Envy - 2 (23 page)

“Of course you do, Rand,” Harper said sincerely.

“Then why the hel does everyone always want me to
settle
?”

“I don’t,” said a low, male voice behind them.

They spun around to see Greg standing a couple feet away. He’d obviously heard everything—or, at least, enough.

“I just came to see if everything was al right,” he explained awkwardly.

Miranda took a step toward him. “Greg—,” she began in a faltering voice, but broke off, not sure what to say.

“No, I get it,” he told her, his face impassive—but it was obviously taking him a great deal of effort to keep it that way. “You don’t want to settle—that’s fair. You think you deserve better.” He shrugged and bit down on his lower lip. “So do I.”

And he walked away, back toward the school.

Miranda and Harper stood frozen in place for a moment, and then tears began leaking down Miranda’s face.

“I can’t believe he—Harper, I feel so terrible, and he—” She stopped, her voice choked off by sobs, and Harper wrapped her in a tight hug.

“I’m a terrible person,” Miranda whimpered.

“No, you’re not,” Harper assured her.

“I’m going to be alone forever—I deserve to be alone forever.”

“No you don’t, Rand. Look, here’s what I think. You just need to—”

She was stopped by the sound of her cel phone ringing. They both looked down at the cal er ID—Kaia.

“Why’s she cal ing you?” Miranda asked.

But Harper had already answered the phone.

“Kaia? Can we do this later? Or—no, okay, I understand. Just give me a sec.”

She took the phone away from her ear. “Miranda, I have to take this,” she said lamely. “I’m sorry.”

Tears stil streaming down her face, Miranda looked at her best friend in shock.

“You’re kidding, right? You’re going to leave me here so you can talk to
Kaia
?”

Harper looked confused for a moment, then looked away.

“I’m sorry, I just have to.” She gave Miranda another hug, but Miranda pul ed away.

“This won’t take long,” Harper promised. “I’l meet you back by the fire, and we’l talk the whole thing out. I swear.”

“Whatever.” Miranda turned away, her shoulders shaking. “Have fun talking to Kaia. Tel her I say hel o,” she added bitterly.

Harper didn’t respond, and when Miranda final y turned around, she was gone.

Harper hurried back to the clearing and knelt by Adam’s side, handing him her cel . “Adam, there’s a cal on my phone that I think you need to take,” she whispered urgently.

“What? What do you mean?” He looked at the phone in confusion.

Harper pul ed him away from the campfire and led him off into the woods, away from everyone, stopping when they’d reached a cluster of low-hanging trees.

“Just trust me, it’s important—something you’re going to want to hear.”

She left him alone and, bewildered, Adam put the phone to his ear. The reception was shockingly clear.

“Hel o?”

“Adam, it’s Kaia.”

“Kaia? Jesus, what the hel are you cal ing me for? And on Harper’s phone?”

“Adam, don’t hang up—please. This is serious.”

She sounded desperate and, against his better judgment, he took his finger off the end button. For the moment.

“You’ve got one minute—talk,” he said gruffly.

“I don’t know how to tel you this,” she began hesitantly. “I went into school today—it was open, you know, and I wanted to do some laps in the pool, and, wel , I didn’t think there’d be anyone else there, but—”

She stopped.

“Spit it out,” he ordered.

“They were there when I came in,” she said haltingly. “In the locker room. Al over each other.”

“Who?” But he thought he knew. A hol ow space opened inside of him as he waited for the words to be spoken aloud, to make it real.

“Beth and Kane.”

There it was. Three syl ables. Funny that it took so little to ruin everything.

“And I’m supposed to believe that? From
you
, of al people?” He wanted to believe she was lying—but couldn’t. He was the one who’d been lying, to himself. Al along, tel ing himself there was nothing to worry about. Stupid.

“Why would I lie about this, Adam? Look, I know I’ve treated you … poorly in the past.”

He let out a barking laugh.
That
was the understatement of the year.

“But I have a lot of respect for you,” she said, emotion fil ing her voice. “You don’t deserve this.”

“Kaia, I’m not throwing away a two-year relationship on your say so,” he said hol owly.

“I thought you’d say that,” she responded. “That’s why I cal ed on Harper’s phone. It’s camera-equipped—and I’ve got proof.” He looked at the phone’s tiny view screen, and a moment later there they were, right in front of him—Beth and Kane, in each other’s arms. Naked. Entangled.

The screen was tiny, the resolution poor, but he could make out Beth’s hair, her face, the mole on her left shoulder blade. He could see her kissing Kane, rubbing his bare chest, letting him lick her neck and—he flipped the phone shut. Hanging up on Kaia, shutting out the nightmarish pictures. He’d known it was true, yes, but to
see
it?

The images were seared into his brain. He smashed his fist into the ground, a volcano of rage erupting within him. He slammed the phone into the ground as hard as he could and stomped on it, imagining it was Kane’s neck he was crushing beneath his heavy boot.

“Adam, are you okay?” Harper asked tentatively, emerging from behind the trees.

“Go away, Harper,” he said in a strangled voice. No one should see him like this.

“Adam?”

“I just need some time alone, okay? I just—please, Harper, go.”

She nodded and backed away.

“You know where to find me when you need me,” she promised.

Promises—what were they worth to him anymore? Adam sank onto the ground and laid his head in his hands. Was this his fault? Had he started it, sleeping with Kaia in the first place?

No.

A cold certainty fil ed him, a righteous rage—this was no one-time thing, no harmless fling. This was Beth, his Beth, so innocent, so trustworthy—
supposedly
—and Kane, his best friend, his bro, his loyal and true al y. This was an affair, a dirty, scummy, poisonous affair between two heartless traitors who’d betrayed him and everything he thought was real.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to hit something, someone.

He wanted to cry.

But instead, he just sat there on the cold ground, immobile, silent.

It was al over now, al of it. There was nothing left.

When it became clear Adam had hung up on her, Kaia snapped the phone shut with a satisfied grin. He could deny it al he wanted, but she knew he’d believed her the moment the words were out of her mouth. He’d believed it before she even picked up the phone. The pictures were just gravy—but they’d definitely sealed the deal.

“Kaia, I’m getting bored in here. Why don’t you come back to bed?” the languid, British voice cal ed to her from the bedroom—where the handsome British man who owned it lay sprawled across his silk sheets, waiting for her.

“Be right there!” she cal ed. “And I’ve got a surprise for you.”

She stopped in the smal kitchen and pul ed a can of whipped cream and a jar of chocolate syrup out of the fridge. Powel always said he didn’t like surprises, but this one would be too sweet to resist. She gave herself a quick once-over in the hal way mirror and then, turning off her phone and laying it on the counter, headed down the hal to begin her night for real.

I’ve done my part now
, she thought, sending a telepathic message out toward Kane and Harper, who were about to reap the benefits of a careful y laid plan.
Your turn—just
don’t screw it up.

Eventual y, the anger had seeped out of him.

Or rather, the anger was stil there, like acid, burning a hole deep inside of him, but al his energy had washed away, and he felt slow, heavy, weighed down by a deep sadness.

And he knew then that he didn’t want to be alone.

He walked back toward the Pit to find Harper—but she found him first. She was sitting on the ground by the side of the trail. Waiting for him.

“You’re always there when I need you,” he marveled, his voice breaking midway through the sentence.

“Oh, Adam,” Harper moaned. “Kaia told me—I’m so sorry, I—”

“Please, stop,” he said quietly. “Let’s not—just stop.”

A tear trickled down his face and she caught it with her fingertip as it rol ed down his cheek, then pul ed him into a hug. He leaned against her, crying silently in her arms, deeply ashamed, and knowing that there was no one,
no one
in the world he would al ow to see him like this. No one but Harper. He leaned against her, and she held him up. Like always.

“I broke your cel phone,” he murmured into her hair.

“I don’t care about that,” she said, pul ing back and looking him in the eye. “I care about you.” She gently pressed her hand against his cheek. “Let’s take a walk,” she suggested. “I think you need some air.”

She put an arm around him and led him down the forest trail and away from the pit. They walked in silence, past the silhouetted trees and shadows cast by looming rock formations. The night was bright, the moonlight filtering in through a canopy of leaves. At the edge of the woods they turned to make sure the Grace bus and van were stil there, silently waiting in the parking lot. Then they walked along the perimeter of the woods, listening to the whispering wind and the distant howling of a coyote.

Adam, lost in a world of his own thoughts and regrets, noticed none of it.

Final y, Harper led them over to a square, flat rock that lay tucked between a cluster of saplings.

“Just like our rock,” she said, scrambling up onto it and pul ing him after her. They lay back on the cool granite and stared up at the sky—and she was right, it did feel for a moment like they were back home, in the backyard, a mil ion years ago, when it had been just the two of them and everything had been so simple.

His mind dipped through the past, skidding across memories of long-ago days. So many moments that had brought him to this one. And Harper—he turned his head to look at her and realized she was staring at him, eyes awash in love and sympathy—Harper had been there for almost al of them. She was the one constant in his life. His father gone, his mother useless, his girlfriend and his best friend—

No, there was only Harper. Loyal. True. Just thinking about her, just lying there so close to her made the anger subside, made the world seem almost bearable, made the red tide of pain and betrayal recede.

She reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently, and he squeezed back, then shifted onto his side and looked at her. For the first time,
really
looked at her. And realized what he’d been missing. Slowly, wordlessly, he sat up, pul ed her up beside him, then tipped her chin up, closed his eyes, and melted into her.

The moment their lips met, it was as if he’d been waiting forever to hold her in his arms, and he drank her in hungrily, urgently, needing the contact, the pressure of her arms around him, her lips on his, their bodies entwined. He didn’t need Beth, he thought angrily. And he would prove it.

Time stretched—and it felt like they’d been on the rock, folded into each others’ arms, forever, would be forever—

And then Harper pushed him away.

“I can’t, Adam,” she whispered.

“Harper—” He reached out for her.

“No, not like this,” she protested, sitting up and drawing away from him.

“Is it too fast? Is it—”

“It’s too soon, Adam,” she said tenderly. “You’re hurt. You’re angry.” She brushed his hair out of his face and kissed him on the cheek. “When we do this …
if
we do this … I don’t want it to be because you want to get revenge on Beth.”

“I’d never
use
you, Harper,” he protested.

“I know that—don’t you think I know that? But I think … I think we should wait. Until you know what you real y want.”
I want you.
That’s what he wanted to say. But the words choked in his throat because he knew she was right. And she didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve that.

He lay back on the rock again, sighing.

“I’m so fucked up, Harper,” he admitted. “How did things get so fucked up? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I just don’t know.” She kissed him softly on the lips and then lay back beside him, taking his hand.

“We’l figure it out, Adam. Together.”

The night had seemed interminable. Harper had disappeared into the woods, and Greg had refused to listen to her apology, so Miranda had picked her way through the forest, fol owing the narrow path back toward Val ey Glen High School. Alone. She’d made her way to the parking lot and stood by the empty Haven bus. Alone.

Final y, the pizza party had ended, the Haven High fans had surged into the parking lot and boarded their bus and the van, and now Miranda was speeding toward home. And, slouched down in a seat right behind the driver, peering out the window into the darkness, she was stil alone. Completely and utterly alone.

She hadn’t noticed whether Harper, Adam, and Greg had made it back in time, and she didn’t real y care. It’s not like any of them were worried about her, wondering where she was or if she was al right. Harper’s amazing disappearing act had made that pretty clear.

No, she was on her own—and maybe, she thought bitterly, she’d better get used to it. After al , who understood her? Who was there for her when
she
needed someone to lean on? Good old Miranda, always there to lend a sympathetic ear, always ready to give advice—but when was it ever
her
turn? When she was the one who needed help, who needed some support, then there she was—alone.

What was the point of putting everything you had into a friendship when al you got back was … wel , 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, wil ing herself to be tired, to lose herself in sleep. But her mind refused to relax.