Page 29 of The Summer of Wild

"The light is green."

I let out an annoyed grunt before driving through the intersection. Wilder stares straight ahead, not interested in having this conversation. Not that I should be surprised. Wilder and I have never been friends, and I know it's going to take more than friendship rules and a bucket list to change that.

By the end of the summer, I plan on knowing all of Wilder's deepest, darkest secrets.

The winding road leading up to the country club is lined with flowers—tulips, lilies, roses, and daffodils. It's deceptively welcoming. But if you don't pay an exuberant amount of money to belong here, it's decidedly unpleasant.

I run my hands along my white dress as I step out of the car and peer around. My little silver Toyota Corolla stands out in a sea of Range Rovers, BMWs, and Buicks.

"You ready?" Wilder asks as he waits for me at the edge of the car.

Here goes nothing, Ingrid. "Yep."

"Wanna know the secret to fitting in with this crowd?" Wilder whispers in my ear as we head toward the massive wood doors.

"There's a secret?" I swallow hard.

Wilder grabs the door and holds it open for me. "Act like you don't give a shit about anything. They'll never know the difference."

"You want me to pretend?" I tilt my head to the side.

"That's the key, Blondie."

I've never been great at pretending, but I've been doing a lot of masking lately—masking how I feel. With Cash gone, my world is small and sad. So, I fake smiles, and I pretend life is better than it is for Mom and Dad's sake. The last thing they need is an unhinged, brokenhearted daughter. They already have to deal with Isla's self-absorbed, self-serving antics.

I think I can pretend tonight. I can pretend that the one place I was never allowed to be Cash's girlfriend, I can be Wilder's date. I can belong here, even if I don't ever plan on coming back.

"Cox party of two," Wilder winks at the hostess.

The hostess blushes as she grabs two menus. I roll my eyes as Wilder places a hand on my back, pushing me forward.

One foot in front of the other, Ingrid. Hold your chin up. Smile. But not too big. Pretend you're uninterested, but life is easy.

"Why do you look constipated?" Wilder chuckles as he takes a seat across from me.

I smile at the hostess as she hands me a menu. "He likes to joke."

"Oh," she beams, "I know."

My mouth drops slightly open.

"My shift ends in 45 minutes," the hostess tells Wilder. "I'm looking forward to the thank you you're going to give me later for getting you a reservation."

With that, the hostess saunters away and Wilder watches her go.

"I'm sorry," my voice squeaks, "but did you trade sex for a dinner reservation tonight?"

"I did," Wilder admits with a shit-eating grin.

"So, you'll be going home with her after this?"

"Her name is Karissa. And yes, I will. You can give her a ride, right?"

I run a hand over my face. "Unbelievable."

"Don't worry, Blondie," Wilder flashes his eyebrows at me. "I'll be thinking about your boobs the whole time I'm thanking Karissa."

"You're disgusting."

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