by Jenna Scott
Miss Hanson stands, and I realize she isn’t in her work clothes. She’s in a tight blouse that shows off her cleavage, big hoop earrings, and a pair of jeans that look painted on. I hate to admit it, but she looks hot. I’ve never thought so before—the shitty way she treats Camilla always made her look like a crone to me.
Suddenly, my stomach drops like a stone.
It’s all coming together in my head now, adding up to the worst possible situation I could imagine. “Wait…are you my dad’s new girlfriend?”
“We are dating, yes.”
Dating? WTF. It takes about half a second for my brain to fill in the blanks of my dad’s half-assed divorce story, and when I do, I wish I hadn’t. As if my life wasn’t shitty enough already, I now have to deal with the fact that my father is boning my ex-girlfriend’s mother. An ex-girlfriend I can’t get over, because I still love her.
I’d suspected that my dad and her mom were fucking around, but I figured he’d just get tired of her and move on like he usually does. Not invite her to move in.
And Milla…she’s going to find out, sooner or later. The decent thing would be to call her ASAP and give her a heads-up. Or am I just making excuses to talk to her?
“How’s Stanford?” Milla’s mom asks. “Are you seeing Camilla?”
Tension straightens my shoulders. “That’s not really any of your business.”
She shoots me a glare. “Considering the fact that you followed my daughter all the way to that college, and that I’m the one who told your father he should help you get readmitted there, I’d say that yes, it actually is my business.”
Well, damn.
It’s moments like these where I can’t believe Milla shares DNA with this woman. I have no illusions that she coerced my dad into helping me go to Stanford out of the goodness of her heart—I’m sure it was part of her master plan to get me and Milla back together. Not because she thinks I’m awesome boyfriend material or because she actually wants her daughter to be happy, but because she’s always pushed Milla to find herself a rich guy and let him take care of her.
Much like Miss Hanson herself is using my dad. He must look like a walking ATM to her.
It’s actually a miracle Camilla turned out the way she did. Kind, responsible, selfless. She’s nothing like her mother.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” I say. “Dad gets tired of new girlfriends fast.”
She smiles. “Your stepmother might’ve let you get away with talking to her like that, but I’m not a pushover like she was, and I won’t have you disrespecting me.”
“The thing about respect, Helena,” I say, putting extra spite into her name, “is that it has to be earned. And you haven’t earned it.”
I can tell I’ve pissed her off by the way she immediately takes a few gulps of her drink. Then she steps closer. “One call from me, and Camilla will know why you’re really at Stanford,” she says, crooning out the blackmail like it’s a lullaby.
I can’t tell if she’s threatening me or offering to do me a favor. “Where’s Dad?”
“He got held up at work.”
“Right.” I’m running out of patience. “And Harrison?”
She goes back to the couch and turns her attention back to the movie she was watching. “I don’t know. Karleigh never dropped him off.”
Before I can do or say something I might regret, I leave the house.
Dad falls to predictable behavior and doesn’t answer my call, leaving me no choice but to resort to my stepmom. It’d rather chop off my left testicle than interact with her, but it’s not like I have a choice. Not when Harrison’s happiness is at stake.
By the third try, I’m already in my car, driving around aimlessly just to not be at home, when Karleigh finally answers with a dry, “Hunter. What do you want?”
I keep my temper in check and my voice even. “I came home for the weekend to be with Harrison, but he isn’t here. What’s the deal?”
There’s a long sigh, but then she gives me the address of one of Dad’s properties just outside of La Jolla that his real estate company hasn’t sold yet. Figures he’d stick her and my brother in one of those. Had my mother not walked out on us, he probably would’ve done the same to me and her.
When I pull up, I see Karleigh smoking a cigarette on the porch, staring off into the distance. She gives me a wave as I walk up to the Craftsman-style bungalow.
“Are you here to gloat?” she asks, her voice sounding croaky and tired.
I can’t blame her for the comment, not when I’ve always been a dick to her.
“I just came to see my brother,” I say, keeping straight to the point and hoping it’ll smooth the turbulent waters between us. “How’s it going?”
She considers me with narrowed eyes before speaking. “Shitty. I told Harrison I was taking a walk ‘cause I didn’t want him to know I’m smoking. He’s watching TV.” She takes another drag and watches the smoke as it dissolves in the air.
“How’s he been?”
“As good as can be, I guess.” She shrugs. “You know it’s never easy when your parents fight; it’s even harder when they go separate ways and you’re still so young.”
“True. But my parents were miserable together. All they did was fight. I hated it when my mom left us, but part of me was…relieved. Maybe this is for the best.”
I’m embarrassed at getting so personal, but the words just spilled out of me. Karleigh lifts a brow, and I wonder if she’s seeing me in a new light. Less of an asshole and more of a hurt little boy hiding behind a bad attitude as a form of self-defense.
She clears her throat. “I didn’t drop Harrison off because your dad wasn’t home. No one told me you were coming down for the weekend, and I didn’t want to leave your brother with Helena. Not out of spite or jealousy or anything, it’s just…she isn’t very warm with him. He doesn’t need that right now.”
“Makes sense. Sorry I got pissy about it. I would have done the same.”
She nods. “Look, Hunter, whatever you think of me or the kind of person I am, you should know that Harrison’s my world. And as much as I can, I’m going to make sure this whole thing is as painless as possible for him.”
“Me too,” I say, taking a moment to mull over my next words. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what my dad did. He’s a jackass.”
Karleigh exhales a cloud of smoke. “Oh, I knew about the cheating for a while. I just pretended not to notice. I figured it was best for Harrison to stick it out with Thomas as long as I could. And the whole Instagram thing, the decorating business on the side—I was hoping something would take off, so I could support myself and maybe move out someday.” She shakes her head. “But then I walked in on him with that woman and I couldn’t pretend anymore. I mean, the housekeeper? It’s such a cliché it’s humiliating. Now I have to get a lawyer and beg for child support.”
“Don’t you have like, a million followers on social media?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t translate to food on the table. Sure, I get sponsorships, and I have my design clients, but it’s not enough if I want your brother to be in the best schools and have everything he needs. Not yet, anyway. I’m still hustling.”
It’s hard not to be taken aback. I’ve barely seen my stepmom as a human being, but it turns out…she’s actually pretty decent. This is probably the longest conversation we’ve ever had.
“Have you seen Camilla up at Stanford yet?” she asks.
Why is everybody asking me that? “Here and there. We’re not exactly on good terms at the moment.”
“That’s too bad. I hope she’s having a good time up there.” Karleigh taps the ash into the paper cup next to her. “You know why I didn’t let her quit when she asked?”
My eyebrows rise. “Because she’s a good sitter?”
“That, too. But mostly, it’s because she really cared about Harrison.” She blows smoke out of her lips before adding, “She cared about you, too. A lot.”
Her words ar
e kind, but they stab me in the heart like fucking knives.
I think back on the few times I’ve seen Milla in college, and what a complete disaster my interactions with her have been.
That night at the frat party—I saw her walk in with her girlfriend, and of course my knee-jerk reaction was to start pounding beers and pull the first sorority girl I could find into my lap in the hopes of making Camilla jealous. It had backfired spectacularly.
So had my plot to transfer into her History class. Not only was she pissed to see me there, but when I heard her talking about that TA guy in her English class, my blood boiled. Which of course led to me making snide remarks to her.
And then our study group—I don’t know if it was luck that put us together or misfortune. It’s another excuse to see her, sure, but it’s so hard to be around her. Especially when I know what she looks like under her clothes. What she tastes like. How she moans, and gasps, and how our bodies fit to perfection. Talk about torture.
The worst part is, I went to Stanford to apologize. To tell her about all those days over the summer that I spent regretting the way we broke up and the shitty things I said. To say I was sorry for believing the rumors about her and her teacher at La Jolla High. I let Hillary get inside my head, acted like a total asshole, and even accused Camilla of using me.
The truth is, I’m not good enough for her, and I know it. I shouldn’t even be near her, and I definitely shouldn’t have gone all the way to Stanford just to try to get her back. But I can’t keep myself away. She’s the one I want.
“Well, then.” Karleigh puts her cigarette out and stands up. “Why don’t you come on in? Harrison will be happy to see you.”
Chapter Twelve
Camilla
Isabel FaceTimes me from her parents’ house on Sunday afternoon, and we spend some time catching up. I tell her all about Professor Laurens’ class, my TA job, how I’m liking my psychology classes. She tells me she’s obsessed with her Human Dynamics class, where she’s learning all about the relationship between design and human bodies, focusing on both the function and social impact of apparel.
“It sounds so scientific,” I say. “I thought you’d be spending all your time at FIDM sketching new designs and making actual clothes.”
“That’s what my costuming class is for!” She runs over to her desk and flips open her sketchbook so I can see what she’s been up to.
“I love all the intricate lace collars,” I gush.
“Thanks. But yeah, I’m really liking the fact that we all have to start with the basics. Color theory, figure drawing, photography where all we’re doing is playing with light and shadow. It’s sort of forcing me to go back to square one and build a real foundation. I guess I never thought about all this stuff in context before.”
I flop back on my pillows, swallowing a mouthful of gummy bears. “But you’re already an amazing artist. Aren’t you bored having to repeat stuff you’ve already been doing for years?”
“How do I explain…” Isabel squints as she thinks on it. “Like yeah, I’m good at art. I could draw a picture, come up with a dress idea and sew it together. But now, I’m learning how to design from the ground up, which is even better. I’ll be able to design with intention, not just think up something that might look cool and then cross my fingers that it turns out okay. And I won’t be making costumes that fall apart anymore.”
“Well, that’s a plus,” I say, laughing. “Sounds like you’re having a blast.”
“I am. And I like the challenge of being a beginner again. It’s fun,” she says.
That’s the college experience I should be having, too. All the right variables are there: college of my choice, great instructors, classes I love. And yet…
Isabel claps her hands. “You should come down to LA for a weekend and stay at my apartment! I can get us into one of those parties where it’s all hot models. I bet you can find someone way better than some jackass who followed you to Stanford.”
My eyebrows rise. “You really think that?”
“Do I think another unbelievably hot dude will be into you as soon as you bat your eyelashes at him and start talking nerdy about all your favorite books?” She grins. “Of course I do. You’re irresistible, Milla. Especially when you get all excited about something. You just light up.”
I’m so flattered I’m actually blushing, so of course I go straight for a deflection. “I think your opinion is biased by the best friend lens,” I quip. “But that’s not what I meant when I asked if you really think that. I meant about Hunter.”
Isabel sighs. “I know. I was trying to steer this conversation away from him, but per usual it seems I need to talk some sense into you.” Her face grows as she moves closer to the camera. “Listen. Hunter’s hot, and he might’ve done some seriously romantic shit when you guys were together, and he might’ve been a great lay—but he hurt you, Camilla, and he’s done it more than once. From what you’ve told me, it sounds like he’s gone back to his old self. What would be different this time?”
I press my lips together before answering, “I would be different.”
“Maybe. But as your best friend, I can’t encourage anything about this. I don’t want you to get hurt again. And you deserve way better than what he can offer you.”
“But he looks so good,” I whine. “And I think he’s been going out of his way to get close to me, which isn’t fair when he was the one who broke up with me.”
“See? Total stalker,” Isabel scoffs. “He needs to start with a sincere apology if he wants to get anywhere with you, and then put his money where his mouth is. He needs to earn your trust again. Treat you decently. And even then, I’d be wary.”
“So you’re saying I might possibly consider giving him another chance, should the situation arise?”
Her groan resonates on my phone speakers. “I’m saying that you’re too good for him and that he fucked up so bad it’s going to take a lot of effort on his part for you to forgive him. I should go key his car. He’ll be home for Thanksgiving break, right?”
“I don’t know. I think so. To see his brother, if nothing else.” I rub my eyes. “I overheard him say he was going back this weekend because his dad’s getting divorced.”
“He should be throwing a party then,” Isabel says dryly. “We all know how much he hates his stepmom.”
“Yeah. But I doubt he’s happy that there’s a chance she might keep Harrison from him.” I sigh. “I always told him he should be nicer to her. Even though she was sometimes the worst.”
“You reap what you sow,” Isabel puts in, all serious, then looks away from her phone. “I’ll be down in a sec, Mom!”
“That your mom? Tell her I send a kiss!”
“MOM! Milla sends a kiss!” Isabel screams, and after some unintelligible sounds from her end, she turns back to me and says, “She sends you a kiss too and asks when you’re going to visit.”
“Soon, I hope? Maybe I can stay with you guys for Christmas?”
“Yes yes yes. But that’s months from now. It’s too far away.” Isabel grimaces, but it doesn’t last long. “Anyway, Milla, my light, my star, my favorite model…I gotta go. Call me whenever you need extra long-distance support, okay? Love you!”
We make kissy faces and hang up the call. I really miss Isabel’s energy—it’s so contagious that I actually felt better the whole time we were talking. In the silence, however, I find my spirits plummeting back to the ground.
Monday morning, I get to Laurens’ class early to go over the TA schedule with him and Luke, and then the lecture seems to fly by while we continue discussing the themes of The Book Thief.
I’m just packing up my bag when my eyes drift to the door and I see an all-too-familiar figure slouching there. It’s only Monday morning, and already I get hit with the brick to the face that is my ex, dressed in a crisp shirt and blazer like he’s posing for a Hugo Boss ad.
My stomach twists. Is he here for me?
“Camilla and Luke,”
the professor calls, drawing my attention back to him. “I’m heading out for my office hours—I have a student to meet with, but can you two pop in for a few minutes? We just need to split up your TA assignments for the week.”
“Sure, no problem,” Luke says.
“My next class is in thirty minutes, but I can swing by if it’s quick,” I say.
“Perfect,” Laurens says. “See you there.”
He dashes off, and I look back at the door, thinking Hunter will be gone, but nope. Still there. Still looking at me.
I don’t even notice Luke following my gaze until he says, “You okay, Camilla?”
“Yeah.” I say, trying to sound casual. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I mean, when you saw that dude standing in the doorway, the color straight-up drained from your face.” His forehead wrinkles. “Who is he?”
I shrug. “Just someone from my hometown. I used to babysit his younger brother.” That’s about the extent of the information I’m comfortable sharing.
“Oh.” Luke’s glance drifts to Hunter again before returning to me. “So…do you want me to walk with you?”
“Thanks, but no. I can handle myself.”
“You sure?” he asks, unconvinced. His fingers fall on my shoulder, and he leans in to say, “Seriously, if that guy is bothering you—”
“I’m okay.” I plaster a tight smile on my lips. “Really. I’ll catch up with you at Laurens’ office.”
“Okay.” His smile is as awkward as mine. “Well. See you in a few.”
He heads up the stairs and out the door. Hunter’s expression is sour as Luke walks past him. I take a deep breath and then make my own way to the door.
“Was that Luke the TA?” Hunter asks as I approach.
I roll my eyes, refusing to engage.
“Totally gay,” Hunter says, following me as I glide into the hallway. “And he doesn’t like you.”
“Mm-hmm. Why are you here, exactly?”