by Kate Brian
Suddenly, Ariana knew what she had to do. She turned to Thomas, a smile tugging at her lips. "Sorry to
disappoint, but I guess I am a good girl. Always have been, always will be." And with that, she placed her
hand on his leg, letting her fingertips graze the length of his thigh as she slowly stood up. She couldn't believe
she was doing this-especially with Daniel right outside.
Apparently, neither could Thomas, whose eyes were wide with shock. The air felt thick with electricity, and
Ariana could feel her pulse in her fingers. Her throat. Her heart. Everywhere. Touching him, even if just for a
second, felt inevitable. Like there was nothing else she could do but touch him. Breathing heavily, Thomas
reached out, as if to take her hand, but Ariana stepped away. She turned her back on him and walked to meet
Daniel in the hallway, heady with triumph. She had shocked Thomas Pearson. Mr. Aloof himself.
Apparently she was capable of such things. "Sorry to make you wait. You okay, babe?" Daniel asked, putting
his hand on the small on her back and steering her toward the hotel's exit.
"Fine," she lied. She actually felt faint and vaguely ill from the gravity of what she had just done-the line
she had just crossed. She had done something unpredictable. Something off-script and unplanned. And she
had enjoyed it.
But now, as they entered the empty lobby and Daniel took her hand in his, the spell was broken and guilt
crashed over her in waves. Only a horrible person could think about a guy other than her boyfriend, even for a
second-and at a Christmas dance, no less.
"Have I mentioned tonight that I love you?" Daniel asked, holding the front door open for her. A sleek black
car sat in circular drive, the driver waiting patiently at the curb.
Ariana looked up at Daniel, searching his angular features and Brooks Brothers tux, looking for a stain, a scar,
a flaw. There was none. Even post-booting he was perfect. "I love you too," she murmured, giving him a
quick kiss on the cheek. In that moment, she decided that whatever had happened with Thomas was nothing.
Stupid. Meaningless. The result of too much champagne. Daniel was her boyfriend. Her life. The right guy.
She repeated the words over and over in her head, believing them each time. But when she stepped out into
the freezing December night air, she realized that her leg still burned where Thomas had touched her.
MORE
***"She needs something more," Ariana murmured aloud on Sunday afternoon. "Something he can't give
her."
She swiveled in her desk chair, turning away from her laptop and the unfinished Word document that was
taunting her. She snapped on the Christmas lights she and Noelle had strung around their dormered windows
and watched as dusk began to settle over the campus. It was getting dark earlier and earlier each day. "So is it
really wrong for her to look for romance somewhere else, if she knows she'll never truly be happy with him?"
"Depends." Noelle emerged from the walk-in closet they shared, peeking over the tower of designer threads
she was carrying in her arms. "Maybe she isn't trying hard enough. Have they tried doing it in public?" She
expertly navigated the mess of clothes that littered her half of the room, dumping the stash from the closet
into an open Louis Vuitton suitcase on her unmade bed. "Because whenever I start to get a little bored with
Dash, we go someplace where we know we might get caught. Ups the naughty factor. Or if she has a
camcorder, she could-"
"Not that kind of romance," Ariana groaned, spinning back toward her desk. She tossed an old issue of Quill,
the Easton literary magazine she contributed to, on the floor and typed one sentence into her computer. "And
remind me never to borrow a movie from you without making sure it's not homemade." "Noted." Noelle
opened her top dresser drawer and pulled out several tubes of M.A.C. lip gloss.
Ariana picked up the pomegranate-cassis pillar candle Daniel had given her that morning as an early-
Christmas-slash-sorry-I-got-drunk-last-night present and inhaled its waxy scent. "Anyhow, I'm talking about
real romance. The kind of romance where you feel a burning desire to be with the person all the time." "Who
are we talking about, anyway?" Noelle asked, zipping up her red Vera Bradley makeup bag before grabbing a
pair of caramel brown leather boots near the doorway.
"Emma Bovary," Ariana said. "And don't even think about taking my Michael Kors boots home with you. I
need them for Vermont." She put the candle back down on her desk next to the three silver-framed
photographs. They were her favorite pictures. One was a photo Paige had taken of her and Daniel last summer
at the Ryans' Martha's Vine -yard estate. The second was a black-and-white photo of Ariana by herself, taken
by Daniel at Noelle's house in the Hamptons last summer, as Ariana blew a kiss at the camera. The other was
an old candid of Ariana and her mother on the back porch of the family's sprawling home in Atlanta. They
were both smiling, happy. It had been taken years ago, before her father had essentially checked out of their
marriage. Before all the hospitalizations. Before Easton. Before Billings. It felt like another time, another life.
The girl in the photo might as well have been another person. But Ariana loved the image just the same.
"Emma Bovary?" Noelle held a shimmering bronze minidress in front of her and pursed her lips at the full-
length mirror on the closet door. "You mean that sophomore slut who slept with Gage after finals last year?
Because he felt a burning sensation after he was with her, but I can guarantee you it wasn't desire." "That was
Emma Benning," Ariana corrected, forcing herself to look away from the photograph. "I'm talking about
Emma Bovary as in Madame Bovary." She waved her worn copy of the novel in the air. "As in, the tragic
heroine of one of the most celebrated and controversial French novels of all time. We're reading it in Mr.
Holmes's lit class, and we have a paper due before break."
Noelle yawned and glanced at the glowing alarm clock next to her silk-covered bed. "You just spent two
minutes telling me a story about a depressed Frenchwoman who can't even get her husband to screw her?"
She crossed her arms over her cream cashmere V- neck. "That's one hundred and twenty seconds of my life
I'll never get back," she chided, throwing the dress into her suitcase. "So I'll be taking those Michael Kors
boots with me as reimbursement."
Ariana didn't even bother to argue as Noelle shoved the boots into her bag. If she decided she really cared that
much, she would simply sneak in there later tonight when Noelle was in deep - sleep mode and take them
back. It was their way.
"It's actually an incredible book," Ariana sighed, lowering the book to her lap. "But this paper is incredibly
bad." She drummed her fingers on the desk and deleted the last sentence she'd written. "It's only supposed to
be a few pages, but I can't concentrate long enough to write a coherent sentence."
"Please. You know that Holmes will give you an A anyway. All you need to pass his class is a decent ass,"
Noelle said. She tilted her head, checking out Ariana's butt. "That's at least a B-plus." "Thanks a lot." Ariana
rolled her eyes. "What's wrong? Worrying about the trip?" Noelle sat on her suitcase and tugged at the zipper.
It didn't move. "A little," Ariana admitted. Of course Noelle knew. Noelle always knew. It was almost like
she had a
sixth sense for gossip and other peoples' insecurities.
"Nervous about meeting the parents? I hear they're a little stuffy, but fine." She leaned over and brushed a
piece of lint from her black patent leather Louboutins, her dark hair falling like a curtain over her face. "At
least Daniel invited you. Dash's parents would never let me horn in on their holiday plans. God forbid a
McCafferty holiday photograph ever differed one iota from the year before. I shudder to think what'll happen
when grandkids come along. They'll probably have a kids' photo and an adults' photo. I mean, really. Would
it be that big a deal to have one extra person hanging around?"
"Noelle Lange." Ariana twisted her hair into a bun and stuck a pencil through
it. "Are you jealous?"
Noelle hesitated for a split second and Ariana knew that no matter what Noelle said next, she had hit the nail
directly on the head. It was rare that Noelle showed a chink in the armor, and Ariana savored the moment.
"Don't be ridiculous," Noelle said. "I don't get jealous." She gave up on the zipper and sat down on the floor
to sort through another pile of clothes. "And besides, we weren't talking about me. We were talking about
you. And how you're so nervous to meet Daniel's parents that you can't even pull together a few pages of
decent bullshit."
"It's not that," Ariana said slowly, using her mouse to highlight everything she'd written about Madame
Bovary's more-than-questionable ethics. Her finger hovered uncertainly over the delete key. "I'm sure his
parents are fine." She lowered her finger and pressed the button. Her failed efforts of the past few days
disappeared, leaving a clean, blank screen. Ariana instantly felt better. It was nice when mistakes were so
easily wiped away.
"So what is it, then?" Noelle asked impatiently. "You're acting like you don't even want to go. The place
sounds amazing. It's supposed to be extremely-" "Exclusive," Ariana finished for her, slamming her laptop
screen closed in exasperation. "Believe me, I've heard. And it's not that I don't want to go. It's just that I'm a
little nervous about ..." She paused and glanced down at her lap. "About Daniel."
"Nervous about Daniel?" Noelle echoed. "Why? You're going to be with your hot boyfriend at an exquisite
resort doing nothing but skiing, sitting around the lodge, and ..." She paused, a devilish grin spreading across
her face. "Having sex. And now I get it."
Ariana buried her face in her hands. "Ugh. What's wrong with me?"
"Just pre-virginity-loss jitters." Noelle shrugged and threw a Hermes scarf at Ariana. "Stop thinking about it
and just do it already."
Ariana picked up the scarf and wrapped it around her neck. "But I just want to make sure it feels right." "It's
definitely not going to feel right," Noelle offered matter-of-factly. "It's going to feel like hell. So you have a
few glasses of wine first, and it's over before you know it."
"That's not what I mean." Ariana flopped down on her bed and wrapped her arms around her squishiest
pillow. "I just don't want to regret anything about my first time."
"You really have to deal with this obsessive need of yours to control every aspect of every situation," Noelle
said, amused. "And besides, what's to regret? Daniel Ryan is the perfect guy. And he loves you. Everybody
knows it."
"I know," Ariana sighed. She wound a lock of her wavy hair around her index finger and pulled it tight. She
wanted to tell Noelle that she wasn't certain she loved Daniel back, but she kept her gaze fixed on the ceiling.
She couldn't bring herself to say the words. She knew how Noelle would look back at her. Like Ariana had
lost her mind. Like she was crazy.
"Ariana," Noelle said quietly, sitting down at the foot of Ariana's bed. "Almost every girl at this school would
kill to be you." Implication: every girl at this school with the exception of Noelle, who was perfectly happy
being herself. "Daniel is totally and completely right for you," Noelle continued. "So stop freaking out."
"You're right," Ariana sighed. "Aren't I always?" Noelle held out her hand, and Ariana gave her back the
Hermes scarf. "I'm meeting Dash. When I get back, you'd better have your head on straight." She crossed to
her side of the room and pulled a small camcorder out from under her bed. "Dry spell?" Ariana laughed. "Not
for long." Noelle smirked, heading for the door. She opened it and stepped into the hall. Billings was
unusually quiet for a Sunday afternoon; most of the girls were probably still sleeping off hangovers from the
night before.
"Oh, and Ariana?" Noelle called over her shoulder. "Hmmm?" Ariana turned her head toward the door. "Only
an idiot would pass up a Daniel Ryan for a Thomas Pearson. That's obvious to the world, right?" Her dark
eyes flashed. Ariana's heart rose in her throat. She sat up quickly, banging her head on the headboard. "What?
Noelle, I don't-" But the slam of the door sliced through her voice. Ariana threw her pillow in frustration.
How did Noelle always know?
DISTANCE
***"Something more, something more, something more," Ariana whispered to herself, staring up at the
darkened ceiling from the comfort of her bed.
She hadn't moved in hours. Had just lain there obsessing about her unwritten paper. There was no way she
was going to be able to sleep until she had some kind of breakthrough. Luckily, Noelle was still with Dash, so
there was no one around to hear her talking to herself. Then, suddenly, her cell phone buzzed and she grabbed
it, more than happy to let whoever was calling get her out of her head. The second she saw the name on the
caller ID, her heart seized. It was already eleven o'clock. No good news came this late.
"Mom!" She sat up, propping a pillow behind her head. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"
"Hi, baby." On the other end of the line, her mom sounded far away, lost. Empty. "Just wanted to hear your
voice, that's all. How's my angel?" "I'm great, Mom. Fine." A lump rose in Ariana's throat even as relief
washed through her. Her mom was okay. She sounded medicated, but okay. Ariana swallowed fiercely. "How
are you? Where are you?" "I'm still here, but I'm going home soon. I just signed all the paperwork a few
minutes ago, so they should be letting me out in at least seventy-two hours." She laughed weakly. "Things
take forever around here." "I know, Mom." Ariana hated it when her mother called. She loved talking to her,
loved telling her everything that was happening with classes and teachers and friends, but still, she hated the
calls. Her mother always sounded so fragile, so weak, as if one wrong word, one wrong intonation, would
break her. And Ariana knew-dreaded, really-that the time would come when she wouldn't be able to fix
her anymore.
"So, sweet girl, tell me everything. How is Billings House?" For a brief moment, Ariana heard something in
her mother's voice lift. She heard hope. Hope, and the sound of a doctor being paged in the background.
"Good, Mom. Really great." Ariana searched her mind for something to tell her mother that would make her
happy. She had a feeling that her recent existential crisis concerning the loss of her virginity wasn't that
something. "And things are going great with Daniel. We're leaving on Tuesday for Vermont."
"That's right!"
Ariana could hear the unfamiliar sound of a smile in her mother's voice. She rolled over to her side, glancing
back at the photo of the two of them, and the tears surfaced again. The white Christmas lights around her
window blurred together. "The lodge where we're staying is supposed to be really incredible," Ariana said,
letting a single tear slip down her cheek. "Apparently the vice president stays there every year." She couldn't
believe she was regurgitating the same boring stories Daniel had lulled the entire table to sleep with the night
before. But she knew that these stories were exactly the kinds of stories that her mother lived for. "Oh, you're
going to have such a fabulous time. Be sure to tell Daniel I said hello. And Dr. and Mrs. Ryan. Be sure to give
them my best as well."
"I will, Mom." Ariana closed her eyes and forced her voice to stay steady. "But I'm going to miss coming
home this year. Are you sure you don't want me to change my plans and fly down to Atlanta?"
"No, no," her mother said, too quickly. "Don't be ridiculous. You go with Daniel. I want you to go. You
know I've always liked him so much." She paused. "I'm so proud of you, Ariana. So happy for you. You have
everything I've always wanted you to have ...everything I didn't get to have." "I know. I just don't want you
to be alone." Ariana bit her lip. "Promise you'll call me if you need anything? I don't know how great my cell
service will be in the mountains, but-" "Oh, for heaven's sake, Ariana, I'll be fine!" Her laugh was strained.
There was a brief pause and the sound of muffled voices. "I have to get off the phone now," she said. "I'll talk
to you soon, sweetheart." "Okay. Love you, Mom. And congratulations on going home. Wish I could be there
with you to celebrate." "Love you too, baby." Her eyes still closed, Ariana held the phone to her ear long after
the line went dead.
DISCRETION
***"How is it always colder in here than it is outside?" Ariana murmured as she followed Paige, Isobel, and
Noelle through the arched doors of Easton's chapel the next morning. A shiver ran down her spine, and she
tightened the sash on her white wool coat. Growing up in Georgia, she had never experienced the kind of cold
that dominated the school year in Connecticut. It was a biting, relentless cold that seeped straight through to
the bone and held on tight. No matter how many scarves and hats and coats Ariana acquired, she had yet to
find a way to protect herself from it.
"I don't have time for this," Paige snapped. "My Louis Vuittons aren't going to pack themselves."
"Don't worry. It should be a short one," Isobel assured Paige, shaking out her glossy black hair after
removing her wool slouch hat. "You'll be back to Louis before he has time to miss you."
Headmaster Cox had called the special morning assembly to discuss campus protocol during winter break.
Unlike Paige, Ariana was grateful for the distraction. She needed a break from looking at her blank laptop
screen and worrying about her mom. Her mom, who would be home alone in just a matter of hours.
It was dark inside the chapel, thanks to the stained glass, which let in only a smidgen of the gray sky outside.
The lamps that flickered around the lectern were the only sources of light in the room. Ariana hugged herself
as she followed Noelle to the junior pews near the center of the chapel, parting ways with Isobel and Paige,
who, as seniors and Billings Girls, took seats of privilege in the very last row. Easton was riddled with such
small reminders of rank. Rituals that kept everything, everyone, in the appropriate place. Ariana slid into a
seat next to two other Billings Girls in her class, Leanne Shore and Natasha Crenshaw, shooting them both a