Golden Hour Page 13

  Since it’s hard to sum up what I’ve been doing, here’s something I wrote, which I hope explains a lot.

  Then I attach my best piece from Hall Pass. I am about to hit Send but then I type:

  The thing is, until after our meeting, I never realized how much time I spent only taking photos and that I might be missing out on other things. And while I know now that I still love photography, I need time. Four years of college is a big commitment, particularly to one topic, and I want to be sure it’s right for me, and I also want to bring other experiences with me when I do start college. I’m going to take a gap year. Travel, see the world and photograph a lot of it. So while I still want to go to Tisch, I’m going to reapply next year. And see how that works out.

  I add Mom and David to the BCC line and hit Send.

  Then I go downstairs. Mom and Hank are playing Scrabble at the kitchen table and Charley’s in the basement watching a movie with José.

  “Can I take the car? I’m going with Dace to get our sleepover PJs.” Somehow with everything going on, we have left buying our PJs until the day before the sleepover. And we still have no clue who we’re going to dress up as.

  “Sure,” Mom says, placing her tiles on the board. “Gherkins, 32 points.”

  I head out to the car. Ten minutes later, I knock on Dace’s door. She answers, Ben right behind her. I look at the two of them and smile.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  “Maybe you are,” Ben says, then kisses Dace on the cheek. “Later, hot stuff.” He heads out and I go inside.

  “We are so talking about what is happening with Ben, hot stuff. But first: I have an idea.”

  “For what?” Dace says, closing the door.

  “What if we get those jobs Ben’s promising us at the water park for the summer. And then, in the fall, we travel together?”

  “What do you mean, in the fall? What about Tisch?”

  I shrug. “It’ll be there next year.”

  “So let me get this straight. We’d spend the summer here, together, and then we’d spend all next year together too?”

  Dace squeals and hugs me.

  “So you like my anti-plan plan?”

  “Well. It’s not the two of us in New York. It’s not me modeling and you taking pictures. We have absolutely no idea what’s going to happen, but I think it’s the best anti-plan plan ever. You know the main reason I loved our plan was that it meant the two of us were leaving here together. Figuring everything out together. And then when we weren’t?” She sticks out her tongue and I laugh. “It was the worst.” Dace swipes at a tear and then claps her hands together. “Also, to be clear, me agreeing to stay in Spalding for the summer has nothing to do with the fact that I’d be seeing Ben every day.”

  “Obviously,” I say. “Just like it has nothing to do with me seeing Dylan.”

  “Obviously,” she says back. “All right, now that we have the next year of our lives sorted out, I have other good news to share: I have thought of our Senior Sleepover theme—Anna and Elsa. Yes, Frozen is pretty overdone and definitely juvenile, but think about how cozy we’ll be in those flannel nighties? And the lip-sync battle? We’re gonna nail it.”

  “I did not agree to any lip-sync battle.”

  “Come on. Let it go? It’s like your actual mantra right now.”

  THURSDAY, MAY 18

  “So the Senior Sleepover,” Dylan says, crossing his hands behind his head. We’re in my room, Dylan lying on my bed, me on the floor, trying to fit as much stuff into my overnight bag as I can. “Is it just for seniors?”

  “You know it is.”

  “I didn’t get to go to it. Remember? I had cancer.”

  “Excuses, excuses,” I say. I fold my Anna nightgown and put it in my bag, then pull my pillow out from under his head. He sits up.

  “Also,” he continues, “you know how you’re all about the mantras? Well, I have a mantra too.”

  “You do not.”

  “I do. My mantra is Sleep.” He grins. “It has been for years. I’m pretty sure we got into a lot of fights about my love of sleep, but actually, I quite enjoyed falling asleep with you at your house, that morning after the party. Which wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t cleaned up your entire messy house. So Sleep.”

  “Actually I don’t think a lot of sleep happens at Senior Sleepover, so you should probably just stay home in your bed if you really want to sleep.”

  “It’s probably time for a new mantra anyway. What about Girlfriend. I’ll just be all about my girlfriend for a while. What would you think about that?”

  I grin at him. “I’m willing to let you give that one a shot.”

  *

  Senior Sleepover is held on the football field behind the school. Tiny white lights hang the entire length of the field, from one end zone to the other. There’s a makeshift stage in front of the bleachers, for the lip-sync battle. Silly games are set up here and there, like bean bag toss, and potato sack races and water balloon toss, and there’s a selfie station because even a recovering Instagram snob like me loves a creative backdrop. Dace and I walk through to the other end of the field, where everyone is laying out their sleeping bags and pillows. Ours end up near Gemma and Emma and Annie, who decided to go as the girls from Grease after all. I unroll my sleeping bag as Dace removes a rainbow of nail polishes from her bag.

  “Opening a traveling manicure business?”

  “Ooooooh.” She fiddles with her hair, which is braided like Elsa’s. “That is a very good idea. I can make money while we travel by doing manicures at the hostels. Now let me practice on you. Pink or blue?” As she paints my nails in alternating shades, I ask her about Ben.

  “It’s weird, right? I was so annoyed with his cocky, self-righteous attitude. But now, it’s like I can see beneath that façade, how he’s vulnerable and just as unsure of himself as the rest of us. You know what I mean?”

  I think back to last year, when Ben first arrived at Spalding, pretending to be into photography, stealing and manipulating, and then getting to know him, and seeing how the mistakes he made came from his messed-up relationship with his father. Relatable. “Yeah, I do.”

  Hours later, after we’ve played every game, won best dressed and the lip-sync battle, and reminisced about four years’ worth of memories, the lights are dimmed and we’re all supposed to be sleeping, or at least lying in our sleeping bags and not talking, but of course that’s impossible. Everyone’s still up, talking and laughing in hushed tones, so there’s this sort of comforting hum in the dark.

  “Hey,” someone says beside me and I look over to see Dylan. “Think I can squeeze in?”

  “What are you doing here?” I hiss. But I could not be happier.

  “You didn’t really think I was going to miss out on the opportunity to snuggle into your sleeping bag, did you?” he says, squeezing himself in. My heart’s pounding and he presses his face close to mine.

  “How did you get in?”

  “Ben Baxter could be a criminal mastermind, if he wanted to be,” he says, and I look over to see Ben crawling into Dace’s sleeping bag.

  “So, what’d I miss?”

  I wrap my arms around him. “Manicures. Bean bag toss. And—”

  Before I can finish my sentence, Dylan presses his lips on mine. I close my eyes and the field gets just a bit quieter.

  FRIDAY, MAY 19

  Nothing happens between Dylan and me in my sleeping bag, because despite what you’d think about sleeping over with your boyfriend in a football field, under the stars with only a few sleepy chaperones, I actually (eventually) fall asleep, and when I wake up, Dylan and Ben are gone.

  But an hour later, we’re packed up and heading out to the parking lot when Dylan pulls up. “Need a ride?”

  “I have my license, thank you very much.” I grin.

  He grins too. “Yeah
, now all you need is a car.”

  “I have one. Or one to use, anyway. My mom’s. She stayed at Hank’s so I could borrow it.”

  “Huh. This throws a wrench in my plans.”

  “Follow me home and I’ll drop the car off? I forgot my toothbrush, and I want to brush my teeth before I kiss you.”

  “I can’t argue with that.”

  Ten minutes later I pull into my driveway, and Dylan pulls in behind me.

  “I’ll just come in with you,” Dylan says, following me up the driveway to the front door. “In case you need help.”

  “Help brushing my teeth?”

  “You never know.” He puts his hands around my waist.

  His face is close to mine, his breath warm in my ear. I turn. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he says.

  “Hi,” a strange voice says. Dylan and I jump apart to see a guy in a blue onesie with a red tool kit. “Checking the water meter. Don’t mind me.”

  Dylan laughs and I push open the door to the house.

  “Hello?” My voice echoes in the empty house. Mom will already be at work by now.

  “Cable guy’s probably in the den,” Dylan says, closing the door behind us and locking it.

  After brushing my teeth, I find Dylan standing at the door to my room. I walk over and kiss him. And then his hands are on my face, and then they’re working their way down my body. I press closer to him and lead him over to my bed. His hands explore me, and mine explore him. His skin is warm to my touch. “Do you want to . . . ?” he asks.

  I nod.

  Soon our bodies intertwine. We couldn’t be closer together.

  *

  We must drift off to sleep because I wake up to see Dylan lying beside me.

  “Hey,” I say, kissing his nose.

  He opens his eyes. “Hey,” he says and slings his arm around me. “Good thing you brushed your teeth.” His eyes shine.

  “You hungry?” he asks, and I nod and we get dressed and remake my bed and then head out to the diner. I check my phone to see five texts from Dace, all the same: Where are you???

  I reach out and grasp Dylan’s hand.

  Dace and Ben are still at the diner, sitting across from each other in a booth, playing cards. Dace raises her eyebrows at me. “Took a wrong turn?”

  “Something like that,” I say, and Dylan and I exchange a look.

  She pats the seat beside her. “I saved you a seat. And ordered you your favorite. I figured you’d be hungry.”

  Pancakes arrive, topped with whipped cream and strawberries, and I pass Dylan a fork so we can both dig in. And maybe nothing in the history of food has ever looked and tasted better.

  ONE MONTH LATER

  Dylan, Dace, Ben and I are swimming at Dace’s. It’s one of those perfect June days, where it’s sunnier and warmer than it should be, giving a sneak peek of the summer to come. We’ve been lounging by the pool for hours, but I don’t want the day to end. At the same time, I should leave soon, because it’s Friday, and Mom and I have some Gilmore Girls to marathon.

  I text her that I’ll be home in an hour, and see an email notification—from Vishwanathan.

  Dear Ms. Greene,

  I was pleased to see your email and to read your essay. I think that your decision is a wise one, and I look forward to seeing your portfolio next year.

  With my very best wishes,

  Amir Vishwanathan

  I reread the email, a smile spreading over my face, feeling good about myself, my decision and my future for the first time in a long time. Then I snap a photo of my three best friends in the pool. And jump back in.

  Acknowledgments

  When I started writing the story of Pippa and Dylan and Dace and Ben back in 2011, I never thought it would be anything more than the one book that became The Rule of Thirds (ICYMI, pick it up, this book will make a lot more sense!). I am so grateful to my editor, Crissy Calhoun, who not only has the beloved double-consonant name like Ben Baxter, but more importantly loved Pippa from the start and convinced David Caron and Jack David that we needed multiple books to tell Pippa’s story. And now, four books later, here we are. Thank you Jack, David and Crissy for this opportunity.

  I have loved spending the last five years working on this series and with ECW: in particular, Jen Knoch, Susannah Ames, Troy Cunningham, Amy Smith, Jessica Albert and Tania Blokhuis. You make every little step of the process extra magical.

  To my group of early readers, who offered excellent teen angst advice, especially Claudia Grieco, Gillian Grossman and Janis Leblanc.

  To the coven: I’m so grateful to have found an all-girl squad of like-minded, ambitious, supportive writers: Karma Brown, Kerry Clare, Kate Hilton, Marissa Stapley, Jennifer Robson and K.A. Tucker.

  To Melanie Dulos of Breakwater Publicity for reading, advice, promotion and generally being my career manager and therapist.

  To my entire family for always being so interested and supportive: the Guertins (Dad and Susan, Danielle Guertin and Ron Taylor, Sarah and Rob Urbanovics, Janet Farmer) and the Shulgans (Nancy and Ron Shulgan, Jody and Mark Shulgan, Julie and Isaac Junkin).

  To the Terrific Trio: Myron, Penny and Fitz for making every day more fun.

  To Christopher, for reminding me every day what it feels like to be in love.

  Finally, to you, the readers: I love reading every single one of your emails, comments and reviews. Your excitement is THE BEST. Thank you.

  About the Author

  CHANTEL GUERTIN is the author of the Pippa Greene series—The Rule of Thirds, Depth of Field, Leading Lines and Golden Hour—as well as the novels Stuck in Downward Dog and Love Struck. An on-air beauty expert on The Marilyn Denis Show, she loves lipgloss, chocolate chip cookie dough, and anything in her favorite color: sky blue. She lives in Toronto.

  Instagram & Twitter: @chantelguertin

  Facebook: chantelguertinbeautybooks

  DISCOVER ONLINE

  When 16-year-old Raina Resnick is expelled from her Manhattan private school, she’s sent to live with her strict aunt — but Raina feels like she’s persona non grata no matter where she goes. Her sister, Leah, blames her for her broken engagement, and she’s a social pariah at her new school. In the tight-knit Jewish community, Raina finds she is good at one thing: matchmaking! As the anonymous “Match- Maven,” Raina sets up hopeless singles desperate to find the One. A cross between Jane Austen’s Emma, Dear Abby, and Yenta the matchmaker, Raina’s double life soon has her barely staying awake in class. Can she find the perfect match for her sister and get back on her good side, or will her tanking grades mean a second expulsion? In her debut novel, Suri Rosen creates a comic and heartwarming story of one girl trying to find happiness for others, and redemption for herself.

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  Copyright

  Copyright © Chantel Guertin, 2018

  Published by ECW Press

  665 Gerrard Street East

  Toronto, ON M4M 1Y2

  416-694-3348 / info@ecwpress.com

  Guertin, Chantel, 1976–, author

  Golden hour : a Pippa Greene novel / Chantel Guertin.

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-77041-235-4 (softcover)

  ISBN 978-1-77305-144-4 (PDF)

  978-1-77305-143-7 (ePUB)

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  I. Title.

  PS8637.I474G65 2018 C813’.6 C2017-906215-8 C2017-906216-6

  Editor for the press: Crissy Calhoun

  Cover images: Shutterstock; crazystocker

  Author photo: Mango Studios

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduce
d, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any process—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the copyright owners and ECW Press. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publication of Golden Hour has been generously supported by the Canada Council for the Arts which last year invested $153 million to bring the arts to Canadians throughout the country, and by the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund. Nous remercions le Conseil des arts du Canada de son soutien. L’an dernier, le Conseil a investi 153 millions de dollars pour mettre de l’art dans la vie des Canadiennes et des Canadiens de tout le pays. Ce livre est financé en partie par le gouvernement du Canada. We also acknowledge the Ontario Arts Council (OAC), an agency of the Government of Ontario, and the contribution of the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.