Lust

Chapter 5

“Remind me again why I ever agree to drive you anywhere?” Adam asked, bemused, as Harper flung herself into the car, still bleary from sleep and clutching a cup of coffee as if it were a life preserver. Two weeks into the school year, and dragging herself out of bed each morning still took every ounce of willpower she had. Some mornings-the ones where she showed up at school two hours late with a forged note about a lingering migraine or unavoidable dentist appointment-it took more.

“Because you love me?” she suggested sweetly, buckling herself in. “Because you can’t get enough of me?”

“Because I’m an idiot who keeps forgetting that you’re incapable of being on time?”

Harper gave Adam an affectionate slug on the shoulder.

“Just drive, Jeeves,” she instructed him. “Or do you want us to be late?”

Adam shifted the car into gear and took off toward the school, while Harper played absentmindedly with the radio. It only got AM stations-but given the overall state of the car, with its clanging exhaust, its nonexistent suspension system, the front doors that would never open, and the back doors that would never quite close, Harper was always pleasantly surprised when the pile of junk managed to make it from point A to point B. A fully functioning radio seemed too much to ask.

Not that she would ever insult Bertha (the car was named after a golden retriever that Adam had been forced to abandon when he and his mother moved here from South Carolina so many years ago)-at least not in front of Adam. He was just a little… sensitive when it came to the car, which he had lovingly restored. (It was now only half as much of a piece of shit as it had been, which was saying very little.) But, ugly as the Chevy was, it got her where she needed to go, which was more than she could say for her family’s Volvo. Her parents’ car never broke down, it had an FM radio and an untarnished paint job-and she wasn’t allowed to touch it.

Adam had been giving her rides to school ever since tenth grade, when, courtesy of an early birthday and a generous mother, he’d gotten both a license and a car long before Harper had been able to even imagine a life liberated from parental chauffeuring and bicycles. Now that she didn’t get to spend much one-on-one time with him anymore, she’d come to look forward to these rides to a ludicrous degree. (Especially now that she was waging her thus-far-unsuccessful campaign for his affections, a depressing thought she preferred not to dwell on this early in the morning.)

“So, any exciting plans for tonight?” she asked, as they sped through the streets of Grace and all the sepia-toned hot spots whizzed by-bar, pool hall, gas station, liquor shop, bar. Any quaintness the main drag may have had in the past had leached out over the decades. It was hard to be quaint when all you had to work with was neon, bankruptcy, and decay. “Hot date?”

Adam shook his head ruefully.

“Yeah, hot date with my TV. Beth has another newspaper meeting this afternoon, and tonight she’s got some job interview.” He sighed and rolled open his window, letting a rush of arid air sweep into the stuffy car. “Dating someone lazier might have been a little less brutal on my social life.”

Tell me about it, Harper thought. Once he kicked Little Miss Do-It-All to the curb, Harper (Little Miss Have-It-All?) would be only too happy to remind him of the joys of slacking off.

But all she said aloud was, “I’m sure if she loves you, she’ll make time for you.” Sweetly. If not sincerely.

Adam had always been the one guy in her life who didn’t really appreciate the Harper Grace Bitch on Wheels show-maybe because he was also the only one who saw it for the act it was. Or at least that was his take on things, and she was perfectly happy to keep him in the dark about the “real” Harper Grace. If he wanted to think the hard shell covered a soft center of sugar and spice and everything nice, so much the better.

“Yeah, well, in the meantime, I’m in for the night,” he complained.

Harper was about to suggest an alternative, when-

“Or maybe I’ll give Kaia a call. She’s been wanting to go take a look at some spots for the party. Could be fun.”

Harper gritted her teeth. She’d remained silent on the subject for a week now, saying nothing when Adam invited Kaia to come sit with them at lunch, forcing a smile when he had driven her off on a tour of the “sights,” grinning and bearing it every time Kaia accidentally-on-purpose brushed up against him with her fingers, her shoulder, or, increasingly often, her chest. She’d waited for Beth to do her dirty work for her-but Beth was apparently too busy to notice that her carefully trained lapdog was sniffing around someone else’s yard, so maybe she’d waited long enough.

“Adam, don’t you think Beth might get a little jealous of you taking some other girl out for the night?” she suggested hesitantly.

“Who, Kaia?” he glanced at her briefly in surprise, then turned his eyes back to the road. “It’s not like that. Beth knows that-besides, don’t you want us to find a place? It’s your party, I’d think you would be a little grateful.”

So defensive-what was the deal with that?

“It’s not that,” she protested. “I just don’t want you getting too involved with her. I…”

Hate her?

Despise her?

Loathe her with every fiber of existence?

“… don’t trust her.”

“You don’t even know her!” Adam exploded. “People always do that, and it’s not like they know what the hell they’re talking about.”

“What people? Always do what? What the hell are you talking about?”

Adam tightened his lips into a thin and narrow line and, although they were stopped at a light, refused to turn his head and face her. He stared straight ahead, his shoulders tense, his voice hard. “I just-I think you should give someone the benefit of the doubt for once, Harper.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can be kind of hard on people,” he stammered. “And Kaia-I just think Kaia could use a break.”

“Oh, please!” Harper burst into harsh laughter. “That girl’s entire life has been a break.”

“What do you know about it?” he retorted.

“More than you, apparently.” She threw up her hands in disgust, then brought one down to rest lightly on his shoulder. “Adam, are you really this naive?”

“Apparently I am,” he said stonily, shrugging her off. He turned up the radio, the pounding rock beat drowning out whatever Harper might have said in response.

They drove the rest of the way in very loud, very angry silence.

“I don’t know what his problem is,” Harper complained. “It’s bad enough having to watch him tag along after Beth like a lonely puppy, but if that bitch gets her claws into him…”

“Jesus, Harper, dial it down a notch,” Miranda said, lighting her friend’s cigarette. “Do I have to start making catfight hisses or something?”

“I just can’t stand her,” Harper growled. She raised the cigarette to her mouth and inhaled deeply, then flopped back onto the freshly cut grass, breathing in the summery smell and enjoying the cool touch of the tiny stalks against her bare neck. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, watching her chest rise and fall, and tried to find somewhere to bury all of her anger toward Kaia, toward Beth, toward everything. When that didn’t work, she ripped a few clumps of grass out of the ground, pretending they were strands of Kaia’s glossy hair. “This year isn’t starting out the way I expected it to,” she sighed.

“Yeah, yeah, tell me about it.” Miranda let herself fall back onto the grass next to her friend and stared up at the wide expanse of cloudless sky. It was a warm day, not-as was usually the case-blisteringly hot, just warm. If you closed your eyes and held perfectly still, you could almost feel a cool breeze brushing past, the air smelling crisp and clean-a nice change from the traditional Grace bouquet: smog and asphalt. It felt almost like rain, although Miranda knew that the desert rain, if it came at all this year, would arrive as a dirty gray drizzle for a few days in January. Still, there was something sweet and fresh in the air, something that felt almost like fall. Or what she imagined fall might be like. Weather like this should be enough to make you forget everything-the bitchy new girl, the math class they were cutting, the SATs, college applications, and their many, many guy problems.

But maybe that was asking too much of the weather.

“Harper?” she began hesitantly, hoping that her friend wouldn’t laugh when she heard why Miranda had coaxed her into spending this period smoking in the football field rather than sitting blankly through a lecture on binomials. “I’ve got a secret.”

Harper shifted onto her side to face Miranda. “Spill it-you know I must know everything,” she ordered eagerly.

“It’s Kane,” Miranda told her, avoiding Harper’s eyes and instead looking over her shoulder into the distance; she could just barely make out a few small figures scurrying back and forth through the glass corridor that joined the classroom building with the cafeteria and gym. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to continue, trying to convince herself that Harper would understand. “I kind of, I mean, I think I…”

Trying to get the words out made her realize how stupid the thought was. What would he ever want with her? But if you can’t tell your best friend your most embarrassing secrets, who can you tell… right?

“Well, do you think he might ever want to go out some time?” Miranda finally spit out, all in one breath. “I mean, with me?” she clarified quietly.

Harper sat straight up and peered down at Miranda incredulously.

“That’s your big secret?You have a crush on Kane? Duh.” She flopped back down again. “I thought you had something interesting to tell me.”

“You knew?” Miranda froze, a cavernous hole opening in the pit of her stomach, her heart beating wildly in her ears.

Harper rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Rand, I’m your best friend,” she pointed out. “Plus, and more importantly, I’m not blind. Of course I knew. I’ve just been waiting for you to break the news.” She laughed. “Big secret. Right.”

Miranda had to remind herself to breathe. If Harper had figured it out-if it was so obvious…

“Uh… do you think that-does everyone know?” she asked in a small voice.

Meaning, of course, does he know?

“No, no, I’m sure they don’t,” Harper instantly assured her, realizing she’d sent her friend into total crisis mode. “But what’s the big deal, anyway? He’s got to know eventually. I mean, are you picturing ramming your tongue down his throat and then taking a time-out to say, ‘But don’t get me wrong, Kane, I just like you as a friend’?”

“Harper!” A bright red blush spread across Miranda’s face-and, judging from the warm tingling she felt from the top of her head to her fingertips and toes-it didn’t stop there.

“What?” Harper grinned and stuck her tongue out at Miranda. “You know you want to.”

Miranda said nothing, just closed her eyes and began massaging her temples as Harper dissolved into laughter. This could go on all afternoon.

“Okay, okay,” Harper choked out through her giggles. “I’ll stop, I promise. But seriously, maybe you should just go for it. Tell him.”

“Like you’ve told Adam?” That was sure to shut her up in a hurry.

“Point taken.” But Harper was stymied only for a moment. “Okay, Plan B. We-by which I mean I, in my capacity as best friend and master planner-figure out a way to get the two of you together.”

“You really think he’d go for me?” Miranda asked dubiously.

“He’d be crazy not to.”

“Um, great, but you’re my best friend-you have to say that,” Miranda pointed out. “Now let’s talk real-world possibilities.”

“Real world, serious answer, I think it could happen,” Harper assured her, without a hint of humor. “And I’m going to make it happen. Someone’s love life should work out this year, and since mine may be screwed beyond repair, looks like it’s your lucky day.”

“Can you imagine? Me and Kane.” Miranda sighed. She could-and often did-imagine it pretty well.

“Personally, it’s not clear to me what you see in the guy,” Harper replied. “I mean, I love him and all, but he’s kind of an asshole.”

“But-”

Harper held up a hand to stop her. “Hey, if it’s what you want, it’s what I want. I swear to do whatever I can to make him your asshole.”

“You swear?”

Harper gazed at her solemnly for a moment, then placed her right hand over her heart and held her left hand up in midair, as if swearing in as a courtroom witness.

“Cross my heart and hope to die, may all my hair fall out if I lie,” she said in a loud and deep voice, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing.

Miranda giggled at the sound of the oath they’d repeated to each other so frequently as kids, when a bad hair day had seemed like the worst punishment the world could dish out.

“Hair swear?” she asked Harper with mock solemnity, extending her right pinkie finger. “Are you sure?”

“Hair swear,” Harper repeated, linking her pinkie with Miranda. “You and Kane-it’s a done deal.”

And they shook on it.

It had become a routine. Every Wednesday, Adam would meet Beth after her English class and they would sneak off to have lunch together, a private picnic in a secluded dusty knoll just off the main quad. They’d discovered it the year before-full of overgrown weeds and bordered by a rusted wire fence on one side and a concrete slab on the other, it wasn’t the most romantic spot in the world. But what it lacked in ambience, it more than made up for in convenience and privacy. Some weeks, their Wednesday picnic was really the only time Adam got to see Beth, got her full attention. Other days she might have lunch in the yearbook office, or he would have lunch with the guys on the swim, basketball, or lacrosse team (depending on the season). Then she would have to babysit after school, he would have practice, she had dinner with the folks, he had pizza on the leather recliner while watching Elimidate-sometimes it seemed their busy schedules were conspiring to break them up, but Wednesdays? Those were sacred. Untouchable.

They would sprawl atop an old picnic blanket and lay out a spread blessedly devoid of cafeteria food: bread, cheese, fresh fruit. Beth was too nervous to bring any wine or beer onto school grounds, despite the fact that as far as they knew, their private hideaway had never been discovered-but to keep him from whining about the lack of illicit substances, she usually showed up with a Tupperware container filled with homemade brownies or freshly baked banana bread. It was a fine compromise. They would eat, they would talk, they would kiss-and then the bell would ring and they would go back to their crowded and busy lives.

As soon as he arrived outside the classroom, Adam caught sight of Beth amidst the wave of students pouring out. He raised his hand to wave hello, then quickly lowered it again, taking a moment just to watch from a distance as she chatted with her friends, tossing her head back and laughing, her blond hair swinging, her arms whirling through the air as she made some passionate point. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe she was all his.

Soon her friends had taken off down the hallway, and Beth stood alone in front of the door, digging through her bag for something and waiting for her boyfriend to show up. As quietly as he could, Adam crept up behind her and gently laid his hands on her waist, whirling her around and into his arms before she’d even realized he was there.

“Hi,” she whispered, giving him a soft kiss. “I’ve been waiting to do that all day.”

“I know what you mean,” he agreed, and kissed her again, then pulled her into a warm embrace. He breathed in deeply, burying his face in her hair.

It always smelled so good-like lilacs, she’d told him once, but that didn’t mean much to him. All he knew was that it smelled sweet and pure-and that it brushed against his face like a fresh summer breeze.

Not that you’d ever catch him saying any of that corny shit out loud, of course.

“You look great today, you know that?” he said instead, stepping back a foot so he could take a good, long look.

Adam had long ago learned that greeting a girl with a kiss and a compliment was a sure ticket for success (you didn’t get to be homecoming king by being oblivious). But Beth made it easy. She was a beautiful girl, and today- unusual for her-she was wearing a light coating of makeup that made her lashes look luxurious and her lips shimmery and moist. And the light blue miniskirt-the incredibly short light blue miniskirt-perfectly matched her sparkling eyes. It showed off a few other high-quality attributes, as well.

“Really good,” Adam repeated, kissing her again.

“Thanks,” she said, pleased. She twirled around, modeling the look.

“What’s the special occasion?” he asked. “Did your meeting get cancelled? Is our date back on?”

Beth quickly looked away.

“No-no, I still have to go. I just felt like getting a little dressed up today, that’s all.”

“Good choice,” he told her, then was quick to add, “Not that you don’t always look beautiful, of course.”

“Nice save,” she said, laughing. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

She leaned in to give him another kiss, a soft, deep kiss, then nibbled on his lip for a moment and pulled back, giving him a long, appraising look.

“In fact,” she continued, her hand tracing its way down the curve of his back and pausing just below the waistband of his jeans, “I wish we could just skip lunch, cut out of here, and I could take you home right now.”

It sounded like a good idea to Adam, but he knew better than to suggest it-Beth had never cut a day of school in her life. Even if her hand was continuing its investigations and her other hand had begun twirling its way through his unruly hair, lightly tickling the nape of his neck. It was maddening. Maybe this was the right moment to suggest…

“Speaking of-you know,” he waggled his eyebrows and gave her an exaggeratedly lascivious leer, “turns out my mothers going out of town next week. So I’ll have the place all to myself, and I figured…”

His arms still around her, he could feel Beth tense up.

“You figured what?” she asked coolly.

“Well, I know you’ve got issues with, you know, you’re always afraid that we’re going to get, you know, interrupted-and I thought maybe if we had some alone time, that we could-that you would-”

“That I would what?” she hissed, glancing around at the crowd of students still milling around them. “That I would forget all about my stupid ‘issues’ and just give you what you want?” She pushed him away.

“Hey, I just thought-”

“I’m sure you did. I’m sure it’s all you ever think about-but why don’t you think about what I want, for once?”

“That’s not fair, Beth,” Adam protested. How had the conversation gotten away from him so quickly? “I’m always thinking about what you want. Why are you getting so uptight about this?” He lowered his voice. “If that’s all I wanted, it’s not like I couldn’t find it somewhere else.”

Oops.

He knew as soon as the words were out of his mouth that it had been the wrong thing to say. The absolute worst possible choice. But if he hadn’t, the blood rising to Beth’s face, the thin, angry line her lips made pressed together, and the haste with which she was backing away from him would all have been a pretty decent tip-off.

“If that’s how you feel-”

“I’m sorry!” he pleaded hastily. “Come on, please, can we talk about this? Can we just have lunch and talk about this?”

“I’m not hungry anymore. But don’t worry, I’m sure you can find someone else. Someone less uptight.” She spit out the words and stalked away.

“I don’t want someone else-I want you,” Adam said plaintively.

But there was no one left to hear him.

By the end of the day Beth had pretty much calmed down-though every time she thought of Adam, her muscles tensed and her breath quickened, the anger surging through her once again. She couldn’t decide-was she angrier at him or at herself? Either way, she was doing her best to keep her mind on something else.

Like, say, Mr. Powell.

Jack.

Okay, so it wasn’t a total coincidence that she’d labored for an hour over her hair (silky, straight, and hanging free, with two thin braids pulled around from the front and tied together with a light blue ribbon), experimented with some new makeup, and donned her cutest miniskirt on the day of her one-on-one meeting with the newspaper adviser.

“Deep in thought already?” Mr. Powell asked, stepping into the tiny newspaper office. “Hope I haven’t missed any strokes of genius.”

Beth laughed and blushed.

“No, Mr. Powell.” He gave her a stern look. “I mean, Jack, don’t worry, the genius is waiting for you.”

“Well, then, wait no longer. Your inspiration has arrived! Let’s get to work.” He sat down next to her and began talking animatedly about his-no, their-plans.

They were supposed to be putting together a new layout for the paper, figuring out which fonts and photo borders they wanted to use, where to stick the comic strips and the lunch menus. They were supposed to be debating how large the headlines should be and whether the column “A Day in the Life of a Cheerleader” really belonged in the sports section. Supposed to be, but Beth wasn’t having too much luck with the whole concentration thing. She sat in front of the computer, an old Mac from the nineties that she had persuaded the school to donate to the floundering newspaper, even though it could barely run the design program they used for the layout. Mr. Powell stood behind her, close enough that she could smell his cologne-something mysterious and European-close enough that she could feel his presence without having to turn around. And then there were the moments when she needed him to look closely at something on the screen, and he would lean down, sometimes placing his hands on her shoulders for balance, and peer over her shoulder, his stubbly cheek only inches from hers. He would stare at the screen, and she, out of the corner of her eye, would stare at his angular profile, wishing the moment would never end.

Beth knew she was being silly, that despite all the joking around, despite the whole first-name-basis thing, despite the fact that last time they had ended up talking together for hours, not just about the newspaper or French class, but about politics, movies, life-despite all that, he was a teacher and she was a student. He was an adult-worldly, cosmopolitan, brilliant, handsome-and she was just a kid. Nothing would ever actually happen. Of course not. So there was no reason whatsoever to feel guilty about having a little crush-or occasionally wishing that her boyfriend would be a little more like Mr. Powell and a little less like, well, Adam.

Besides, it’s not like she was some pathetic twelve-year-old drawing hearts around his name in her notebook or dreaming about how good their names sounded together (although “Beth Powell” did have a nice ring to it…).

Okay, so she was being ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. She should forget about the whole stupid thing, focus on her work, on the newspaper, on her real relationship. She should stop wasting so much mental real estate on juvenile fantasies.

But still, she thought, crossing one leg over the other in what she admittedly hoped was a seductive shift in position, she was glad she’d worn the miniskirt today.

After all, it never hurt to look your best…