Envy - 2 (24 page)

It was a five-hour ride back home, and she had nothing to do but curl up in the dark, wide awake, and contemplate the misery of her own existence.

Good thing she had enough material to last her the rest of the night.

They rode home on the van together, side by side, hand in hand. Adam had decided he was in no shape to ride on the rowdier fan bus with most of the team. As the van pul ed onto the road, he wrapped an arm around Harper, pul ing her close, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. She snuggled up against him, her head on his chest, and listened to his heart, beating in time with the gentle rocking of the van.

She felt so warm, so safe with him by her side. And the taste of him was stil on her lips—she’d waited so long for him to look at her like that, to hold her like that. Which had made it al the harder to push him away. Even harder than it had been to watch him in al that pain, to watch him raging against himself and the world and know that she could end it for him with just a few quick words—but that doing so would cost her everything. So she’d stayed silent, played the loyal and dutiful friend—and it had worked. Better, and faster, than she’d ever imagined.

It didn’t matter how she’d gotten here, she reasoned. Al that mattered was that she was here now, and she was close, so painful y close, to getting everything she wanted. She just had to be careful—she couldn’t rush it, couldn’t let him rush it. Patience, time—and then, the big payoff.

As the night wore on, a deep quiet settled over them. Harper closed her eyes and breathed in Adam’s closeness; in the quiet dark, it felt like they were al alone in the world.

Together. She leaned against him, her cheek resting on his chest, rising and fal ing with his steady breaths, slowly drifting off to sleep. After so much time and energy spent planning the next step, looking toward tomorrow, and the day after that, Harper had final y found herself in a moment she could enjoy for what it was, a moment she wished would last forever.

If only it could.

Adam awoke the next morning with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was as if, even before he was ful y awake, even before his mind had wrapped itself around the horror of the night before, his body had known that something was deeply, deeply wrong. When he’d staggered home last night at three a.m., a part of him had wanted to cal Beth, to drive over to her house, bang on the windows until she let him in, shake her until she admitted what she’d done.

He’d wanted to cal her last night, the moment he’d found out. But he’d stopped himself. It wasn’t because he was afraid he’d say something he shouldn’t—it was because he wanted to see her face, wanted her to be there right in front of him when he told her exactly what he thought of her. He didn’t want anything—not static, not some misplaced twinge of pity or forgiveness—to get in the way.

He knew that this moment, coming face-to-face with her, would be the hardest one to get through, that if he were going to crack, were going to buy the inevitable denial and tearful “have pity on me” routine, it would be then. But he also knew that if he could get through the encounter without breaking, he could be rid of her forever.

It was Harper who’d convinced him, who’d persuaded him to wait until he’d calmed down and his head was clear—or at least until morning. And now morning was here. A storm of anger was stil simmering just beneath the surface—he was almost afraid to pick up the phone. Once he released himself, once he let out al the emotion he’d been bottling up since the night before—he didn’t know how he’d stand it.

But he couldn’t do nothing. That would be worse.

So Adam rol ed out of bed and dialed the familiar number, suppressing his nausea and affecting a cheerful, innocent voice.

“I’m so happy you cal ed!” she said.

“I missed you!” she said.

“I can’t believe you won!” she said.

Adam choked out a few terse sentences. He was fine. He was tired. He wanted to see her.

“I want to see you, too!” she gushed. “I’m stuck at work al day, but tonight we’re going to Bourquin’s, for some last-minute studying. Meet me there?”
We?

Perfect.

Beth shifted her weight back and forth outside the coffee shop, then began to pace along the front of the restaurant. Kane waved at her through the glass window, and she gave him a weak smile.

She couldn’t wait for Adam to arrive. These last few days had been so confusing—her and Adam not speaking, Kane always underfoot, and then last night, in the park …

She just needed to see Adam again, soon, to talk to him, touch him, remind herself that he was real, that
he
was her life, that everything else was just—just misplaced emotion.

She’d been stressed, things had been weird between them for so long, but now it could al be over. The SATs were tomorrow morning, and after that, she promised herself, she’d stop.

Take a break from overachieving, just for a little while, take a break from the dutiful daughter routine, change her shifts around at the restaurant. She’d even promise not to see Kane again, if that’s what it took. She and Adam would have the chance, final y, to be together, to heal. One more night, and she’d be al his—she couldn’t wait to tel him.

Adam had spent the day cleaning out the garage, hoping to keep his mind off things. It was al he could do to keep from running down to the diner and confronting Beth—but he’d decided it would be better to wait. That night, she and Kane would be together. Which meant he could kil two birds with one very large stone.

For hours upon hours he had sorted through the junk in the garage, boxing up most of it to be taken down to the town dump. Just before taping up the last box, he’d slipped his new trophy inside, then closed the lid again. He didn’t need a reminder of the day before sitting on his shelf, mocking him. He didn’t need to remember how happy he’d been, how good he’d felt about himself and his life, before everything came crashing down. The trophy was nothing but garbage now—just like his relationship.

As the sun set Adam walked over to the coffee shop—it was a long way, but then, he had a lot of energy to burn. He saw her before she saw him. She stood just under the neon sign, her features lit softly by the bluish glow. Angelic, he might have thought, in a different life. She looked at her watch and began pacing. She was waiting for him—or maybe she was wondering how much time she’d have to waste on him before getting back to her secret lover.

Bile rose within him, and for a moment he thought he might be sick. But then he forced away the image of her and Kane (when he closed his eyes, he imagined them screwing everywhere—on her bed, in his car, in the locker room, on the basketbal court—her poison had tainted everything and everywhere in his life). He needed to be calm. Strong.

Things were going to get worse before they got better.

“Adam!” she cal ed, as soon as she spotted him approaching. “I’m so glad to see you—I missed you!” She ran over to give him a hug, but when she tried to kiss him, he turned his face away.

“Are you stil mad?” It seemed an unnecessary question. She’d been hoping that a couple days away had made him realize he had nothing to worry about, that she and Kane were just friends. And that was it, she thought, pushing away the memory of last night. That was it.

“Now, why would I be mad?” his voice sounded strange. Hard. “Did you and Kane have a good time without me?”

“It was horrible,” she lied. “Al we did was study. I’m so burnt out—I just need to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, I bet you do. I bet you’re
real
tired.”

“What?” What was he getting at?

“Just drop it, Beth,” he said harshly.

“What?”

“The innocent act. The little miss perfect shit. It’s tired, and I’m not buying it anymore.”

“What act? Why are you being like this?” She reached out a hand to him, but he shrugged it off, jerking away as if her touch burned.

“Don’t touch me,” he said sharply.

Beth took a step back. Her heart was thumping in her ears, and a sense of dread had settled over her.

“Adam, what’s going on?”

“I guess you thought I’d never figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” she asked.

“You must think I’m an idiot or something.”

“Of course I don’t—what are you—?”

“Just shut up already!” he roared. “I can’t stand it anymore. Stop looking at me like you give a shit, stop acting like you’re al confused, al pure and sweet and innocent—I know al about it, al about you and … him.”

He jerked his thumb toward the window of the coffee shop—Kane was inside, looking out with obvious concern.

“This again?” Beth asked, tears wel ing up at the corners of her eyes. “I told you, there’s nothing going on.”

“And I told
you
—I know everything. Kaia
saw
you, Beth. I guess you thought you’d be safe, but she saw you. And she told me everything.” Beth’s mind skidded across the last forty-eight hours—what could Kaia have seen? What could she have said to make him this angry? The night in the park, it had just been innocent. It might have looked … but it had been innocent. Completely. And besides—
Kaia
?

“Kaia? You’re yel ing at me because of something
Kaia
told you?” Beth asked incredulously. “Kaia’s a liar and a bitch, Adam, you’re the one who told me that. Why would you believe anything she has to say? Why would you believe her over me?”

“Oh,
Kaia’s
a liar?
Kaia’s
a bitch?” He forced a laugh. “That’s a good one, Beth. You know, I didn’t believe her either, not at first. I defended you—I defended your
honor
!” He laughed again, bitterly. “Good thing for her, she had
pictures
.”

Pictures? Beth’s heart leaped into her throat. What could there even be pictures of? They hadn’t even kissed. There had been one moment when—but no. Whatever she may have imagined doing,
nothing
had happened. Nothing.

“Adam, nothing happened,” she protested. “You’ve got to believe me. This is just a huge misunderstanding. If you’l just listen to me—”

“I’m done listening to you,” he snapped. “I’m done with your lies. Do you have any idea what it felt like? To see you with him? I should have turned last night with Harper into a Kodak moment for you, then maybe you could see how it feels.”

Beth, who already felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach, staggered back and had to lean against the wal for support.

“Harper? You and Harper?”

He looked surprised for a moment, as if not realizing he’d said it aloud. Then his face twisted into an ugly smile.

“That’s right, Harper. But why should you even care? I hope to hel you do.” He glared at her, and she couldn’t bring herself to look away. “I hope it hurts.” It was as if Adam had disappeared into the desert, and some heartless, unfeeling monster had returned in his place. Beth was reeling.

“So, what—you get a phone cal or something from
Kaia
, of al people, and then without even bothering to talk to me, you just jump into bed with someone else? What’s wrong with you?” she cried.

“You are
not
the victim here,” he spat. “So you can just knock off the tears. It’s not going to work.”

She lunged forward and grabbed both of his hands tightly in hers. If she could just make him stop for a minute. Think. Before throwing everything away.

“Adam, just wait—can we just—”

“Enough!” He shoved her backward, and she stumbled back against the wal . “Don’t touch me again, Beth. I mean it.” That was when she knew. It was over. This person, this thing in front of her who spit out al this hate and anger and venom, who took Kaia’s word over hers, who let Harper—

She couldn’t even think about it. Couldn’t even look at him.

“Just go, then, Adam,” she said wearily through her tears. “If that’s how you feel, why don’t you just go?”

“One more piece of unfinished business,” Adam replied, looking over her shoulder. She turned—Kane stood in the doorway.

“Everything okay out here?” he asked with concern.

“Hey, bro, everything’s just fine. Why don’t you come on out for a little talk?” Adam said heartily.