Envy - 2 (10 page)

She just wished she could go back in time and make sure it never happened.

But going back not being an option, she resolved to go forward. Forward meant acing AP French, and forward meant sticking it out on the newspaper, for the sake of her col ege applications, if nothing else. Forward meant looking him in the eye every day and never saying anything to anyone about what had happened, until she forgot it herself. Eventual y she
would
forget. It had just been a kiss. One kiss. She would forget al about it. Soon.

And today moving forward meant returning to the newspaper office, alone. Doing what she’d signed on to do—run the paper, make it great. She forced herself to return, hating the sound of her key in the door, hating the sight of the couch she used to nap on, the table at which she’d spent so many hours lost in her work. She was so different now—but everything there, it was exactly the same. And maybe in the end, she just couldn’t stay away.

Neither, it seemed, could he.

She’d spent half an hour staring blankly at the computer screen, trying to finalize the page one layout for the next edition, but mainly just concentrating on keeping her body calm and stil —she felt that if she relinquished control for even a moment, she’d start to tremble uncontrol ably. Or just flee.

Maybe she’d known that he was on his way.

Because at the sound of the knob turning, the door opening, she didn’t need to turn around—she knew it was him. Not by the jaunty footsteps or the faint whiff of his Calvin Klein cologne. She’d just known. As if the room had suddenly gotten chil y, or the wal s had begun to press in.

“Beth,” he said quietly.

Stil she didn’t turn around.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, final y.

“You noticed,” she said drily, her back to him. She focused on keeping the pain and panic out of her voice—she knew, somehow, that if she could pul this off, if she could face him without crumbling, prove to both of them that she could do it, that this could be the end of it.

“Beth, if I did anything that made you feel uncomfortable … If you thought that I—wel , sometimes it’s easy for people to get the wrong idea about situations, imagine that certain things happened, when they didn’t, real y. Blow things out of proportion …”

She grabbed the edges of the desk, pressing down until the tips of her fingers faded to white, and forced herself to take a deep breath and turn around slowly.

“What is it, exactly, that you think I imagined?” she asked in a measured tone.

“Wel , you obviously thought that things somehow crossed a line, and if I sent you any confusing signals, I just want to apologize—I’d just hate to see you overreact.”

“Overreact?” Her voice almost broke on the last syl able, and again she forced herself to breathe. She would not yel , and she would not cry, even if it kil ed her. She hoped that from across the room he couldn’t see that she was shaking.

“You’re obviously upset,” he pointed out, taking a step toward her. “If we could just—”

“Stay away,” she blurted out, jumping out of her seat and away from him.

He backed off, holding his hands out in front of him as if to demonstrate they weren’t hiding a secret weapon. Of course, he didn’t need one.

“Okay, okay, I’m back here, okay?” he retreated to the doorway. “Just tel me, what can we do to fix things here? How can I convince you I’m not the big bad wolf?” He cocked an eyebrow and gave her a patented Jack Powel grin, and Beth suddenly realized that this was a man who’d discovered that, with his accent and his dimples, he could get away with pretty much anything.

She also suddenly realized that he needed her help to get away this time—that he was running scared. She had the power, and she could use it.

“There’s nothing you can do,” she said simply. “Just stay away from me. I’m not dropping out of French and I’m not dropping the newspaper—but I don’t ever want to be in a room alone with you again. So make sure that doesn’t happen, or I’l make sure of it for you.”

He took a step toward her again.

“Are you
threatening
me?”

She was almost as surprised as he was.

“I’m just explaining things for you,” she replied. “Stay away from me, or I’m going to the administration.”

“And say what?” he asked, in a low, dangerous voice.

“You know what.”

He came closer, and closer, until he was looming over her, only a few inches away.

“That I came on to you? That I
wanted
you? That I fel madly in love with you and you rebuffed my nefarious advances?” he hissed, curling his lip in derision. “Is that what you’l say?”

She stayed silent, lip trembling, back now pressed against the wal , eyes searching for an escape. He was blocking her path to the door.

“Because I’l tel you what I’l say,” he continued. “I’l say it’s a sil y schoolgirl crush gone out of control. That I made the mistake of getting close to you, helping you out, not realizing what a sad, pathetic, unstable little girl you real y were. Prone to tears and hal ucination.” He smiled cool y. “What do you think they’l say to that? Who would you believe?”

“Stop,” Beth begged, hating the soft, whispery sound of her own voice. “Just stop.”

“Because
I
think they’l believe me,” he pressed on. “I think they’l ask themselves, why would
he
ever risk everything for someone like
her
?” Beth had no response—it was al she could do just to stand there, stare up at him, not lose control and break down. But her control was slipping. He reached a hand toward her, and she skirted away—but there was nowhere to go.

If he touches me, I’ll lose it
, she realized.
I can’t stop myself.

But she couldn’t stop him, either, and he smiled cruel y and put a hand on her shoulder as she felt her knees buckle and—

“Am I interrupting something in here?”

Mr. Powel jumped back from Beth and spun toward the door. Kane stood in the doorway, one arm slung against the frame, a quizzical expression painted across his face.

“That’s up to Ms. Manning.” Powel turned back to Beth. “Are we done here?”

“We’re done,” she murmured, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

“Okay, then. I’l be happy to honor your request, Ms. Manning—but I’d advise you to remember what I said here.” Beth nodded, and Mr. Powel strode out of the room. As soon as he was gone, the last of Beth’s energy disappeared, and she sagged against the wal .

“What was al that about?” Kane asked, hurrying over to her. He put an arm around her and guided her to a chair. “Are you al right?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered, as a tear escaped from the corner of her eye and spattered on the table.

“Okay, that’s obviously a lie, but we al know I don’t feel al that strongly about the truth,” he said gently. “So I can deal with that.” In spite of herself, Beth smiled. “What are you doing here?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t notice her surreptitiously wiping her nose with the edge of her sleeve. She brushed another tear away.

“Looking for you, actual y. Swim practice let out early, so I thought I’d come see if I could bul y you into another study session. I know we weren’t due to meet until tomorrow, but

…” He grinned and pul ed a brown paper bag out of his backpack. “I even brought a bribe.”

She looked inside and gasped in delight.

“For me?”

“Chocolate chip cookies and chocolate milk—that’s right, isn’t it?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Somehow, I think the vending machine cookies wil be slightly less satisfying than Auntie Bourquin’s fresh-baked best, but I figured—”

“No, Kane, it’s perfect, real y. It’s incredibly sweet of you to remember.”

She breathed in sharply and shook herself, trying to shrug off the dark fog that had come over her. She gave him her best attempt at a smile, and pul ed out a notebook, opening it up to a blank page.

“The bribe worked—let’s get to it. How about we start with geometry?”

Another tear spattered onto the page, and Kane put a tentative hand on her shoulder, dropping it quickly as she instinctively jerked away.

“Beth, stop for a second.”

Reluctantly, she looked up from the page, where she’d already started drawing a series of triangles.

“Are you real y okay?” he asked gently. “We don’t need to do this now, if you re not up for it. I can go, if you want. Or I can stay, and we can just talk.” She didn’t say anything, just looked at him, wondering how she’d missed it al these years, the sweet, sensitive look in his eyes, the soft, unquestioning openness. She’d always thought Kane was just—wel , to be honest, a heartless bastard who cared only about himself. But this wasn’t the face of someone who didn’t care.

“Or we could just sit here and stare at each other in silence,” Kane final y added. “I’m okay with that, too.” He grinned. “Girls are often struck dumb by my wit and impeccable physique. It’s okay, no need to be embarrassed.”

She burst into laughter, and this time, she was the one to put a hand on
his
arm.

“It’s okay,” she told him. “We can do some work. I want to.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, covering her hand with his. “Whatever it is, I just want to help.”

Beth sighed, remembering the relief that had swept through her when she’d looked up to see him in the doorway, rescuing her.

“Trust me,” she assured him. “You already have.”

Adam froze in the doorway and just watched. Their heads bent together, his hand on hers, the grateful smile on her face.

He watched—and then he crept out as quietly as he had crept in.

Practice had let out early, and he’d thought Beth could use a pick-me-up. She’d been working so hard lately, and he knew she’d been planning to barricade herself in the newspaper office until nightfal .
Poor Beth
, he’d thought.
My poor, overworked, overstressed girlfriend
. Wouldn’t it be nice to surprise her with an unexpected treat. So stupid.

He’d bought some cookies and chocolate milk from the vending machine by the gym—her favorite.

He’d rushed down the hal toward the office, already imagining the smile on her face when she saw him walk through the door, the squeal of delight at the guaranteed sugar rush. He loved to see her happy.

He’d tiptoed to the door of the office, oh-so-gently and oh-so-quietly turned the handle, eased the door open—and there they were. Kane and Beth, bent over their work together—though they obviously weren’t working.

Kane was munching on a cookie, Beth was giggling—they looked comfortable together, like friends. Like more than friends.

Like they didn’t want to be interrupted.

Adam hated himself for the tendrils of jealousy creeping through him and for the fact that he couldn’t drive Kaia’s mocking warnings out of his mind. He had nothing to worry about. He
knew
that. Knew that he could just say her name, or clear his throat, and they would look up and welcome him to the table, and together, they would eat cookies and slurp chocolate milk and complain about the SATs or their asshole swim coach or whatever. He could and he should, he knew that. And yet—

He didn’t. He stepped backward, silently, away from them, and eased the door shut behind him. He walked a few paces down the hal , then slammed a fist into a locker in frustration. It didn’t help. So he kept going, down the hal , out of the building, back home. Alone.

And inside the newspaper office, Beth looked at Kane, Kane looked at Beth, and, engrossed in the conversation, engrossed in each other, they never noticed a thing.

It had taken Harper about twenty-four hours to notice that Miranda wasn’t speaking to her—unanswered cal s, unreturned messages, a cold shoulder in the hal way and an empty seat in the cafeteria. By Tuesday night it had become pretty clear to Harper that she’d somehow screwed up. She knew it would take less than ten minutes to get Miranda—the ultimate pushover, at least when it came to Harper—to forgive her for it. Too bad she didn’t have the slightest clue what “it” was.

But maybe she could bluff it out.

After countless unreturned messages (“Rand, come on, cal me back—I’m sorry, I total y screwed up. Cal me!”), the phone final y rang.

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?” Miranda asked as soon as Harper picked up the phone.

Harper squirmed. Sometimes she was sorry Miranda knew her so wel .

“Of course I do,” she said indignantly. “And I’m sorry—I swear, I’l never do it again.”

“What?”

“I said, I’l never do it again, I promise.”

Miranda sucked in a sharp, exasperated breath. “No, I heard you. I mean,
what
wil you never do again?” Harper paused. “Wel , I’l never do anything like
this
again, I’l tel you that much.”

Miranda snorted. “You’re unbelievable—you real y have no idea, do you?”

Harper crumbled under the pressure. “Okay, you got me. No, I don’t. But I’m sorry, I swear—-just tel me what I’m supposed to be sorry about.”

“Wel ,
if you only had a brain
, maybe you could figure it out,” Miranda said cryptical y.

“If I only had a—oh God,
The Wizard of Oz
. Shit, Miranda, I total y forgot!”