So Damn Beautiful (A New Adult Romance) (4 page)

She tossed back her dark hair and laughed.
“No way. Sororities are so 2010! But old money? Now, that never
dies!”

Despite myself, I giggled. I could somewhat
appreciate Kendra’s simultaneous contempt and opportunism when it
came to rubbing shoulders with the hoi polloi of NYU. Besides, as
allergic as she seemed to the books that I had strewn all over the
dorm room, I had to admit that she had proven herself to be just as
ambitious as I was, albeit in a completely different way.

“Kendra, I wish you knew some interesting
gallery owners you could introduce me to. I’m not really into the
whole college-party thing,” I mumbled, as I grabbed my toothbrush
and walked over to the teeny sink in our room.

“Trust me, I’m working on it. And, contrary
to what you think, frats are, like, less than six degrees from some
of those artsy bigwigs. It’s not about the scene you run in here,
lady—it’s about this!” She rubbed her fingers together in the
universal gesture for greed and money.

I frowned as I turned on my Spinbrush.
Sometimes, admittedly, it was hard to think that most of the world,
and definitely the academic one I was a part of, operated on
economics rather than homegrown family values. Most of my tuition
was being paid for by scholarships, grants, and the money my mom
had scrounged up from a bunch of night-shift waitressing jobs she’d
taken on over the years to make sure there was enough money for
college.

Who did Chase Adams think he was, accusing me
of being a privileged princess? If only he knew the truth—that my
dad had walked out on me and Mom when I was still in diapers, and
that while I had grown up mostly on TV dinners and babysitters,
she’d been working herself to the bone to make sure I’d never end
up in the same position as she: poor, uneducated, and completely
without support. I definitely wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my
mouth, but I didn’t see a point in being all rebellious and
resentful about it, either.

“People like Chase Adams just need to grow
the fuck up!” I exclaimed, after rinsing my mouth out and spitting
into the sink.

“Huh?”

Oops. I’d forgotten Kendra was still
there.

“Um, nothing, I just . . .”

“OMG, Annie! Are you still obsessing over
that asshole? After the shit he said to us?”

“I’m not obsessing. It’s just . . . why did
he think he had the right to lambast me for being some rich and
prissy college girl? I mean, I’ve told you about my background,
Kendra. It wasn’t all dairy farms and cornfields, the way most
people seem to think, but it wasn’t exactly glamour and glitz,
either. I worked really hard to get to where I am today!” Despite
myself, I could feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

Kendra walked over and put a hand awkwardly
on my back. “Annie, don’t take it too personally. Guys like Chase
feel they have something to prove because they’re ultimately
insecure dumbasses. I mean, if he wasn’t fighting with you over the
legitimacy of art institutions versus street art, I’m sure he’d be
in some pissing contest with someone else over . . . I don’t know,
dick size or something!”

Despite myself, I had to giggle. I turned
around and enveloped my friend in a giant hug. “Thanks, Kendra. I
really needed a laugh.”

“No problem, girl. But seriously, it’s
cutthroat out there. If you’re gonna get all sensitive over the
words of shitheads like Chase, just know there will be way more to
contend with when you’re duking it out with heiresses like
Elsie.”

“I’m not worried about Elsie. Like my mom
always told me, and now Ms. Blake, the only person I’m in
competition with is myself.”

Kendra snorted. “That’s . . . sweet and all,
but we both know it isn’t true. Have you seen the way Elsie shoots
daggers at you in art class? She knows you’re competition, and if
you don’t stand your ground and put her in her place, she’s totes
going to eat you for lunch.”

“Way to help me get my day started, Ken!” I
stuck my tongue out at her as I rummaged through my closet for
something cute and autumnal to wear.

“I’m telling you because I love you. Now, are
you coming with me tonight or not?”

“Tonight? Oh, you mean to the Henderson
Rivers thing?”

“Harrison Waters!”

“Okay, okay! I have some midterms I need to
study for, but I guess it won’t hurt to stop by for a few
minutes.”

Kendra slipped past me and grabbed a soft
green shift dress that had been on its hanger since I’d first
bought it. “I like this one a lot—doesn’t really seem like your
style. No pearl buttons or pockets!”

I fake-punched her arm. “As we all know,
clothes make the girl, and I want people like Professor Claremont
to know I’m serious about getting ahead—and I mean
far
ahead—in my time here.”

Kendra rolled her eyes. “So you’re going to
dress up like a faux librarian? Get with the times, girl! Besides,
if you want to stand out, you’ve got to show off that killer
waist.” She tossed the green dress on the bed. “I’m serious—at
least, if you want to be seen with me tonight.” She winked at me
and headed out the door before I could deliver a smart retort.

I looked at myself in the full-length mirror
on my closet door as I put the dress up against my body. Sucking in
my cheeks, I considered myself. I’d always thought I was pretty
cute, but I was here because of my brains, not because I looked hot
in a little dress. Still, as I smoothed the soft, thin material
down against my body, I imagined the heads of every guy in that
frat house turning when I walked into the room tonight. I closed my
eyes and could practically see it . . .

“Chase Adams, you may be the jerk of the
century, but these guys will eat their hearts out when they see me
tonight!”

While
Kendra had promised something that sounded like a cross between a
spring-break rager and an elegant cocktail party with plenty of
eligible (and, might I add, rich and well-connected) bachelors,
there were no kegs or hors d’oeuvres in sight. Clusters of college
girls and boys were scattered throughout various parts of the Sigma
Phi Kappa house, an opulent Grecian space (with pillars and
everything) that sprawled over a sizable span of trendy Bleecker
Street. People seemed to know each other very well, and, despite
the fact that Kendra was Miss Social, nobody’s head turned when we
walked in.

As we scoped out the massive foyer, Kendra
quipped, “Well, I guess people are at the local watering hole. It’s
New York City, after all. The Greek life ain’t all that bumping
around here, you know?”

I tugged self-consciously at my green dress,
which was a little shorter than I’d remembered. “Are you kidding
me? Kendra, I have a curatorship essay I could have been working
on! You told me this was
the
party of the year, and now
you’re changing your tune?”

Kendra rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic,
Annie. I didn’t say we had to hang out all night, remember? I just
wanted a chance to talk to Harrison one on one, because he’s
supposedly very well connected. And I may not be gunning for a
museum internship, but you’re not the only one looking out for your
future, you know!”

I instantly felt bad. Kendra had been kind
enough to listen to me go on and on about all my trials and
tribulations over the last several weeks. She’d been the one who’d
suggested we check out the local scene, mainly because she knew how
important it was for me to get on Professor Claremont’s good side.
And while that hadn’t worked out too well, given our run-in with
Chase, Kendra had been unimaginably patient. I didn’t know too many
people who could manage that. Even my friends from high school, who
were sweet, generally got glazed-over eyes whenever I tried to talk
about art.

Perhaps that’s why, over the last few weeks,
I’d come across so many people who made fun of small towns in
middle America. It was a bit of a culture shock to me, but I
definitely sensed that the part of me that had always felt like an
outsider in Apple Creek, Ohio, was right at home in New York City.
Kendra was smart and sassy and worldly; I felt genuinely lucky to
have her as my roommate, and I wanted her to know that.

“Kendra, I’m sorry for being such a brat.
You’ve been so supportive of me, and I . . .”

Her eyes widened. “Oh no, silly! I’m not
upset with you! Seriously! I mean, besides, if I want to be truly
successful in the PR world, I need to learn how to work with all
types—even the overly cerebral, artsy ones!”

That was the moment Harrison Waters walked
over. Or at least that’s who I imagined he was. He was one of those
guys who look exactly like their name. Tall, tan, and wearing
clothes that made him seem like he’d stepped straight out of a
J.Crew catalog (casually rumpled chinos and a plain, midnight blue
T-shirt that still managed to look expensive), Harrison had bronze
hair that was both coiffed and messy (kind of like a less pasty
version of Robert Pattinson), deep-brown eyes, and a chiseled face
that made him look like a generic cartoon version of a Greek god.
Not that he wasn’t handsome—he was just as hot as Kendra had
described him—but there was something . . . muted about his brand
of hotness. No secret smoldering behind those brown eyes, no
swagger in his step. He was in every way the exact person I’d
imagined when Kendra had told me about him.

I felt almost guilty, sizing up the guy
before he’d even had a chance to open his mouth, but, for some
inexplicable reason, I found myself comparing him with . . . Chase
Adams. Supernaturally gorgeous, obviously dangerous, and completely
maddening Chase Adams.

What the hell is wrong with me?
I
thought to myself as I attempted to smile, even though my lips felt
like they were glued together.

Harrison was holding bottles of beer, which
he offered to Kendra and me. “Kendra, so great to see you. Thanks
for coming.” He turned to me, and his smile widened. “And, hello,
uh—”

“This is Annie Green, my roommate. Thanks so
much for having us, Harrison!” They hugged briefly, as if they’d
known each other for years.

“Yes, uh, it’s great to be here,” I said, as
I took his hand and shook it somewhat stiffly.

“You’re both freshmen, right?”

“Yeah, but the way Annie hits the books,
you’d think she was studying for the GRE or something,” Kendra
laughed and nodded at me, her head cocked a bit and her eyes
narrowed, as if we were sharing a private joke.

Uh-oh
, I groaned inwardly. When Kendra
made silly jokes that were meant to deflect attention from her to
other people, it was usually either because she was cutting them
down, Valley girl–style, or because she was trying to set them
up.

I looked at Harrison Waters, and from the
attentive expression on his face, I realized that Kendra’s outing
me about my nerd status wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Damn, she’s good!
I thought.

“So, are you, like, biochem or something?” he
asked me.

“No, I’m art history.”

“Art history? I didn’t realize that major
required making a lot of social sacrifices.”

Harrison looked so much like a Ken doll,
plastic and perfect, that I realized he was kidding only when
Kendra started laughing—a little too hard, in my humble
opinion.

“Well, since I was a little girl, I’ve always
wanted to be a curator, and this is one of the only schools in the
country that offers freshmen a foot in the door with major
internships, so I figure that I probably need to work my ass off
when it comes to the competition.”

I felt a little foolish being placed on the
spot and talking about my ambitions at a frat party, but Harrison
seemed genuinely interested.

“It’s really cool that you’re so enthusiastic
about what you’re majoring in. Most of the underclassmen I know
have no clue what they’re going to end up doing. It’s always been
my philosophy that you come to places like NYU to find out about
your passions, rather than getting frozen into some idea of what
they should be.”

I contemplated that for a second. It was true
I sometimes wondered if I was selling myself short by not exploring
things that peripherally fascinated me: botany, astrophysics,
anthropology, perhaps. But ever since my mother had taken me to the
Cleveland Museum of Art when I was a kid, and I’d walked around
marveling at luminous pieces by artists like Gauguin, Picasso, and
Turner, I had been hooked. I had never thought of myself as having
much talent myself as an artist, but it had always been my dream to
be able to collect art, sell art, and bring people together so they
could celebrate the beauty that humans are capable of creating.

For me, it seemed a lot nobler a job than,
say, local politics.

“What’s your major, Harrison?”

“Political science,” he replied. I
cringed.

“Is that a passion of yours? Politics?”

“No, not really, but that’s what my dad
majored in. He’s kind of my role model.” At that, Harrison laughed,
almost a bit uncomfortably. “I know that’s cheesy, but I feel like
everything I know to be true comes from my dad. So I guess I always
thought I’d follow in his footsteps, you know?”

Kendra tried to sound casual when she said,
“And what are those footsteps, Harrison?” I guess in between
classes, a pedicure, and Zumba classes, Kendra hadn’t had much time
to snoop into Harrison’s background.

“Tobacco farming, actually.”

I was taken aback. “But I thought you were a
New Yorker. That doesn’t seem very . . . New York.”

“Actually, my mom’s side of the family is
from New York, but my dad’s from Illinois, and the business has
been around for four generations,” Harrison explained. “Go
figure—nobody in our family actually smokes, but I guess irony goes
hand in hand with our line of work.”

High-pitched girls’ laughter echoed across
the cavernous hall. I looked around. The room had begun to fill up,
and people were now pouring into other pockets of the massive frat
house. At that point, Kendra made it a point to dig into her clutch
for her iPhone. As she glanced at the screen, she said a little too
loudly, “Oh my, excuse me, guys. I really need to take this.” As
she leaned over to faux-kiss my cheek, she whisper-hissed in my
ear, “Tobacco? Ew! He’s all yours. Go get him, tiger!” Then she
sauntered off to some other part of the house. I could already hear
her greeting another group in a distant corner of the foyer as I
was left alone with Harrison.