Her summer was already over.
Chapter Twenty-five
The rest of the festival was uneventful. Celeste played the role of owners’ daughter perfectly, seeing to guest requests and smiling politely for hours at a time. She hadn’t seen Travis since leaving him to sleep off his hangover in her bed while she returned to work four days ago. She assumed Nick was under house
arrest in his parents’ villa, since she hadn’t seen him since he left her father’s office. Despite not having to face him, she hadn’t been able to shake a near-constant headache.
The day after the festival’s closing party, Celeste woke up at ten. Her head was pounding and the sight of her crumpled pink silk dress still sitting in the corner of her room didn’t help. Devon’s plane was set to arrive at eleven. Celeste briefly considered texting and telling her to get a cab. She didn’t really feel like talking to anyone.
But maybe a ride to the airport would clear her head.
Celeste rolled off the bed and threw on the first jeans and T-shirt her hand touched.
Outside, the light morning breeze played over her skin and the sun was touching the red azaleas lining the path. Celeste glanced at her watch and walked a little faster. Suddenly, she bumped straight into Nick, who was struggling down the path, laden with two big suitcases.
Celeste gasped in surprise and jumped back. Nick stopped short. His face was creased and puffy. “You look terrible,” Celeste said involuntarily.
“My parents are sending me back to L.A.,” he said woodenly. “The car’s waiting for me.”
Celeste felt anger boiling up inside her. “Good,” she said harshly. Nick winced. Celeste brushed past him. She could feel his forlorn gaze between her shoulder blades but she refused to turn around. She had no desire to waste one more second on someone who had played her all summer and then wasted her time and hard work on something he’d never cared about anyway.
At the airport, Celeste stood on her tiptoes, trying to see past the crowd waiting by the baggage claim. A lot of people were coming up the escalator, but there was still no sign of Devon. It seemed like two years since she’d left, instead of a few weeks. Suddenly, she heard her name.
“Celeste!” Devon yelled, and flung her arms around her friend.
“Oh my God! I can’t believe you’re back!” Celeste said. “I missed you.” Devon was wearing a tank top with the Scottish flag on it tucked into skintight black jeans, and stiletto ankle boots. “You look like a member of the Clash.”
“I can’t believe I’m back either,” Devon replied, turning to survey the baggage carousel, now jammed with luggage. “I need a Diet Coke, like, right now. Scotland is amazing, but they’re way too into tea. Hey, there’s mine!” She muscled her way through the crowd and snared an enormous black duffel bag.
“So,” Devon said a few minutes later, as the girls wound their way through a concrete maze of sidewalks and blast barriers on their way to the parking garage.
“I’m dying to know how the film festival went. Did you meet any celebrities?” She cast a sideways glance at Celeste.
“Oh, um, I can’t remember.” Celeste managed to
avoid looking at her friend by scanning the aisles of parked cars. “So, uh, what was the food like there?”
“Celeste! What is going on? I can tell something’s up,” Devon said. She tossed her bag into the backseat of the Civic before climbing into the front and settling back on the cracked leather. Celeste got in and slammed the door. She turned the ignition and then sat for a minute, her hand on the gearshift, staring through the windshield. Devon tactfully gazed out the window at the side of the car parked next to them. Then Celeste threw the car into reverse and started maneuvering out of the parking space. She heaved a giant sigh. “You know, the whole thing makes me want to puke when I even think about it, Dev,” she said.
“What? What happened? You’re driving me crazy
with all of this drama.” Devon waved her arms around her head.
“It was a complete failure,” Celeste said, looking over her shoulder to merge onto the highway. Briefly, she filled Devon on the party details, the Rotterdam pepper prank, and the Nick-Travis blowout at the screening party. “And so his parents canceled his screening and are sending him back to L.A.,” she finished.
“Wow.” Devon let out her breath in a deep exhale.
“So he totally confessed, huh? Like said he did it right out?”
“Well, yeah! I was sitting right there,” Celeste exclaimed. The car’s speedometer crept up to seventy.
“Okay, don’t kill us,” Devon said, eyeing the dashboard. “I’m just really surprised Nick would do something like that.”
Celeste snorted. “I’m not,” she said shortly. “I was such an idiot to think he actually cared about the screening and the resort. It turned out that all he cared about was screwing with me and trying to destroy my relationship, for his own sick fun.”
“Yeah …” Devon replied slowly. “I guess so.” She fell silent and drummed her Chanel Vamp–painted nails on the window. Celeste slowed down and stared straight ahead at the clogged highway in front of her. Devon fidgeted with the strap on her bag. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. Finally, Celeste couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Devon!” she burst out. “What is it? You’re driving me crazy. What? Did you bring home some secret husband from Scotland or something?”
Her friend forced a laugh. “Uh, yeah, very funny.”
She cleared her throat. “I, uh, well, I’m just really surprised that Nick would do that at the party, because he was really crushing on you all summer.”
Celeste looked over at her friend. Devon was staring at her lap.
“I mean, all that time Nick and I were hanging out, before I left, all he
