Under My Umbrella

Chapter One

The California sun disappears over my father’s backyard, painting the sky every shade of purple as the last glow of orange sinks beneath the row of townhouses across the street.

I cross the lawn, smiling at a few familiar faces until I see him. Carter Hill. Sweeping dark hair, bright green eyes and the hint of muscle beneath his thin linen shirt.

A total box-ticker and the guy I’ve been dating for the past month.

“Did you know about this?” I gesture to the balloons and birthday banners decorating the exterior of the house.

Carter shrugs, sensing the slight annoyance in my voice. “I thought you’d like it. Who doesn’t like a party?”

I let out a breath. He’s right. It’s only a party. I should be drinking beer and dancing to rap music.

But I can’t relax. I have no idea what’s going on or what’s going to happen next.

“I’m sorry.” I flop onto the empty lawn chair beside him. “I just hate surprises.”

“You want a beer?” Carter produces one from the cooler at his feet.

I gratefully accept and take a sip, waiting for the waves of calm to wash over me.

But they don’t.

I take a more determined gulp, watching the groups of people who pass by to say happy birthday.

Is one of them going to jump out of a giant cake? Is there a brand new Mercedes parked out front that everybody’s clubbed together to buy me? Actually, that sounds like the sort of surprise I could cope with.

“So, whose idea was it?” I decide that the only way I’m going to figure out what might happen tonight is if I target the party planner. “Was it Jenna? Surely not my dad.”

Carter shrugs again. “Jenna’s I guess.”

Oh no. That could mean anything. Knowing Jenna, a Strip-O-Gram is probably waiting around the corner, ready to shake his leather thong in my face.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate parties. I love drinking and dancing and celebrating as much as the next girl.

But surprise parties? The kind where you have no idea what to expect? So not me. I prefer plans and organised rules to stick to. I prefer to be the one arranging the party, not the birthday girl on edge while I wait for some crazy idea of Jenna’s to reveal itself.

I finger the tiny china teacup pendant hanging on a silver chain around my neck, thinking of home. England, where I was born. Where I had my first surprise birthday party aged five and kicked up a fuss because I  got the wrong fairy princess cake. Twenty-three-year-olds can’t throw themselves on the floor in a tantrum, can they?

So I’ll do what I learnt to do when I was eleven and my parents’ divorce sent my mother so loopy that she forgot to keep food in the house. I’ll fix the situation.

“Have you seen her?” I scan the crowd, looking for the girl with the biggest hairdo or the brightest clothes.

Carter wrinkles his nose. “Who? Jenna? Babe, relax! You want to go inside for a while?”

Ah, Carter. Sweet, reliable Carter who always knows what to say.

Inside, I start to settle down a bit. Nobody knows I’m in here, which means Jenna can’t find me.

Plus I can still see most of what’s going on outside from the kitchen, so I’ll know if any big surprises start heading my way and I can prepare accordingly.