Free Pool Boys by Erin Haft Page A

question she’d been expecting. “Yeah…didn’t Ethan say that she knew the Millers?”
    Brooke trailed a hand through her black hair, stretching her petite, flawless body across the cushions. “That’s what I heard,” she replied slowly. “But Charlotte said that Robby Miller told her he never met Valerie. Don’t you find that sort of weird?”
    “I, uh…I don’t know,” Georgia said. She shook her head, growing increasingly flustered. “What are you getting at?”
    “The point is, Valerie must have been lying,” Marcus replied.
    Georgia glared at him.
    What the hell? Where had that come from? He sounded pretty sure of himself for somebody who’d only knownValerie for, like, a day. And pretty sure for somebody who seemed happy not only to scam on Valerie, but on Georgia, as well…and now Brooke. Besides, who cared what Robby Miller said? When had he become a pillar of honesty? The most likely scenario: Robby had tried to get in Valerie’s pants once during some summer in New York, and had been rejected, so now he wanted to protect his reputation with the Pool Boys.
    “Hey, your tennis partner is here,” Brooke stated in a cold, dry voice. She nodded toward the patio doors.
    Georgia turned. She never imagined she’d be so relieved to see a girl who was hotter than she was, more stylishly dressed, and carrying a superior racket to her own. But then, she’d never imagined a lot of things that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.
    “Well, I guess I’ll catch you guys later,” she mumbled, hurrying away. She beckoned Valerie toward the tennis court path.
    “Hey, are you all right?” Valerie asked, peering at Georgia from under her visor. “You’re all flushed.”
    “It’s nothing.” She hurried across the pavement. “Just psyched to play a good solid set.”
    “Um, okay.”
    Georgia turned the corner—and froze.
    Ethan was out on the far court with Charlotte’s mom.
    Georgia knew that over the summer, he conducted a few special lessons on Sunday mornings for “beginners.” She watched, holding her breath, as Ethan volleyed the ball as politely as he could, smiling encouragingly the wholetime, the way one might play with an eager but not-so-coordinated toddler. He’d shaved, too, his tennis whites were pressed, and his brown eyes were sparkling. Mrs. von Klaus, decked out in a tight tennis outfit, was practically drooling over her racket, and Georgia could see why.
    In that moment, Georgia wondered how she could have ever let herself be attracted to Marcus. Really, when looking at Ethan, she felt like there was no competition. And all at once, for no reason whatsoever, her eyes began to burn.
    “Hey, Georgia?” Valerie asked.
    Georgia opened her mouth, but the words caught.
    “You know, we don’t have to play tennis,” Valerie went on. “I’m happy to go for a swim or leave you alone, or whatever.”
    “I…” Georgia drew in a brief, shaky breath. “No.” She wiped her eyes and managed a strained laugh. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just don’t really want to play tennis right now.”
    “Sorry for what?” Valerie arched an eyebrow. “Honestly, I didn’t feel like getting my ass kicked again, anyway. If I’m gonna forge some kind of rep at Silver Oaks, I can’t be losing all the time, can I?”
    Georgia laughed again.
    “Oh, you find that funny, do you?”
    “No. Well, yeah. It’s just—thanks for letting me freak out for a second.” Georgia wondered if Brooke or Charlotte would have been as supportive.
    Valerie shook her head. “If that’s what freaking out means around here, then I’m in big trouble,” she said.“Where I come from people have breakdowns and meltdowns and every other kind of ‘downs’ you can imagine all the time. Your freakout so isn’t on that level.” She paused by the green. “Hey, I have an idea.”
    “What’s that?” Georgia asked shakily.
    “How do you feel about golf?”
    Georgia stared ahead at the course through her