Lust - 1 (15 page)

“But how wil I even know when I am?”

“Trust me, when it’s time, you’l know,” Harper promised.

“And in the meantime?” Beth asked, already knowing the answer.

“In the meantime, you wait,” Harper explained. “And if he loves you, he’l wait too. I promise.”

“Thanks, Harper.” Beth was grateful, but unconvinced. “Listen, don’t tel anyone about this, okay? Especial y Adam. I’d be so embarrassed and—”

“You don’t even have to say it,” Harper assured her. “My lips are sealed.”

“Miranda, you’l never
believe
what I just found out!” Harper squealed into the phone.

Talk about the light at the end of the tunnel. So the perfect little relationship was missing one thing? Meaning—unless something had happened last year that she didn’t know about (unlikely)—Adam, too, was stil a virgin. Unbelievable.

She laughed and laughed.

If he loves you, he’ll wait,
she mused.
Yeah, right
.

Miranda hung up the phone feeling strangely optimistic. Harper seemed convinced that Beth’s impenetrable virginity was a sign that the relationship could never last. Miranda wasn’t so sure—and as Harper was tossing out the insults, Miranda silently wished that she wouldn’t be so quick to forget Miranda’s own virginity. But Harpers buoyant tone had swept her beyond al doubt or annoyance. And the feeling of hope was contagious. So contagious, in fact, that when Harper suggested that Miranda cal Kane and ask him to the upcoming formal, it actual y hadn’t sounded like an insane idea.

That was then, this was now. And now her phone was staring her down like a cel ular firing squad.

Miranda took a deep breath, gulped down an Altoid (though the minty fresh breath did little for her confidence level), and brought up his number on the phone. She couldn’t overthink this, Harper had pointed out. She just needed to suck it up and do it. Whatever happened, at least she would know she tried. Right? At least she’d know she had some bal s.

Miranda hit talk and waited, with mounting panic, as the phone rang and rang.

“Hey, Kane, it’s Miranda,” she said when he final y picked up. She tried to make her voice slightly low and husky, aiming for perky but not too perky, casual but intense, sexy but not sex starved—but most likely, it just came across as lame.

“Oh, hey, what’s up?” He sounded vaguely surprised to hear from her—smal wonder, since in al their years of semifriendship she’d never cal ed him (the number was in the phone only as a concrete manifestation of her pathetic wishful thinking).

“So how’s your weekend going?” she asked, trying her best to sound nonchalant even as her stomach clenched and her heart thudded rapidly in her ears. She’d always prided herself on her clever banter, but al remnants of wit flew out of her mind now that his voice was on the other end of the line, and the moment of truth—or, potential y, of abject humiliation—

crept inescapably closer with every passing second of smal talk.

“Better now.” She could almost hear the smirk in his voice, and she knew that his deep brown eyes were twinkling beneath an ironical y raised eyebrow. She’d memorized his face, and the minute movements it made, wel enough that she could close her eyes and see him peering back at her. Which, on a ten-point scale, upped her nervousness level to about a thousand.

Is he flirting with me?
she wondered as always—or was this just the only way Kane knew how to talk to people? After al , he also “flirted” with the old woman who ran the cash register in the cafeteria, and occasional y the bald guy with the unnecessary hairnet who ladled out the food from behind the counter. Maybe he just couldn’t help himself.

“I’m glad I could bring a little ray of light into your dark and lonely life,” she told him, an electric thril running through her when she scored a laugh.

“So what’s up?” he asked, chuckling. “Or did you just miss the sound of my voice?”

“You wish. No, I’m cal ing because—” Miranda stopped, the words choking in her throat.

Because I want to ask you to the dance
.

Because I want to know whether you had a date yet for the dance
.

Because I want to come over there and rip off all of your clothes
.

“Because, uh, I was wondering if, I mean, do you have—”

“Spit it out, I’ve got a hot date coming over,” he joked. Probably it was a joke.

“Do you have—do you know which chapter we were supposed to read for Setlow’s class?” God, she hated herself sometimes. It was an asinine excuse for cal ing him, which, she supposed, was appropriate, since it had been asinine to cal in the first place. She looked down at herself in disgust, at the oversized T-shirt and boxers she’d thrown on after dinner, her lying-around-and-watching-TV outfit. Or, the way things were going, more like her boring, frumpy, destined-to-grow-up-into-an-old-maid-and-die-fat-and-alone outfit. A fate Miranda supposed she deserved, since she apparently didn’t have the nerve to do anything about it.

“You cal ed
me
to check up on the homework?” Kane asked incredulously. “Stevens, are you feeling okay? Taken any recreational drugs lately?” She laughed shakily. At least he’d bought it. She didn’t know whether to be angry at herself for chickening out, or grateful that whatever insanity had convinced her he might be interested had subsided before she could make a complete fool of herself.

“Miranda, you stil with me?” he asked, when she didn’t respond.

“No, yeah, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was stupid. I’d better go,” she babbled, al in one ragged breath, and snapped the phone shut before he could say anything else.

Stupid was right.

Adam sat in his empty living room, staring at the darkened screen of the TV. The phone rested on his lap, as it had for the last half hour, ever since he’d flipped off the TV in disgust, midway through some crappy sitcom. He’d picked up the phone, determined to make things right. And then he’d put it down. He’d gone through the pointless routine again and again, even dialed part of the number a few times, but couldn’t bring himself to finish.

He wanted to apologize to Beth, of course he did. But he didn’t know what to say. He stil wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for, to be honest, or even whether he was the one who should be apologizing in the first place. His mother often claimed that the man was
always
the one who should be apologizing—and that was certainly his father’s way.

Adam Morgan Sr. had apologized and apologized, but it was, Adam supposed, never enough. At least it hadn’t been enough to stop his mother from throwing plates at his father’s head, or sneaking a gulp from an ever-present bottle of scotch when she thought her young son wasn’t looking. Adam resolved—not for the first time—that there was no way he would ever model his relationship after his parents’ short-lived marriage. Better to die alone than go down that path.

Stil , Adam reasoned, he’d obviously done something wrong. Hurt Beth in some way. And hurting someone he loved was the last thing he’d ever wanted to do.

He picked up the phone. Dialed the familiar number. Listened to it ring.

“Hel o?”

He opened his mouth, closed it again.

Hung up.

Harper had gym first period the next morning. Though this was normal y, and with little competition, the bane of her week, she was actual y looking forward to it this time—it would give her just the opportunity she needed. Kane was stuck in gym too—kil ing time on the basketbal courts while the girls paraded lazily around the tiny track. The geniuses behind Haven High’s physical education program had a somewhat lackadaisical attitude when it came to female participation. The guys had a rigidly determined schedule: footbal one week, soccer the next, running sprints the week after that. If the girls, on the other hand, chose to opt out of the period—or because of their periods—and do some “power walking” around the track instead, that was fine.

Harper knew it was sexist and offensive and she should probably lead a schoolwide campaign to remedy the problem … but since she hated gym even more than she loved muckraking, she had little incentive to do so. Besides, sexism sometimes came in handy—this morning, for instance. As she stood in the middle of the ragged field with the rest of the girls, waiting for the teacher to explain the morning’s paltry athletic task, she figured she’d soon have no problem sneaking off, grabbing Kane, and doing Miranda’s dirty work for her.

It was no surprise that Miranda had chickened out the night before. The only surprise was that Miranda had even entertained the idea of asking Kane out in the first place.

Harper had only suggested it as a joke, an empty dare. She’d never expected Miranda to actual y buy into the idea.

Smal wonder that she hadn’t fol owed through.

“Kane,” Harper cal ed to him, once she’d made it safely over to the courts. She poked her face through the chainlink fence and waggled her fingers at him. “Over here! I need you for a minute.”

Kane tossed in an effortless layup that swished through the net and jogged over to join her.

“What’s up, lover?” he asked, his familiar smirk already painted across his face. (Kane’s motto: Never leave home without it.) Only Kane could stil look debonair in a Haven High gym uniform—bright orange T-shirt and ungainly brown shorts. Harper wasn’t too thril ed to be seen out in public in the female version, especial y by the entire guys’ gym class, but sometimes you had to make sacrifices for your best friend. Plus, the T-shirt was a couple of sizes too smal and she knew that despite the hideous color, it showed off more than a few of her best attributes. Kane, for one, blatantly sizing her up, didn’t seem to mind.

“Who are you taking to the stupid dance next week?” she asked, skipping the smal talk.

“Ah, I don’t know if I’m even going,” he told her, shrugging. “I’m sick of the girls here—great asses but no spines.” He paused for a moment, then widened his eyes in a purposely exaggerated look of surprise. “Why, Grace, was that just your clumsy way of asking me out? I’m flattered, I’m flabbergasted, I’m—”

“An idiot, I know,” she cut in. “Now shut up.” She took a quick look around, making sure no one could overhear them. While a few of Kane’s cronies had stopped shooting hoops and were clustered together on the court looking over at the two of them, they were safely out of earshot. “Look, I think you should ask Miranda.” Kane burst into laughter.

“And why the hel would I do that?”

Harper smacked him on the shoulder.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked irritably. “Why wouldn’t you do that?”

“Harper, it’s
Miranda
,” he protested.

She stared blankly at him.

“I mean, she’s great and al —smart, fun—”

“Beautiful, witty, a great dancer,” Harper continued.

“Yeah, whatever—but it’s stil Miranda.” He rol ed his eyes, but Harper just looked at him, her face betraying no expression. “As in ‘Miranda, can I copy your math homework?’” he continued. “Or ‘Miranda, what’s a seven-letter word for sarcastic?’, not ‘Miranda, how I love to lick whipped cream off your breasts. ’” Harper took a quick step back.

“Please, please tel me you’ve never actual y said those words to a girl,” she begged him.

“
Woman
, actual y,” he bragged.

“God, you’re pathetic. And now that image is burned into my brain. Thanks.”

He just smiled at her, the picture of innocence.

“So you can see why I’m not going to ask her, right, Grace?” He paused, and then a glimmer of understanding dawned on his face. “Why’d you ask, anyway—does she have a little crush on me or something?”

He started to laugh again, but she cut him off quickly.

“As if she’d go for an idiot like you—no, I was trying to do
you
a favor,” Harper said, thinking fast. “I figured you’ve probably had your fil of bimbos by now. Obviously, I was wrong.” And she began to walk away. Even pretending to jog around a track would be better than this.

“Harper, wait!” he cal ed after her. “I’ve actual y been meaning to talk to you on exactly that topic,” he said conspiratorial y once she’d turned back around.

“Bimbos?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Being fed up with them. I’ve got my eye on someone new, and I think you’re just the girl to help me get her.”

“The great Kane Geary—actual y admitting he needs someone’s help?” Harper was stil disgusted—but also intrigued. “And who is this unapproachable goddess?”

“Beth.” Kane had the grace to look at least slightly abashed.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Harper swore. What was it about the Bland One that made her so irresistible? “Why would I want to help you with that?” she asked in a more measured voice. “Adam’s one of my best friends—and, incidental y, I thought he was one of yours, too. I’m supposed to help you steal his girlfriend?” Now it was Kane’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Come on, Harper, I think we both know why you’d have an interest in breaking up Ken and Barbie—do you real y need me to say it out loud?” Harper feigned ignorance, said nothing.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him, Grace. I know you want this as much as I do—and there’s no one else I’d rather have on my side. Who’s more devious than you?”