Georgetown Academy, Season One

by Schwartz, Alyssa Embree

  “We’ll see. For me, the best part is always the spiked cider at the end of the day. I might want to skip straight to that, you know?”

  “Well, I want to get at least a day in if I can,” Taryn replied, trying not to turn it into an argument. She had never been that clingy girl who couldn’t let her guy out of sight.

  “Sure,” he replied amiably. “I can go into town while you do that.”

  “Okay.” That’s what was so great about her and Gabe. There was no needless fighting. “I wonder if Ellie would want to go skiing with me,” she added, though she regretted the words as soon as she saw the look of annoyance cross his face.

  “I told you, Taryn. You need to let it go with her.”

  Ellie had been one of the first friends Taryn had made at Georgetown Academy, though their budding friendship had been ruined after the photo of Ellie and Gabe had leaked out. At the time, she had felt betrayed by both of them. She and Gabe had already begun a flirtation, and Ellie knew how much Taryn liked him. But once Ellie got back together with Hunter, Taryn figured she and Ellie could go back to being friends. She really didn’t want to be that girl who was only too willing to forgive the guy in the situation, but still held a grudge against the girl. The problem was, Ellie didn’t seem to agree, continuing to be chilly toward her. Taryn knew Ellie and Gabe had some kind of history, but Gabe had assured her they had both decided it was best to leave it in the past. So what’s Ellie’s problem?

  “I just don’t like people not liking me,” Taryn responded, truthfully, keeping her eyes on the ground as they waited at a crosswalk in front of the white marble Federal Reserve building. The two enormous fountains on either side of it gushed loudly with overflowing water, almost drowning out her voice.

  “Sometimes you can’t control that,” Gabe said with a casual shrug.

  “I guess.” She sighed.

  He squeezed her close and whispered into her ear, “You’re too nice. Don’t worry about Ellie.”

  He leaned in to kiss her and when they broke apart, he said, “Look to your left.”

  She turned her head, looking through the rows of towering elm trees to see they were standing across the street from the National Mall, the center of all D.C.’s famous monuments and museums.

  “Have you ever seen the monuments at night?” Gabe asked, his dark eyes flickering.

  “Never.” She shook her head.

  “Most people don’t know, but they’re all open until almost midnight. It’s my favorite way to see them.” He took her hand and led her across the street to a winding grassy pathway to the Lincoln Memorial. It was lit beautifully, with not a soul around, almost as if Gabe had arranged a private viewing for her.

  They made their way up the dozens of steps in silence. He was probably deciding how to perfectly phrase the boyfriend/girlfriend question to fit the romance of the picturesque scene in front of them. Why else would he go to all this trouble tonight?

  “Isn’t it cool?” he asked, gesturing to the mass of chiseled stone before them.

  Taryn stopped her inner-monologue to really look at what was in front of her. She did in fact think it was very cool. The way the moonlight lit up Lincoln’s face completely differently than she had ever seen it before, giving it a more serious, haunting and, even, romantic vibe. She loved that Gabe had thought to do something like this.

  “It’s awesome.” She slipped her hand into his, hoping it would help him understand that this was the perfect moment to ask her.

  But instead he said, “There’s another one I want you to see over here.” He squeezed her hand as he said it, and Taryn’s heart began to beat a little faster. Maybe he would ask her at the World War II memorial…

  “Are you kidding me?” Her best friend, Lauren, shrieked from the L.A. end of their Skype conversation later that night, her blond hair falling loose around her tiny face. “After all that, he still didn’t DTR?” DTR, or Define the Relationship, was one of Lauren’s favorite phrases.

  “No!” Taryn exclaimed, now snuggled into her leopard-print jammies, her outfit from her date with Gabe already peeled off in a heap on the floor. “The only question he asked me was if I would room with Evan.”

  “Evan?” Lauren asked, with a hint of possessiveness.

  “She’s friends with Gabe. He thought it would be easier to have him sneak into our room with her as a roommate.”

  “Huh. So does that mean you and Gabe are going to…?” She raised an expectant eyebrow at Taryn.

  “No. First off, I’m not rushing into anything after Nick.” Taryn had mercifully come to the realization that her ex-boyfriend Nick was a manipulative d-bag a few days before she planned to lose her virginity to him on his birthday. She was so grateful she had avoided the colossal mistake that she promised herself she would take things slower with the next guy she dated. “And anyway, it’s not like Gabe and I are even officially together yet. Which was made painfully clear tonight.”

  “I’m sorry, Tare,” Lauren chirped, pantomiming a hug.

  “I don’t know.” Taryn sighed. A flush of embarrassment swept through her as she thought of her certainty earlier that evening. “Maybe I’m being overdramatic. It’s only been two weeks. Do you think it’s weird Gabe hasn’t asked me to be his girlfriend yet?”

  “Not necessarily,” Lauren replied in a voice that implied she did, indeed, find it very weird.

  “Well, what should I do?” Taryn flopped back onto the pile of colorful pillows on her bed. “I’ve never had to start off the conversation before.” She’d had several boyfriends in the past, but all of them had broached the topic with her before she had even considered it. If anything, they were the ones worried she would say “no.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t be the one to bring it up,” Lauren said, authoritatively, tapping her hot-pink reverse French-manicured nails. “If you do, it will mess up the power balance of your relationship. It’s like Rihanna’s grandmother said, ‘You need to be with a guy who loves you a little more than you love him.’”

  “Rihanna’s grandma?” Taryn asked. Lauren, whose father was a studio head, ran in some interesting circles, but this was a new one.

  “Yes. They discussed it on Oprah’s Next Chapter. She seemed like a very inspirational woman,” she said, veering slightly off topic. “But she died. Total depress-fest.”

  “Um, okay.” Taryn paused for a beat out of respect. “Well, I think Gabe and I are more equal in our relationship.” If she was being completely honest, though, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she always seemed to be the one doing more of the pursuing with him. She had introduced him to her parents almost right away, though she still hadn’t met his. She was the one who initiated more of their plans and who was always last to text back. But she couldn’t help herself. “I do agree that I shouldn’t be the one to bring it up, though. I don’t want to sound desperate.”

  “Ooh! I know!” Lauren said, clapping her hands together the way she did whenever she got excited about something. “You need to make him jealous.”

  Taryn frowned. While Lauren frequently resorted to power plays and games with the guys she was dating, she’d always tried to remain more low-key.

  “Taryn, trust me on this. He needs to see that you’re a hot piece of ass and if he doesn’t have the convo with you soon, someone else will.”

  “I don’t know…” Taryn said, though she was already warming to the idea. Making Gabe jealous. It had definite possibilities. And hard-to-get wasn’t a game exactly, more like a standard flirtation tactic.

  “Mark my words,” Lauren said. “You play this right in Vermont and you’ll come home with a boyfriend.”

  The flight to Burlington was less than two hours, and though it was packed full of G.A. students, Taryn hadn’t been able to implement her plan. The boarding passes had been assigned alphabetically which meant she was stuck toward the back in between two girls from the G.A. soccer team, so unfortunately, the only guys Gabe saw talking to Taryn were the two gay
flight attendants. But she wasn’t worried. She had the whole weekend ahead of her.

  When they finally arrived off the buses at the vast Stowe Summit Lodge, the lobby was pure chaos. Hundreds of students from all the different D.C. schools milled about, lounging on the cozy array of low sofas and shaggy rugs as they waited for their room keys from a staff that seemed woefully unequipped to deal with the sudden influx of students. The floor-to-ceiling windows that served as the back wall of the lodge revealed a stunning view of Stowe’s snowy mountains, the fireplaces at either end of the lobby crackling and the massive wood-branch fashioned chandeliers casting a warm glow over the room. At the center of it all was a massive bar that circled a tall stone-inlaid pillar. Students filled all the large leather barstools, and the room’s fifty-foot vaulted ceilings only magnified the cacophony of voices, excited conversations, shrieks and laughter.

  Taryn stood near one of the fireplaces, checking her iPhone for the next day’s ski conditions, while simultaneously balancing her snowboard equipment, duffel bag and suitcase, bursting at the seams with almost her entire winter wardrobe. Gabe had gone to the bar to get the two of them waters, but from what Taryn could see, he seemed to have been flagged down by a group of guys she didn’t recognize, that she assumed he must know from back when he went to Sidwell. She was about to walk over to introduce herself, when raven-haired Portia Davies whipped past her, calling out a hurried, “Sorry!” as she sent Taryn’s precarious alignment of boarding equipment and bags crashing down around her.

  That is, until Brooks Madison walked up from behind her, catching her snowboard in the nick of time. His camel-colored cashmere sweater and winter white ski pants made him look like the mannequin from Saks had escaped from the store.

  “Ah, Taryn. How did I know you’d be a snowboarder?” he said with a grin, not even bothering to mask the snobby disgust in his voice, as he handed her board back like it might be dusted with E. coli.

  “How did I know you’re one of those annoying people who complain about snowboarders ruining the mountain?” she replied tartly, returning the smile. She and Brooks were polar opposites, but yet, instead of finding him annoying, she couldn’t help but be amused by him. “Thanks for the help, by the way,” she added, as he deftly reconstructed her tower of bags.

  “No problem. People shouldn’t be so rude,” he commented, flashing a look of disdain toward Portia, who was a few feet away prattling on about Evan Harnett and Luke Jensen’s break-up, which had apparently happened on the plane ride. Everyone at G.A. referred to Portia as the “Press Secretary” because of her lightning-fast ability to broadcast school gossip.

  “Apparently, Luke dumped her,” she broadcasted loudly now, “but it was because Evan admitted she was into someone else. But he wouldn’t say who… I think it might be Gabe Mills. I mean, I know he’s with Taryn, but I heard he and Evan saw a movie together last week.”

  Brooks raised a teasing eyebrow at Taryn. “Sounds like you should be worried.”

  “Nah. Can’t believe everything you hear,” she replied easily, placing her snowboard on top of the new, neat pile. She knew the only thing Gabe and Evan shared was an old friendship and a love for indie films and was glad she was actually rooming with Evan so she could get the real break-up story, and separate the facts from the embellishments Portia was wildly whipping up.

  “So, what runs are you planning to do on that glorified skateboard?”

  “I’m not sure,” she replied. “I’ve never been here before. I think I’ll head out to the top of the mountain and see where it takes me.”

  “By yourself?”

  She nodded, flushing slightly at the thought that Gabe didn’t want to go with her.

  “Some of those runs are pretty difficult. It’s not a good idea to go alone,” he told her. All of a sudden, she noticed Gabe looking up at her and Brooks from across the room, clenching his jaw. Gabe wasn’t Brooks’s biggest fan, extremely unimpressed by the preppy elitism Brooks exuded as he strolled down the hallways of G.A.

  It hit Taryn like an avalanche. Brooks is the perfect guy to make Gabe jealous. And she had the best idea how to do it, too.

  “Maybe we could do a run together?” she asked him, leaning in slightly.

  A look of surprise crossed his face, but he quickly recovered.

  “Well, I was going to head to the ski-only mountain in Mad River Valley away from all the riff-raff and painful Shawn White wannabes,” he said. “But I guess I could change my plans. Since you need someone to go with. There are a few decent double black-diamonds up here.”

  “Maybe I’ll even convert you to boarding,” Taryn added impishly.

  He smirked. “You’d have more luck converting me into a member of the ACLU.”

  Just then, Gabe finally approached, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He draped an arm around her, acknowledging Brooks with only a cool nod. She suppressed a squeal. It was already working!

  “See you tomorrow, Taryn,” Brooks said. “One o’clock okay for us to meet up?”

  Gabe looked between her and Brooks, quizzically. She couldn’t have scripted this better if she tried.

  “That’s perfect.”

  “Bye, Gabe,” Brooks added with a condescending smirk, before sauntering away and joining a group of senior guys near the Lodge bar.

  “What was that all about?” Gabe asked. He tried to keep his tone neutral, but a jealous undertone lay below the surface.

  “Brooks and I are going to go skiing together tomorrow. Since you said you didn’t want to…” He said nothing, and Taryn quickly added, “You’re good with that, right?”

  Gabe coughed. “Um, sure. I guess. And then you and I will meet up afterward, though, right?” He waited for her to meet his gaze. “I read about some Indian restaurant that’s supposed to be cool. I thought we could go.”

  “That sounds great,” she said, almost breathlessly, as he leaned in and gave her a long kiss. It was unclear whose benefit it was for—his own or Brooks’s—who was still standing well within their line of vision, though Taryn didn’t mind either way.

  She might hate playing games, but she kind of had to admit…it was hard not to when they worked so well.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Thursday, 9:43 p.m.

  Brinley sank down next to Ellie on the deep cowhide sofa in the middle of the Stowe Summit Lodge lobby, wishing she could pull out a blanket and snuggle in. For the last hour and a half, she had been circulating among the hundreds of D.C. students in an attempt to follow her mother’s instructions to show everyone that despite fainting at Follow the Stars and her recent brief hiatus, Brinley Freaking Madison was back (Brinley’s words, not Katherine’s). She’d discussed snow conditions in Vermont versus Switzerland with Thatcher Wellington, compared mono recovery stories with bug-eyed Liesel Biermann and bantered about the Gail Morris Supreme Court nomination with several of Brooks’s lacrosse teammates. Brinley knew she had done well because Brooks gave her a nod of approval as she flurried away.

  But now, as her muscles relaxed into the soft cushions, she realized how much it had taken out of her. She could barely remember the last time she had worked a room like that without the aid of an Adderall pill or two (or three…). And the whirlwind of packing for the ski trip immediately after shooting the Washington Life photo spread had only added to her cumulative exhaustion. She still hadn’t had a moment to catch her breath since returning home from the slow pace of Sagebrush.

  “Hey, Brinley,” Portia said as she sauntered up, taking a brief pause from disseminating what surely had be the world’s least interesting gossip, the story of Evan Harnett and Luke Jensen’s break-up. Must be a slow news day.

  “How are you feeling?” Portia added, the concern in her voice ringing false. It was the fifth time she had asked that in the twenty-four hours since Brinley returned, clearly trying to perpetuate Brinley’s illness into a bigger story than it was. “You look tired.”

  Brinley arched an eyebrow and remembered her mother’s
advice. A Madison must never look weak. “I’m absolutely fine,” she insisted. “But what happened to you?” She asked it in a voice that indicated general horror.

  “What do you mean?” Portia asked, trying to casually catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror that hung on the stone column in the center of the enormous circular bar.

  “I keep meaning to tell you, it looks like your skin has really taken a turn for the worse in these last two weeks,” Brinley said, matching the tone of concern that Portia gave her as she focused on the speckling of poorly concealed pimples on Portia’s forehead. “If I were you, I’d look into diet. Or maybe schedule an oxygen facial at the spa while you’re here.”

  “Right,” Portia said tightly before she walked away, beelining for the lobby bathroom where Brinley knew she would spend the next twenty minutes inspecting her pores. But instead of feeling a surge of triumph at her expert tactical move in successfully turning the tables on Portia, Brinley sank deeper into the couch.

  “That was mean, Brin,” Ellie said, nudging her, though she had a half-smile on her face.

  “Oh, please. Who tells someone they look tired? So rude. It’s like telling someone they look ‘healthy’ when you really mean they look fat. You just don’t do it.” Brinley’s mother had enrolled her in etiquette classes back in junior high. Clearly, Portia’s mother had been remiss in doing the same.

  But Ellie didn’t respond.

  “Elle?” Brinley asked, following her gaze across the lobby.

  “It’s Weston. There he is,” Ellie said excitedly, slightly nodding toward a good-looking guy in a navy beanie that brought out the emerald green of his eyes. He strode toward them casually, a relaxed grin on his face, setting a few nearby NCS girls into a frenzy of excited whispers. With his mother plastered all over the news, it looked like Weston was already trending at warp speed with the younger D.C. crowd.

  “Hey,” he said as he reached them, giving Brinley a friendly nod that she immediately returned. If Ellie ended up really liking the guy, Brinley was going to be spending a lot of time with him. Better for them to get along like she had with Hunter.