and his left settled on the flare of my waist. Butterflies should’ve come to life at the touch, but instead, it was only the spot above my elbow that seemed to flare hot. The same spot Beck had touched. “And to put a face to the name.”
“It’s an honor for me, Eleanor Brighton,” Carter murmured, and swept us into a dance.
CHAPTER 3
Since spring had sprung back in April, the tennis and pickleball courts at Alderton-Du Ponte were always booked up two weeks in advance, especially on the weekends. Sunday afternoon, Daisy and I sat underneath one of the umbrella-covered tables near pickleball Court One, waiting for the quartet currently on Court Two to finish their game. I had my political science notes out in front of me, the pages stirring lightly in the wind as I read them over.
Daisy sat in the seat across from me, sketchbook in front of her, pencil in her left hand. She was halfway through her drawing of the courts we sat in front of, though it was more cartoonized than realistic. Daisy called it her “silly style,” but I thought it was cute.
Cute, but apparently not right. “Ugh.” Daisy suddenly groaned, and scrubbed her eraser across the page of her sketchbook. “Nothing isworking.”
“Maybe you just need a break. I thought you promised Jamie you’d try one of his books.”
“That was before he gave me a college-level omnibus of medieval drivel.”
“Wow.” I chuckled. “An omnibus of medieval drivel. That would’ve made him smile.”
“He’d probably tell me I used the words wrong.”
Probably. I could spell big words, but it was Jamie who knew what they meant, and frequently boasted that fact.
“Besides,” Daisy went on. “I’m mad at him.”
