“Why would you want to go to my room?”
I cocked my head and gave her a come on look.
She huffed, putting her hands on her hips. “The answer to that is no also.”
I laughed. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. Your face did it for you.”
“Alright, alright. I don’t care where we work. You pick.” I grabbed the chips and the jars. “I’ll just follow.”
“Okay, then the study would probably be best so you can use the computer in there if you need to.” She guided me down a hall around a corner and down another hall. This place was huge. Who the hell needed this much space?
“Is it just you and your mom here?” I knew her Dad was dead. Hell everyone on the east coast knew that. When you’re the first “B” in BNB Trust, or Bradford National Banking and Trust, one of the largest holding companies in the country, people take notice of your life, and your death, especially if you go down in a fiery helicopter crash.
“Mmhmm.” She pushed open the door to what she called the study, but it was more of a small library, at least twice the size of any room in my house. “Make yourself comfortable wherever. I’m going to run upstairs and grab my laptop.”
“I’ll try not to get into anything,” I called after her. The second she was out the door, I was exploring the room and all their shit. There were so many damn books, and some of them really old. I felt like if I went through pulling all of them off the shelves one would open up a secret passageway. The house wasn’t old, but it just had that feel. There were paintings all over the place. It seemed her mother, or someone, had a serious thing for renaissance art and tragic shit.
There were paintings and art all over this house, but I’d yet to see one photograph. I felt more like I was in a museum. Would have been one hell of a place to play hide and seek as a kid, but I guess if you didn’t have any brothers or sisters, you wouldn’t be playing much hide and seek.
Shae reappeared a minute later and didn’t comment on my perusal of the room. I joined her at the large wooden desk that looked even older than some of the volumes in here, and we spread out the chips and our work. She booted up her laptop and I did the same with the other.
“We can do the plot analysis first and then lead into the character breakdown. We should start with the context and setting.”
“Whatever you say, you’re the expert.”
“Yes, and the only one who’s read the book,” she muttered dryly.
I leaned back in the chair while the laptop came to life. “What do I need to read it for? Rich dude and servant girl fall in love, yada yada, yada. Right?”
“No. Number one, she’s not a servant girl. She’s just of a lower social class, and one of the major themes is the separation of the classes. Number two, there’s so much more to it than just them falling in love. You really need to read it, or at the very least watch the movie or Sparknotes it, or something,” she urged dramatically.
I let out a reluctant breath. “Who’s in the movie?”
“There’s more than one version, but I love the one with Kiera Knightly, even though most of the population prefers the five hour version with Colin Firth.”
“Fuck, five hours?”
“Yes, it’s a little more periodically accurate and of course follows the details of the book more closely, but the two hour version still captured the feel of the story and I think Kiera Knightly portrays a better Lizzie.”
“Whatever, fine. Then let’s watch it.”
“That wasn’t the plan. We need to work on the paper.”
“The movie is what, you said two hours? The paper will take us maybe one.” I glanced at my phone, it wasn’t quite eight. “We’ve got plenty of time. Now do you have a theater in this place?” I was already up and making for the door.
She scrambled to her feet, grabbing her computer and papers. “No theater, but the TV in the den is bigger than the one in the living room.”
“Lead the way,” I gestured and then followed her back down the hall and around the corner to another large room at the back of the house. She flicked on a light and illuminated the large space. Large couches and armchairs made up the seating. Behind them, a wall of glass enclosed the room. French doors led to, what I assumed was, a patio or back yard. It was pitch black out, so the only thing visible was the reflection of the room and what looked like could be moonlight reflecting off water. Of course there was a fucking pool.
As promised, the biggest flat screen television I’d ever laid eyes on was the focal point of the room. Had to be eighty some inches, hooked to a surround sound system that I was sure would make this a theater experience. Shelves of movies filled the walls, almost as many as there were books in the last room.
“Not a theater, right.” I shook my head and dropped down onto the couch. The cushions molded around my body without swallowing me up. It was more comfortable than my bed, not that I was surprised. It was pretty clear by now that everything in this house was bigger and better than anything I’d ever had times about a billion. Even Derek, whose family was much better off than mine, didn’t have stuff like this. No one in my world did.
After putting the movie in, Shae made herself comfortable on the opposite end of the couch with her computer in her lap and papers beside her. “Here,” she handed me a blank notebook and a pen. “You can make notes about the characters and the story while we watch.”
She wanted me to take notes …
Making no move to accept the notebook and pen from her, I eyed her like she was out of her damn mind.
“Just take it.” She threw it to me and then flung the pen at my head but it bounced off the back of the couch.
“Fine. I’ll take the damn notes.” I snatched up the notebook and pen.
“Thank you.” She skipped through the previews to the menu, but before she hit play, she suggested we check on the pizza.
We returned to our places a few minutes later, plates of pizza in hand, and she started the movie. Right away, I was pretty sure it was going to be a snooze fest, but I could see how into it Shae was. I think I spent more time watching her face than I did the movie at first. If she was aware that I was staring at her, she didn’t comment on it. A few times she did pointedly ask if I was taking notes, so I set my food aside and opened up the notebook.
Elizabeth : hot, feisty, a little naïve and stubborn as hell (a lot like Shae)
Her sisters : fucking annoying, but older sister is hot and less annoying
Mother: fucking nutter
Dad: either smarter or dumber than he seems, needs to reign in his circus
Mr. Bingley: Gay
Mr. Darcy : Really? This is the guy Shae’s going nuts over?
Bingley’s sister: bitch, probably gives good head
Preliminary notes jotted down, I traded the notebook for the bag of spicy nacho Doritos. I ate a few and then held it out to Shae. She eyed the bag. “No thank you.”
“You haven’t touched anything besides a piece of pizza. Eat a damn chip.”
She rolled her eyes but reached into the bag and pulled out one small chip and popped it in her mouth.
“Have another.”
“I don’t want one.”
“Don’t want one or you’re being a girl and worried about eating in front of me?”
A hard frown pinched her brow, but she reached her hand into the bag again to prove a point. It was so easy to get a reaction out of her. Satisfied, I retracted the bag and we both returned our attention to the large screen where the Bennett girls were having their first run in with a soldier boy, Wickham. Right away it was obvious that the guy was a total tool, but Elizabeth was looking at him like he was Superman. It got worse further into the movie. I snorted, unable to help myself.
“What?” Shae looked at me curiously.
“Just figures Elizabeth would fall for that slimy douchebag. Girls are so predictable, even back then it seems.”
“How do you know he’s slimy if yo
u haven’t seen or read this before?”
“It’s obvious the guy is a complete prick, and that whole story about Darcy, clearly bullshit to get sympathy.”
“You really haven’t watched this before, or read the book? Not even skimmed it?”
I laughed. “Nope, I’m just not completely fucking blind. It’s girls who fall for that shit all the time.”
“Not all girls,” she grumbled, her eyes returning to the movie. Another laugh escaped me. Her head snapped to mine. “What?”
“It’s just funny hearing that from you.”
“And what exactly do you mean by that?” she challenged.
“Nothing,” I muttered, thinking better of opening this can of worms. She refused to let it go and grabbed up the remote, hitting pause.
“No, if you want to say something, say it.”
“Fine,” I shifted my body to face her. “While we’re having our little homework session, where is good ol’ Jer tonight?”
“At Josh’s, having a guys night.”
“Mmhmm. Of course he is. I bet it’s just him and the guys playing some video games, eating pizza.” Not likely. My tone said as much.
“You think he’s lying to me?” she bristled.
“I think you trust the guy more than he deserves.”
“Whatever, you’re wrong. You–”
“What? Don’t really know the guy, because he’s not like that. He’s good to you and would never treat you like you’re disposable. Yeah, I must be wrong about him, after all, I’ve only known him since he was still pissing the bed at sleepovers.”
“It doesn’t mean you know him better than I do,” she snapped.
“Of course not. I’m sure he’s a real prize. Good job on snagging yourself such a great catch.” I grabbed the remote from her hand and hit play. If she wanted to delude herself, fine by me. The truth was there if she decided to open her fucking eyes.
Tension settled in the room between us as the film started back up. I felt bad for causing it, but not for being right and trying to do her a favor. If it were anyone else he was fooling, I wouldn’t give a shit. I’d probably say it was their own fault, they deserved each other, but more and more I was becoming convinced that she deserved about a thousand times better than Jeremy Black. The fact he didn’t see that made me hate the guy all that much more. His entire life he carried around a sense of entitlement simply because Mommy and Daddy told him he could have whatever he wanted and gave it to him. He didn’t know the value of anything, so he didn’t value shit. It was obvious that extended to people.
I wasn’t a saint, or even a good guy by any means, but I was honest about that. What you see is what you get. I sure as hell didn’t go around convincing girls I hung the fucking moon, only to stomp all over them when they found out I didn’t. So really, who’s the piece of shit?
Still me in this backwards world, and when Elizabeth annihilated Darcy because she was wrong and he hadn’t done a damn thing except be who he was and refuse to apologize for it, I found myself actually relating to the poor sap. But if I were Darcy, I would have gone and kicked Wickham’s pathetic ass, especially when it was revealed how the fucker used his little sister and then Elizabeth’s. The last thing I would have done was pay the guy off. Wanker would have disappeared and never been seen again, regardless of how that left dear Lizzie’s slut of a sister. But hey, he got the girl in the end so what did I know?
Then again, Jane Austen died single so what the hell did she know either?
“So … ?” It was the first time she’d spoken since our little spat about her lover boy. She was biting her lip and waiting for my reaction.
“It didn’t completely suck,” I admitted.
“I’ll take it. So what did you make of the characters?” She reached for the notebook before I could grab it.” I watched in amusement as her eyes scanned the page of notes I’d continued to add to throughout the film. She lifted her unamused stare to mine. “I don’t think ‘Wickham is a pussy with a tiny dick and compensation issues’ is the kind of character dissection Ms. Renner is looking for.”
I shrugged, completely ignoring for one second that the words “pussy” and “dick” came out of her pretty mouth. “I wrote down my unbiased and honest interpretations of the characters.”
“Yeah, well we’re going to need to do some rephrasing.” She nibbled her bottom lip between her teeth as she scribbled across the page and then read it out loud. “Deceptive, manipulative, conniving, sense of entitlement, zero sense of responsibility or culpability. That sounds much better.”
“And familiar,” I mumbled.
“Hmm?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
“Okay, moving on. I don’t think we can call Lydia an annoying slut.”
She continued on down my list, altering my descriptions. The only thing we could both agree on was that the Collins guy was a creep. After we had our character breakdowns done, and she typed it up, we went to work discussing the plot and the major points and themes. After a while, I just started agreeing with her because my head was hurting and I realized I wasn’t going to win any arguments. I read over her shoulder as she typed, making a few suggestions. For once she was agreeable and seemed satisfied when we finished and she saved the document.
“Now what?” I leaned back on the couch and kicked my feet up on the coffee table.
“Now you go home.” She shoved my feet off.
“Come on, we haven’t had ice cream yet, and I’ve been waiting all night for my cherry on top.”
She glowered and I fought back a grin. I wasn’t successful.
“You ate three slices of pizza, half a bag of chips and an entire row of Oreos. There’s no way you even have room for ice cream.”
“There’s always room for dessert.”
“Maybe for you, but after you forced those chips and cookies on me, I can’t eat anything else,” she protested.
I leaned forward. “I might have pressured you into that first cookie, but the second, third and fourth were all you, so just admit that you can’t resist, and let’s go get the ice cream.” I didn’t give her a choice. I took her arm and pulled her through the labyrinth to the kitchen and fetched the tub of ice cream from the freezer.
“Where are the spoons?”
With an irritated sigh, she indulged me and opened a drawer of silverware. I grabbed two spoons and then hopped up on the counter, patting the spot beside me. Again, she indulged me, even taking the spoon I offered, but she made a show of not being happy about it.
“You know you want to,” I taunted softly once I’d pried the top off the carton and tore away the seal.
Begrudgingly she dipped her spoon in for the first bite and raised it to her mouth. She couldn’t hide the hint of pleasure on her face when her lips closed around the spoon. I didn’t waste any time digging in and scooping out a huge bite, riddled with bits of cookie dough, and shoving it in my mouth. She laughed when I winced as all the blood rushed to my mouth and the effects of brain freeze set in. I ignored her and took another bite, making a show of enjoying it. “This shit is good.”
“Yeah,” she chuckled, dipping her spoon in for another small bite. “It’s all the sugar and fat. Makes the taste buds go crazy.”
“That’s not it. I mean it is, but it isn’t.” She looked at me like I was crazy. “Just hear me out. What’s your favorite fruit?”
“Pineapple,” she replied.
I blinked, trying to decide if it was worth it to make a joke about that. “Good to know,” I settled for letting my face do the talking, sliding my tongue along my bottom lip, thinking about tasting her instead of this ice cream. She clearly caught on to the direction of my thoughts, but was confused.
“What did I say now? There’s no way there’s anything dirty about pineapple.”
I chuckled. “You can Google it after I leave, but back to my point. Would you say pineapple is as sweet as ice cream?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“But
which one do you enjoy more? And be honest, because I already saw your face when you took that first bite.”
“Okay, fine. Ice cream. It’s a treat that I don’t have as often, so I enjoy it more.”
“Nope. That’s not it either. The reason you enjoy it more is because you know you shouldn’t. Even as you indulge, you tell yourself just one bite, or maybe just two and then you’ll have something healthy, or you’ll work it off tomorrow. You try to deny yourself, all the while you crave it, the things you’re not supposed to want.”
“You’re not talking about ice cream anymore,” she accused softly.
“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, but the point I’m making is that sometimes the things we’ve convinced ourselves we shouldn’t want, or others have convinced us we shouldn’t want, aren’t as bad as we believe. Sometimes they’re exactly what we need.”
“And what happens when that’s not the case? When you find out you were right, but now you’ve made a big mistake?” She wasn’t talking about ice cream anymore either.
“At least you took a chance, dared to risk it and didn’t settle for what anyone else told you was right or wrong. That’s life. Deciding what risks are worth it and figuring out for yourself what is right.”
“I can’t decide if that’s wisdom or recklessness.”
“Probably a bit of both, but I suspect you could use a bit of reckless in your life, and I don’t mean making stupid decisions or any of that try everything once bullshit, ignore the consequences, because that’s just stupid. I’m talking about living your life. Unafraid. Unashamed. Stop being the perfect girl everyone expects and be you. If you keep going, trying to be everything everyone else wants you to be, you’re going to lose yourself in it. You can only put on the show so long before it becomes the truth, and it would be a fucking shame to see you turn into another one of them.” I slid off the counter, not even sure if I knew what I was doing or saying anymore. I was just fucking with her, but then it turned into something else, and I meant every word I was saying to her.
She jumped down after me, spitting fire. “What do you mean? ‘One of them?’ I am me. I’m not trying to be anything else.”
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