Devious (12 page)

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 stomach. 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

Instant Message Inbox

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

Instant Message Inbox

J
enny 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.

Besides, she’d heard the whispering about her getting special treatment because of her burgeoning friendship with Isaac. She knew that was a huge part of why the dean let her work alone on her art project—but she wanted the favors to end there.

The dean’s house stood on top of a small hill near the front gate of campus. It was a stately white Greek Revival building with black shutters and a giant porch held up by enormous Doric columns. Jenny’s heart raced. Ever since she’d first set foot on campus, she’d imagined what it would be like to step into the dean’s elegant residence. And here she was, pressing the thumb of her yellow Banana Republic mitten against the doorbell.

A stunning woman in a deep blue-and-green paisley silk wrap dress answered the door. “You must be Jenny. I’m Karina Dresden, Isaac and Isla’s mom.” She was tall and statuesque, with long reddish-brown hair down her back. Except for some fine lines at the corners of her eyes, her face was perfectly smooth, and Jenny wondered if she had amazing genes or regular access to Botox. “Please, come in.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jenny squeaked nervously as she followed Mrs. Dresden across the black marble floor of the foyer. The interior of the house was as gorgeous as the exterior, and just as elegant and refined. Two enormous red and orange abstract expressionist paintings hung on the pale gray walls, making Jenny feel like she’d entered another museum. “Those aren’t Rothkos, are they?” she asked, her eyes widening.