Suffer Love (16 page)

“Who didn't?” Livy asks.

Sam lifts a hand. “But only because I had already wept a river when Voldemort dropped dead.
Loved
that guy.”

Under the table, I bat his knee with mine and he laughs. Our eyes lock and his laughter fades into something softer. His eyes sweep over my face, exploring like fingers.

Click.

“Livy, what the hell?” Sam asks, blinking. I inch away from him, painfully aware of the myriad of emotions that just bled out of my face. I meet Kat's raised eyebrows and look away.

Livy lowers her camera lens from our faces and inspects the digital view, an odd look on her face I can't place.

“Sorry,” she mutters without glancing up. “Good lighting in here.”

“Yawn.” Ajay reaches over Kat to snap the lens cap onto Livy's camera. “Little elf. Deepest, darkest secret. Go.”

Livy's face drains of all color and she looks down at her lap. Sam's leg jerks next to me and Ajay yells, “Ow!” Then his whole face opens up. “Oh. Um. I'm getting more coffee. Anyone else?”

He stands and Kat hands him her cup while we exchange bewildered looks. Next to Kat, Livy fiddles with her camera, her body smashed against the wall.

Ajay returns with two steaming mugs, sliding one in front of Kat. They lean toward each other, talking quietly, and I wonder if she's asking him what the hell that was all about. I could ask Sam, but looking at Livy's face, still pale, I swallow my questions.

My phone buzzes again.

“Do you need to get that?” Sam asks as I check the screen.

I shake my head. “It's just my dad again.”

He inhales deeply. “Shouldn't you talk to him?”

“Nah. He's just mad that I skipped out on dinner. I don't want to talk to him right now.” I power down my phone. Dad will just have to get over it.

“Hey! Sam!” A female voice filters through the din and finds us. Something flickers in Sam's expressions as he pulls his gaze from mine to look up. I do the same.

“Ajay's here too,” the voice says.

“Oh, fan-freaking-tastic,” Ajay mumbles, pinching his lower lip with his fingers as he turns around. Kat frowns at him while two girls approach our table. One is tall and leggy and busty and blond, and the other is shorter with more sharp angles underneath her brown hair. Livy's eyes are wide. She flicks the lens off her camera.

“Hey, guys,” the blonde says casually, her eyes on Sam.

“Hey, Nic.” Sam sits back in the booth, his leg still pressed against mine. “What's up, Sara?” This to the brunette, who is currently glaring at Ajay.

“What are you doing?” she asks, a hip cocked and arms folded.

“I'm hanging out with my friends. What does it look like?”

“And who's this?” She jerks her chin toward Kat, who is clearly sitting a little closer than necessary to Ajay. She flushes and scoots toward Livy.

“One of the aforementioned friends,” Ajay says calmly.

“Right.” Sara's gray eyes roam over Kat like they would an annoying insect. “A little whore for the hole I left when you dumped me, is that it?”

“Excuse me?” The words are out of my mouth without thinking. I can already feel angry red dots blotching my neck, and I start to stand, but Ajay beats me to it.

Wordlessly, but with a scowl that could cut glass, he takes her arm and walks with her outside. Her mouth is already moving, and an irate line zigzags between her eyes. Livy snaps a picture of their retreat.

“Livy, come on,” Sam says, and she spreads a hand innocently.

“Sorry about her,” the blond girl says. “Sara doesn't take rejection very well.”

I ignore her and get out of the booth, rounding the table to slide into Ajay's vacated seat next to Kat. Her face is still bright red, her fingers white on the edge of the table.

The girl clears her throat and I shoot her an annoyed look.

“Oh. Um. This is Nicole,” Sam says. “Nic, this is Kat and Hadley. Friends from Woodmont.”

“Hi,” Nicole says brightly, collapsing into my empty seat next to Sam. Kat gives her a wan smile because she's too nice to do anything less, but I look away. This girl hasn't done anything to me, but I can feel my face settling into a tight, bitchy expression. I can't help it, because I know this is her
.
The “pretty blonde.” She's pressed so close against Sam, she might as well be straddling him.

“Livy, you look so grown up,” Nicole says. “How are you?”

“I'm fine, thanks.” A little smile tugs at one corner of Livy's mouth. “You?”

Nicole bumps her shoulder into Sam's. “Oh, I'm always good.” She shifts her green eyes over us. “Did you guys just come from a costume party or something?”

“What?” Sam asks.

“The pink hair.”

“Oh.” Livy shrugs. “No, we just did it for fun.”

“Right. Fun. I know all about that.” She laughs and bumps into Sam. Again. She's practically purring. He smiles slightly and clears his throat. His gaze passes over mine and he looks away quickly, but not before the tips of his ears turn as pink as my hair.

Ajay strolls languidly back to the table, but his expression is pinched in frustration. “Nicole, Sara said she'd meet you outside.”

“Already?” Nicole rolls her eyes as she stands. “I wanted cake. God, Ajay. Can't you just skip all this drama and make her happy?” She swats him playfully on the chest. “You know, like you could tell her . . . Oh, I know! Just talk about her boobs a lot when you two are—”

“Nicole!” A red-faced Sam scrambles out of the booth.

“What?” she asks, all wide-eyed confusion. “Isn't that what this is about?”

“No. Jesus.” They move away from the table and into a corner next to a plastic bin filled with used dishes. His expression is maddeningly unreadable, but they keep
touching.
He lays a hand on her shoulder. She leans into him, her ample chest colliding with his. He shakes his head and steps back, but touches her elbow. She rolls herself onto her toes and kisses his cheek.

Touch, touch, touch.

My breathing feels shallow. I watch Sam watch Nicole walk away before he turns and talks quietly with Ajay, who seems on the verge of laughing. I force myself to focus on Kat.

“Are you all right?” I ask her.

“Sure. Why wouldn't I be?” She taps the tines on her fork.

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you cry when your dentist lectures you about flossing and that girl was a total bitch.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, she was. But she's got nothing to do with me, right? Clearly, she's Ajay's ex. And I just met him three hours ago.”

“Right, but—”

“Let's just go, okay? I think the guys are ready.” She wiggles against my hip until I let her out of the booth. Livy raises her eyebrows at me, but I shake my head, just as confused.

The ride home is quiet. Before we left, Ajay apologized to Kat for Sara's behavior. Kat waved him off casually, but her fists were clenched into the strap of her bag and her mouth was smashed into a colorless line.

Sam sits in the front, Livy having insisted on sitting in between Kat and me, risking a queasy stomach. Some invisible line has been drawn, girls against boys. What we are battling over, I'm not even sure, but images of Sam and Nicole swim sloppy laps in my head.

By the time we pull into Sam's driveway, I'm feeling both completely stupid and vindicated. Kat was so sure something was pulling me toward Sam Bennett—something deeper than his chiseled arms and cerulean eyes—but all that's between us is an English project and a cantaloupe-chested blonde.

We pile out of the car and mutter goodbyes. I refuse to look at Sam, but he hovers around me in the driveway. I can't imagine what he might have to say, and neither do I care. Livy finally pushes him inside and I turn to find Kat talking with Ajay, leaning against his car.

“Are you ready?” I ask her.

She looks up, a rare flash of irritation in her eyes. “I guess.”

“Are you sure you're all right?”

Her whole body locks up. She mutters something to Ajay and then walks over to me. “I'm. Fine. It wasn't a big deal.”

“I know that, but you're usually pretty sensitive about that kind of stuff.”

“Right. Poor, inexperienced Kat. Hadley, just because I'm not accustomed to being called a slut on a daily basis doesn't mean I'm going to fall to pieces at the first sign of conflict.”

I take a step back, her sharps words ringing in my ears. I swallow hard, waiting for an apology, but it doesn't come. She just stares at me, shock and something that looks a lot like relief mingling in her expression.

“Everything all right, ladies?” Ajay asks, approaching warily.

“Fine,” Kat says.

“Ajay, would you mind giving Kat a ride home?”

Her eyes taper into slits, but she says nothing.

“Sure. It's on the way.”

Kat opens her mouth, but I mutter a
thanks
and turn my back on her, too tired and irritated to care what else she has to say.

Sam. Nicole. Sam's hand on Nicole's shoulder. Nicole's fountain of blond hair down her back. Nicole's tanned legs under her tiny little denim skirt. Nicole's lips on Sam's cheek.

I can't stop this relentless march of thoughts as I unlock my front door. The house is quiet, my parents already asleep. I stumble through the pitch-black downstairs and notice that the little lamp on the hall table, usually burning bright all night, is turned off. Dropping my keys next to the lamp, I flick it on before I trudge upstairs.

Sam . . . Nicole . . . Sam . . .

I pass Mom and Dad's room, and all thoughts of Sam and Nicole vanish. The door is wide open, the room a dark cavern.

“Mom?” I call as I step inside.

Nothing. I snap on the overhead light, blinking into the glaring brightness.

The room is empty, the bed neatly made and layered with designer pillows. Everything is in its place. Everything except my parents.

My pulse picks up as I walk down the silent hall to the guest room.

Empty.

My room.

Empty.

Dad's study.

Empty.

By the time I get downstairs, my hands are shaking. The living room is empty, the kitchen is empty, the garage is empty. I dig my phone out of my bag and it takes me three tries before I successfully power it up. The voicemail alert pings and I tap on the message.

“
Hadley, it's Dad. Listen, it's around ten and I'm going out for a while. Your mom can explain, but everything's fine. Call me if you want—”

A fog glazes over my vision as I delete the message and tap
Mom.

“
Hello, you've reached Annie St. Clair at Sony—”

When I hear her voice, one tear leaks out. I call Dad but get the same thing, businesslike words that turn my parents into nothing more than wards, strangers even. I swallow hard, over and over, trying to push the water back, but I can't get my breath. My fingertips feel fizzy and my insides twist into tight coils. I slide down the cool stainless steel of the refrigerator until I hit the ground. The microwave clock glows blue, the little colon flashing rhythmically toward midnight.

Jinx slinks into the kitchen, mewing and sniffing at my shoe. She pads up my legs and nuzzles under my chin, and for some reason, this breaks the dam. I let out a sob that makes her tail snap straight, but she stays on my lap, peering at my face quizzically. My crying gets louder and messier, but Jinx doesn't seem to mind. She presses closer, curling up on my legs with her back to me like she's trying to give me some privacy, but purring a little louder than normal so I know she's there.

How many times have I sat in this kitchen, alone, clinging to my cat while I waited for my parents to get home? But never in the middle of the night. Never had my solitude felt so much like literal abandonment.

I'm not sure how long we sit there. Eventually, my crying quiets, but the tears keep coming, a silent race down my cheeks.

Then I hear the automatic garage door go up. A few seconds later, Dad walks in, his clothes rumpled, his hair a disheveled mess. When he sees me on the floor, he jerks backwards to keep from stepping on me.

“Hadley. Honey, what are you doing?”

His words are like fire, drying up every single tear. I pull myself to my feet and Jinx scampers to her water bowl. “What am
I
doing? What the hell are
you
doing?”

He startles at my tone. He opens his mouth, but snaps it shut again as he takes in my clenched hands, my shoulders pressing up against my ears.

“I left you a voicemail to let you know I'd be out for a while. Your mom and I . . .” He rakes a hand over his head. “Well, we argued and we both needed some space—”

“I called you and you didn't answer.”

He pulls out his phone and frowns, tapping the screen almost frantically. “Oh, honey, I'm sorry. The battery's dead.”

“You're sorry?”

“I thought your mother would've—”

“You're
sorry?
” I repeat, louder this time.

He tilts his head at me, his brows furrowed. “What is wrong with you?”

“Are you serious?” My knees wobble and I know I'm losing my grip on whatever got me through the last hour. “I come home and everything was dark, Dad. Everyone was gone. What do you think is wrong with me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You left.”

“I . . . yes. I did. But only for a while, honey. Where's—”

“And Mom left.”

He flinches and turns, staring into the still-open garage door at the glaringly empty space next to his own car. “She what?”

“Mom's not here, Dad. Gone. No note or anything. And you were gone and no one was answering their phones and I . . .” His form blurs in my vision, but I can see him pale, his mouth fall open. I wipe at my eyes. “I can't do this. I am
so
tired
of this.” In the hallway, I find my bag. I sling it over my shoulder and head for the front door.