Second Thoughts (12 page)

“Mandi, go wherever you were going,” I told her. “Amy's sorry.”

“The hell I—” Amy started to say, but I squeezed her shoulder. Hard. She turned her angry glare on me, but thankfully she did shut up.

“Amy's sorry,” I repeated. “Now go ahead.” I smiled at Mandi and nodded toward anywhere that wasn't right here.

“Thanks, Lainey,” she replied, her words dripping with faux-sincerity, before she slipped past me to leave. But not before she gave Amy one more sly grin and added, “Caleb is probably wondering why I'm late for our study date.”

That answered one question, at least.
I'd
wondered where the boy in question was during this altercation, since we'd just been in the same testing group a few minutes prior. I threw my arm around Amy's shoulder and headed us in the opposite direction of Mandi, toward the athletic fields and the other side of campus from our dorm. I could
practically feel the disappointment wafting off the gathered students. Too bad.

After a few steps, Amy shoved me away. “Thanks, Lainey,” she said in a mocking imitation of Mandi. Her voice was colder than I'd ever heard it directed at me. I didn't like it, but I was angry too.

“I'm sorry, Ame, but what'd you want me to do? And actually, what were
you
doing? I swear you were going to hit her. In front of that whole group!”

“I don't know!” she shouted back and then she started to cry. I stopped, stunned, and put my arm back around her. Amy was fiery and dramatic on a regular basis, but this was something different. This was almost hysterical. “I don't know,” she repeated on a sniffle. “Something about that girl just makes me crazy. And she won't leave Caleb alone! He even talks about her. ‘Did you know Mandi blah blah blah?' Like I care what Mandi Worthing-twit did or said. I swear, he spends more time with her than with me lately.”

I sighed, and for approximately the millionth time, wished I could tell Amy about the Sententia. Hell, I wished I could tell Caleb too. It would make all our lives so much easier. But I couldn't, not without facing the inevitable wrath of Headmaster Stewart, and I really didn't want to risk that. On top of that, I didn't know what game Mandi was playing or how much of this problem was in Amy's head. I didn't trust Mandi as far as I could toss her tiny butt, but I also spent plenty of time around Caleb and couldn't remember him mentioning her even once.

Whatever was really going on, what I needed to do right then was calm my roommate down. “That's not true,” I said gently. “He's just her tutor; it's his job, Ame, four hours a week, just like the rest of us.”

“Six,” she reminded me, and she was right. Caleb did extra work hours along with his dorm duties as part of his free room and board. Still, he didn't spend all six hours with one student and I said so.

Amy sniffled again and, in the most un-Amy move ever, wiped her nose on the sleeve of her wool sweater. “You're right,” she said. “I don't know what's wrong with me. But I do hate that girl. I know that much.”

I gave her shoulders another squeeze and turned us around, heading back toward Marquise House and the rest of civilization. It was windy and cold out on the soccer fields. “That's fine,” I told her. “You don't have to like her; you just can't go around threatening her. You're not losing Valedictorian over Mandi Worthington. Even if MIT wouldn't care.
You
would, and I would too. And so would Caleb.”

Her eyes started to water again, and she swiped at them angrily. Not knowing what else to do—I'd never seen my roommate so off balance—I grabbed her hand for comfort. “Ugh, Caleb,” she said. “I'm sure he's hearing all about this right now.”

“Probably,” I agreed. “But he loves you, crazy and all. You'll apologize and then you'll make up. It's what you guys do.” I squeezed her hand again and changed the subject. “So anyway, what's the story about Alexis behind the Chapel?”

L
ATER THAT NIGHT
, I asked Carter, “Have you ever visited the Cove?” and it caused exactly the reaction I hoped it would. He stopped and stared at me, hand hanging in the air where it had pushed open the door to his room. Hopefully he forgot how he'd just caught me poking through his nightstand.

“The Cove?” he said, a slightly strangled quality to his voice. I was standing now, hiding the drawer I'd just hastily closed. I smiled, put a hand on my hip and licked my lips. His eyes flicked between the movements as growing interest lit his features.

“Yeah. Amy told me about it this afternoon.”
Kneeler's Cove
was apparently a little, well, alcove in the outer walls of the Chapel where kids went to fool around. Carter stepped farther into the room, his bright
blue eyes flashing dark as he Thought the door behind him all the way closed. The little click of the latch felt very loud.

“Is this an invitation?” He took another step toward me, and another.

“Have you ever gone before?” I countered. Right in front of me now, Carter leaned in closer,
closer,
until I fell back on the bed and he trapped me there.

“No.”

“Why not?”

He was propped on his forearms, leaning over me, just barely touching the length of my body with his. Our lips were close enough to kiss if either of us bridged the last little distance.

“Because it's a place you only go with Academy girls. So. Are you inviting me, my Academy girl?”

I licked my lips again. “Maybe.”

And then the distance was gone and he was kissing me.
Serious
kissing, the kind that means business. The kind that leads to other things. Like T-shirts landing on the floor and hands and lips on skin.

“Lainey?”

“Yeah?” He kissed my shoulder, the hollow of my throat. Every nerve in my body wished he wasn't talking.

“Rain check on the Cove tonight.”

I ran my fingers down his back. Lower, dipping below his waistband. He inhaled one quick breath, like a gasp. “This is more comfortable anyway.”

Comfortable, and
dangerous.
With every kiss and touch, I was losing clothes and restraint. I hadn't wanted to visit the Cove anyway. Privacy seemed so much sexier to me than cold stone walls and the chance of getting caught. I didn't want to be caught. I wanted
Carter.
Here, in his room, just the two of us, I had nothing
but
Carter. I could have all of him.

Maybe I would.

“Lainey?” he said again, lips brushing my ear and down my neck. I wished they would keep going.

“Yeah?” My voice was nothing but eager breath. It sounded…hopeful to me. Like tonight, I wanted him to ask. If he asked, I thought I wouldn't say no.

“What were you looking for in my drawer?”

SHIT.
I'd been ignoring how I'd
already
been caught tonight. I tensed, which meant he tensed too, the muscles in his back bunching beneath my fingers. Carter was nothing if not expert at reading my signals. Even when I wasn't sure I meant them.

“Nothing.” The word burned like ice, numbing my lips, while a deeper chill spread across my overheated skin. Why was reality always so cold?

“Nothing?” he said, still tense, waiting for me to relax. To say stop, or go. I knew what he thought—hoped—I was looking for and had found. I
should
have just said,
“These,”
and pulled out the package of condoms I'd known were there anyway, just in case or for whenever I was ready.

But I wasn't ready, not anymore. I'd said a year, and this wasn't my plan. Most of my body was screaming
to HELL with your stupid plan!
and if Carter hadn't just asked that question—the wrong question—I might have listened.

“Nothing. I'm s-sorry,” I breathed. The plan was safe.

Carter rolled off me, his weight gone like it hadn't even been there. I shivered. Next to me on the bed, he stared at the back of his eyelids while doing what I suspected was the same yoga breathing he always made fun of me for. I'd really been looking for something—
anything—
connected to his father's death, because in weeks of trying I hadn't found a single damn thing in the rest of the house.

“I'm sorry,” I repeated. I went about retrieving and righting clothes before trying to sit back down as if I were no heavier than a feather. But the bed tilted under me and, worse, squeaked, practically announcing my return with a bullhorn. Carter still hadn't moved.

After another few deep breaths, he said, “Have you lost something? What are you looking for?” His eyes were still closed.

“I…” I faltered. What could I say?
No,
you've
lost something, your father, and I'm trying to figure out what happened.
I couldn't say that. Or
No, I
haven't
lost something—my virginity. It's right here, and I'm afraid to let it go.
Carter knew that. Boy, did he know that. I wanted to cry, or crawl into a cave and hide.

“Because the other day it seemed like you were randomly searching the kitchen, and then today—” He paused for another deep breath. “So I think you must have lost something, but why won't you just tell me what it is?”

“I'm sorry.”

“Fuck.”
He sat up, fast, running his fingers through his hair and across his face. “Stop apologizing.”

“I—” was going to do it again. Instead, I swallowed, while my brain shouted at me,
Lie, Lainey, lie! Come up with
something
for God's sake!
“I was looking for antiques.” Ah, my old fallback. “Or things original to the apartment. I was…curious.”

Carter looked at me, hard. His arms rested on his raised knees, hands clasped between them. “You were looking for antiques. In my nightstand.”

I cleared my throat and toyed with a piece of my messy hair. “Not exactly. It's all related though. I was trying to find ideas…for Christmas presents. You know?”

The hard look didn't change and I didn't blame him. Lying was not my strongest skill, not on the spot. “Did you find any? Ideas?”

“Not really. Except for the dining room set, and the sink, everything seems contemporary here.” Finally, a truth!

He stood, searching for his shirt as an excuse to pace. He might have been captivating when he smiled, but more than I cared to admit, I thought Carter was sexiest when he was angry. Tonight was no exception. He moved like an athlete, graceful and powerful, as he stalked across the room, eyes glinting and one hand scrubbing through his hair again. When he dipped to grab his T-shirt, I held my breath, watching with a painfully thumping heart as all the muscles in his broad shoulders down to his perfect stomach tensed and shifted in concert.

As he slipped it over his head, he said, “Aunt Mel remodeled when they moved back in.” After his father died. This explained why I'd touched basically
everything
in their apartment, but so far found nothing connected to the day of Mark Penrose's death. When he'd crossed the room several times, Carter paused and said, “I'm not coming next weekend.”

“What?!” I dropped the piece of my hair. We were supposed to be going to Baltimore and D.C. together to visit schools. And my aunt and Uncle Dan. We had that special dinner Dan had set up, and it would be Carter's first time on an airplane, and now I'd ruined it.

“I can't.”

“Carter, I'm
sorry—”

“No. It's not—
-fuck!”
He quit pacing and returned to the bed, punching down the pillow as he sat. “It's not that. Not you. Well, not really. I don't understand what's going on with you. But Uncle Jeff has to make a trip and I can't leave Aunt Mel alone with the store. I was going to tell you tonight.”

“Oh.” If I weren't feeling so miserable at the moment, I'd have been disappointed. Mostly I felt guilty. For everything.

“I'm sorry.”

I put my hand on his leg, just lightly. “It's okay.” He didn't move but to nod.

“Maybe it is,” he agreed. “Maybe it's good. You can figure out if you're going to tell me whatever you're not telling me.”

L
ainey!” Aunt Tessa was waving and practically running through the baggage claim area.

“Whoa, Auntie. Tone it down,” I said as I hugged her. Really though, I was excited to see her too. I told her I'd take a taxi from the airport but she insisted on picking me up herself.

She released me to arm's length and appraised me. “You look tired, sweetheart.”

I nodded. I was sure I did. The weight of so many secrets was keeping me awake at night. “School is so stressful this year,” is what I told her.

“Well, let's go get dinner and see if we can't help you relax.”

She took me to her favorite neighborhood place, a little Italian restaurant with paper tablecloths and the most amazing manicotti. Watching her during dinner, it was obvious she was happy, comfortable, and…home. She was back in Baltimore for the second time in as many years, though not in the same apartment as before my “migraines” took me to Northbrook and changed my whole world. The
major difference between the two places was that this one felt as close to permanent as I thought her life could get.

I was unsurprised when about halfway through dinner she finally told me she'd accepted a full-time position at the University for the next fall semester. In other words, the same time I'd be starting, if this is where I chose to go.

“I know I don't have to tell you this,” she said, “but I'd love nothing more than if you were here with me.”

Yes, I'd certainly known that without her telling me, but I appreciated hearing it all the same. I reached across the tablecloth and squeezed her hand. “That would scare a lot of kids
away
from a school, Auntie,” I said, and before her threat of a frown became real, I added, “but not me.”