Flawless (16 page)

I shrug in answer. “Jay's a nice guy. But passion?”

“Not so much?” Rock asks, his eyes deep and intense, like they'd been at P.F. Chang's.

“Well, I'm not exactly an expert, but I'd have to say no.”

Rock smiles just enough to reveal his endearing teeth. “Kristen would kill me if she knew I was saying this, but I told her he wasn't a match for you. You need someone more … I don't know.”

More like you
, I think.

But instead he says, “More cerebral.”

“
Cerebral
?” I ask, shocked at his word choice. “Am I that big of a nerd?”

He laughs. “No, Sarah. I just think you'd get bored with someone who's biggest contribution to a conversation is an impersonation. Regardless of how good it is.”

“He
is
good, though, isn't he?”

Rock nods, then puts his hand back on mine, freezing any logical thought I was trying to form. “The right guy's out there, you know. I'm sure of it.”

“Right,” I say, simultaneously wishing he'd move his hand and keep it there. Talk about heaven and hell.

“You don't believe me?” he asks.

I pull my hand away and place it back in my lap to stop myself from climbing over the desk and kissing him. “What if you find the right person but it's not the right time?” I ask.

Rock rests his chin on his folded hands. “Give me an example.”

An example? How am I supposed to come up with a good example without totally incriminating myself?

“Come on, you have to have a situation in mind,” he says.

And that look in his face, that genuine concern and total openness has me thinking I should just say it. I mean, just come right out and say it.
Rock, it's you.

I hear Mom's voice in my head urging me.
Just spit it out it, Sarah.

“Rock …” I pause, never taking my eyes off his because then I'll totally lose my nerve. Eye to eye like this, it just feels right. It's the right time to tell him. “It's—”

“Time's up!” Jacobi announces, and the shuffle of desks, chairs, and students drowns out the final word “you” as it falls from my mouth.

Rock looks at me, confused. “What? I didn't hear you.”

I shake my head, realizing how close I'd come to ruining the most important relationship in my life. What was I thinking? Okay, well, I wasn't thinking. Not about Kristen, anyway. I was drowning in Hawthorne's words and Rock's eyes.

“Nothing. It was nothing,” I say, grabbing my books and bolting from the room.

Damn Hawthorne.

Beauty is the gift of God.

—ARISTOTLE

Chapter Fifteen

When I walk into the library for study hall, Kristen's already there, sitting on the edge of her chair, looking around the room anxiously. I seriously consider bailing and hiding out in the restroom for the next forty-five minutes since I'm still reeling from nearly spilling my guts to Rock. But I know it's just my guilty conscience and that's not Kristen's fault.

She spots me and waves furiously, like I could possibly miss her. She's practically standing in her seat and screaming my name to get my attention.

I nod, hoping she'll sit down before we get in trouble. Of course, she doesn't. She just keeps on bouncing up and down until I get there. She looks like she's about to burst. It takes all my self-control to not laugh out loud. Kristen can make me laugh like no one else.

“Too much Red Bull, I see,” I say, taking my usual seat.

“You
have
to read Rock's letter.” She tosses a folded piece of paper across the table to me, and I swear, even the paper's happy the way it skitters toward me.

“Read it!” she orders.

There is nothing—absolutely nothing—I want to do less.

Flicking the paper back to her, I shake my head. “That's between you and Rock. I'm done.”

“What?” she asks, shock evident in her huge blue eyes. “When did you stop caring about my love life?”

Umm … roughly since you started dating Rock.

“Give me a break,” I say. “I think I've shown more than enough interest. Especially when it comes to these letters, and let's not even get started on the whole Facebook farce.”

“So why stop now? I'm just asking you to read it.” She unfolds the paper and looks at me.

I close my eyes, attempting to transport my mind to someplace else. Anywhere else.

She starts reading it aloud, her voice a library-appropriate whisper, for once. “Just when I think I've figured you out, you surprise me. For someone to be so stunning and so bright is rare, and I consider myself the luckiest guy in Texas to have found you. Every second counts when I'm with you.”

When she stops reading, I slowly open my eyes, praying they don't reveal the pain slicing through me. Because those words should be mine. It may be her eyes, her face, her hair he dreams of, but the words he's fallen in love with are 100 percent mine.

“Well?” she asks. “Don't you think that's just about the sweetest thing you've ever heard?”

I chew my bottom lip before answering, afraid the entirely wrong thing will slip out. “It's something, all right.”

“We have to answer him. I can't just leave it at that. But I don't have a clue where to start. What do you think about—” She stops talking when she notices me shaking my head.

“Forget it, Kristen.”

“You can't abandon me now. He'll know!” Her voice creeps past a whisper and threatens to grow into full-blown hysteria.

“At some point, you're going to have to do this on your own. Do you seriously expect me to keep doing things like this for you?”

“Actually, I do. It's what friends do for each other.”

“You know I love you like a sister, Kris. Your happiness means the world to me. But I can't keep writing letters to Rock. It's getting creepy. Besides, he already likes you. I think you're safe to be yourself.”

“Are you
crazy
? Do you have any idea where he wants to go this weekend? A poetry reading at some chocolate bar in artsy-fartsy Montrose. A
poetry reading,
Sarah! What in the world do I know about poetry?”

“Why don't you suggest doing something else? Something you'd both enjoy?”

“Right,” she scoffs. “I'm sure a stroll through the mall is exactly what Rock has in mind for a romantic evening.”

“I don't know what to tell you, Kristen. Just respond to his comments. And listen to what they're reading. You might actually enjoy it.”

The thought of Kristen at a poetry reading with Rock makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time because I wish it were me.
I'm
the one who loves poetry. And a reading at a chocolate bar? That's got to be the sexiest date ever.

Poetry + Chocolate + Rock = HEAVEN!

“I can't even concentrate on that right now. My mind is totally fixated on writing him back. If I don't answer him, he'll think I've lost interest.”

“Then you really ought to write him.”

“Not
me
. You.” She points her finger at me, obviously frustrated I won't give in.

“I'm sorry, Kris. I just … can't. Please understand.” I look her in the eye, hoping she'll see how much she means to me and how much it hurts me to tell her no.

“I can't believe this,” she says, shock and hurt etched in her face. She doesn't bother folding the paper, just shoves it into her messy binder and storms away.

It's not until I'm driving home alone after school that the full impact of my argument with Kristen hits me. Even though I did something I knew was wrong to help her, I've still lost her. But I can't keep writing Rock for her, especially when every word I write expresses how I feel. Isn't that more deceitful than
not
writing the letters for her?

I drive to the house and park in the garage, then pull the key from the ignition.

No one's home.

And no one's going to be home for hours.

This is not the night for me to sit around and think. Tonight, thinking could be dangerous. I'm dying to read Rock's reply. But I decide I've got to go cold turkey and just end it. No turning back.

Shoving the keys into the ignition, I back out of the driveway and head to the station, my home away from home. And since I still need to get the scholarship application from Jen, I actually have a reason to go.

When I walk through the double glass doors, it's ten minutes to six. I have just enough time to grab the application before surprising Mom on the set.

I weave my way through the newsroom, waving to familiar faces. Jen's not in her cubicle, so I search her desk for a sticky note to let her know I came by for the application.

“I think she's in Vic's office,” an unfamiliar voice says through the cubicle wall.

“Thanks,” I say, tossing the sticky note in the trash before walking in the direction of the producer's office, which is right next to Mom's. If Jen's not finished meeting with Vic, she will be soon because Vic has to be on the set in five short minutes.

When I get to Mom's office, I drop my keys on her credenza, then wait in the hallway for Jen. Through the half-open door to Vic's office, I can hear Jen talking quietly, which, from what I know about her, isn't her norm.

Even though I know it's rude, I strain my ears to hear what she's saying. But it's Vic's voice I hear first.

“That's the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard,” Vic says. “You're barking up the wrong tree on this one.”

Jen sighs. “I'm telling you, Vic. I'm right about this.”

“You expect me to believe that Beth Burke, Houston's top news anchor, is a lesbian?”

Mom?

Lesbian?

It takes everything in me not to burst through Vic's door and slap that little backstabbing prima donna right across her Botoxed face. Because my mom has some secrets—we all do—but being lesbian isn't one of them. And if she was, she'd be proud of the fact. She'd never cower from the truth. It's what she values above everything else.

“I'm just trying to save the station some embarrassment.”

Vic's chair squeaks under his weight. “I've known Beth over ten years. I've known you six weeks. Why should I believe you?”

“Why would I lie?” she asks, voice sounding about as ferocious as a newborn kitten.

“I can think of a couple of reasons,” Vic says, and I nearly jump in the air and shout “Go Vic!”

Like Vic, I can think of a handful of reasons why Jen would undermine my mother, not the least of which is her desire to get to the top. No matter who she leaves in pieces behind her.

“Just think about it,” Jen says. “That's all I'm asking. If our viewers think she's been hiding something like this, it will destroy their trust in her. Loss of trust translates to a loss of ratings. Ratings you've worked a lifetime to build. I care too much about this station, about you, to see that happen.”

Oh. My. God.

Now she's totally kissing Vic's ass, which is so … eww! But knowing she's thrown Mom under the bus to get what she wants has my blood on fire. I can literally feel veins popping in my neck.

The sound of chairs moving tells me they're coming to the door, so I jump into Mom's office, where I'm out of sight but still have a view of the hallway where they're standing.

“I've got a newscast to run,” Vic says, walking away from Jen like a man running from Lucifer himself. Or
her
self, as the case might be. Maybe he's a smarter man than I give him credit for being.

Jen swings the door open to Mom's office, totally catching me by surprise. But it's evident she's even more shocked than I am, judging from the look of alarm on her face. It's an expression I find tremendously satisfying.

Squirm, baby, squirm.

“What are you doing here? Your mom didn't say you were coming by today.” Jen holds her dainty hand over her chest, no doubt trying to keep her heart from leaping right out of her Ann Taylor cardigan (which, now that I think about it, looks a lot like the kind of outfit Mom would wear).

“She didn't know,” I say. “I actually came by to get the application from you, but you're obviously busy, so I'll catch up with you after the broadcast.”

When I stand and walk around her, she doesn't move, but I can feel her eyes on my back until I enter the studio.

I watch the broadcast through a red haze. The more I replay Jen's words in my head, the madder I get. If that little snake thinks she can ramrod my mother's career into the ground she's in for a very rude awakening.

I spend the entire broadcast aching to tell Mom what I heard, but knowing how hurt she'll be. She actually thought she had a friend in Jen. Hell,
I
thought she had a friend in Jen.

Mom didn't realize how right she was when she said good friends you can trust are hard to find. Yes, she can be a total pain in the butt and sometimes self-absorbed, but Kristen is the real thing. She's the kind of friend you fight to keep, no matter how long it takes. Kristen and I both have some work to do on our friendship if we don't want it to go down in flames.

I decide to wait until we get home before saying anything to Mom. That way we can scream, get mad, and plot revenge in private. Not that Mom would ever exact revenge on a well-deserving witch like Jen. She's too good for that.

I, on the other hand, wouldn't think twice about it.

“Meet me in my office,” Mom says at the end of the broadcast, taking off her microphone and opening her cell phone. “We'll go to dinner.”

Nodding, I smile at her, so proud of who she is and what she's accomplished. Seeing her in action only fuels my fury toward Jen.

When I get to Mom's office, Jen is sitting on one of the oversized chairs inside.

“I got that application for you,” Jen says, pointing to a packet of papers on the table, like she isn't the biggest liar on the planet.

I can't force myself to answer.

“Are you okay?” Jen asks me innocently. “You seem upset.”

To say I'm upset would be like saying Antarctica is a little cool in the winter. And just looking at her all cozied up in Mom's office, like it's
her
office … honestly, it's more than I can stand.

“I wouldn't get too comfortable,” I say quietly. Instead of sitting near Jen, because God knows I don't trust myself, I lean against Mom's desk, arms folded across my chest.