If Love Had A Price

Kris had a rock-solid strategy for managing emotional pain, which she dubbed the three S’s: Shopping, Spa, and Sex.

The morning after the MentHer gala and her breakup with Nate, she took her credit cards on a field trip to Rodeo Drive, where she racked up so many purchases the plastic grew hot to the touch. Once she maxed out her monthly limit—thank God her checking account remained flush—she unwound with a deluge of treatments at her favorite spa: an exfoliating body scrub, an oxygen facial, a ninety-minute deep-tissue aromatherapy massage, and a mani-pedi complete with paraffin wax treatments.

Except she didn’t unwind. She was tense and agitated the whole time, to the point where her massage therapist would’ve given up on her had Kris not paid four hundred dollars for the service.

The shopping and spa twofer had always worked in the past, yet the jagged spikes tearing up Kris’s chest remained. It scraped against her tender flesh every time she breathed until blood dripped from the shattered pieces of her heart. She’d look down every few minutes, half-expecting to see drops of red liquid glistening on her skin, but her exterior remained as flawless and well-groomed as ever.

It was only on the inside that she died.

Luckily—or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it—Kris had another problem that distracted her from her metaphorical death: the Bobbi Rayden Tornado and Its Aftermath.

She’d woken up Sunday morning to a deluge of furious texts, missed calls, and emails from her now ex-boss because she’d completely forgotten about Sabrina Winters’ Mode de Vie shoot…which had been on the same day as the MentHer gala. While Sabrina posed and preened in front of the camera, Kris had been running around, perfecting the centerpieces and liaising with the band at the YMCA.

Bobbi had not been happy, and she’d fired Kris in her last, all-caps text. Kris didn’t particularly care, though she experienced a frisson of guilt over her lapse of memory. She didn’t make promises often, but when she did, she kept them—for the most part.

The guilt had compelled Kris to call Bobbi and apologize. She managed to get the “sorry” out before the other woman hung up on her.

Bobbi told Roger about Kris’s fuck up, and Roger had been livid. The fact that Kris had been volunteering for a nonprofit had tempered his anger somewhat, but he’d still laid down his ultimatum: find a job for the rest of the summer or he’d cut her off. Again.

Never mind the fact there were only three weeks left before the fall semester.

It had been an epically shitty weekend, and her group video chat with Courtney, Farrah, and Olivia Sunday night only made her feel worse. As much as she enjoyed her friends’ company, they reminded her of the halcyon days of study abroad in Shanghai, when she’d been unencumbered by interest in the opposite sex. While Courtney got caught up in her drama with Leo, and Farrah and Blake turned into a total shitshow, and Olivia and Sammy became the world’s most nauseatingly sweet couple—though judging by Olivia’s current tone, there was trouble in paradise in New York—Kris had flown above it all, secure in the knowledge that she would never debase herself by falling for a guy.

Ha. Joke was on her.

However, she kept what happened with Nate to herself. She was so not in the mood to rehash her whirlwind romance and heartbreak. The wounds were too fresh, and she didn’t trust herself not to break down over Skype. Talk about Humiliation Central.

“I hate to cut this short, but we have to go,” Olivia said eighty minutes into their call. She sat next to Farrah, who was also interning in NYC, and they both wore casual-dressy black tops—standard attire for nights out in the city. “We have dinner reservations for a new pop-up restaurant in the Village that I had to practically sell my firstborn to get. But let’s talk again soon? I miss you guys!”

“Miss you, too.” Courtney blew a kiss through the screen. “We need to have an in-person reunion. Maybe a long weekend or spring break?”

Olivia brushed a strand of silky black hair out of her eye. “Sounds good to me. I’ll research and come up with a list of options.”

“Kris, when are you leaving L.A.?” Farrah asked. “Maybe we’ll overlap.” The girl was still twisted up over her breakup with that asshole Blake Ryan—Kris could see it in her eyes—but she made a valiant effort to appear upbeat and cheerful.

When Kris gave her the date, Farrah’s face fell. “Damn, so close. You leave the day before I get back.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” Kris said, trying on Upbeat and Cheerful herself for size. Nope, not happening. Probably because she wasn’t an upbeat and cheerful person even on a good day. “I have faith in Liv’s scheduling skills.”

Olivia dipped into a mock bow. “Why, thank you.”

After a few more minutes of idle chitchat and goodbyes, Kris’s friends signed off, and she lay on her four-poster bed, trying and failing to find solace in her luxurious surroundings. The things that used to fill her up—the designer clothes, the fancy furniture, the knowledge that she possessed the triple privilege of being young, hot, and rich—left her cold.

Not even Harry Winston could make her feel better.

Kris owned things that most girls would kill for, but they were just that—things. They couldn’t fill the hole in her heart, soothe her when she cried, or infuse her with a pleasure that went far deeper than the short-lived dopamine hit she got from a new handbag.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away angrily.

“I don’t cry over guys.” Her voice echoed in the silence and sounded unconvincing to her own ears.

Fuck this.

Kris refused to be one of those girls who couldn’t get out of bed because she was heartbroken. It wasn’t like she and Nate would’ve lasted, anyway. He was right. They were too different, and her initial misgivings about long-distance relationships were correct. They would’ve broken up eventually.

At least, that was what she told herself.

It took Kris ten minutes to gather enough energy to reach for her phone. She stared at the screen for a moment before she pulled up a familiar name and sent him a quick text.

Kris: What are you doing tomorrow?

She didn’t have a job anymore, so her schedule was wide open. As for her father’s ultimatum…well, she’d deal with that later.

The reply came less than a minute later.

Teague: Hanging out with you.

Excellent.

Kris: Manhattan Beach, 9am. See you then.

Shopping and the spa may not have cured her of her heartbreak, but she still had one S left.

SEX WITH TEAGUE was off the table.

Not because he wasn’t attractive—his lean muscles and tousled hair drew the eyes of more than a few women when he and Kris walked along the beach Monday morning, but despite his good looks, she couldn’t summon an iota of sexual attraction toward him.

She would’ve chalked it up to their friendship, except her lack of attraction also ran toward every other guy at the beach, many of whom looked like they moonlighted as Calvin Klein underwear models.

Clearly, Kris’s body was not ready for sex with someone else this soon after her breakup, no matter what her mind said. Her heart was out of commission altogether; even if it weren’t, it wouldn’t have had a seat at the Table of Rebounds.

“You okay?” Teague eyed her with concern. “You’ve been unusually quiet. You didn’t even comment on my attire.”

Kris cracked a half-hearted smile. Teague wore the bright orange board shorts she’d dared him to buy in St. Barth’s one winter, but if anyone could pull off swimwear so glaringly bright it practically glowed, it was Teague.

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“Bobbi and the new job thing?”

She’d filled him in on that part of the weekend earlier.

“No.” They were close enough to the shore that a gentle wave lapped at Kris’s ankles before it receded. “Nate and I broke up Saturday night. His decision.”

Teague let out a low whistle. “Not a good weekend.”

“Nope.”

“Nate’s an idiot.”

“Yep.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised. I only met the guy once, but I thought…” Teague trailed off. “Did he say why?”

“Some bullshit about us not being right for each other.” No way was Kris telling anyone she’d wanted a long-distance relationship and Nate had shut her down. Hard. “Whatever. We wouldn’t have lasted anyway. I leave in—”

“Kris!”

Kris turned her head and watched in disbelief as Skylar bounded toward her with two athletic-looking brunettes—one with a long, thick braid; the other with a pixie cut that enhanced her catlike green eyes—in tow. Kris recognized the girl with the braid as Briana, the mentee who’d introduced Skylar to MentHer. Pixie Cut was a stranger.

“Hey, Sky. Hey, Briana.” Kris forced a smile. “Small world.”

She’d come to view Skylar as the little sister she’d never had, but the teen reminded her too much of Nate. One look at her and the spikes in Kris’s chest intensified their assault.

“Briana, Lacey, and I came here to relax. And to ogle the hot guys.” Skylar wiggled her eyebrows and slid an appreciate glance toward Teague. “Soccer camp was brutal this week.”

“Coach is trying to kill us,” Briana confirmed.

“She just wants us in tip-top shape. We have our big exhibition game coming up, and scouts from a bunch of colleges will be there,” Lacey explained to Kris and Teague.

“Sounds fun. I’m Teague,” he added, and Kris realized belatedly she hadn’t introduced him yet.

He didn’t seem to mind. He just shot her a bemused smile, like he wasn’t sure why a bunch of high school girls were so excited to see her.

MentHer, she mouthed. She’d told him about the organization when they ran into each other at Runyon Canyon.

Understanding dawned in his eyes, and he nodded.

“You guys should come to the game!” Skylar chirped. “Every player can invite up to four people. I’ve only invited my dad and Nate, so I have two spots left. It’s perfect.”

Kris’s heart squeezed at the sound of Nate’s name. The sun suddenly felt too hot on her skin, the sand too rough beneath her feet. “Thanks for the invite, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Skylar frowned. She tugged on her ponytail and glanced at Briana and Lacey, who took the hint and announced they were going for a dip in the water.

“I’ll scout out a prime sunbathing spot for us,” Teague said, also catching on. He loped off, leaving Kris and Skylar alone.

Skylar waited until he was out of earshot before she spoke. “I know what happened between you and my brother. He was in a total mood yesterday, and it took me forever to pry it out of him, but he told me.” Her brows formed a sharp, angry V over the bridge of her nose. “He’s being a stupid, asshole-y jerk and I’m mad at him.”

A rusty laugh emerged from Kris’s throat before it died a quick death. But it was her first laugh in forty-eight hours so that counted for something, right? “He’s your brother.”

“Which is how I know what a colossal idiot he is.” Skylar rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. “He’s sad, you know. He called in sick to work yesterday, which he never does, and he just moped around the house in these ugly old sweatpants. He didn’t even run lines for today’s shoot.”

Something sparked inside Kris before she crushed it with a ruthless fist. She would not get her hopes up. “Whatever he’s sad about, he’ll get over it.”

The Oscar Bravo shoot today would revive him. Nate had a minor role, so he only needed to be on set for two days max, but he’d been looking forward to it since he got the job.

“No, he won’t. He’s sad over you.”

Kris sucked in a deep breath and tried for patience. “He was the one who broke up with me.”

“Maybe he regrets it.” Skylar sounded hopeful. “Maybe he realizes he made a mistake and wants to get back together but hasn’t found the courage to contact you yet.”

Kris had to appreciate the younger girl’s romantic optimism, even if she didn’t share the sentiment. “I doubt it.”

Skylar’s jaw set in a stubborn line. “Fine. But will you come to the game? It’s Wednesday night.” Her eyes searched Kris’s face. “It’s a huge deal, and I want you there if you can make it.”

Kris had manipulated enough people in the past to know when she was the one being manipulated. Her skin flushed hot and cold at the thought of seeing Nate again so soon—she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be ready. But soccer meant a lot to Skylar, and this game was a big deal. Coaches from Division I schools all over the country would be in attendance. Skylar wasn’t lying about that.

“I’ll go if Teague goes.” If Kris were to face her ex again after getting dumped, she needed armor. And if that armor came in the form of a six-foot-tall blond with a ripped surfer’s body?

All the better.