Notorious (16 page)

“What’s up, Brandon?” Her tongue felt slightly heavy in her mouth.

“Nothing.” Brandon had a surprisingly deep phone voice, making him sound much older and more mysterious than he really was. “Just thought you might want to get coffee or something.”

“We’re on our way back from dinner. I don’t know if I’m in the mood for coffee.” Callie glanced over at Tinsley and noticed that she was instant messaging someone. Turning her head slightly, she could see that Benny and Alison were too. What the fuck? Everyone else’s lives suddenly seemed so much more interesting and love-filled than hers. In a wave of self-pity, she wondered if hanging out with Brandon might boost her completely smashed ego. “Well, maybe.”

“I’m just leaving Berk.” Berkman-Meier was the music center, an enormous complex of concrete slab buildings, seventies style, that housed a large lecture hall where Waverly’s various music groups performed, music classrooms, and dozens of small soundproof rooms for individual practice. Brandon’s mother had been first violinist for the New York Philharmonic, and he played to be close to her. She’d died when he was only four, and it was the first thing she’d taught him to do, even before reading. It was sexy that Brandon was so good at something without even really trying—but Callie wished he were, like, a prodigy at the bass or an instrument with a little more rock-star cachet. “Want me to meet you at the front gate?”

Brandon was waiting for her at the gate when the pack of girls approached. Tinsley noticed him first and shot Callie a pointed look. “Looks like your
boyfriend
is waiting for you.”

“I can’t help it if I have admirers.” Callie noticed Jenny looking away uncomfortably. It pissed her off to have a younger girl pitying her, especially one who had become so friendly with Easy. At least Jenny had assured them that nothing was going on there. Callie was humiliated enough at being dumped, but being dumped because of
someone else
was ten times worse.

Brett winked at Callie over her shoulder as the rest of them continued on toward campus, shooting Brandon knowing looks and giggling as they passed.

“What was that all about?” Brandon demanded. He was wearing a neatly ironed pair of Paper Denim & Cloth jeans and a Brooklyn sweatshirt, even though he was from Greenwich. Callie was grateful he wasn’t carrying his violin.

“They’re just being stupid,” Callie replied a little crankily, feeling her buzz drain away. Then she noticed him staring at her. No matter how irritated she could get with Brandon, she had to admit it felt nice to have someone look at her like that, as if he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” he faltered, with a tender smile.

“Don’t give me that fake sympathy. I know you’re thrilled Easy dumped me.” Callie pulled her almost-empty pack of Parliaments—she’d been smoking like a fiend lately—from the pocket of her True Religion jean jacket that used to fit her perfectly but now felt loose and annoying.

Brandon looked hurt. “I’m not sorry you’re not with him anymore—he doesn’t deserve to be with you. But I’m sorry you’re feeling bad.”

Callie sighed and lit her cigarette. Brandon was just so
nice.
Maybe that was the problem. Even after she broke up with him, he was sweet to her, letting her know he’d always be there for her and that he’d always love her. But while that seemed very noble of him, it didn’t make him any more appealing. He just made it too
easy.
“I don’t know. I’m probably getting what I deserve, right?”

“Callie, what you deserve is to be treated like the goddess you are.” Brandon shook his head. “Don’t let a slimebag like Easy bring you down.” He took in her thin, drawn face and felt scared for a moment, realizing how skinny and sad she seemed. “You’re just so far above him, it’s crazy.”

Callie sighed again. That was an easy thing to say to someone who’d just had their heart ripped out of their chest cavity and thrown onto the cold tile floor—he didn’t deserve you, you’re way too good for him, you can do so much better. Well, so what if Easy didn’t deserve her—it didn’t stop her from wanting
him.

But then there was Brandon in his polo shirt with the Ralph Lauren horse emblem on the chest, his brown Calvin Klein wing tips shuffling nervously in the grass. At least she had the power to make one guy nervous in her presence.

“Easy could barely stand to look at me when he dumped me—it was like I was so repulsive, he wanted to erase every inch of me from his memory.” Callie stared at the ground and ran her hands up and down her jacketed arms pitifully.

“That’s so ridiculous! You are so fucking beautiful!” Brandon protested immediately, as she knew he would. Even if their whole interaction was totally predictable, Callie already felt better. After all, it wasn’t like it was Tinsley or Brett trying to cheer her up—Brandon was a guy. Him thinking she was beautiful meant more. “I mean, God. It hurts me to even
look
at you sometimes.”

“Why?”

Brandon shrugged. “Because I can’t have you.” He stared at her, willing her to contradict him, but Callie stayed silent for a moment, thinking about how badly she wished it were Easy standing here in the dark, cold evening, telling her these things.

But it wasn’t Easy. It was Brandon, a guy Easy disliked, thinking him too sentimental and conservative and clearly repressed. A guy it would piss off Easy to know she was starting up with again—and around Waverly, word traveled fast.

Impulsively, Callie stepped toward Brandon and rested her thin hand on his bare arm. It shook a little when she touched it. “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” she asked coyly.

“You know I mean it,” he told her softly.

And so she leaned toward him and pressed her lips to his before he could say anything to change her mind. His mouth was soft and familiar and tasted like cinnamon gum, something new. When she felt him start to pull away, she pressed her body against his, hoping someone would walk by.

“Thank you,” she tried to murmur sexily as she pulled away. “For being so sweet. You made my night.” It was something a girl in a movie would have said.

Brandon touched her hair, stroking it gently like he used to. “You made my year.” It made Callie sad suddenly because she had said her line without really meaning it the way Brandon had.

“Walk me back?” she asked, wanting to get out of there, wanting to check her email in case Easy had written, and wanting to curl up in her most favorite Natori silk pajamas when she found out he hadn’t and cry herself to sleep>. Instant Message Inbox

EmilyJenkins:
Bitches didn’t let me in their club, but I saw Callie sucking face with your roomie.

HeathFerro:
BRANDON??

EmilyJenkins:
The one and only.

HeathFerro:
U think it’s to make EZ jealous?

EmilyJenkins:
Duh.

Instant Message Inbox

HeathFerro:
Yo, Callie’s kissing Brandon outside.

EasyWalsh:
Um OK.

HeathFerro:
U don’t care? EJ thinks it’s to make you jealous. R u?

EasyWalsh:
Nah.

HeathFerro:
Dude, gimme sumthin!

EasyWalsh:
Fuck off, Ferro.

Instant Message Inbox

To:
Undisclosed Secret Society Recipients

From:
[email protected]

Date:
Sunday, September 15, 11:43 a.m.

Subject:
Boston

Dear Superfriends,

That’s right, you heard me. Time to look inside your soul and find your own superhero: maybe that’s Wonder Woman, or maybe, if you’re me, that’s Hugh Hefner.

You have less than a week to prepare. Details to follow.

Fondling-ly yours,

HF

Jenny had Googled
horseback riding clothes,
so she felt relatively prepared showing up at the stables on Sunday afternoon for her riding date with Easy. The Web sites said straight-leg jeans were the best if you didn’t have jodhpurs, which Jenny definitely didn’t, so she wore a pair of straight-leg Diesel jeans she’d had since seventh grade, when she’d stopped growing. Well, growing taller—her chest had obviously continued to bloom. Her long hair fell into two braids down her back, which she hoped gave her an air of boho chic and not an air of insane-Heidi chick.

Even though it was clear that Callie was still reeling from her breakup with Easy, Jenny couldn’t stop thinking about him. When Emma Bovary falls in love with Rodolphe, Jenny gave him Easy’s face, and when she later falls uncontrollably in love with Léon, Jenny imagined he was as irresistible as Easy. She just hoped she wouldn’t bring disaster upon herself like poor silly Emma.

When she got to the stables, she saw Easy leading two horses out in the paddock, one black, one a deep chestnut. She watched for a minute, noticing how Easy’s head was bent toward them as he patted them both on their necks, talking to them. His hands ran across the saddles and stirrups.

“Which one is Credo?” Jenny asked when Easy finally noticed her approaching.

He stroked the black one’s sleek mane. “This is my sweetheart. Isn’t she gorgeous?”

Jenny crept slowly toward Easy and his horse, not wanting to spook her. Credo was enormous. “Credo’s a girl? She’s so huge.”

Easy laughed. “She’s really not. I’m going to ride Dean Marymount’s mare, Diana, because she’s a lot bigger than Credo. And I told Credo to be gentle with you.”

“Good,” Jenny said, hesitantly touching the horse on her neck where Easy had been stroking her. Her coat was surprisingly soft and glossy. Credo shifted a little at Jenny’s touch and turned her head to look at her. The quick movement startled Jenny, but she didn’t flinch and instead kept petting the giant animal as she admired her enormous, brown-liquid eyes.

“Let her smell your hand,” Easy said over her shoulder. “It will help her get to know you faster.”

“Like this?” Jenny held her palm out awkwardly in front of Credo’s nose. With anyone but Easy, she would have been terrified that the horse would bite her hand off, but she trusted him. Credo made a snuffling noise with her nostrils and nuzzled her soft, damp nose against Jenny’s hand. Jenny giggled. “She looks so much happier than those poor horses in the city that have to pull carriages around Central Park for tourists all day.”

“God, you’re a city girl,” Easy said affectionately. He held out a black velvet riding helmet. “Here,” he said. “See if this fits.”

“I have to wear a helmet? Does that mean there’s a chance she’s going to throw me off or something?” She held it awkwardly in her hands, suddenly scared again, visualizing her body flying through the air and landing in a crunch of bones against the hard, packed dirt.

“Nah, she likes you.”

“How can you tell?”

Easy scratched his head. “Well, I can’t tell for sure.” He shrugged. “But she likes girls who are nice to me.” He raised his eyebrows at her, causing her to forget all about being afraid of Credo. “So, you’d better be nice to me.”

Right,
she thought.
Like there was any danger of not being nice.

Easy took the helmet from Jenny’s hands and placed it on her head gently, then flattened his hand on top of it and rocked it back and forth and from side to side. Jenny could feel her scalp moving with it. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure it fits.” He took his hand off her head and bent his knees so that his eyes were level with hers. He examined how the helmet fit around her head, his face just inches from hers, so she could practically count his eyelashes if she wanted to. His eyes finally met hers. “You look cute,” he said softly.

“How come
you’re
not wearing a helmet?”

“Because I’m not worried about me,” he said sweetly, though Jenny still thought it was unfair. She’d pictured her hair flying out behind her in the wind, but maybe next time. “Are you ready to get on?”

“Already?” she yelped, terrified.

“You want to stand here talking all day?”

Jenny looked up at him. “Sort of.”

“Come on. It’s fun, and you’ll be fine. Credo knows what she’s doing, and she’s not going to break into a gallop or anything.” Easy gave her a few more basic instructions and encouragements, but she could tell he was one of the learn-by-doing sort of teachers, so Jenny forced herself to take deep breaths and just get on. He held his hands together to give her a leg up, and she swung her leg over Credo’s back awkwardly, almost kicking Easy in the head with her boot. She wriggled in the sleek leather saddle, getting her bearings. “Are you comfortable?” Easy asked, adjusting the stirrups and placing the reins in her hands.

“I feel like I’m riding an elephant,” she said with a giddy laugh. Being on a horse made her feel so …
tall!

Easy hopped onto Marymount’s horse. “You ready to start moving now?”

Deep breaths, deep breaths. “Yes,” Jenny squeaked.

“Then just give Credo a little squeeze with your calves. And just sort of let your hips follow her movements. It’ll fall into place.” Easy started off on Diana, and Jenny pressed her lower legs gently against Credo’s sides. She gasped when Credo started to move.

“Am I trotting?” she asked eagerly.

“Not yet.” Easy laughed. “Are you sure you’re ready for it?”

Their eyes met across the grass, and he kicked his horse into a trot, pulling away from her quickly. “Come on!” he cried, glancing back over his shoulder, his curls blowing in the light breeze.