Infamous (11 page)

Julian smiled. The tiny dimple to the left of his mouth was like an old friend to Tinsley. An old friend she wanted to lick. “It’s like that movie
After Hours
.”

“I don’t know that one.” She loved that Julian was a film buff like her, but she also hated it when she didn’t get a film reference. In fact, Tinsley felt the same way about Julian’s film knowledge as she did about him: She kind of hated it, because he was a freshman and shouldn’t know more than her, and she kind of loved it. “What are
you
doing here?” she asked, leaning against the granite countertop and trying not to look like she was trying to look sexy—which she was. “I mean, besides talking to a refrigerator.”

Julian kind of smiled. She wondered if he just felt awkward, or if he maybe felt kind of bad about the last thing he’d said to her. Not that it wasn’t true or that she didn’t deserve it—but she could see him feeling bad anyway, and a surge of hope dashed through her veins. “Seattle’s too far to go home for Thanks giving, and I’m a vegetarian anyway, so it’s kind of hard to look forward to a long flight just for some—”

“Tofurkey?” Tinsley suggested, grabbing a few cashews from the bowl of mixed nuts on the table. “I didn’t know you were a vegetarian.”

Julian stared straight at her, and Tinsley felt a chill run down her spine all the way to her toes. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” Her heart sank, and she had a feeling he was about to leave.

“Milk,” the refrigerator said abruptly, causing them both to laugh.

“I think it’s on the fritz.” Julian jammed a thumb in the air and stepped away from the refrigerator in one smooth move. “I guess it’s some kind of high-tech grocery alert system.”

Neither of them said anything for a beat, the noise from the living room wafting through. Someone screamed the lyrics of a Radiohead song at the top of their lungs, but was quickly drowned out by a chorus of “Shut up!” Julian stared at the floor, toeing the tile with his sneakers. Tinsley felt a tingle as she remembered Jenny’s words.

“Listen, Julian.” She gulped, staring down at the pen mark on the white plastic toe of his shoe. She hated it when people started sentences by saying,
Listen
. “I’m sorry.” The words came out stubbornly, but relief washed over her the minute she’d said them.

She could feel Julian’s eyes on her, and she wished she had a drink or a cigarette or some other prop to hide her nerves. “What for?”

“Everything.” She turned away from him slightly, grabbing the bottle of vodka and pouring a splash into her empty martini glass on the counter. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you, for acting so cool toward you when we were, you know…” She let her voice trail sexily—she couldn’t help it. Christ, why was it so hard to be sincere? To shut off the act? Then she realized she
was
sincere. And once she’d opened the floodgates of apology, she couldn’t hold back. “I’m sorry for what happened with Jenny, too. We talked it over and we’re…It’s fine now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tinsley nodded slowly, staring at a dish of hummus and carrots. “She’s like a thousand times nicer than me. If I were her, I probably never would have forgiven me.”

“That’s probably true.”

Tinsley had the feeling that he was being a hardass to test her, to see if she’d bristle and throw some snide comment at him. But she didn’t feel that way at all, even if she was embarrassed to be so humbled in stupid Yvonne Stidder’s kitchen. “But I wanted to say I’m sorry to
you
because I know you probably think I’m the most evil person in the world, but I’m really not.” Her voice trembled a little, unintentionally.

“I don’t think you’re the most evil person in the world.” Julian grabbed a Heineken from the fridge and cracked it open. Tinsley wondered if she’d imagined the emphasis on the word
most
. But it was too late to turn back now.

“I was just jealous.” She lowered her eyes and peeked up at him through her long, thick lashes. It was a move she’d used many times to look humble when she wasn’t feeling humble at all, but now it was just too hard to look straight at Julian. It was like he was the sun or something and she had to shield her eyes. “And I completely regret it now. I can’t even think about it without being disgusted by how I behaved. I’m really not a bad person.” She reined in her heavy breathing, stifling the sob that she could feel developing in her chest. “I’m nicer than you think I am.”

Julian stared at her, confused. He took his hands out of his pockets, and then sank them back in again. She’d broken through his cool reserve, she could tell.

“I’m not sure if I believe you,” he said finally, “but it would be nice if it were true.”

“Give me a chance to prove it,” Tinsley pleaded. She’d come too far to turn back, and she knew she wouldn’t be denied. “Maybe we can spend some time together.”

Julian smiled and shrugged. “Okay,” he said simply. “I think I’d like that.”

“Hey, you coming, Jules?” An unwelcomely familiar voice spoke up from the doorway, and Tinsley didn’t even have to raise her eyes to know it was Sleigh Monroe-Hill
. Jules?
“I’ve got my YouTube video all loaded, as promised. You said you—” She stopped short when she saw Tinsley, her wide blue eyes flying open. “Oh my God, is that
Tinsley Car-michael
?”

Her voice was coated in sugar and it was all Tinsley could do not to gag. But there was no way she was going to let Sleigh ruin her fresh start with Julian. Tinsley opened her mouth to say something polite yet noncommittal (after all, the last time Tinsley had seen her, Sleigh’s dad was writing a fat check to Tinsley for her laptop and all the other shit she’d ruined), but before she could, Sleigh enveloped her in a massive bear hug. “God, it’s been too long, T.C.” Tinsley hugged her back limply. Since when was Sleigh friendly? Or even nice? “You look
glamorous,
as usual!”

With that little comment, Tinsley knew nothing had changed. Sleigh said “glamorous” as if it was an insult—one that only girls could hear. “Yeah, it’s been a while.” Tinsley backed away from Sleigh, taking in her hippie lavender tank top (um, it was snowing out) and her sun-bleached hair (had she just been to the Caribbean?). Was she actually not wearing a bra? But Tinsley felt Julian’s eyes on her, so she quickly said, “You look great, too, Sleigh.”

Sleigh’s blue eyes flickered briefly before she grabbed Julian’s hand. “C’mon, everyone is waiting.”

“Okay, I’m coming.” Julian gave Tinsley one last look before they both disappeared into the front room, leaving her alone in the suddenly empty kitchen. She was mildly curious about the video, but a more pressing question squeezed itself to the front of her brain:
How in the hell did Sleigh even know Julian
?

“Butter,” the fridge said, as if that answered her question.

Jenny leaned back against the sleek black bookcase, watching the snow come down outside the library window. It had a clear view of the rooftop deck, and a few brave souls loitered in the hot tub there, drunkenly enjoying the winter wonderland spreading across the rooftops along Park Avenue. The snow had picked up in intensity over the last few hours, but Jenny hardly noticed. She hardly noticed anything at all besides Casey—time sailed by as she chatted with him about everything from their favorite movies to bands they loved to places Casey had traveled.

“Phuket is probably the most beautiful place I’ve visited,” he said, tracing a finger across the antique globe in its dark wooden stand. “You should go when you get a chance.” Jenny wouldn’t mind going—with Casey. But then she remembered Tinsley’s admonition to keep things light, and to have fun. And a trip to Thailand probably violated that rule—although she imagined it would certainly count as having fun.

“Look.” Emily Jenkins waved toward the window, and a dozen drunken Owls huddled around her, looking down at the street below. Jenny shook her head to clear her thoughts—she hadn’t even noticed that there was anyone else in the room—and rushed to the window with Casey. A bus had stalled out in the middle of the snow-packed intersection of Eightieth and Park Avenue. A cacophony of horns sounded, and moments later the street was snarled with traffic, a layer of snow quickly accumulating on all the cars. The entire scene looked miniature, like a snow globe someone had just shaken.

Yvonne climbed up onto the sleek mahogany executive’s desk in the corner. She wavered, barely able to stand from drinking her weight in rum and Diet Cokes. “Anyone who needs a place to crash can camp out here!” she shrieked happily. Yvonne had been circling around the party all night, drunk not just from the booze, but giddy about how well her party had turned out. “It’ll be like a giant slumber party—my parents are in London until Monday, so you guys’re all invited to Thanksgiving!” Her speech was slurred, and Jenny worried she might topple over onto the hardwood floor. “Pizza on me. It’ll be the best!”

“Wow, she’s plowed,” Casey whispered, leaning closer to Jenny.

Jenny nodded, staring into his dark brown eyes. There was a ring of gray around his pupil, something Jenny had never seen before. He was taller than Jenny—practically everybody past the age of ten was—but he wasn’t as toweringly tall as most of the boys Jenny fell for, and it was nice to not have to arch her neck just to look up at him.

Or kiss him, she thought, her pulse starting to race.

“Are you staying?” Casey asked, as if reading her mind. He set his empty plastic cup next to the globe on the end table.

“Are you?” she asked casually. She flipped her hair to show that she could stay or she could go, though in reality she had nowhere to go. Back to her dad’s? Even if she wanted to, it would’ve been a nightmare to get across the snowbound city.

“Yeah,” he answered, and Jenny swore his eyes rested for a split second on her lips.

A spike of electricity shot up Jenny’s spine. “Me too.” She smiled. “All the hotels are booked anyway,” she added, surprised at how cosmopolitan she sounded.

“Great.” Casey smiled.

The lights dimmed as the evening moved past midnight. The flat screen above the fireplace showed
Mean Girls
on mute while people around it played cards and drunkenly made up their own lines from the movie. The snow slowed down and the hot tub reopened for business. A wet trail of slush ran from the roof deck into the living room, and everyone yelled when the door opened and a cold blast of air shot through the apartment. Julian stood near the large corner fireplace, turning over the logs with a poker, as a blond girl Jenny didn’t recognize sat on a pillow at his feet, cross-legged, as if she were meditating or in some yoga class. Jenny looked around for Tinsley, wondering if she’d managed to talk to him yet, but only spotted Callie, sitting in an ultramodern teardrop-shaped red chair, chatting intensely with the boy next to her.

The night collapsed into murmurs as everyone claimed beds or carved out a spot in the front room with the sleeping bags and blankets and pillows someone had unearthed from a hall closet. Jenny couldn’t remember who had pulled the couch out, or how she ended up lounging on it next to Casey, but she liked it.

“You’re shivering.” He reached into the foggy darkness and pulled up the warm down blanket. He draped the comforter over her and tucked it in under her chin, his hands patting her body tentatively.

“Thanks.” His face was so close she could kiss it, and Casey leaned in as if he might beat her to it, but instead he just pushed a thick curl behind her ear, his fingers lingering slightly.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered, tucking a pillow under his head, and as Jenny drifted off to sleep, she realized she was already having them.

The steps to Mr. Dunderdorf’s white clapboard house at the north edge of campus were covered in a thick layer of snow, and Heath clambered up them eagerly. Brandon hung back, wondering what the fuck they were doing awake at this hour, on Thanksgiving morning, when they were supposed to be on vacation. He almost wished that he was at home, tucked into his own bed, letting the “ocean wave” setting of his Bose sound machine block out the noises of two rambunctious toddlers as they watched
Thomas the Tank Engine
and turned the living room into a war zone. Nowhere was safe anymore, apparently. But he knew the second Heath jumped out of bed at 5 a.m., before the sun even broke the horizon, that it was going to be a long, long day. Brandon had tried to roll over, burying his head under his down pillow, but Heath wouldn’t let up. “The Dunderdorf twins are waiting for us,” he just kept chanting over and over before Brandon relented, falling asleep in the shower for a minute until the hot water ran cold.

Now, Heath flashed Brandon a double thumbs-up and rapped on the weather-beaten Dunderdorf front door. The hot smell of the oven greeted them when the door flew open. “Come in,” Mr. Dunderdorf thundered, his voice impossibly deep for a frail-looking man.

“Is he wearing
lederhosen
?” Brandon whispered to Heath as Dunderdorf waved them through the solid oak doorway and into the living room, which was an alpine nightmare of paneled walls and shelves of dusty knickknacks. He stared at Dunder-dorf’s dark green leather pants, which came to his knees, and under which he had some kind of wooly tights.

“Lederhosen
are
the traditional Bavarian men’s clothing,” Heath hissed back. “Don’t be such a hater.”

Brandon’s eyes adjusted to the half-light, taking in the carvings of elves and gnomes that screamed out from everywhere. One particular carving—of a giant elf with a menacing pig face—really freaked Brandon out. A table in the corner housed an entire ceramic village, each house painted a different primary color, all the roofs lacquered with a coat of fake snow. A strand of Christmas lights snaked through the village, blinking red and green and yellow and pink and blue every thirty seconds.