Falling for the Rival

Ch. 1: Masks Off

Juliet

Sunday dinners at my grandfather's are like a dental checkup—you're tempted to skip them, but then you remember a hundred reasons why you shouldn't. In my case, two reasons outweigh the other ninety-eight.

One, Grandpa Benjamin is one of my favorite people. And two, he's not getting younger.

Although he's spry for his sixty-seven years, and his eyes still have a youthful gleam, I know he won't live forever. I'd rather sit through dinner at his condo in Central Park South than regret not spending time with him while I still could.

"Juliet, darling, pass me the salt, please," Grandpa says from his seat at the head of the table.

Silverware reflects the flickering candlelight, and soft classical music drifts from the built-in speakers. Dining here is just as exquisite as eating at an upscale restaurant, and just like there, you're expected to behave. Which is why I'm clutching my phone under the table, hoping no one realizes I'm texting my friend as we eat.

"You should watch your sodium intake." Mom side-eyes him warily. As a cardiologist, she doesn't miss a chance to scold him for his unhealthy habits.

Grandpa huffs. "Salt won't kill me. The Carringtons, on the other hand, add to my stress. Did you hear they're building another mall in New Jersey?"

Mom glances at Dad, then rolls her eyes and cuts a piece of her tenderloin. "Good for them. We'll see how it goes."

"We weren't fast enough." Grandpa shakes his head. "That's a perfect spot for a department store they snatched from under our noses. Juliet. Salt, please."

Carefully, I leave the phone on my lap and fetch the silver salt shaker on my right. As I pass it to him, the screen lights up with a new text.

"I'm sure they paid over the market price just to spite us." Dad stabs his meat with his fork as if it offended him, and I take advantage of Grandpa looking his way to read the message.

Nova: Have you changed your mind? Please, Juju. Don't let us do this on our own, I implore you.

I cough to mask my chuckle. Leave it to Nova to be dramatic when it's convenient. I'm not caving, though. Going to an illegal cage fight isn't ideal if you need to wake up at six the following morning.

I won't skip yoga, and I refuse to sacrifice my sleep for a bunch of sweaty guys pummeling each other's faces for fun.

"...I bet they paid more than that. Don't you remember what they did to us last year?"

Amazing. Grandpa is recalling every one of the Carringtons' sins for the thousandth time, which means I can take my sweet time answering my best friend. The list of their transgressions is long; I've got time for at least ten texts.

Me: I've got a busy day tomorrow. Don't you have a quiz?

Nova is a premed student, but partying is high on her priorities list. Her life is ruled by the motto study hard and party harder, while partying has been on the back burner for me. Maybe that's why we've been best friends since childhood. Different personalities mean boredom isn't in the cards.

Nova: I've studied enough. Come on. Say yes.

The people pleaser in me stirs awake, and my chest feels tight as I type the reply, even though I know Cass—my other friend—is going with her, so it's not like she'll be alone.

Me: Sorry. I really can't. Coffee in the afternoon?

Nova: You're lucky I love you. I'll send you pics of hot guys for your lonely nights.