What was the point of putting everything you had into a friendship when all you got back was … well, nothing?
She leaned back against the worn leather of the bus seat, trying to get comfortable, trying to ignore the shouts and laughter coming from the seats behind her. She closed her eyes, willing herself to be tired, to lose herself in sleep. But her mind refused to relax.
It was a five-hour ride back home, and she had nothing to do but curl up in the dark, wide awake, and contemplate the misery of her own existence.
Good thing she had enough material to last her the rest of the night.
They rode home on the van together, side by side, hand in hand. Adam had decided he was in no shape to ride on the rowdier fan bus with most of the team. As the van pulled onto the road, he wrapped an arm around Harper, pulling her close, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. She snuggled up against him, her head on his chest, and listened to his heart, beating in time with the gentle rocking of the van.
She felt so warm, so safe with him by her side. And the taste of him was still on her lips—she’d waited so long for him to look at her like that, to hold her like that. Which had made it all the harder to push him away. Even harder than it had been to watch him in all that pain, to watch him raging against himself and the world and know that she could end it for him with just a few quick words—but that doing so would cost her everything. So she’d stayed silent, played the loyal and dutiful friend—and it had worked. Better, and faster, than she’d ever imagined.
It didn’t matter how she’d gotten here, she reasoned. All that mattered was that she was here now, and she was close, so painfully close, to getting everything she wanted. She just had to be careful—she couldn’t rush it, couldn’t let him rush it. Patience, time—and then, the big payoff.
As the night wore on, a deep quiet settled over them. Harper closed her eyes and breathed in Adam’s closeness; in the quiet dark, it felt like they were all alone in the world. Together. She leaned against him, her cheek resting on his chest, rising and falling with his steady breaths, slowly drifting off to sleep. After so much time and energy spent planning the next step, looking toward tomorrow, and the day after that, Harper had finally found herself in a moment she could enjoy for what it was, a moment she wished would last forever.
If only it could.
chapter
13
Adam awoke the next morning with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was as if, even before he was fully awake, even before his mind had wrapped itself around the horror of the night before, his body had known that something was deeply, deeply wrong. When he’d staggered home last night at three a.m., a part of him had wanted to call Beth, to drive over to her house, bang on the windows until she let him in, shake her until she admitted what she’d done.
He’d wanted to call her last night, the moment he’d found out. But he’d stopped himself. It wasn’t because he was afraid he’d say something he shouldn’t—it was because he wanted to see her face, wanted her to be there right in front of him when he told her exactly what he thought of her. He didn’t want anything—not static, not some misplaced twinge of pity or forgiveness—to get in the way.
He knew that this moment, coming face-to-face with her, would be the hardest one to get through, that if he were going to crack, were going to buy the inevitable denial and tearful “have pity on me” routine, it would be then. But he also knew that if he could get through the encounter without breaking, he could be rid of her forever.
It was Harper who’d convinced him, who’d persuaded him to wait until he’d calmed down and his head was clear—or at least until morning. And now morning was here. A storm of anger was still simmering just beneath the surface—he was almost afraid to pick up the phone. Once he released himself, once he let out all the emotion he’d been bottling up since the night before—he didn’t know how he’d stand it.
But he couldn’t do nothing. That would be worse.
So Adam rolled out of bed and dialed the familiar number, suppressing his nausea and affecting a cheerful, innocent voice.
“I’m so happy you called!” she said.
“I missed you!” she said.
“I can’t believe you won!” she said.
Adam choked out a few terse sentences. He was fine. He was tired. He wanted to see her.
“I want to see you, too!” she gushed. “I’m stuck at work all day, but tonight we’re going to Bourquin’s, for some last-minute studying. Meet me there?”
We?
Perfect.
Beth shifted her weight back and forth outside the coffee shop, then began to pace along the front of the restaurant. Kane waved at her through the glass window, and she gave him a weak smile.
She couldn’t wait for Adam to arrive. These last few days had been so confusing—her and Adam not speaking, Kane always underfoot, and then last night, in the park …
She just needed to see Adam again, soon, to talk to him, touch him, remind herself that he was real, that he was her life, that everything else was just—just misplaced emotion. She’d been stressed, things had been weird between them for so long, but now it could all be over. The SATs were tomorrow morning, and after that, she promised herself, she’d stop. Take a break from overachieving, just for a little while, take a break from the dutiful daughter routine, change her shifts around at the restaurant. She’d even promise not to see Kane again, if that’s what it took. She and Adam would have the chance, finally, to be together, to heal. One more night, and she’d be all his—she couldn’t wait to tell him.
Adam had spent the day cleaning out the garage, hoping to keep his mind off things. It was all he could do to keep from running down to the diner and confronting Beth—but he’d decided it would be better to wait. That night, she and Kane would be together. Which meant he could kill two birds with one very large stone.
For hours upon hours he had sorted through the junk in the garage, boxing up most of it to be taken down to the town dump. Just before taping up the last box, he’d slipped his new trophy inside, then closed the lid again. He didn’t need a reminder of the day before sitting on his shelf, mocking him. He didn’t need to remember how happy he’d been, how good he’d felt about himself and his life, before everything came crashing down. The trophy was nothing but garbage now—just like his relationship.
As the sun set Adam walked over to the coffee shop—it was a long way, but then, he had a lot of energy to burn. He saw her before she saw him. She stood just under the neon sign, her features lit softly by the bluish glow. Angelic, he might have thought, in a different life. She looked at her watch and began pacing. She was waiting for him—or maybe she was wondering how much time she’d have to waste on him before getting back to her secret lover.
Bile rose within him, and for a moment he thought he might be sick. But then he forced away the image of her and Kane (when he closed his eyes, he imagined them screwing everywhere—on her bed, in his car, in the locker room, on the basketball court—her poison had tainted everything and everywhere in his life). He needed to be calm. Strong.
Things were going to get worse before they got better.
“Adam!” she called, as soon as she spotted him approaching. “I’m so glad to see you—I missed you!” She ran over to give him a hug, but when she tried to kiss him, he turned his face away.
“Are you still mad?” It seemed an unnecessary question. She’d been hoping that a couple days away had made him realize he had nothing to worry about, that she and Kane were just friends. And that was it, she thought, pushing away the memory of last night. That was it.
“Now, why would I be mad?” his voice sounded strange. Hard. “Did you and Kane have a good time without me?”
“It was horrible,” she lied. “All we did was study. I’m so burnt out—I just need to get some sleep.”
“Yeah, I bet you do. I bet you’re real tired.”
“What?” What was he getting at?
“Just drop it, Beth,” he said harshly.
“What?”
“The innocent act. The little miss perfect shit. It’s tired, and I’m not buying it anymore.”
“What act? Why are you being like this?” She reached out a hand to him, but he shrugged it off, jerking away as if her touch burned.
“Don’t touch me,” he said sharply.
Beth took a step back. Her heart was thumping in her ears, and a sense of dread had settled over her.
“Adam, what’s going on?”
“I guess you thought I’d never figure it out.”
“Figure what out?” she asked.
“You must think I’m an idiot or something.”
“Of course I don’t—what are you—?”
“Just shut up already!” he roared. “I can’t stand it anymore. Stop looking at me like you give a shit, stop acting like you’re all confused, all pure and sweet and innocent—I know all about it, all about you and … him.”
He jerked his thumb toward the window of the coffee shop—Kane was inside, looking out with obvious concern.
“This again?” Beth asked, tears welling up at the corners of her eyes. “I told you, there’s nothing going on.”
“And I told you—I know everything. Kaia saw you, Beth. I guess you thought you’d be safe, but she saw you. And she told me everything.”
Beth’s mind skidded across the last forty-eight hours—what could Kaia have seen? What could she have said to make him this angry? The night in the park, it had just been innocent. It might have looked … but it had been innocent. Completely. And besides—Kaia?
“Kaia? You’re yelling at me because of something Kaia told you?” Beth asked incredulously. “Kaia’s a liar and a bitch, Adam, you’re the one who told me that. Why would you believe anything she has to say? Why would you believe her over me?”
“Oh, Kaia’s a liar? Kaia’s a bitch?” He forced a laugh. “That’s a good one, Beth. You know, I didn’t believe her either, not at first. I defended you—I defended your honor!” He laughed again, bitterly. “Good thing for her, she had pictures.”
Pictures? Beth’s heart leaped into her throat. What could there even be pictures of? They hadn’t even kissed. There had been one moment when—but no. Whatever she may have imagined doing, nothing had happened. Nothing.
“Adam, nothing happened,” she protested. “You’ve got to believe me. This is just a huge misunderstanding. If you’ll just listen to me—”
“I’m done listening to you,” he snapped. “I’m done with your lies. Do you have any idea what it felt like? To see you with him? I should have turned last night with Harper into a Kodak moment for you, then maybe you could see how it feels.”
Beth, who already felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach, staggered back and had to lean against the wall for support.
“Harper? You and Harper?”
He looked surprised for a moment, as if not realizing he’d said it aloud. Then his face twisted into an ugly smile.
“That’s right, Harper. But why should you even care? I hope to hell you do.” He glared at her, and she couldn’t bring herself to look away. “I hope it hurts.”
It was as if Adam had disappeared into the desert, and some heartless, unfeeling monster had returned in his place. Beth was reeling.
“So, what—you get a phone call or something from Kaia, of all people, and then without even bothering to talk to me, you just jump into bed with someone else? What’s wrong with you?” she cried.
“You are not the victim here,” he spat. “So you can just knock off the tears. It’s not going to work.”
She lunged forward and grabbed both of his hands tightly in hers. If she could just make him stop for a minute. Think. Before throwing everything away.
“Adam, just wait—can we just—”
“Enough!” He shoved her backward, and she stumbled back against the wall. “Don’t touch me again, Beth. I mean it.”
That was when she knew. It was over. This person, this thing in front of her who spit out all this hate and anger and venom, who took Kaia’s word over hers, who let Harper—
She couldn’t even think about it. Couldn’t even look at him.
“Just go, then, Adam,” she said wearily through her tears. “If that’s how you feel, why don’t you just go?”
“One more piece of unfinished business,” Adam replied, looking over her shoulder. She turned—Kane stood in the doorway.
“Everything okay out here?” he asked with concern.
“Hey, bro, everything’s just fine. Why don’t you come on out for a little talk?” Adam said heartily.
Kane looked back and forth between the two of them.
“It doesn’t look fine” he said hesitantly, walking toward Beth, who was now slumped against the wall, her head in her hands. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Beth, are you—”
“Don’t touch her,” Adam snapped, knocking Kane’s arm away roughly.
“What’s your problem?” Kane asked, turning to face him.
“You were,” Adam said. Suddenly, he punched Kane in the face, hard, knocking him to the ground. “But not anymore.”
As Kane moaned in pain and Beth looked on in horror, Adam slowly turned his back on them and walked away.
“She’s all yours now,” he called over his shoulder. “You two deserve each other.”
Kane lay on the ground for a moment, moaning—with a few small whimpers thrown in, just for effect. (Not too many, though—it wouldn’t do to have her thinking he was some kind of wimp.) Then he slowly pulled himself up and walked over to Beth, who was frozen in place, staring after Adam’s disappearing figure.
Kane said a silent congratulations to Kaia and Harper—apparently, everything had gone like clockwork. His turn now.
He put a comforting arm around Beth, trying to still her heaving sobs.
She leaned against him for a moment, burying her face in his chest and crying. It’s going to be a bitch to get all of that snot out of the fabric, he thought. But after all this hard work, what’s a little more? So he held her, wishing his hands could stray downward, but he held back, just rubbing her shoulder blades and making comforting noises. Patience, he counseled himself.
“Beth, maybe you want to go inside and talk?” he finally suggested.
At the sound of his voice, she looked up in alarm, almost as if she’d forgotten he was there. She twisted away from him.
“I—I have to go,” she said, wild eyed, backing away from the restaurant.
“Okay,” he said quietly, trying to calm her down. It unsettled him, somehow, to see her like this. It wasn’t that he felt guilty, he insisted to himself. Or that he couldn’t stand to see her hurt. It was just—unsettling. Guys and crying don’t mix, he decided. That was all. “Let me get my keys. I’ll drive you home,” he offered.
“No—no!” she yelped. “I just need to be by myself. I just need to go.”
“Beth, I’m not letting you wander out there by yourself,” he said in alarm. “Not when you’re … like this.”
But it was too late—she’d run off into the darkness.
Once she was safely gone, he shook his head and shrugged. So he’d have to wait. Another day, maybe two. Not a problem. He could be patient. Now that everything was in place, there was nothing standing in his way, he just had to wait.
She’d come back.
They always did.
Harper was antsy. She knew she should study—she might not care about the SATs, but it couldn’t hurt to spend a couple hours at least looking at her books, just so she could say she’d done something.
But she was too excited to concentrate. She couldn’t just sit there and study, not while she was stuck in this weird limbo between triumph and actually reaping the benefits of her victory. She couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stay inside—she wanted to dance, to leap, to drink, to show the world that she was the girl who had everything.
She wanted, in essence, to go out
.
Adam was off somewhere with Beth, breaking her heart, she hoped.
Kane, if he was smart, was lurking about, ready to pick up the pieces.
Miranda, she was pretty sure, wasn’t speaking to her. A problem for another day.
She supposed she could call up some of the girls, just choose some names at random from her cell and sucker them into going out—but she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to have to make up an excuse, to have to pretend that today was just another day when in fact today was the day, the start of everything, the day the world was about to open up for her. She wanted someone who would celebrate with her—and know what she was celebrating.
With surprise, she realized what it was—she wanted Kaia.
As she whirled under the lights of Grace’s only “dance club”—a large and half empty bar that played cheesy eighties hits on Friday nights, Kaia was surprised to discover that she was actually having something akin to a good time.
Jack Powell was in for the night. Friday nights were his, and his alone, he’d informed her, and she’d figured that meant she’d be spending a quiet night at home watching TV and painting her nails. (Let these small-town losers study for the SATs—she’d aced the test last spring with the help of Ivy Bound, an intense one-on-one prep program for mediocre rich kids. So Kaia couldn’t care less what happened in the morning.) And then Harper had called, and here they were, downing poorly mixed Cosmos and flailing their arms around to old-school Madonna—two material girls out on the town. For what it was.
And why not? Hadn’t they triumphed over the forces of good and managed to win the fair-haired couple over to the dark side? Harper looked happier than Kaia had ever seen her, and Kaia knew it was more than the vodka.
So let her be happy, Kaia thought. She doesn’t deserve it, but then, who the hell does? Why not Harper? Why not all of them?