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Jerk.
Great. Now I’m angry at a song.
Nate parked at a metered spot near the pier and, wouldn’t you know it, Kris pulled into the space two cars behind him.
Nate texted his sister to let her know he was here before he got out of the car and glared at Kris, who glared right back.
“Are you following me?” Kris demanded.
He laughed in disbelief. “You were driving behind me the entire time. Hard to follow you when I was first.”
“Maybe you sensed which way I was going.”
Nate couldn’t believe his ears. “That’s insane.”
“But not impossible.”
“You think too highly of yourself. I have better things to do with my evenings than follow you around.” His phone chimed with a new text.
Skylar: I’m by the carousel. See you soon!
“AndIhave better things to do than argue with you.” Kris tossed her hair over her shoulder and marched by him. Even in her crazy heels, she barely reached his shoulder.
“Whatever.” Nate pocketed his phone and headed toward the pier.
Their silence was awkward as hell, considering they were walking next to each other toward the same destination. Nate didn’t even remember why they were mad at each other, but he’d be damned if he caved first.
After a couple of minutes, the Santa Monica Pier came into view. It was one of the most iconic spots in L.A., and while it was nice at any time of day, it shined brightest at sunset. The jungle of neon lights and brightly colored rides battled for attention against the fiery oranges and deep purples streaking the skies, and the famous Ferris wheel spun lazily in the background—a comforting anchor to the chaos.
Nate and Kris both turned toward the carousel.
“Don’t say it,” Kris said without looking at him. “I’m meeting someone at the carousel.”
“Me too.” Nate paused. “Who are you meeting?”
Was it a date? The possibility set his teeth on edge.
“None of your business.” Kris crinkled her nose at a passing group of tourists wearing fanny packs.
Fine. Whatever. He’d find out soon enough, anyway.
As they approached the carousel, Nate kept his eye out for Kris’s date. The douche in the Ray-Bans and salmon shorts was a possibility—he screamed “look at me, I have money” and begged for a punch in the face—but a girl appeared and wrapped her arms around his waist right as the thought crossed Nate’s mind.
Before he could continue scouting, he heard Skylar call his name.
“Nate! Over here!” She waved. One of Skylar’s soccer camp friends had dropped her off, and in her pink tank top and jean shorts, she looked younger than her seventeen years.
Nate’s face softened into a smile. He was looking forward to a night of cotton candy and silly rides with his sister. It’d take his mind off—
“Kris!” Skylar waved again. “Oh my God, you guys came at the same time. What a coincidence.”
Nate’s smile dropped.
What. The. Fuck.
How did his sister know Kris? What thehellwas going on?
“Hi!” Skylar hugged Kris and gestured at Nate. “This is Nate, my brother. Nate, this is my friend Kris. I met her at, um, the movies. I thought it’d be fun if we had a group hang tonight. The more the merrier, right?” She beamed, ignoring the daggers flying from Nate’s eyes. “Plus, you guys are around the same age. I thought you’d get along. Make new friends and all that.”
Oh, God. The pieces clicked into place.
I think she’d like you.
You’re around the same age, and she is so pretty.
The girl Skylar had been talking about a few weeks ago—the one she’d wanted to set him up with—was Kris.
One look at Kris and Nate saw she’d deduced what was going on as well because her expression matched his—pure horror.
There was no doubt about it: they were on a matchmaking date.
