Page 32 of Ruse
Darcy’s eyes light up with excitement. “You think they’d do that? I’d kill for some pizza from Giovanni’s.”
I meet her enthusiastic grin with one of my own, suddenly way more excited than I had expected to be. “We can always charm our way down there and ask.” I give her a teasing wink. “Same with the sports teams and clubs. We can convince them all to volunteer, say four hours each, or alternate between themselves. We’re talking about a weekend open for twelve hours a day plus set up, I’m sure we’ll have enough.”
“We can do a kissing booth and have the football teamwork at that one.” I pause and look up at her when her voice suddenly breaks. “Not that I want to kiss anyone on the football team, I’m just saying they’d probably bring in the most money.” A bright red flush creeps over Darcy’s face and her eyes go wide when we hear a car pull into my driveway.
My heart beats loudly with anticipation, but soon enough I realize it’s only Brooklyn. “Don’t worry it’s just my brother. Unless he’s the guy on the football team you want to kiss?” I tease her and soon regret it when a look of utter shock flashes in her eyes.
“Eww no, I mean nothing wrong with the guy, sorry no offense, he’s your brother.”
“No offense taken. I agree, eww.”
She chuckles lightly, “He’s just not my type. He's too, well blonde, not to mention cocky.” We both start laughing hysterically just as Brooklyn and his best friend Fitz, walk over to us.
The infamous Grant Fitzpatrick, son of NFL Hall of Famer Gerard “Giant” Fitzpatrick, quarterback, captain, and probably the hottest guy in all of Malibu Cove. Fitz, as everyone calls him, is one of those hard to come by unicorns that is equally matched in personality as he is in looks. Brooklyn and Fitz have been friends for as long as Dee and me, the four of us practically raised together, vacationing to the same places, spending nights at each other's houses, holidays, and pretty much every other minute of every day.
“What’s so funny?” Brooklyn asks, his gaze quickly shifting toward Darcy when he realizes I’m not alone. Darcy notices too, suddenly her legs are crossed on the lounge chair and her gaze is focused on the notebook in her lap. In this exact position Darcy looks adorable, dark hair falling over her face, hands tucked into the pockets of her cutoff shorts that fit way too loose, and her baggy, unflattering shirt hides the amazing body I’m sure she has underneath. It’s funny to watch Brooklyn’s eyes go wide with the realization that my house guest is hot, but what’s funnier is she has no clue. “And hello to you, girl who’s not my sister’s annoying bestie.”
Darcy doesn’t look up at his comment but suddenly, Fitz is the one who steps forward and speaks. “Hey Darcy,” he says all too casually.
“Wait, you know her?” Brooklyn asks, surprised, looking back and forth between her and his best friend.
“Yeah, she’s my neighbor. You know her too, asshole,” Fitz grunts, smacking Brooklyn on the arm.
A dumbfounded look takes over my brother’s attempt at flirtation. “Wait, that's Darcy Bonnet?”
“Bennett,” the three of us say simultaneously, Darcy finally looking up and meeting Fitz’s gaze.
“Hey Grant,” Darcy says, calling him by his first name nobody but his parents and teacher use.”
“Grant, who the fucks Grant?” Brooklyn teases, suddenly being a little too flirty with Darcy.
“Whatever Matilda,” Fitz counters back at her, making her roll her eyes annoyed.
“Matilda? Wait, I feel like I’m missing something?” Now my poor brother really looks awfully confused.
“It’s nothing,” Darcy shouts out, packing up her belongings.
But Fitz doesn’t brush it off. “When Darcy first moved in next door to me, we were like eight, she had short brown hair with bangs and always carried around this stupid book.”
“It wasn’t stupid. I was a child, and it was my favorite book.” Darcy turns to me as if needing to explain herself. “It was the book but had the cover from the movie.”
Fitz ignores her and continues with his explanation. “Anyway, the girl on the cover looked exactly like her, so I started calling her Matilda. Then I found out her middle name is Mathilde, which is like the French version of Matilda, and it stuck.”
Darcy snaps back, “It didn’t stick, you just refused to stop using it.”
“Just like you refuse to call me Fitz,” Fitz counters, and suddenly this back-and-forth bickering is turning into something more.
Darcy rolls her eyes as if unable to comprehend his stubbornness. “That’s not your name.”
Brooklyn waves his hands in the air exaggeratingly, pretending he’s holding Fitz back from launching at Darcy. “Alright kids, stop fighting. What are you and Matilda up to P?” Darcy glares at my brother. “I mean Darcy.”
“I was just leaving,” Darcy mutters under her breath as she stands and gathers her belongings. She’s slightly shorter than my five-foot four frame, and incredibly shorter than Brooklyn and Fitz who both are well over six feet, but it’s the ill-fitting clothes that swallow up her already petite frame making her look like a small child.
I stand to meet her, blocking her exit. “What no, we haven’t finished.”
She steps around me, her gaze pleading me to let her go. “I’m sorry Phoenix, I have to. I have a lot of homework and we'll finish this all up on Tuesday.”
I nod in agreement, understanding her silent pleas, but not forgetting to ask her later why she suddenly became so uneasy. “Okay well at least let me get my stuff and take you.”
