Undeveloped (Life Unfiltered Book 1) Page 14

  I make my way to Kate’s cabin, knocking lightly on the door before turning the knob.

  I look over the sleeping figures of the campers as I tiptoe to Kate’s side. Toeing my shoes off, I slip under her covers and fold myself against her back. My phone has been vibrating non-stop and I’ve finally had enough. I reach into my purse and shut it off without even glancing at the screen. I’m not in the mood to hear from anyone right now.

  The campers go home after breakfast. They laugh and hug, promising to write or text each other as they hop into their parents’ cars. Kate and I watch them, arms around each other’s waist and bittersweet smiles on our faces.

  “Seems like we were just the campers leaving,” Kate says, wiping her tears away.

  “It does,” I reply. In place of Matt’s presence, an emptiness made its home in my chest. But being back at camp with Kate soothed the wound.

  And I know it’ll eventually heal. This is only one summer, I still have many ahead of me.

  “So, how’d you know about Matt?” I ask as we make our way back to the cabin to clean.

  “His fiancé called here looking for him.” Kate takes my hand in hers as we walk.

  “Well, they’re not engaged engaged.”

  Kate steps in front of me, pity clouding her eyes. “They weren’t. But they are as of this morning. Seth saw it in the paper.”

  “It couldn’t have happened that fast, I left after…” The events from last night hit me like a runaway train. Him not coming back to my room. Antoinette on her way to his door.

  Was this Matt’s plan all along? To dump me after he had his fun and rejoin his life without a backward glance? I feel like just another wide-eyed girl that fell prey to his charm, another one of the “floozies on his arm”.

  Was he just going to let me wake up to the news, and find them in his room together that morning? The image of her wrapped around him the way I had been bombards me and I struggle to catch my breath.

  The room closes in around me. I can still feel the ghost of his fingerprints trailing across my skin. The shadow of his breath in my ear as he whispered my name while inside me.

  “Did she tell you she was his fiancé?” I ask her.

  Kate opens the door to her cabin, lugging in the cleaning supplies that were left on the porch for her.

  “No, just her name. But everyone heard the rumors.”

  We set to work in silence, scrubbing floors and toilets, and collecting lone socks and headphones from under the bunk beds. Kate senses my need for silence, to not talk about the subject, and I appreciate my best friend more than ever. As I scrub the shower stalls, I imagine I’m scrubbing Matt away. Erasing his words, shading over his fingerprints. How could he touch me—talk to me like he had—and it mean nothing to him?

  As we finish and survey our work, I lean into Kate.

  “What now?” I ask, a tremor in my voice.

  “Now we live it up. We enjoy our last two days here. Together.”

  “Together.”

  25

  Natalie

  Past

  Seth brought beer to the bonfire…

  After giving Kate a curious glance, to which she responds with a shrug, I roll my eyes and continue crafting the perfect s’more. The campers are gone, so if everyone is careful, the drinking shouldn’t be a big deal.

  I top my creation with one last marshmallow, then cram it into my mouth, no shame.

  “Oh my god,” I moan, closing my eyes. Bliss. Pure bliss.

  Kate laughs at me, popping the top on her beer. “Insert remark about girls who like to eat here.”

  I swallow my dessert, pausing when I realize she’s making fun of Matt. The laughter flickers in my belly, bubbling up in my esophagus and releasing from me like a bursting dam.

  Laughing feels good. I’ve been wallowing in self-pity since I made it back to camp, but it’s time to enjoy the end of summer and leave Matt behind.

  My giggles grow into what can only be described as cackling. Throwing my head back as I laugh, I relish in the relief, the joy.

  “What an ass.” I sigh, grabbing Kate’s can for a drink. “Oh, shit.” Wincing as the alcohol hits my tongue, I hand it back to her.

  “Pretentious Prescott.” Kate nods in agreement, pushing the can back to me. “One won’t hurt you. I’ll grab another one.”

  She pushes off the log we share, making her way to the cooler. Tilting my head back, I drain the can.

  “Bring me another,” I call after her. “Damn. Bring the whole cooler.”

  I’ve lost count of how many cans I’ve crushed underneath my shoe when Eric sits down beside me. I never noticed Kate leaving, no doubt she’s run off with Seth to make out in the bushes.

  “You okay, Natalie?” Eric’s breath smells like s’mores and cigarettes. No alcohol, though.

  “I'm fine,” I reassure him, patting his leg briefly.

  The heat between his thigh and my hand shocks us both. I glance up to find him staring at my lips. I wonder what it would be like to only worry about the physical. To enjoy the pleasures of the flesh without the worry of one’s heart. There’s nothing to stop me from doing it. I could tumble into bed with someone else, and it wouldn’t matter. It felt like nothing mattered anymore, really.

  An invisible string pulls me closer to Eric. He licks his lips slowly, leaning in until our mouths are almost touching.

  Then I remember.

  “Are you still with…”

  “No,” he whispers, his breath warm on my face. “Not anymore.”

  He barely finishes his statement before I lean in, and he moves to meet my lips.

  It’s an amazing kiss, no doubt about that. All the right moves, but none of the spark. It’s not heart soaring or chest aching. There’s no fiery blaze consuming me. He must know it too, because he leans back with a sigh.

  The thought of enjoying only the physical with him crosses my mind, but it disappears as soon as it comes into existence. He passes me another beer from the cooler then grabs one for himself.

  “Bottoms up.”

  The next morning, even before I open my eyes, the pain hits me. I miss Matt and I feel dirty. Kissing someone else makes me feel scarred, used. I’d gone to sleep full of the mind-numbing bliss of alcohol. Yet, I awoke feeling empty and wanting, starving for a nourishment no one here could provide.

  Sitting up, I squint out my window and over the lake as the sun rises. Later that night, we’ll be cliff jumping. Diving into the lake and swimming to shore, dancing on the dock under the light of lanterns and fireflies. I pull on the clothes I laid out the night before and head out to see my best friend.

  “Nat,” Kate greets me with a sleepy smile as I enter her cabin. “Where’d you disappear to last night?”

  Giving her a warning glance, I admit the truth. “I spent most of the night with Eric.”

  “Holy shit.” Kate sits up in bed, revealing Seth’s sleeping form tucked behind her.

  Averting my eyes, I squeal, “Seth, cover your butt crack!”

  Kate hurries to throw the blanket over her boyfriend, a sheepish grin spreading across her face. She gets out of bed and slips on her flip-flops before following me out onto the porch. I lean against her door, staring out at the spot where Matt and I met almost every morning.

  “So you spent the night with Eric, or you spent the night with Eric.”

  “I didn’t sleep with him. I thought about it, though. That feels just as bad.” Remembering Teddy’s news about Connor, I press my knees together, grateful that I hadn’t risked it. Who knows if Eric has been tested lately, or would have had a condom? “I still feel like a skank.”

  “Okay, okay.” Kate grabs my shoulders, staring in my eyes. “First of all, even if you’d had sex with him, you wouldn’t be a skank. I know that’s a word thrown around a lot, but there’s nothing wrong with a woman enjoying sex. With whomever she wants. Guys can sleep around and no one says a word, so do what you want.”

  It’s hard to do that when
what I want is to go back to D.C. and tell Matt how I feel. How he made me happier than I’ve ever felt with another person, only to destroy my heart like it was worthless.

  Throwing myself into Kate, I sob against her chest. “Kate.”

  “Second of all, you’ve got a broken heart. That can lead to passionate, whimsical decisions.” Her hand moves over my hair in a soothing rhythm. “Let’s get everything ready. It’s our last night at Shady Grove. Let’s make it a great one.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  I plan to dive in headfirst, embracing the woman I’ve become this summer, and stepping onto the shore, reborn.

  26

  Lia

  That’s the last journal entry, but I refuse to believe that’s the end of it.

  The mystery surrounding Matt grew deeper the more I read. I had searched his name countless times over the past few weeks, and after digging around the Internet for hours, I had come up with a whole lot of nothing. I had come across the address to his D.C. office, but that wouldn’t have done me much good. There was no guarantee that he’d even be there, and what reason could I have given for just showing up, anyway?

  The thought of approaching Natalie circles my mind for the millionth time, but I’m still not prepared for that confrontation. I could talk to Kate about it. She might tell me the truth or she might send me straight to Natalie, putting a big stop to all of my questions.

  Either way, the wild idea has taken form, and now I want to meet Matt Rochester. I want to know what else happened with him and Natalie.

  So I find myself scrolling through the same sites I’ve looked at a billion times to no avail, eyes peeled for a sign, a clue, anything to help me form a plan. And—finally—there it is.

  “Prescott Matthew Rochester III will speak at the Cunningham Art Gallery this Friday. The show will display art and photography from local talent, including Mr. Rochester and his fiancé.”

  My fingers hover over the link to the gallery’s website. It seems too easy at this point, but I’ve come this far and can’t stop myself even if I wanted to. I click the link, scanning the webpage until I find the option to buy a ticket to his presentation.

  A day later, I’m on a bus—heading to D.C.—a ball of nerves about what I’ll find when I get there. The bus is mostly clean. Still, my family would probably kill me if they knew I was traveling alone on a bus to stalk a stranger. But, hey, they were the ones that wanted me to get out more.

  The sights and sounds of the city invade me as soon as I step off the bus. According to my directions, the gallery is near Matt’s company, the elusive Cascade Industries. I have an hour or so before the event starts, so I wander the streets, snapping a few photographs on my way.

  My stomach grumbles at the enticing aromas wafting from the food vendors and I’ve finally had enough teasing. Stopping at a cart labeled CT’s Hot Dogs, I glance over the menu before placing my order.

  Sinking my teeth into the mustard and chili covered mess is the closest to heaven I’ve ever been, and I make quick work of my snack before checking my phone for the time. The hour flew by as I walked, and now there’s only fifteen minutes until the gallery opens. Spotting a trash can near the vendor, I toss my wrapper and head toward Cunningham’s Gallery.

  Cascade Industries comes into view first, a magnificent glass building towering over the street. I know Matt’s family is well off, but the extravagant building with fountains and flowers still surprises me. It seems so unlike the guy I’ve read so much about.

  After waiting for the signal at the crosswalk, I cross the street, stopping in front of the entrance of the gallery. The design isn’t as lavish as Cascade Industries. As I step through the door, a comforting, homey feel settles over me. Soft music plays in the background and the other attendees carry small plates of finger foods as they survey the paintings and sculptures.

  “Welcome, welcome!” The husky masculine tone startles me and I turn to find myself face-to-face with Matt Rochester.

  “Thank you,” I reply, holding out the ticket I had printed from the website.

  He waves me aside, “Oh, don’t bother with that. I’ll cram as many people as I can in there. I hate charging for the tickets.” He glances around before leaning toward me to whisper. “I refund them all when my fiancé is done with the event.”

  He motions around the room. “Grab some food and take a look around. We’ll announce when there’s about ten minutes left before the lecture.”

  “And you’re speaking, right?” I’m reaching for reasons to keep him around, to build up my courage and ask about Natalie.

  “I am.” He pauses, eyes drifting to my camera bag. His face lights up. “Oh, a young photographer.”

  “I am,” I say proudly. “I’ll be seeking my photography degree in the fall.”

  “May not be much of a future in that, financially speaking.” He laughs. “But you’d be happy.”

  “I think there can be a future,” I reply, perturbed by his comment. “Everyone loves to have their priceless moments captured.” The thought of all the work my family puts into our business has me on the defensive.

  “Well, let me give you a tour,” he replies in a lighter tone. “I’m Prescott.

  He motions for me to follow him, and I fall into step behind him. “I’m Lia.”

  “Lia,” he repeats, leading me into the first room on the right. “All right, Lia. I’ve got a few minutes before I have to be on stage. This is my personal gallery.”

  Pictures line the walls, little moments of time captured by him and now hanging right before my eyes. The ones that stick out the most are the events I’ve spent the past two weeks reading about. Canoeing on the lake, a close up of a bonfire, a s’more hanging over the flames as the marshmallow drips.

  My gasp echoes around the room as the next photograph comes into view.

  Natalie’s hair flows in the wind, the sunrise illuminating her red strands as it rises. It must be the picture she heard Matt snap on their first morning on the cliff, and it’s the focal point of his whole damn gallery.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?” Matt whispers, his eyes glistening as he stares at her.

  “She is,” I agree, my heart clenching as I turn to him. “I need to—”

  “There you are, darling!”

  We both jump as if we’ve been scalded, turning to see Antoinette sashaying toward us. “It’s almost showtime!” She comes to a stop in front of Matt, straightening his tie with perfectly manicured nails. “I was wondering where you disappeared to.”

  “Just showing Lia around. She’s going to be studying photography in the fall.” Matt clears his throat, capturing Antoinette’s hand in his.

  “Not much of a future in that.” She laughs, eyes flashing over the picture of Natalie. I definitely don’t imagine the downward turn of her lips. “Let’s get you to the auditorium, dear. So nice to meet you.” She practically drags Matt away, throwing me a curious glance on her way out.

  After staring at the photograph of Natalie for a few more moments, I trail behind them. Just as I’m about to enter the auditorium, a pair of bright red nails wraps around my arm.

  “I’d like to speak to you in private, Amelia Winegar.”

  I stare openmouthed at her for a few beats, words failing me. She doesn’t let go of my arm as we walk together toward the elevator. Matt’s voice echoes through the hall, the microphone squealing obnoxiously as he greets the crowd. Reluctantly, I follow her in. She presses the button for the second floor and the doors close in front of me.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  We step off the elevator and into the foyer of a sleek, sophisticated apartment. Of course, Matt has a home in the city. Why wouldn’t he? I’m sure he has homes all over the country.

  “Would you like a drink?” Antoinette asks, making her way to the bar.

  “No, thank you.” Unsure of where this conversation is heading, I’d rather keep my hands free.

  “Have a seat.” Antoinette motions to th
e sofa and I oblige, smoothing my romper out self-consciously. She pours herself something out of a decanter, dropping ice cubes in the brown liquid with several plops.

  Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined this escalating so quickly. One minute, I was smoothly undercover, and the next, Matt’s fiancé is practically kidnapping me. It all feels like a whirlwind.

  “So,” Antoinette eyes me over her glass before taking a sip, “what do you want?”

  Perplexed, I shake my head. “You’re the one that wanted to talk.” The words sound lame, even to me.

  “Do you want money, or what?” Antoinette downs the last of her drink. “I thought the Rochester family gave Natalie enough hush money back then, but I suppose when you found out the truth, you wanted in on it as well.”

  “What money?” Why in the world would they pay off my aunt? She wouldn’t have taken money to stay away from Matt. That isn’t like her.

  Antoinette’s lips curl into a dewy smile. “Amelia Rose Winegar,” she recites, as if reading from a paper. “Born March fifteenth, two thousand three.”

  I’m speechless as she continues droning on, listing my clubs and schools.

  “Biological parents Prescott Matthew Rochestor III and Natalie Rose Winegar.”

  I can’t help but throw my head back and laugh. “You’re crazy. First of all, my birthday is in August. Secondly, my parents would never lie about something like this. It’s not even possible. And Natalie,” I say, her name catching in my throat, “there’s no way she’s my mother.”

  “Natalie.” Antoinette sneers my aunt’s name. “Natalie was a camp whore who got herself knocked up by a summer fling and pawned the baby off on her brother because she didn’t know who the dad was.”

  “Natalie wasn’t a whore,” I reply, surprised at how calm I sound. “Your fiancé was an asshole who lied to her.”

  “She seduced him.” Antoinette sniffs, crossing her arms. “She used his weaknesses against him.”