Tempted (19 page)

Drew touched Jenny’s cheek. “I’ve been having such a great time with you, you know.” Tiny electric shocks shot through her body.

“Yesterday was really fun.” Jenny winced at the sound of her voice saying something so dorky.
Fun?
What was she, twelve?

“Do you want to go watch the rain in the gazebo?” Drew asked sheepishly, grabbing the bottle of wine. He glanced away when he said the word
gazebo,
a known hookup spot on campus. In the secret language of Waverlies, it was the word always scribbled on notes and whispered back and forth. Jenny had never been there. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He gallantly poured the rest of the bottle into Jenny’s empty wineglass.

She smiled, fingering the rim of her glass. Her dark curls cascaded around her shoulders, and she felt like they were playing out a scene in one of those romantic movies that left you dreaming for days afterward. “I might want to,” she answered playfully.

Drew picked up another grape and held it out for her, but she shook her head no. Before they went any further, she had to know for sure if he was really her savior. She’d waited for him to bring it up—and she’d considered bringing it up herself, though the moment never seemed quite right—and it had been implied in everything they’d done: the Halloween party, the car rides around town, the trip to Sleepy Hollow, the cuddling around campus, and now the picnic. But Drew had never come clean. Jenny was willing to—and wanted to—go to the gazebo, but first she had to know the truth.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked, biting her lip. Rufus had always tried to teach her to just ask a question, instead of asking if she could ask a question, but it was a habit she’d been unable to break.

Drew popped a grape into his mouth. “You can ask me anything,” he answered. His green eyes sparkled with mischief.

She leaned forward, partly because she was embarrassed to ask it out loud, and partly to give him a flattering glimpse of her neckline. “Did you pay off Mrs. Miller to save me from getting expelled?” she asked softly.

Drew stopped chewing and a faintly puzzled smile settled across his face. He looked her in the eyes and said, “Of course, silly girl. I thought you knew.” He held her gaze, and she felt like she really did know. She suddenly felt stupid for asking.

“Why did you do it?” Jenny asked curiously. “It’s not like you knew me.”

“No,” Drew admitted, playing with the slightly frayed edges of his olive green sweater. “But I wanted to—I didn’t want to lose my chance.” He looked up, and his eyes seemed to drink in Jenny’s face. “You’re so beautiful … and I’ve been in love with you from afar since I first saw you.”

Jenny felt the butterflies in her stomach take flight. Drew was in love with her, and he’d stood by her when no one else had. Not Easy, not Julian. A flood of emotion came back over her as she remembered how everyone had stared at her during the meeting with Marymount, how no one had stood up and said, “That’s insane. Jenny didn’t start the fire.” People she thought she knew did nothing—and Drew, who didn’t know her at all, was willing to take a chance because he was in love with her. It was the sweetest thing she’d ever heard.

Jenny stood up. “C’mon.” She pressed her lips together. “Let’s go watch the rain before it stops.” A smile washed over his face and he nodded.

She moved over to Callie’s dresser and opened the top drawer while Drew polished off the remaining swallow of wine. It was a crazy impulse, really. Yesterday grabbing a condom might’ve seemed supremely irrational, but today sex with Drew didn’t seem like such a wild impossibility. Why not be prepared? Being around him just felt so …
right.
She was immensely grateful that he’d come along when he had. She shuddered when she thought about how close she’d come to letting Easy be the first, at which point he would’ve dumped her for Callie, ruining the memory forever.

Jenny’s fingers fumbled around in Callie’s silky Le Mystére nighties until her fingers touched crinkled plastic. She pulled on the corner of the condom wrapper, but when the package emerged from the bottom of the drawer, it wasn’t a condom but an empty envelope with a plastic window. Jenny noted the return address: the State of Georgia—a check from Callie’s mother, no doubt. Probably her monthly allowance. She tossed the envelope aside and reached farther into the drawer.

As Jenny’s fingers searched the bottom of the drawer, she noticed the light blue check stub peeking out from the corner of the envelope from Callie’s mother. She had often wondered how much Callie’s allowance was—she imagined everyone at Waverly but her got thousands of dollars every month to blow on clothes and music and makeup—and now was her chance to find out.

She carefully unfolded the envelope and the check stub fell into the drawer. It wasn’t the amount that staggered her. It was the payee: The Miller Farm Foundation.

Jenny blinked and looked at the check stub again. It couldn’t be.

Callie
had been her savior. Not Drew.

She trembled, feeling like the heroine in a horror movie who’s suddenly realized that the villain is not on the other end of the phone, but somewhere in the house, ready to pounce.

She turned around slowly. Drew was on his hands and knees, nosing around under Callie’s bed. “I think I lost a grape,” he explained.

The spell around Drew had been broken by his lies, and an immense relief washed over Jenny that she hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of her life. A surge of emotion coursed through her body—she wanted to yell at Drew, to call him out as a fraud. But all she could think was that Callie wasn’t who she’d thought she was.

“Found it,” Drew said with a boyish grin, producing the grape like a nugget of gold. His perfect white teeth suddenly looked perfectly vile.

Jenny turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Something had been wrong from the beginning—perfect doesn’t exist—and she felt foolish for being sucked into what now seemed an obvious ploy to get her into bed.

The only person she wanted to talk to right now was her completely
MIA
roommate. She needed to thank her not just for saving her from expulsion—but for saving her from making a huge mistake. The masks were off, and the truth was out: Callie Vernon wasn’t evil. She was … a
friend.

Brett closed the backgammon board with a loud snap. “How does it feel to be crushed in three straight games?”

Jeremiah grinned and pushed up the sleeves of his dark green henley. “You know I let you win.” Her iPod was playing softly in the background, and the sound of Bob Dylan filtered through the air.

“Not true!” Brett narrowed her eyes and leaned forward to slap Jeremiah lightly on his chest. “You just suck,” she teased. She pressed her lips together and thought of how Jeremiah had told her he loved the cherry flavor of her Balmshell lip gloss.

The two of them had spent the lazy Sunday afternoon together, studying on a couch in a deserted corner of Maxwell Hall. Jeremiah made Brett read out loud to him from her
Le Rouge et le Noir
because he “loved the way her lips moved when she spoke French.” Then they’d driven to the next town over to go to Chili’s, Brett’s favorite guilty pleasure chain restaurant. They’d spent the last few hours of visitation time in Brett’s room, playing backgammon. It was laid-back and relaxed, and pretty much perfect. Maintenance had fixed the flooded pipes early that morning, and tonight Brett would get to sleep in her bed alone.

Best of all, it was only a matter of time before she got to go to sleep with
Jeremiah.
They already had plans for Friday night: Jeremiah didn’t have a game, so they were going to take the train to New York, where he’d booked a suite at the posh Soho Grand. After all they’d been through, he wanted their first time to be perfect. The only thing keeping Brett from tearing off Jeremiah’s clothes was the fact that her first time meant so much to him.

Jeremiah gently tucked a strand of Brett’s red hair behind her ear, and she felt her knees tremble. She was ready to throw the Soho Grand out the window and just do it right there. But just as Jeremiah’s lips were about to touch hers for another lingering kiss, the door to her room pushed open.

“Brett, can I borrow—” Kara stood in the doorway, her brown hair still damp from a shower. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She stepped backward as soon as she saw Brett and Jeremiah lying face-to-face on Brett’s fuchsia comforter. “Never mind.”

“No, don’t be silly.” Brett leaned up on an elbow, trying not to watch Jeremiah’s face for a reaction. “Come in, really. What did you want to borrow?”

Kara pushed a strand of wet hair behind her ear and slowly stepped into the room, smiling shyly at Jeremiah. “That cropped jacket of yours? The one that looks like …”

“I’m going to a peace rally?” Brett swung her feet to the floor and headed to her closet.

“That’s exactly what I was going to say.” Kara’s jaw dropped and she giggled. “How’d you know which one I meant? You must have like eighty cropped jackets.”

Brett pawed through her closet for a moment before finding the vintage Ben Sherman army jacket Kara was talking about. She’d found it in a thrift shop in the East Village over the summer and had, in a fit of boredom, sewn various fake army patches and peace signs on. It turned out great, but was more bohemian than Brett dared to go. She handed the jacket to Kara. “I can see what you’re going for with that outfit. It’ll look great on you.”

As Kara modeled the jacket in Brett’s full-length mirror, Brett glanced back at Jeremiah.
See? We’re girls and friends and not
girlfriends,
and we talk about clothes together. How much more innocent could things be?
But Jeremiah’s face was turned to the backgammon board.

Brett shot Kara a helpless look. Excellent mind reader that she was, Kara spoke up as she stepped back toward the door. “So … uh … what are you two up to tonight?”

Brett glanced at Jeremiah, and the wary look on his face revealed that his suspicions hadn’t totally been erased. Waltzing around campus hand in hand today, it had felt like nothing had ever come between them. Jeremiah hadn’t brought Kara up once.

But the moment she walked into the room, it was like last night all over again.

“I’ve got to get going,” Jeremiah said suddenly. “I’ve got a trig test tomorrow and I haven’t even looked at the book.”

Brett gave him her best “Don’t go” look, but he was too busy watching Kara chew her nails to see it.

“I’ve actually got to run, too,” Kara said hurriedly, slipping on Brett’s jacket and shooting her an apologetic look. “I’m meeting—”

Heath Ferro appeared in the doorway, out of breath. “Here you are,” he said to Kara. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“What’s the matter?” she asked, a look of concern floating across her face. “I thought I was meeting you at Maxwell at five for open mic night?”

“Nothing.” Heath leaned forward and kissed Kara’s cheek. “I just … you know … was thinking about you
now.”

Brett blinked her eyes. Heath? Was that really him? She caught an incredulous look from Jeremiah that seemed to be saying the same thing—
Heath Ferro? Going to an open mic poetry reading?
—and the two of them shared an intimate, stifled-laugh moment.

“What’s up, bro?” Heath nodded to Jeremiah. He draped an arm around Kara’s curvy waist. “We missed you at the Men of Waverly meeting.”

“Yeah, sorry I couldn’t make it.” Jeremiah swung his feet to the floor and held out his hand for Heath to high-five. Brett found their display of male affection completely disconcerting. She knew they were friends … but how close were they? She could tell Heath was totally in love with Kara, and that their relationship had softened him, but Brett did
not
trust him to keep his big mouth shut. Her stomach lurched nervously.

“No worries, dude,” Heath nodded. “Make the next meeting, though. It’s happening.”

“What exactly do you guys do?” Kara asked skeptically, hooking her thumbs into the pockets of Brett’s jacket. She looked ready to go to a concert in a crowded bar in Brooklyn. “Talk about your feelings?”

Heath answered slowly. “We’re kind of … into charity and things like that.” He must have realized how ridiculous the answer sounded and laughed at himself. “All right, so basically we drank some forties and talked about hot girls.”

“Sounds like a great time,” Kara said dryly, buttoning up her jacket. She didn’t look at Heath.

“You ready to go, sweetheart?” Heath touched Kara’s back tenderly, and she moved almost imperceptibly away from him.

“Definitely. Sorry to interrupt.” Kara waved her fingers at Brett and smiled weakly, her mind clearly elsewhere.

“Don’t wait up, kids—if you know what I mean,” Heath called out as he and Kara disappeared down the hall, the sound of their voices fading until the dorm was quiet again.

Brett flopped back down on her bed, relieved to be alone again with Jeremiah. “Those crazy kids.”

Jeremiah lay on his side next to Brett, putting his hand on her stomach and nuzzling her neck. “Seems like our man Heath has been bitten by the love bug,” he said. He pretended to bite Brett’s neck, and she shivered at the light feel of his teeth against her skin.

“Did you see them at the Halloween party?” Brett asked, her heart thumping as Jeremiah’s hands ran along the top of her loose-fitting Citizens jeans. “They were practically glued to each other.”

“I’m sorry I overreacted before, about, you know, everything.” Jeremiah leaned up on an elbow to pull back and look her in the eyes. “I shouldn’t have let stupid rumors get to me. I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Brett said, casting her glance aside. She knew now would be the time to come totally clean, but the look of complete relief on Jeremiah’s face—who knew Heath Ferro could be good for something?—talked her out of it. There was nothing to tell, she decided, and even if there was, what was the point of talking about the past? Jeremiah didn’t need a play-by-play of every single thing she’d done since they’d broken up. Some things were hers alone.