She beams.
I have second thoughts about coming clean. Maybe now’s not the best time, after all.
Just then my phone rings. For some reason, Summer jumps to get it.
“Oooh, what’s this?” she asks, picking it up and reading the display. “There’s a James calling you!” Her smile widens. “Is that your mysterious new lover?”
Alarm rips through me. “Summer, give it back,” I say.
“Ohmigod!” She blurts out. “It is him, isn’t it?”
“Summer, give me the phone.” I make a grab for it. She laughs and hops out of the way. “I swear to God, Summer, if you don’t give it back…”
“You’ll what?” She dances around the room. “You’ll punish me? You’ll get mad? A bit of spice is exactly what we need!”
“Summer…”
She hits answer and puts it on speaker. “Hellooo…” she sings.
I glare at her.
“Celeste,” James’s voice.
Oh God, I could just die.
“Nope! Sorry sweetheart, try again.” Summer’s eyes shine with mischief. “Who’s calling?”
“Give it here!” I hiss.
She waves me away. “If you want to talk to Celeste, you’ll have to tell me who you are.”
“It’s James,” he growls. He does not sound happy. “This isn’t a damn joke. I need to speak to Celeste immediately.”
Somewhere in the midst of that sentence Summer’s good humor seeps away. She stops running around the room. A horrible type of understanding comes over her face. “Wait a second,” she says. “James… as in James Landon?”
“Yes, it’s James Landon! Who the fuck else would it be?” comes the snarling reply. “Now put Celeste on the line. I need to…”
Summer drops the phone. It hits the floor and cuts off the line.
She looks at me, her mouth forming silent words. I can just see the betrayal in her eyes. It fills me with the most horrible type of guilt.
The betrayal turns to fury which turns to rage. “You lying cunt!” she screams at me and fumes out the room.
“Summer. Summer, no, wait,” I call out after her. I hear the front door open and shut. “Shit!”
I grab my things and start after her when the phone starts ringing again.
“Mother fucking goddammit!” I curse.
I rip it off the ground and jerk it to my ear. “James. I cannot talk to you right now!”
I hit END before he can reply and chase after my pissed-off roommate.
29.
I skip to a halt outside the building entrance. I look both ways. There’s no sign of Summer.
“Fuck!” I grunt. Then I remember: the new car.
I take the steps two at a time to the garage. Sure enough, there I see her, striding purposefully to a mini parked all the way on the other side.
“Summer, wait!” I call out after her. She makes no indication of stopping. “Summer!”
The mini beeps as she unlocks the doors. She stuffs herself inside.
The tires screech as she pulls out of the parking spot, makes a sharp right, and then speeds by me.
Just as she passes, though, she flips me the bird.
***
I storm back into the apartment, angry with myself. Angry with Summer. Angry with everything.
That was her reaction to me getting a phone call from James. A freaking phone call! Or course, if he’s calling me on my cell, and his number is saved under his first name, that obviously implies familiarity…
But I haven’t told her I slept with him yet!
My phone starts to ring.
“What?” I snap into the receiver.
“You missed class,” James says. His voice is low and moody.
I scoff a laugh. “That’s what you’re calling me for? That’s what’s so important?”
“Yes.” There is no hesitation, no apology in his voice. “I expect you to make it up by coming to office hours tonight.”
“This is a fucking joke,” I say. I almost hang up. Instead, on a whim, I continue. “I have way more pressing things to do than coming to office hours and watching you flirt with the entire female populace.”
“Would you like me to fail you?” he muses. “We might be lovers, Celeste, but first and foremost, I am your professor and you are my student.”
“Don’t,” I warn. “Don’t you dare pull that card, James! It was one fucking class! What does it matter?”
“It matters to me,” he says. “It tells me a lot about you. If you think I’m going to play favorites just because of what we have outside the classroom, you’re dead wrong. I expect punctuality from all my students. You do not get special privileges just because I fucked you.”
“What is this really about, James?” I demand. “There’s no way you would call me over a single missed class this early in the semester. And no, far from playing favorites, I think you’re picking on me!”
“I am not.”
“You are. Would you threaten anybody else like this if they missed your class? You wouldn’t even have noticed! There are a hundred faces, if not more, in that auditorium every time you give your damn lectures.”
“And I remember every single one,” he says softly. “I dislike your tone, Celeste.”
“Yeah? Well fucking deal with it, James! I’m not playing these little games of yours. I have other shit to do!”
“Like what?” he demands.
Like what? I think to myself. Like dealing with a potential cancer recurrence, like badly missing my mom, like trying to reconcile with a best friend who now hates my guts.
“Summer just threw a fit and ran out the door,” I indulge him. “She found out you were calling and pieced two and two together. She’s fucking pissed.”
James startles me by laughing. “That’s your excuse?” he chortles. “No, Celeste. No. That is not good enough. You’re coming to office hours or you fail. You do not receive preferential treatment. End of.”
“And what about your preferential treatment? What about the blowjobs I’ve give you, the—”
I stop short because halfway through, the line cuts off.
“Fucking asshole,” I mutter, stuffing the phone back into my purse. So, he thinks he’s going to fail me over one missed class, does he? He thinks he’s going to get his way just because he’s the fucking professor?
I check the time. I have forty minutes before the start of his damn office hours. One hour if the delayed beginning last week was any indication.
He wants to play hardball. Fine. Fine, I’ll humor him. I’ll show up to his crude facsimile of a “lesson.”
But I’m going to be a complete bitch about it.
30.
I try ringing Summer, multiple times, on the way over. Needless to say, she doesn’t pick up.
I enter the building and see the expected crowd in front of James’ doors. I roll my eyes. He’s late again.
I stand on the edge of the throng and wait. After a few empty minutes in which my mind tries to backtrack and think about the things the doctor said, I decide I’m long overdue for a distraction.
So I take my phone out and text James.
Me: Fifty of us outside, where the fuck are you?
I wait for an answer. Wait and wait, and then wait some more. It never comes.
Instead, the doors open. And, in a moment eerily similar to what happened last week, a girl comes out.
But not just any girl. It’s Summer.
She looks like a cat who has just swallowed the canary.
She walks out swaying her hips, with her head high and her shoulders held back. The crowd parts for her. Every step is followed by a chorus of whispers.
She sees me and gives the most triumphant smile. Then, before I can say anything, she flips her hair over one shoulder, shows me the finger again, and sashays the opposite way.
I start after her when a voice stops me in my tracks.
“Ms. Adams,” James calls from the doorway. “How good of yo
u to join us.” He smiles at me in an almost mocking way. “Come in.”
I take one last look at Summer, who’s taking her sweet time walking away, then enter the office last in line.
“Good girl,” James says under his breath as I pass. He says it so quietly I’m not sure I was meant to hear.
***
James—ahem, Professor Landon—actually put some effort into this session. It’s not a simple meet-and-greet like last time.
After he wraps things up, the fan girls immediately jump their prey. They surround him like bees, while I’m left waiting on the fringes.
The whole session, I’ve been trying to get a read on him. What was Summer doing here with him alone? Why did she look so happy when she left?
My thoughts turn to the worst scenarios. She came here to seduce him. She succeeded. Why else would she look so elated?
I hope it was all an act. A ploy to wheedle a reaction out of me. She probably just wants me to think something happened between them.
But I’ve seen James’ appetite for women. Why would he turn Summer down? Lord knows she has a better figure than I do, and those thick, luscious curls put my straw-like, raven hair to shame.
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t mind. Hell, I’d tell her to go for it. My hookup with James, back when it still resided in the realm of my own rules, would have actually made that preferable. She’d get what she wanted. I’d be following my instructions for myself. I wouldn’t be stuck in my current position: in danger of developing things that begin with the letter F.
Feelings.
But I’m a sucker for James. I mean, fuck, it’s been weeks since I’ve looked at another guy.
They all pale in comparison to him.
So yes, the thought of Summer having come here to hook up with James has me uneasy. There might even be a small hint—just a sapling!—of jealousy in my gut.
I can’t help it.
What makes it worse is that I know Summer would try to hook up with James to spite me.
I would never have done that. When I slept with James, I was blissfully ignorant that my bestie had eyes on the same man.
So I wait on the fringes as James entertains the horde’s ceaseless personal questions. I take my phone out to check for news from Summer. None.
As expected.
Maybe Summer and I are only compatible on the surface level. We used to be best friends. But if I had met her in grad school for the first time, would I ever keep her around?
No. No, I don’t think I would. The worst thing is that I’m sure she feels exactly the same way about me.
She can be sweet at times, of course. Like when she stumbled in on me crying. But how quickly her emotions changed when she saw James calling.
I text her anyway:
Me: Talk when I get home?
I doubt I’ll get an answer. But I made my peace offering.
I wait as the crowd around James thins out. He makes eye contact with me, for the first time since I’ve been here, not as Professor Landon, but as James. A slight tilt of his head is all the acknowledgment I get.
Then he steps back from the groupies and holds both hands up. “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have,” he announces. “I’ll be seeing you at the next lecture. Thanks for coming.”
The flow of students starts out the door. I wait on the sidelines. I want to be alone with him before I say what I have to say.
Just as the last straggler leaves, my phone buzzes with a text.
Summer: Don’t bother.
What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m about to reply but James calls my name.
“Celeste,” he says. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”
“Are you?” I ask. “You were the one who threatened to fail me if I didn’t show up.”
“That requirement was fulfilled.” He sits behind his desk and stretches out. “I’m surprised you’re here after everybody else left.”
“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be. You and I need to talk.”
“Oh, that we surely do,” he agrees. He reaches into his desk and takes out a liquor bottle and two glasses. They clink together when he sets them on the table.
“Do you always drink on the job?” I ask him. “I haven’t seen you once without a bottle in hand.”
He tsks and pours himself a drink. “I take it you disapprove,” he murmurs, looking up at me with one eyebrow raised. “A pity. I was going to offer you some.”
“And is that what you offered Summer when she showed up?” I snap. My hands fly over my mouth. That is not what I intended to say.
His eyes shine. “You and Summer… have quite an interesting relationship, don’t you?” he asks. He leans back.
I stalk towards the desk. “You’re egging me on,” I accuse. “What did Summer want? Why did she leave here so happy?”
“Oh, this and that,” James says. He swirls the liquor. He’s playing with me, and right now, I want to hate him for it.
“This and that,” I say dryly. I cross my arms. “I assure you, she wants a hell of a lot more than ‘this and that’ from you.”
“And what if she does?” James asks. “Am I supposed to refuse her? What if she came in here, ready and willing? Am I supposed to turn her down?” He tilts his chair forward so that he’s closer to me. “You and I aren’t exclusive, you know.”
“So what, you just go whoring it up with all of your students?” I spit. My shitty mood is made no better by his casual nonchalance. “Or did Summer come here and demand to be fucked, just like I did the other day, and you gave way to temptation, with no regard for the consequences?”
“Why Celeste,” he murmurs, that stupid amused smirk still plastered on his face. “If I didn’t know any better, I‘d say you’re jealous.”
I scoff. “As if. Like I give two shits about where you stick you dick.”
He tilts his head to the side. “You make it sound so crude.” He snaps to attention. “And I don’t believe you.”
“Well you fucking should!” I yell across the table.
I catch myself. I’m breathing hard, blood is pounding in my ears, and I have absolutely no right to be pissed at him. Like he said, we’re not exclusive. And like I know, I have to stick to my rules.
Or at least, get back to them.
He taps his lips. “Temper, temper,” he mutters.
“Oh, fuck off!” I spit, and surge out of my seat and out the room.
31.
I’m fuming. I walk all over campus, no destination in mind, no goal at all.
I just need to be away. To forget everything and everyone. To not worry—or even think—about my health.
I put up a good front. Summer wouldn’t know anything’s wrong with me. Neither would James. I’ll brush both of them off, and everybody-fucking-else, if it means I retain some normalcy in my life.
I walk and walk and walk, shooting evil glares at anybody who dares make eye contact with me.
A guy smiles at me from across the way. I scowl back, and he shies away.
I walk until it gets late. I don’t like being out alone at night. I check my phone one last time for any messages from Summer or James—there are none—and turn toward home.
But as I’m climbing up the stairs to our apartment, I get the distinct feeling something is wrong. I can’t pinpoint why. All I know is that there’s a strange, negative energy in the air.
I reach our floor. I walk down the hallway, my apprehension building. Why? I don’t know.
I stick my key in the lock. I pull the door open…
And am greeted by a solid wall.
Shit.
Summer’s made a barricade in the doorway. My mattress and bedframe block the bottom half. The top is taken up by our living room shelves and a bunch of boxes.
I push against it, but it doesn’t budge. It’s reinforced. I look through a gap and see the stove. The goddamn stove!
I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so ticked off.
“Holy fucking shit,” I mutter.<
br />
I bang against the rubbish. “Summer! Summer, let me in!”
She doesn’t answer.
“Summer, oh my God, I know you can hear me, let me in! This isn’t funny.”
Still, no answer.
“Summer!” I keep slamming my hand. “Summer! Fuck, let me in! This is my apartment too!”
There’s no response.
I groan and try to push through it again. I put my shoulder against the bed, really dig my feet in, and give it all I’ve got. I push and heave and push…
It doesn’t budge. The structure might as well be welded in place for all the give it grants.
I grit my teeth in frustration. “Summer!” I scream. “Goddammit, Summer!”
My foot slips, and I go sliding back. I catch myself before hitting the floor. Angrily, I swipe the hair out of my face.
“Summer, I can’t believe this. Summer. Ugh!” I kick at the damned blockade. It shakes a little, but that’s all. I know there’s no getting through.
How much shit she must have piled up on the other side, I cannot even fathom.
“You’re really not going to let me in?” I cry out, frustrated, annoyed, and beyond exasperated. “You know how childish this is, don’t you? It’s fucking infantile! You know what? Fine. If you want to be like that, fine. You’re the one who’s going to have to get out tomorrow. You’re the one who’s going to have to take apart this entire structure. Not me. You’re the one who’s going to be late for class tomorrow. Not me.”
Though where I’m going to spend the night, I have no idea.
“You’re the one who’s going to have to apologize for this shit,” I continue, “because it’s way past being a joke, Summer. This isn’t funny. You hear me?” I kick the barricade again. “This…” kick, “isn’t…” kick, “fucking…”kick, kick, “—funny!”
And then I turn away and slam the door on her so hard the entire hallway shakes.
Just then, the elevator doors open. My disgruntled-looking downstairs neighbor emerges.
She sees me and pounces. “I warned you before,” she says, waggling her finger at me. “I warned you. I told you that you couldn’t make this much noise. I’d report you. And guess what, sweetheart? I called the building supervisor up this time. He’s coming right now. He’s going to have a good long chat with you and your reckless roommate. Maybe,” Her features come together in a superior gloat. “Maybe he’ll even give you an eviction warning. Wouldn’t that be something? Oh, the other residents are going to be so pleased with me when they find out I was the one who got you busted.”
Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) Page 134