“My dad just sprung it on us. It’s an early Christmas present—he’s taking us on a fourteen-day trip to the Yucatán peninsula. We’re going with my dad’s best friend from college and his family.”
The inside of Hanna’s mouth suddenly tasted sour. “Fourteen days . . . as in two weeks?”
“Uh-huh.” Lucas gave her a little smile. “I’m really psyched.”
“But we’re still in school,” Hanna sounded out, reaching for another handful of popcorn. It was only December 7—Rosewood Day didn’t let out for Christmas and New Year’s until later in the month. “Why doesn’t your dad wait until winter break?”
Lucas raised both shoulders. “They got an amazing deal on the flights and hotel rooms. And my brother’s flying in from college for a few days, too. My dad worked it out with Rosewood Day—I’ll take the makeup exams between Christmas and New Year’s. And at least I’ll be back for most of the break.” Lucas gently took her hands in his and squeezed them. “You and I can spend every minute together then.”
Hanna pulled her hands away from Lucas’s, feeling a huge lump in her throat. “But I need you now.”
Lucas threw up his arms helplessly. “I’m sorry, but I’ve wanted to go to the Yucatán for years. It has amazing hiking. Great beaches. And it’s not like my folks could change their tickets now.”
Before she could say anything, the doorbell rang to the tune of “Jingle Bells.”
Lucas jumped up and parted the front curtains. A steel-blue Mercedes SUV had pulled into the driveway. “It’s the Rumsons, the family we’re traveling with. They’re dropping off the itinerary. You’ll love them. And I’ll bet you have a lot in common with Brooke.”
“Brooke?” Hanna asked warily, staying on the couch.
Mr. Beattie bounded in from the kitchen and pulled the door open, letting in a whoosh of cold air. “Wade! Patricia! It’s been far too long!”
Mrs. Beattie emerged from the upstairs, grinning at her guests. “We are just so excited!” she squealed at the couple who had just stepped into the foyer. “And so is Lucas!” She pushed Lucas toward them. The husband, Wade, who wore a Burberry barn jacket and had blindingly white teeth, pumped Lucas’s hand. The wife, Patricia, whose toothpick arms were apparent even under her snug-fitting cashmere peacoat, gave Lucas a kiss on the cheek.
“Oh. My. God,” said a voice from the porch. The adults parted, and an overly tan, scarily skinny, gum-snapping teenage girl with long, teased black hair, wet-looking red lipstick, and jutting boobs marched right up to Lucas and clapped her long-fingernailed hands on his shoulders. “Lukey!” she screamed in a nasal voice. “You look uh-mazing!”
Lukey?
“Whoa. Brooke.” Lucas smiled shakily. “You look . . . different.”
The Rumsons nudged the Beatties. “You two have both grown up a bit since we last saw you, huh?” Mrs. Rumson said.
“Remember the kind of trouble they used to get into?” Lucas’s mother clucked. “Remember all the secret clubs they formed?”
“They were inseparable. I always said those two would get married someday,” Mrs. Rumson murmured before all the parents bustled off to the kitchen.
Hanna’s head snapped up. Married?
Brooke poked Lucas’s shoulder. “When you said I looked different, I hope you meant gorgeous!” She traced her finger over Lucas’s T-shirt, then let her hand fall to the waistband of his jeans. “Has someone been working out? And where’d you get those sexy new clothes?”
“Ahem.” Hanna stood up and strode into the foyer. This flirtation had gone on long enough. She had been the one who’d encouraged Lucas to buy the True Religion jeans and streamlined polo from Armani Exchange he was wearing.
“Oh.” Lucas glanced at Hanna. “Brooke, this is my girlfriend, Hanna.”
“What’s up?” Brooke took in Hanna’s unwashed hair, schlumpy Eagles sweatshirt, and ratty old Sevens. A look crossed her face that said, She’s no threat. She stepped closer to Lucas. “Aren’t you so excited to go on this trip? I’ve heard the beachside parties there are amazing. And I can’t wait to work on my tan.”
Hanna pressed her lips together to keep from snickering. This girl was already so orange she looked like she’d been born in a tanning booth.
“It’s going to rock,” Lucas said. “I was just telling Hanna about it. There’s amazing hiking, sightseeing, food . . .”
“. . . and the nude beach,” Brooke added, licking her lips.
“Uh, excuse me?” Hanna bleated.
Brooke slung her arm around Lucas’s shoulder. “You’re in for the treat of your life, Lukey—everyone sunbathes naked down there. And you and I are going to do Jell-O shots every night.”
The cheese popcorn rose back up in Hanna’s throat. She had to put a stop to this. “Um, I need to talk to you.” She grabbed Lucas’s arm and pulled him into the den, which was littered with video game boxes, old magazines, and three more Advent calendars, one of which looked like it was made entirely out of puff paint.
There was an innocent smile on Lucas’s face. “Is everything okay?”
Was everything okay? Hanna took a few breaths to steady her nerves. “What do you think, Lukey?”
Lucas ran his hand over his hair. “Yeah, Brooke used to call me that when she was little—she couldn’t pronounce Lucas.”