“I don’t know. It just seems like… an easy project. Two beautiful girls? Taking pictures of each other modeling in skimpy clothes?” Julian shrugged. “Are you sure that’s what you really want to be spending your time on? What about directing and film?”
“But it’s not like it’s just modeling,” Tinsley explained, running her finger over Julian’s knee. She was starting to get annoyed with him. “It’s art. Isla has this amazing art book of all these classic photographs of women in these, like, normal settings, but wearing clothes that are completely out of context. It’s all about contrast, and the unexpected, and…” Tinsley trailed off. The vodka had left her brain sluggish, and she was irritated that her jumbled words didn’t do their project justice.
Julian swung his feet to the floor and sat up. “Sorry, but when everyone shares their Jan Plan projects at the end of the month, I don’t think the guys at Waverly will be thinking about contrast or the unexpected when they look at those pictures of you practically naked.”
“Julian!” Tinsley got to her feet. “Why are you being such a prude?” Her eyes narrowed. Was that even what this was about? Or was Julian just… jealous? “Or is this about me choosing to work with Isla instead of you? That’s really immature.”
“No, it’s not that.” Julian rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry. You can’t blame me for not loving the idea of the entire male population of Waverly ogling my girlfriend in a bikini.”
All the blood rushed to Tinsley’s face. She’d never felt so insulted before. How could he be so ignorant? Didn’t he have any sense of what art was? For the second time in twenty minutes, Tinsley steadied herself on a dresser and slid her feet into her ankle boots. “Then maybe I shouldn’t be your girlfriend.”
She got all the way to the window before realizing that Julian hadn’t answered. She glanced back at him. He was still sitting where she’d left him on his bed, his handsome face lit from the side by the moonlight streaming through the window. He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. It was a mix of disappointment and confusion.
Well, if he wanted to sit there in silence, fine. He could be boring and sit around in his room for the rest of fucking Jan Plan if he wanted, watching movies in his sweatpants all day.
He’d just have to do it without her.
Instant Message Inbox
SageFrancis: I was just out snowshoeing with Ryan and I think we saw a bum in the woods.
CelineColista: No, I think that’s HEATH. He’s doing an outdoor-survival thing, eating berries and building fires.
SageFrancis: Wow, I knew he was dirty, but he looked FILTHY.
CelineColista: If he was horny before, think what a few days without female contact will do.
SageFrancis: Hmmm… if only Brandon had some of that wild animal quality, maybe we’d still be together. Tho yesterday he looked… different. Good.
CelineColista: Yeah, I saw him, too. The scruffy, jet-lagged look does a body goooood.
SageFrancis: I thought there was something going on with you and Lon?
CelineColista: Hmm, sounds like someone’s a little jealous!
15
A WAVERLY OWL KNOWS THAT SOMEONE IS ALWAYS WATCHING.
Brandon tossed the black rubber squash ball in the air. It was early Thursday afternoon, and he had just finished pulverizing Julian in a very one-sided match. Julian’s game had been terrible—normally the tall, gangly freshman was Brandon’s biggest challenge on the team. But today he’d been sluggish and distracted, barely making Brandon break a sweat.
“You suck today,” Brandon said as they stepped off the clean plastic box of a court. He picked up his Prince sports bag and tucked away his racquet. “My seventy-year-old grandma could have kicked your ass.”
“I know.” Julian lifted up his T-shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead. His straw-colored hair was pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, and Brandon was dying to take a pair of scissors and snip it right off. Just because the kid was from Seattle didn’t mean he had to look like Kurt Cobain. “Tinsley broke up with me last night.”
Brandon dropped his bag. “No shit.” He eyed Julian, who had slumped down on the bench. Everyone had been impressed with the way this freshman kid had managed to handle Tinsley Carmichael, one of the hottest—and craziest—girls on campus. But when she was dating Julian, Tinsley actually managed to seem kind of, well, nice. “You all right?”
Julian nodded slowly, but his face had an unhealthy-looking paleness to it. “It just sucks. I don’t really know where it came from. Everything was awesome over break, and suddenly we come back here, and it’s like she doesn’t want to spend any time with me. She practically told me I was too boring.”
“Ouch.” Brandon sat down on the bench. “That’s even worse than being too nice, which is what I usually get.”
“What’s with that?” Julian asked, tossing his racquet back and forth between his hands. “Do they want us to be assholes?”
“I guess.” Brandon took a long sip from his water bottle, letting the cold liquid spill over his chin. “Maybe what girls really want is to be ignored. It gives them a challenge. Maybe Tinsley felt like it wasn’t as exciting once, you know, the race was over.”
“That’s fucked up.” Julian stared mournfully at the empty squash court.
“Well, girls are fucked up, dude.” Brandon gave him a manly pat on the back.
Julian forced a smile and snapped his towel at Brandon. “How about another game? I promise I’ll kick your ass this time.”
Brandon pulled his platinum Cartier watch from his bag and glanced at it. He didn’t even have time to shower. “Nah, I’ve got to run.” He was almost due for his daily iChat appointment with Hellie. It was the end of her day in Switzerland, and they liked to talk just before she fell asleep. She said it made for sweet dreams about him. “Some other time. Cheer up, man.”
Brandon left his peacoat open as he exited the squash complex, enjoying the feel of the cold, clean air against his sweaty chest. The sun was shining, the sky was a perfect blue, and the snow positively glittered in the light. A pack of Waverly students in cross-country skis raced past him. As he stomped up the steps of Richards to his dorm room, he whistled.
He threw down his squash bag, tossed his coat onto his bed, and immediately opened up his iBook, clicking through the windows to set up for his talk with Hellie. He grinned at the thought of her.
There was a gentle knock at his door. “Come in,” Brandon called out, opening his e-mail. He deleted a forward of photos of kittens in Halloween costumes from his grandmother.
Callie took a deep breath when she heard Brandon’s voice. Huddled in the hallway, she suddenly had second thoughts. Should she even be here? It felt like ages since she’d been in Brandon’s room. In the pocket of her baby blue Searle puffer coat, her gloved hand felt for the pair of earphones Brandon had left at the atrium yesterday. Although she knew it wasn’t necessary for her to bring them to his room, she wanted an excuse to see him. Alone. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him.
Finally, she poked her head into Brandon’s room. Her fuzzy cream-colored scarf felt hot around her neck, and she quickly unwound it. “Are you decent?” she called out, jokingly.
And then she caught sight of him leaning over his computer, pushing his sweat-dampened hair off his perfect forehead. His gray T-shirt clung to his well-defined torso.
Why wasn’t she this attracted to Brandon when they’d been dating? It would have made everything so much better.
“Uh, what’s up?” Brandon straightened, shooting Callie a friendly but quizzical look. On the wall above his desk, Callie could see his Waverly calendar thumbtacked to the wall, the tiny squares filled in with notes that read “Mexican night!” and “Call Grams, 7 pm” and “coffee w/ J.” Normally, she would have snickered at how dorky it was that Brandon penciled even the tiniest things into his calendar. But now all she could think about was what a great body Brandon had, and how nice it would be to kiss his stomac
h. And who the hell was J?
Callie blew a strand of hair out of her face and stepped forward. “You, uh, left your earphones at the atrium yesterday. I thought you’d miss them.”
“Hey, thanks.” Brandon’s green eyes lit up. He took the earbuds from Callie’s outstretched hand, his fingers brushing against hers lightly. “I’ve been using my extra pair. But I wondered what happened to those.”
Callie felt her knees buckle slightly, and she sat down on Brandon’s bed, thinking of all the times they’d made out there. She’d never felt like this—like she had to touch him. Suddenly, she felt completely transparent. It was so obvious that she hadn’t needed to bring Brandon his earbuds—she could have texted that she had them, or given them to him at lunch.
After a few moments of silence, Callie realized Brandon was waiting for her to say something. “Where’s Heath?” She leaned back on her elbows, letting her rose-colored Polo top tighten against her chest, and crossed her legs. Her black wool micro-mini had crept dangerously high on her thighs. Look at me, she tried to tell Brandon telepathically.
Brandon chuckled and leaned against his desk—casually, he hoped. Like he didn’t even care that Callie, whom he’d been pining over since the day they broke up, was sitting there, right on his bed. Waiting for him. “You haven’t heard? He’s living in the fucking woods.”
“Oh, right.” Callie felt dumb. She knew that. “So, it’s like you’ve got a single for a month.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Brandon rubbed his chin. “It’s been nice not having to pick his dirty clothes up off the floor.”
Callie smiled at the tiny touch of the old Brandon. Since he wasn’t coming near her, she stood up and ran her fingers along the edge of his bookshelf. She paused at a silver picture frame with a photo of Brandon and a gorgeous, tall blond girl on a ski slope somewhere. What was her name again? Something horrible, like Heidi or Helga. His girlfriend. The blood surged through her veins. In the photo, Brandon had his hand on the girl’s lower back. Definitely an intimate touch. Had they really had sex? Was that what was so different about him? Callie stepped closer to Brandon.
“There are other perks to having a single, you know,” she murmured.
“What do you…” Brandon started, then gave a funny laugh, as if he finally realized what Callie was talking about. A confused look came into his eyes. “Callie. Are you… hitting on me?”
Callie’s faced flushed as she defiantly tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “I don’t know.” She hated that she was being so obvious… but then she suddenly didn’t care. She felt like she had to kiss Brandon or she’d explode.
She took another step toward him, inhaling his amazing scent—a mix of sweat and his Acqua di Parma deodorant. “I’ve just been thinking about…” she trailed off, glancing up at Brandon through her lashes. “You. A lot.”
Brandon ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, and Callie couldn’t help herself. She reached up and touched his chin, her hand trembling a little as it met the beard scruff. Before Brandon could say anything, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his skin, right on his jawbone. He tasted like salt. “Callie… I can’t do this. I have a girlfriend.”
But he didn’t step away.
Callie looked up, letting her eyes meet his. “I don’t care,” she whispered. Butterflies fluttered like crazy in her stomach, and she just couldn’t stop herself. She kissed him.
For a moment, he resisted. But then she felt his mouth open against hers, and his hands slide down her sides. She pressed against him, hungrily, and he stumbled backward. Brandon’s hands were everywhere, and her lips devoured his neck. It was like he was a drug. And the best part was that she could tell he felt the exact same way.
The two of them spun around and landed with a crash onto his bed. Callie’s hands ran up Brandon’s back, tearing at his sweaty shirt. She groaned with pleasure. It felt amazing to kiss him again.
“Brandon?”
“Yes, Callie?” Brandon leaned on an elbow, reluctantly taking his lips off hers. He was panting, his heart beating faster than it had in his entire hour on the squash court. Everything happened so quickly—was he really kissing Callie again? He’d been certain those feelings were all dead. But then suddenly everything came rushing back, and it was like they’d never been apart. He gently brushed a strawberry blond lock off her cheek and stared down at her. She was the love of his life, no doubt about that. And, as if by magic, she had somehow realized it.
“No. It’s Hellie.”
Brandon sprang to his feet, straightening his clothes. A moment ago, his whole life was a dream, and now it felt like a nightmare. He stared at his open laptop. There, on his screen, the iChat window was open. Hellie’s angry, confused face stared back at him from her dorm room in Switzerland. He didn’t even need to ask what she’d seen. She’d clearly seen it all.
Busted.
Instant Message Inbox
IsaacDresden: How’s the project coming?
JennyHumphrey: I actually just left a Pilates class—I love Jan Plan!
IsaacDresden: Sorry to spring this on you, but do you wanna have dinner at my house tomorrow? My dad personally requested that you come.
JennyHumphrey: What? That sounds terrifying!
IsaacDresden: Nah, he just wants to talk to you about art some more. He doesn’t bite.
JennyHumphrey: Okay, as long as you’re there.
IsaacDresden: Where else would I be?
Instant Message Inbox
AlanStGirard: Dude, where are U? U were supposed to meet us in the snack bar at 4.
JulianMcCafferty: Sorry, man. I totally forgot. I’ll be right there.
AlanStGirard: R U busy hooking up w/ Tinsley right now? Making her model that hot prom dress again?
AlanStGirard: Or that red bikini?
JulianMcCafferty: Shut the fuck up, all right? I’m on my way.
WildernessMan Log: Heath vs. Wild
Day 49 (feels like)
Woke up to see whole fucking gang of raccoons tearing into my pack. Fucker from yesterday brought back his whole family. So cold it took me five minutes to get up and chase them away. Packets of torn jerky with raccoon cooties lying all over campsite now. Need a shotgun.
Noon temp: Really fucking cold.
Food: Think I can smell the dining hall cooking chocolate chip pancakes. Delicious. Would love to slather them with butter and sprinkle on some powdered sugar. Can almost taste them in my mouth.
Warmth: None.
Mood: Thought I saw some skiers again. Or else they were fairies. Wood nymphs? Someone or something was laughing. I miss girls. They smell so nice, and their hair is so soft.
Instant Message Inbox
AlisonQuentin: They’re playing Iron Man on the big screen in Berkman Hall tomorrow night—U wanna go?
JennyHumphrey: Wish I could but I’m having dinner at the dean’s.
AlisonQuentin: What? I guess dating the dean’s son comes in handy!!
JennyHumphrey: It’s not like that… Isaac and I are just friends.
AlisonQuentin: Sweetie, I don’t judge. Isaac’s hot, and I’m totally jealous. Maybe you can get the dean to declare Jan Plan a year-round thing?
JennyHumphrey: I’m just going to try to not make a fool of myself.
AlisonQuentin: Ha! Make sure to have fun playing footsie under the table!
Instant Message Inbox
CallieVernon: Hey, stranger. What R U up to? I haven’t seen you in days.
TinsleyCarmichael: Been busy with Isla, working on our project.
CallieVernon: What’s up w/ Julian? I saw him at lunch, looking like shit.
TinsleyCarmichael: I don’t really know. We’re not exactly together.
CallieVernon: WHAT? Since when?
TinsleyCarmichael: Since the other day. I dunno.
CallieVernon: Do U want to come up and have margaritas tonight? And talk?
TinsleyCarmichael: Can’t. Having dinner at the dean’s.
&nbs
p; CallieVernon: With Isla, U mean. Have fun.
16
A WAVERLY OWL ASKS NOT WHAT SHE CAN DO FOR WAVERLY—BUT WHAT WAVERLY CAN DO FOR HER.
Jenny spent all of Friday morning in the Waverly Art Museum, which housed a small but respectable collection of early American photography. She’d holed up in the slide library in the basement, clicking through slide after slide of black-and-white photographs. She went through a series of still photos of a racing horse, caught suspended in air midstride. When she clicked through them quickly, it looked like the horse was running in one fluid movement. How cool would it be if all her drawings could merge together, capturing the movement into one piece of art? After three hours crouched in front of a slide projector, Jenny had half a dozen good sketches and an aching lower back. But it felt great.
Now, waking up from a late-afternoon nap in her dorm room, the sky was already darkening. Dinner at the dean’s tonight? Thank God Tinsley would be there, too. Now that she was working with Isla, the two of them were practically inseparable. Jenny was grateful for the presence of another non-family member. She felt flattered, and a little nervous, that Isaac had invited her. Was it just to be friendly… or did he really want his parents’ approval? Their walk in the snow the other night had been romantic, but she was kind of grateful for the groundskeeper’s interruption. She was sure Isaac had been about to kiss her—and she wasn’t sure that’s what she wanted.
Well, of course she did. But not yet. She had a history of jumping into romantic relationships at Waverly, and so far all of them had ended badly. Jenny had fallen for Easy Walsh the first time she saw him crossing the quad in his paint-splattered Levis, carrying a giant sketchbook under his arm. And then there was Julian, who’d made her forget about Easy, but that fizzled quickly as well. She’d been equally crazy about Drew, the hot senior lacrosse guy who turned out only to be interested in one thing—and it wasn’t falling in love. She didn’t want Isaac to turn into another mistake.