Unmasked

Finn's POV

I woke up to booming music; I rolled over, burying my face into a pillow. The music didn't stop; it sounded like something Trip would be into. Through a haze, I got myself out of bed, into the bathroom and got myself cleaned up and woke. I put on a t-shirt and swim shorts before paddling bare footed outside. I climbed the spiraling staircase to the second floor. The doors to the recreational room were thrown open; I rubbed my temples as sunlight burned my corneas. I walked in and across, walking out into the deck, making a face at the blaring stereo.

"Look who decided to wake up!" Gabe's voice was loud, enough to topple the stereo. Gabriel was sprawled on a beach towel, next to the Jacuzzi.

Trip emerged off to the side, having climbed the rock stairs. He was carrying two beers.

"What time is it?"

"A little past noon." It didn't feel like I'd slept that long. "Heads up," he called, tossing a can to Gabe. Trip was wearing his prized Rayban's and swim trunks. "I knocked on your door earlier, but you were dead to the world. Ava's making lunch. Valerie and I offered to help, but we were both cast out."

I laughed.

"How the hell is that guy awake?" I nudged my head Gabriel's way.

"Gabe has a tolerance for every vice…"

"This is noise pollution!" came the complaint from behind me—inside the rec room. The volume got cut in half. "Much better," Sharon came into the deck with rumpled hair. One eye was shut against the light. "I need water. And coffee. Lots of coffee…"

Trip tipped the can at the short girl, "I only have beer."

Sharon's nose twitched—she stumbled to the side. Trip and I reached out to steady her.

"Okay. I need someone to get me downstairs…" clearly, Sharon didn't have Gabe's tolerance.

I took Sharon's arm, leading us both down the side stairs. We walked into the kitchen and my stomach grunted in response to the nice smell wafting from the stove. Ava was busy stirring something… sauce? She twisted toward us.

"There's coffee in that thermos." Sharon nearly tripped with the anticipation of getting her hands on the coffee. I grabbed a cup of water, downing it. "Can you give me a hand?"

"Sure. What do you need?"

"Cut these, please." Ava shoved mushrooms towards me. "Make it small. It's for pizza."

Pizza? Not what I expected from an ex-model. I started cutting the white shrooms; I wondered where Valerie was. I checked on Sharon over a shoulder, making sure she hadn't tripped over her own feet and hit her head on a stool; she was pouring a scary amount of coffee in a… bowl? I blinked as she proceeded to pour Cocoa Puffs in. With Sharon safely sitting and moodily chomping on her coffee and cereal mix, I refocused on my duty.

"I heard you kicked people out?"

Ava stretched out the flatbread with her hands over a flour covered counter. She sniggered.

"Huh, yeah. Thomas was too distracting, and Valerie nearly lobbed off her thumb slicing a tomato."

I swept an arm across my forehead, keeping the wavy ringlets from covering my eyes.

"Where's her Iciness now?" Ava gave me a derivative look. What?

"She was on the phone with her friend—Emma. She arrived at the airport, she's driving here in a taxi." I would offer to pick her up, but Emma had money to spare. "Finn," Ava mumbled as I finished slicing the mushrooms. "Has Valerie been acting weird?"

"Weird?"

"Yeah. At breakfast, her phone was buzzing non-stop. She was eying it like she wanted to toss it into the garbage disposal." I shrugged. Ava's lips twisted. "I thought you might have noticed something, since you guys spent some time together."

"Nope," I lied; obviously, Valerie was acting differently, but that had been going on ever since our fated morning with Christian Freight. I helped Ava by slicing and dicing more stuff, like pepperoni, cherry tomatoes and cheese.

I stepped out onto the lower deck, almost plowing into the black-haired girl I tucked in last night. Valerie's eyes were adorably starstruck; since no one could see, I smiled. Happy to see her.

"Hi," she whispered; there was a pink shade starting at her neck. "Ava told me to thank you—for carrying me to my… hmm… to bed."

Then, Valerie sidestepped me. I licked my lips, forcing the grin to die as I made my way upstairs.

Valerie's POV

Being around Finn for the next couple of days was going to be hard. I wanted a repeat of our first night here; last night, I dreamed about us… I bit my lip. We were eating the last of Ava's amazing home-made pizzas, this was the worst place to think about sex fantasies. My phone vibrated, moving a little on the table. I hoped it wasn't Jackson calling. Again. I let out a relieved sigh; it was Emma.

Leaving the table, I pretended to be excited because Emma had arrived, fresh out of an airplane and not because I needed an escape from Finn's pointed dismissal. That sounded so pathetic; Brenda would have a field day if she knew. Sharon decided to tag along in greeting Emma; it turns out they'd met a couple of times before, at charity galas Sharon and her mother organized. Once we made it to the front of the house, the taxi was leaving. I noticed her bags were on the porch already. Emma's almond skin looked darker; no surprise there, she'd been sunbathing in Costa Rica.

"I thought my welcome committee would be bigger." Emma called out, shouldering a small backpack. Emma's natural curls were no longer warm brown, they were layered in copper tones, lighter on the outside and darker on the inside. "I'm joking!" she tipped her sunglasses back as we met halfway and greeted each other European style, a kiss on each cheek.

"I can't believe you dyed your hair." Sharon stated before stepping toward Emma, greeting her the same way.

Emma grabbed a curl, examining it; she let it bounce back into place.

"I'm just trying it out. I talked about this with Val and she supported it."

"I like it." it complemented her skin tone. "We just finished lunch, but there's plenty of food if you're hungry." Emma grabbed her stuff off the porch—I tried to grab a bag, but Sharon waved me away, lifting the remaining bag. We made our way to the back, where everyone was making like busy work ants, cleaning up.

Sharon called Gabriel, basically demanding his help. Gabriel stocked Thomas' arms with more dishes before meeting us; he grabbed the bag Sharon was carrying and offered to take Emma's other large bag. The smile he gave her was practiced and charming enough to convince someone to commit murder for you.

"Thanks, but I'm used to carrying my things." Was Emma's comeback. "Your face looks familiar…"

"This is Gabriel Holland. He's been to some… charity galas."

"Oh." Emma exchanged a quick glance with Sharon; as a female, I knew this wasn't the first time they talked about Gabriel Holland. "Nice to meet you, Gabriel."

"Just Gabe is fine."

"Alright, Just Gabe." Gabe cracked a grin before bounding up the wooden stairs. Emma slid her attention to Ava's lover boy. "So… that's Thomas Harrington? I've seen his face—that's for sure. I went to one of his mother's shows…"

"Yeah," I winced. "Maybe don't mention his mom." It was hard for me to think of a mother shooting her child; I couldn't begin to imagine what it must be like for Thomas to deal with that baggage.

Emma pretended to lock her lips and throw the key over a shoulder. Once we were up on deck, I introduced her to Thomas and Ava. My eyes were on the prowl for Finn, though; he was nowhere. I took Emma upstairs to get her settled; she stayed on the same floor as our resident Power Couple, since Gabe and Sharon were occupying the room on mine and Finn's floor. I shouldn't have been surprised to hear weird sounds coming from the rec room; I poked my head in just to be sure it was Finn playing Ms. Pac Man and not a ghost.

He threw a quick glance at the squeaking door.

"Seriously?" he gave no answer. Emma pushed my shoulders; I stumbled forward, into the room, with Emma in toe.

"Sorry," she gave me a sheepish smile, holding her hands up.

A beeping noise echoed, it was followed by a frustrated grunt. Guess Finn lost. I gathered myself in a semi-automotive pose, crossing my arms and jutting out my chin.

"Your hand's going to resemble a claw soon."

Finn turned from the arcade game, mouth parted in a quick snap-comment—until he realized we weren't alone. Those gray eyes flickered between Emma and me, lingering on the new girl. Lingering a little too much for my liking.

"Is this Sebastian? I thought you said he couldn't make it."

"He can't—he's not coming." I tripped over my words once I found my voice. I side glanced my friend, "This is Finn. He's a…"

"I'm Trip and Ava's friend." He paused. "You must be Emma. I was starting to think Valerie made you up." I cut him a mean glare; Finn's mouth twitched at the corners.

Emma let out a laugh, pretending to ignore Finn's jab.

"Oh no, I'm very real. My mother says she couldn't have invented me if she wanted to. Sorry about salting your game." Don't roll your eyes, Valerie. She's just making small-talk, that's how people mingle and get to know each other.

The blonde's right shoulder hiked in idle dismissal.

"It's not like you cost me money."

I whirled on Emma—grabbing her arm. Emma's eyes quickly jumped—along with her whole being—at the gesture.

"Didn't you say you wanted a sandwich with five layers of ham, tomato and mayo?" my stomach rejected the idea of such a monstrosity, while Emma's face brightened with a divine glow.

"My guilty pleasure. Yes—to the kitchen we go!" Emma took my elbow and made us exit the room; I caught Finn's flabbergasted expression.

***

We didn't make it far into the afternoon without Gabe breaking out the "good booze". My Dad's fifteen-year old Whiskey was being mixed with cola; Dad wouldn't approve, but then again, he wouldn't drink it, so we might as well. Was this what Spring Break felt like? Jackson would know; I took a swig at the thought of him.

"Let's take the boat for a spin." Gabe suggested, busy rolling onto his stomach.

"No..."

"Why? Because we're drinking?"

"Yes," I answered.

Gabriel reared his head, eying me with his hammering baby-blue eyes.

"I'm not even tipsy." I believed him. "I had no idea I was friends with chickens."

"Baiting is super mature." Sharon jeered beside him; their beach towels were pushed together. Sharon was lying on her back, head propped on a pillow, reading a book. "Does anyone want to make sure Trip and Ava are alive? Like, I don't know, give them a call?" Thomas and Ava had gone for a hike outside my private property.

Finn propped himself on his arms; I did my best to ignore the little reddish spot on the guy's neck—I was responsible for that. We were lucky Finn didn't bruise easily, a hickey would've been a dead giveaway. My eyes were concealed by Gucci sunglasses, no one could spot my lingering eyes on Finn's rolling shoulders as he shifted into a sitting position. Finn's mess of short waves tumbled across his forehead; he swept a hand across his eyes, blinking. He'd been quiet and still for a long time—maybe asleep?

Emma was typing away on her MacBook, reminding me of Dad. She hadn't been drinking anything but water, since she needed to e-mail people about a building's remodeling. She worked on a branch of her mother's architecture and design company. Unlike us, she was two years older and already enrolled in college. I missed the moment when Finn and her started chatting about her job. I blinked between them, watching as Finn tilted his head and Emma turned her laptop so he could see something better.

I ignored the roiling in my stomach. I decided to check on Ava... I stared at the screen—hard. Notifications from Facebook and texts popped at me like wild mushrooms on humid tree trunks. Who was to blame? It started with a J and ended with ass-son.

"Does drinking give you murderous tendencies?" I lifted my head to find Gabriel staring at me, albeit bored. "It looks like you're going to hit something. Just saying."

I didn't answer. Possibly because I would ramble about my annoying, not-capable-of-taking-a-hint, step-brother. Instead, I tapped on my Messenger app and on Jackson's name. The app loaded pictures; so many, I had to scroll for a good minute to reach the first thing he sent me since he left for Europe. Jackson smiling at the camera—at me—almost made me wonder why we broke up, he looked nothing short of warm and inviting. A ghost of a sting from months ago reminded me with a vengeance, though. Plus, his lack of the understanding of the word 'no' and 'consent'. I typed at him: Stop sending me things. There's nothing between us. There will never be again. Ciao.

My thigh muscles tensed when Gabriel knocked the back of his hand on my knee. He was holding a stack of cards in his other hand.

"Do you play Poker?"

"Just a little." Jackson actually taught me the basics.

"Great. Let's play," Gabe shifted to sit with a glee in his pupil. I resisted narrowing my eyes. "Settle down, it's not strip Poker. It's no fun with only two people. Neither is average Poker, but I'll take what I can get."

I gestured a hand towards Finn and Emma—because Sharon was clearly lost in her book-world—but stopped, catching Emma telling Finn about her freshman year at Yale. I bit the inside of my cheek refocusing on Gabe; thankfully, he was busy shuffling the deck. I did my best to appear engrossed by his expertness, it didn't take much faking. Gabe was incredible. Better than many dealers I'd seen from my few trips to casinos. We played for Oreos Sharon brought out earlier. Gabe's game face was an arrogant smile whether he was bluffing, or his hand was a Royal Flush. My poker face was easy to conjure, having played at the masking-my-emotions game since I was nine.

A hand dove for my Oreo stash. I let out an indignant squeal. Emma grinned before biting into my Oreo.

"That's stealing."

"I'll peek at Gabe's game and win you his Oreos." She mumbled through chewing.

Gabriel snorted haughtily.

"Not a chance, curly-locks." He tucked the cards closer to his right peck for good measure. "Sharon, roll me one."

"You always complain that mine are too thin." Came her monotone response as she flickered a page.

Gabriel rubbed behind his neck, expression turning glum.

"True. Where's Trip when you need him?" Gabe tsked still waiting for my move. His head swung towards Finn. "Ever rolled a joint?"

"Nope."

Gabriel sighed.

"Valerie, make a choice. Either raise me or fold. The clock's ticking and daddy needs a fix."

"Please don't call yourself that." I murmured. My hand sucked; I had nothing, either I bluffed or folded. I eyed the five Oreos Gabe was betting. "I fold." I lowered my cards on the grass between our towels.

A corner of his lips tipped as he showed his hand: three sixes' and a pair of kings, a Full House. Gabe racked in his spoils while I tossed my cards towards the rest of the deck. I grabbed an Oreo from my pile just as Ava and Thomas appeared around the corner.

"I guess they weren't eaten by mountain lions." I joked, shoving my GUCCI sunglasses back into place.

Ava promptly knelt on my beach towel snatching an Oreo. Oh well. Thomas was slow on approaching, but as soon as he did, Gabe twisted toward him—already with roll up paper in hand.

"I had no idea you were into sightseeing." Gabriel's comment earned him a head shove. "Watch it. I've got a work in progress here, Trip. Geez."

Thomas sat on the grass; he shook his head at his friend before taking the mess of cards.

"Have you guys been drinking all this time?" Ava asked. I saw her pawing another Oreo; this time around, I slipped her a look. Her face morphed into the definition of innocence, "I'm really hungry."

"Then eat something with nutritional value. Not my Oreos."

"Can't I have both?"

"No. I won these in a Poker game and everyone keeps stealing them!" my eyes squinted behind the pricey sunglasses as I circled the small stash with both hands.

Ava looked sourly at me, then, rolled her eyes. She disappeared into the kitchen in a small jog. Another hand dived for the dwindling pile, like an eagle for a mouse; without wavering, I slapped it. I looked at the owner of said hand. Liquid gray irises met mine; it felt like years since we eyed each other.

An eyebrow climbed Finn's forehead.

"I made you lunch." he stated. I could hear the things left unlisted: I didn't tell anyone about your panic attack, I carried you to bed, I gave you plenty of orgasms a night ago. I jolted out of my reverie before my whole face became a big cherry. I grabbed an Oreo and shoved it his way. "Thanks."

I gave a quick shrug pretending I wasn't bothered by the lack of words between us.

***

It was late. It was blindingly hot, though, so we were outside on the lower deck playing a drinking game. I got a craving for marshmallows; I saw some this morning when Ava and I explored the pantry. I glared at the bag sitting on a tall shelf, mocking me. I set a hand on the lower shelves, pushing myself onto my tiptoes, trying to gain more height... My fingers barely brushed the bottom of the marshmallow shelf. I cursed at the sugary pillows and whoever put them so high up. I also cursed inwardly at my lack of heels. Footsteps caused me to whip around. I barely had the time to shape words before Finn cornered me against the tall pantry shelves.

"What are you doing?" I hissed softly.

"I was going to the bathroom."

"And you made a wrong turn?" I shot back.

He gave a snort.

"No, I heard you shouting at the marshmallows."

I scoffed, "I wasn't shouting."

"Whatever," Finn took one step forward causing me to retreat. I knocked into the rough shelf, glaring up at him. Finn eyed me for a split second before bracing one hand beside my head and reaching out with his other arm, stretching for the marshmallow bag; my breathing hitched as the space between us sparked, heating feverishly, making me sweat through the little clothing I had on. He shook the bag in front of me, with a cute grin. "You're welcome."

I went to snatch the blasted thing from his fingers, but he stepped away, hiding the bag behind his back. Was he serious? I lurched forward, trying to dive for the marshmallows, but Finn twisted to the side. I grabbed a handful of his t-shirt, impeding him from side-stepping me again. Suddenly, his free arm wormed itself around my waist. A breath left me quickly; Finn maneuvered us towards a far wall, where no one would see us from the pantry door. Even with Finn's arm trapping me, my hand was still fisted in his shirt. The wall's touch sent a chill through me—both from cold and exhilaration.

Finn bent down, his lips hovered so close to mine I could taste them. In the low light, his hooded eyes chased my parting lips, before I pulled myself higher and kissed him; he tasted like alcohol; I couldn't care less about the bitter hint of whiskey cola. My fist loosened, hand slithering upward, wrapping behind his neck. Finn tipped his body closer to mine, pushing me further into the solid weight of the wall. He moaned into my mouth as I traced his lower lip with my tongue, then drew that lip in and suckled.

Our eyes shot open in unison; someone was inside the kitchen. Honestly, if we got caught I didn't care—Finn's overbearing heat disappeared quickly as he straightened. He all but shoved the marshmallows into my arms, eying the doorway. No one came in. His shoulders slumped in relief; I conjured a cool mask of indifference to hide any signs of hurt on my face. I bumped him with my shoulder as I marched past him. I was supposed to be in the pantry; walking out—alone—wouldn't raise questions. Once I emerged, Emma was pouring herself a glass of water.

She took a healthy swig, nearly finishing half the cup in one gulp. Emma asked to borrow the nail polish coating my nails; we took a little detour to my bedroom. Emma sat on my bed while I grabbed the little bottle...

"When I asked if any cute boys were going to be here, you didn't mention Finn." I kept my face blank, handing over the nail polish.

"You think he's cute?"

Emma broke out into a Cheshire grin.

"You don't? I don't know what's your type, but yeah, he's hot. And cute. To me." Emma's expression became more flirtatious as she spoke. The emotion spiking my bloodstream was undeniably familiar; I'd felt this when Maria and Dad started dating, when she began to monopolize his time: jealousy.

I needed to play this nonchalantly. No matter what my feelings were, Finn and I weren't, in any way, an item.

"I don't think I have a type." was my only answer. I prayed she would drop the subject, then again, I wasn't a big believer of miracles.

"You need to be with someone to discover if you have a type."

"I've been with someone. If I have a type, he wasn't it." Emma's eyes lit; she wanted me to share more. I'd only ever discussed my relationship with Ava—without mentioning my step-brother directly—I wasn't about to get a bad case of loose-lips syndrome now. "Didn't you find hot guys in Costa Rica?"

"I did, but that doesn't mean I've gone blind. I don't know, he's kind of intense and it makes me curious about... things." Huh-uh. By 'things' she meant sex, a girl could tell. "Does he have a girlfriend?"

My gaze turned shrewd.

"Would that matter?"

Emma tipped back at my flippant retort; her mouth fell open and she blinked. I mustered the strength to get my crap together, focusing on breathing steadily and relaxing my shoulders. Emma's eyebrows drew together, her face seemed to sober.

"Yeah. I wouldn't try and get with a guy if he has a girlfriend. That's just nasty. One of my exes got with a friend of mine while we were still together. It was awful. I really liked him. Suffice to say, I'm no longer on speaking terms with either him or my friend." Emma was trusting where I was distrustful and—what had Ava called it? Ah, yes: prickly.

Part of me really wanted to say: yes, he's off limits. But that would be manipulation, playing the field to my advantage, something I usually wouldn't have trouble doing, except... Except it was Finn. I didn't want to lie; what if he found out? Emma would ask about his non-existent girlfriend. He would deny having one, Emma would say I'd told her he did. Finn would be pissed.

"I'm sorry that your friend was a backstabbing whore." Plus, I was trying out this whole 'having friends' thing. Emma let out a brash, bubbly laugh causing me to relax despite her thoughts on Finn and his intense sexiness. "I don't think he has anyone. Finn—I mean."

Emma absently rolled the bottle between her hands. She gave me a smile marching past me—stopping at the door when I didn't move to follow.

"You're not coming?"

"In a minute. I need to use the bathroom." she left with a nod. I'd done the right thing—telling her the truth. So why did I feel awful? I shook it off, planning on shutting the door and just stay locked in my room until this heavy mass in my stomach disappeared. My hand faltered on the knob as Finn exited his appointed bedroom.

I was in his cross hairs quickly. He spied the corridor—empty.

"Did you eat all those marshmallows already?"

I leaned on the door.

"No," it came out sharply. My emotions were muddled. Warring. I felt excited to see him, that we were alone. I also felt cheap; I was good enough for him to kiss in a deserted room but not in public.

"What's wrong?" he'd gotten nearer, standing in the middle of the hall with his hands shoved into navy shorts.

"Nothing."

Finn glanced down the hall letting out a short sigh. His head cocked my way.

"I think you're becoming a horrible liar."

"Good, Finn. Insults get you a door slam in the face." I wrenched the thing shut with a loud boom. I twisted the key, so he wouldn't get any ideas.

I leaned against the door. For moments, Finn stood outside. When he finally moved, I thought he might knock; he didn't. His steps faded down the hallway until he presumably reached the stairway. I sat in the middle of my bed, cross-legged, eying the plastic bag. I ripped the thing open and shoved a marshmallow into my mouth. This was horrible; jealousy was stupid. Emma knew Finn for a few hours. There was no way something could happen between them—at least while we were here. I ignored the chummy afternoon talk they had, with Finn ignoring me.

I scrubbed my face.

I felt like a dirty little secret. This hadn't been a problem with Jackson. I hadn't wanted to tell people about him and he was okay with it, all he wanted to do was fuck. Hadn't that been what I wanted, too? I mean, my Queen Bee persona matched his personality flawlessly. I nearly retched at the thought of Mom knowing my innermost thoughts. She would've been sad. I ate more marshmallows; I ate until the alcohol in my veins wasn't clouding my emotions, making me volatile. By the time I decided to eat the whole bag and go to sleep, my phone pinged.

If this was Jackson again, I was going to... Come back. It was Finn. I bit my lip. Another ping: Gabe's drinking all the booze. I snorted; Gabriel had a problem. Ping: We're doing drunk charades. I giggled without reason. Shouting could be heard from outside; if I looked out my window I could see the lake, but the deck was obstructed from view. Ping: Text back pls.

I touched my thumb to that last text feeling a surge of something large and warm inside my chest. The tiny little voice that screamed so many true things about Jackson told me to have self-preservation.

I typed: tired, going 2 sleep.