“How do you know if you don’t give me the chance?” He leaned back on his elbows, his peanut-butter skin glowing in the sunlight. “I’m a good listener.” Corey was a fantastic listener, patient and always interested in whatever she had to say. It would be totally bizarre to talk to him about the whole Eric Dalton situation, and totally selfish. But Corey was the kindest, most straightforward person she’d ever met—if he didn’t want to know, he wouldn’t be asking.
Naomi took a deep breath and stared at one of the crumbling gravestones in front of them. “I just…well, I haven’t been myself at all lately, you know?” She peeked through her lashes at him. “I was sort of swept away by something. I, uh, I don’t know how much you know…” Naomi trailed off, feeling guilty and disgusted with herself.
“Well, I think I know the basics.” He flashed her an encouraging smile. “Word travels fast. The story is, you got swept off your feet by the notorious, charming Mr. Dalton.” Corey cleared his throat. “More than that—you’d have to tell me.”
“Well, I guess that’s an acceptable synopsis.” Naomi laughed dryly. “It’s pretty stupid, really…We just, sort of, started spending a lot of time together, and I guess I was just kind of convinced that he, you know, liked me.” Naomi sighed and pulled her feet up on top of the stone wall. “Until I got an IM from him the other day that sort of said, ‘It’s been nice, but it’s over.’” She shrugged again. “And that was it.”
Corey exhaled a long breath, as if he had been holding it the whole time Naomi was talking. “Well, do you want to hear my professional opinion?”
Naomi giggled. She was surprised how good it felt to share what had happened with someone. Or maybe it was just Corey? “Yes, please.”
“The way I see it, you didn’t imagine anything. Obviously Dalton liked you—why wouldn’t he? You’re Ms. Naomi Lenore Peterson—the smartest, finest, most talented redhead to come through Bridgeport since Ariana Grande. Of course he couldn’t resist.” Corey smiled, and though his tone was friendly, Naomi thought she detected a note of bitterness. “Until suddenly—maybe he realized he was breaking the law and violating every single teacherly ethic imaginable—he remembered that, wait a second, you’re sixteen. He’s an adult. He should have known better.”
Suddenly Naomi was reminded of the time Corey had taken her to Fenway Park to see the Red Sox play. His parents had season tickets for seats that were practically on top of the field. They were so close Naomi thought she could smell the players’ sweat—gross, but also kind of sexy. She was busy staring at the super-fine center fielder when a foul ball was sent careening toward her head—she didn’t even notice it until Corey reached in front of her and caught it with his bare hand the second before it smacked her in the face. Everyone around them started congratulating Corey on his nice catch, but he ignored them—he just wanted to make sure Naomi was okay.
And now, after everything, he was still every bit as sweet.
“Ariana Grande went to Bridgeport?”
“No,” Corey said. “But that’s the only part that isn’t true.”
Naomi felt a goofy grin spread across her face, and she pretended to pry a pebble out of her shoe. She couldn’t believe how much better she felt after talking to Corey for only ten minutes.
“So, did you, uh, you know…” Corey started in a low voice, trailing off at the end.
“Have sex with him? No!” Naomi definitely detected relief on his face when she said that. God, what if she had? Instead of regretting not sleeping with Eric, Naomi suddenly felt relief wash over her whole body. What a horrible mistake it would have been. Even in the warm afternoon, she shivered.
An hour later, they were lying on their backs on top of the stone wall, staring at the swatches of blue sky between the yellowing leaves and still talking. Naomi abruptly sat up to check her watch. “I’ve gotta get back for the silly Café Society meeting,” she said wistfully. “But thanks for listening to me blab about, you know, everything. It’s been…nice. To talk to you again. Even about this.” Naomi blinked her catlike eyes at Corey. She hoped he knew how sorry she was for hurting him, but she wasn’t about to bring it up, not when they’d had such a nice afternoon.
“Hey, about your society? I was talking to Teague Williams at a scrimmage last week, and he mentioned a trip to Boston…” Corey kicked his heels against the stone wall. “I was thinking I’d go if that’s okay with you.”
She smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Okay, good. Now…are you sure you don’t want me to punch his lights out?” Corey hopped off the wall and swung a right hook at the air. “Get a couple of the offensive linemen to go over to his house and scare him?” he joked.
“Thanks.” Naomi laughed. “But that’s all right.” She slid down off the wall, landing in front of Corey and stumbling a little before he put out his hand to steady her. “Thanks,” she whispered again, and before he could say anything, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her head in his chest, giving him a quick hug. His body stiffened in surprise, and he patted her back gently before pulling away.
“Don’t ever feel bad when things don’t work out between you and an asshole like that,” he said softly. “It just means that you’re too good for him.”
“I think you might be missing your calling as a cheerleader,” Naomi said, realizing that the whole time they’d been hugging, she’d been holding her breath. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
Corey smiled, but she couldn’t read what he was thinking. “All right. Have fun tonight.” He turned quickly and walked away, and as Naomi made her way back to Dumbarton to get ready for the first secret society meeting, she rubbed her arms. She had goose bumps, and she was more confused now than she had been when she’d set out that afternoon. But somehow it was a much, much more pleasant confusion.
DonovanStGirard: Want a beer before dinner? Crater?
MauriceJohnson: Yeah.
DonovanStGirard: Amir coming?
MauriceJohnson: Nah, he’s in one of his moods. You know, listening to Bryson Tiller all day and pouting.
DonovanStGirard: He’d better be over it by the Boston trip. He wouldn’t miss out on that, would he?
MauriceJohnson: U kidding? Leave Crystal alone in the clutches of us animals? Not likely!
17
Bree walked up the Dumbarton steps, hoping to catch her roommates getting ready for the Café Society meeting. She loved the idea of the four of them getting dressed together. Maybe Jade would loan Bree a top—well, maybe not a top because of the difference in their bust sizes—or a belt or something, saying, “This would look great on you.” Bree had always wanted a sister. Sharing a room with three other girls was the next best thing. But when she pushed open the door of Dumbarton 303 expectantly, she found it empty, with only a trace of Jade’s Dior perfume lingering in the air.
Bree sighed and started to flip through her closet hesitantly, not wanting to over or underdress since Jade had made a point of mentioning “appropriate dress required” in her email. She pulled her dressiest trousers from their hanger, her royal blue silk and cotton-blend ones that had cost her five months’ allowance at the Barneys Warehouse Sale. They were the kind of pants that managed to look sexy and sophisticated and hide all of the wearer’s flaws. No wonder rich people always looked so beautiful. They could afford to buy clothes this well made.
Bree then tried pulling on a white satin Calvin Klein baby doll camisole that she’d bought without trying it on from the sale rack at Saks, but it somehow made her look pregnant and slutty at the same time. She crumpled it up and threw it in the corner. A few other tops piled up in the corner before she settled on a sequined lace-trim silk tank in silver and her navy, sleek-fitting blazer.
“Someone looks fabulous!” Naomi cried as she barreled through the door breathlessly and immediately undressed. Naomi glanced at her closet for half a second before grabbing a pair of peep-toe pumps in dark silver satin with a vintage jeweled brooch on top
. Bree had seen them in InStyle and was shocked when Naomi handed them to her, saying, “You’re a six, right? These would look great on you.”
“How’d you know I was a six?”
Naomi looked sheepish. “Well, I tried on those burgundy suede boots under your bed the other day. I’m a six and a half, and I had to see if they fit.”
Bree laughed, pulling Naomi’s shoes onto her delicate feet. “You can borrow them anytime. If they’re not too uncomfortable.” She turned around to find Naomi fully dressed, made up, hair freshly brushed, boots on, dabbing one of her mini Chanel perfume bottle to her wrists.
“Wow, you’re fast,” Bree remarked in total awe.
When they entered Ritoli’s, the other girls were already there, sitting around one of the large circular tables in the corner. Crystal, Benny, Verena, and Jade all wore dresses that looked like they’d come directly from the runway.
“Take your seats, my ladies,” Jade greeted them grandly, taking a sip of some unidentifiable fizzy pink stuff from a bottle on the table. “We’re still waiting for Sage and—who else?”
“Celine,” Crystal answered promptly, clearly the second in command.
“There they are.” Verena waved her ring-clad fingers at Sage and Celine, who had just stepped through the door. Naomi sat down next to her, and Bree sat down in the empty seat beside Alison Quentin, the pretty Korean girl in her art class.
“Hi, everyone.” Bree felt like the new girl again, but she was grateful to be included in a gathering of these pretty, popular girls. She pulled out one of the plastic sports bottles that she and Naomi had filled with cheap merlot and set it down on the table.
“What have you got there?” Alison burped. “Benny and I have been drinking vodka lemonades since three.” She nodded wistfully at her almost-empty Gatorade bottle.
“Really bad wine. You’re welcome to it if you run out,” Bree offered as Celine Colista, in a burgundy Vera Wang strapless dress and silver Manolo stilettos, strutted over to the table. Her black hair was freshly blown out.
“Damn,” remarked Benny. “Daddy bought someone a new dress.” Celine’s father was an A-list director and had just made a film starring Taraji P. Henson and Denzel Washington, as Celine often reminded people.
“Nah,” Celine said, twirling around a little to show off how perfectly the color complemented her olive skin. “He got it from wardrobe. Taraji wears it in the film.” She rested her hands on her tiny waist. “Of course, I had to have it taken in.” Bree met Naomi’s eyes, and they both stifled giggles.
“Are you guys all going to a party or something?” A gorgeous guy had come up to their table without anyone noticing, but now that he stood two feet away, all the girls were acutely aware of his presence. Bree had seen him once before, when she stopped in for a slice one day after skipping lunch, but he looked even cuter than he had that day, wearing a simple black T-shirt and a pair of slightly baggy Abercrombie & Fitch drawstring khakis.
“This is the party, Angelo,” Crystal said coyly, her fingers tracing the edge of the leather menu. Bree was a little surprised to hear how familiar Crystal’s tone was—did she know him?
“Well, I’m glad I’m working tonight, then.” Angelo pulled a small pad of paper from the waistband of his pants.
“We are too,” said Jade, winking. Clearly Angelo was psyched—it probably wasn’t every night that a group of dressed-up half-drunk girls showed up, eager to flirt with him. Bree took a gulp from her sports bottle, hoping it would help her feel a little less left out.
“You guys know what you want?”
“Mmm,” said Sage Francis, tossing her hair over her shoulder and leaning forward toward Angelo.
“How much pizza do you think we could eat?” Benny asked, definitely not willing to be left out. She batted her enormous dark brown eyes at Angelo.
Angelo looked them over, pretending to assess the situation with the eye of a pizza expert. Even Bree felt herself shifting nervously, hoping he thought she was cute. “Well, you girls never eat as much as you should. You’re all too skinny. I’d say you could use three larges.” They all smiled. Who didn’t enjoy being told they were thin? They debated for a minute, then decided on one with cheese and mushrooms, one with pesto sauce, and the third with pepperoni and olives.
“He is so fucking fine,” Sage exclaimed as soon as Angelo walked away.
“Maybe I’ll say something in Italian to him…” Benny bit her lips, stained a light pink with Vincent Longo’s Foolish Virgin lipstick. The color was a little dull, but Jade knew it was her favorite because of the name. Jade and Benny had once gotten drunk while studying for their European history final, and Benny had told her she considered herself a born-again virgin, without any of the religious implications, because she had accidentally lost it last Christmas break to a sexy UPenn senior her parents had set her up with. She preferred not to count it, something that Jade found totally amusing.
Celine wrinkled her nose. “Isn’t that kind of racist? Just because he’s Italian doesn’t mean he speaks it. I mean, just because Alison’s Korean doesn’t mean she speaks Korean, right?”
“I speak Korean,” Alison admitted apologetically.
“I bet I could hook up with him before any of you guys could,” Crystal announced abruptly. Bree stared at her, wondering where this sudden burst of recklessness was coming from. Crystal looked wilder than normal tonight, trading her usually classic preppy look for an outfit she could have worn club-hopping: a flirty deep purple halter dress with a tiered, pleated miniskirt. The dress had a plunging neckline that would look sleazy on anyone with breasts like Bree’s, but instead it just revealed Crystal’s bony breastplate. God, she needed to eat something, Bree thought, wishing she could hand over some of her own extra weight—namely, from her DD breasts—to Crystal.
“Fifty bucks says I can beat you to it,” Benny countered cheerfully. Sage and Celine quickly jumped in.
“Angelo’s fine.” Jade leaned back in her chair, knowing that she looked gorgeous in her corset-inspired chiffon blouse. It set off her bronzed skin and dark hair, which framed her face in long, full waves. “But I prefer a more-mature guy.”
“Maybe you can hook up with his father,” Naomi suggested, taking a long drink from her plastic bottle. They exchanged a charged glance, and Bree wondered what was going on. She shivered a little, thinking of all the undercurrents she must be missing—these girls had known each other for years, and she had only just stepped in.
“That’s a little too old.” Jade smirked. “I couldn’t date someone beyond his mid-twenties, no matter how well endowed he was.”
“The whole family has a reputation for being hung like horses,” Alison whispered to Bree, who almost spat out the warm wine in her mouth.
“I’m sure someone could find out, right?” Bree giggled boldly. She needed to get some food into her body fast, or she was going to be in trouble. Her head was already beginning to swim.
“I’ve gotta pee,” Crystal said incoherently. She stood up and headed to the bathroom at the back of the restaurant, wobbling slightly on her heels.
Jade turned her blue-violet eyes to Bree for the first time that night. “You could try finding out for yourself. Or do you have your eye on someone else?” Her tone was friendly and light, and if it had been anyone else but Jade asking, Bree would have assumed she was just curious. But Jade had seen Bree and Zane coming out of the woods, Bree was sure of it now, and it seemed a little too convenient that she waited until Crystal had left to bring it up, as if she hoped to goad Bree into revealing something.
“That wouldn’t be allowed, right?” Bree asked innocently. “I thought boyfriends were banned.”
“Excellent,” Jade praised her with a wry smile. “You’re paying attention.” Their gaze locked across the table before Bree pulled hers away and took another sip of her wine.
“Just boyfriends are banned, right?” said Celine nervously. “Not, like, hooking up with
guys?”
“That, my dear, is encouraged,” Jade announced regally, leaning back in her chair again. She looked like a panther, lean and strong and slightly bored, as if waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.
Angelo appeared with an enormous tray bearing three steaming pizzas. He expertly dished them out onto the girls’ plates while they smiled flirtatiously at him. As Bree held out her plate for Angelo, she caught him staring at her cleavage. When she looked up to see if anyone else had noticed, she met Jade’s knowing gaze. Suddenly all her hunger drained away. For whatever reason, Jade had her eye on her. And it was not a comfortable feeling.
RyanReynolds: How’d your first meeting go? Any naked table dancing?
BennyCunningham: The night is young…We just left Ritoli’s.
RyanReynolds: R u loaded?
BennyCunningham: Let’s just say, the entire world is spinning right now and I’ve got the urge to go skinny dipping.
RyanReynolds: Save that for Boston. I hear the Ritz has Jacuzzis in every room.
JadeCarmichael: I’ve been drinking wine and thinking about…
EricDalton: Where are you?
JadeCarmichael: None of your beeswax.
EricDalton: Then when can I see you again?
JadeCarmichael: Soon enough. I hear that absence makes the heart grow fonder.
EricDalton: Or absence makes the heart grow tortured…Let’s go to New York.
JadeCarmichael: Thought you’d never ask. I’ve always wanted to stay at 40 Banfield in Soho.
EricDalton: That can be arranged. Tuesday? We can both call in sick.
JadeCarmichael: A Bridgeport Owl Does Not Skip Class! Kidding. I like that idea.
EricDalton: Good
JadeCarmichael: Speaking of cutting…I saw Zane Taylor skipping…I know he’s on probation.
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