Envy - 2 (2 page)

“I’m eating here, Rand,” she complained. “Can we keep the vomit-inducing comments to a minimum?”

Miranda shook her head in apology. “I’m sorry, it just slipped out. I’m a little off today.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal with that, Rand? I know why
I’m
climbing the wal s,” Harper whined, the image of a blissful Beth and Adam popping, unbidden, into her head. There had been a moment, back at the beginning of the school year, when she’d thought she had a chance. Especial y when, in a moment of weakness, Adam had turned his back on true love—

and slept with someone else. Just two little problems with that scenario. First, the “someone else” wasn’t Harper. Second, Beth had no idea that her perfect boyfriend had cheated on her. The golden couple was stil going strong, and Harper was stil out in the cold.

She noticed everything, every look, every touch that passed between Adam and the girl he thought he loved. Every day, it seemed, Harper was treated to an endless series of disgusting displays, her days at school transformed into a constant reminder of what she wanted and couldn’t have. And, since Adam lived next door, his bedroom window facing hers, her nights weren’t much of an improvement. Needless to say, these days she was a little off her game.

“Yeah, I know why my life sucks,” Harper said bitterly. “What’s wrong with yours?”

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” Miranda admitted.

“Kane?” Harper’s heart sank. Miranda hadn’t mentioned the local lothario in days, and Harper had hoped that this little chapter was over. No such luck, apparently.

“I know, I know, he’s out of my league,” Miranda complained.

“No, you know that’s not true,” Harper assured her. But it was a halfhearted protest. Kane Geary was handsome, cocky, a consummate asshole—and had privately confirmed for Harper that the Miranda thing was a no go. He had his sights set on someone else. It hadn’t come as a huge surprise. Miranda was many things—smart, caustic, funny, and at least a seven or eight on the ten point scale—but she wasn’t some gorgeous bimbo who would strip down to her thong in a wink of Kane’s eye. And as far as Kane was concerned, that pretty much took her out of the running.

“No, it’s true. He’s out of my league,” Miranda insisted. “But I’ve been thinking.” She grinned, and her voice took on the same “can do” bravado it had had back in fifth grade when she’d convinced Harper they should start their very own babysitter’s club. Harper issued a silent groan. That plan hadn’t worked either.

“It’s time for a New Miranda Stevens,” she continued. (Harper could hear the capital
N
in her voice.)

“Uh, do I get a vote?” Harper asked, raising her hand in protest. “Because I like the old Miranda.”

“Are you six feet tal with dark brown eyes, washboard abs, and a kil er smile?”

Harper rol ed her eyes.

“Then no,” Miranda confirmed. “You don’t get a vote. So here’s what I’m thinking….”

Harper sighed as Miranda began to outline a self-improvement strategy that included hair, makeup, fashion, body, and personality makeovers, and so much detail Harper was surprised it wasn’t accompanied by a PowerPoint presentation. Was she supposed to tel her best friend to give it up, that Kane would never be interested in her? Or that the “someone else” Kane was after was Beth? Was she supposed to admit that she’d secretly agreed to help Kane get Beth, if he would help her get Adam? Should she tel her best friend in the world

that she’d basical y screwed her over and made a pact with the devil, that al was fair in love and war, and Miranda would just have to deal?

Yeah, that would go over real y wel .

“So, are you in?” Miranda asked.

“What?” Harper could tel by the self-satisfied grin on Miranda’s face that while she’d been zoned out in guilt land, the lengthy presentation had final y come to a close.

“Wil you help? With the New Miranda?”

“I told you, I kind of like the old one,” Harper hedged.

“Harper! Have you been listening to anything I’ve said? I need to do this if I’m ever going to get Kane to notice me—and you
swore
you’d help me get together with him.”

“I remember,” Harper said. And she did. The promise echoed in her ears every time she saw Miranda, and it faded just as quickly every time she saw Beth wrap her tentacles around Adam. She needed Kane’s help on this one—more, apparently, than she needed Miranda’s trust.

Though maybe if she played things right, she could get both.

“Besides,” Miranda wheedled, “you’re my best friend. This is what you’re here for. If I can’t count on you, who can I count on?” Good question.

“Where are we going?” Heather giggled. At least, he thought her name was Heather.

“Shh. I told you, it’s a surprise!” Kane whispered as they crept down the empty hal s of the high school, deserted now that the last of the after school meetings had disbanded and al the teachers had climbed into their dismal cars and driven home to their dismal lives. Kane supposed that there were those who wouldn’t see the point of sneaking
into
school—

but some people just didn’t have any vision.

“What if we get caught?” Heather whispered.

Kane grinned and gave her a quick peck on the lips. It was a sexy whisper, nothing like the shril screeching that passed for her regular voice. She had an amazing body, a passable face, but that voice—it could make your ears bleed. Kane suspected that after today’s little adventure, it would be time to show Heather the door. Unless he wanted to make il egal trespassing a constant theme of their dating life. Which, come to think of it, had some possibility….

“We won’t get caught,” he promised her. “And if we do, I’l take al the blame.”

She giggled again. “My hero.”

They stopped abruptly in front of an unmarked door and Kane pul ed out a key similar to the one he’d used to get them into the building.

“Where did you—?”

He put a finger to her lips, then silenced her with another kiss.

“The master never reveals his secrets,” he explained. “Don’t ask—just enjoy.” He pushed open the doors and ushered her down the stairs to the dark and deserted boiler room.

Heather clung to him in fear and admiration as he made his way around the room by memory, setting up the candles and mohair blanket he’d brought along.

“Voilà!” he final y said in triumph. Soft candlelight lit up the room. It was a romantic getaway, of sorts—and it was clearly enough for Heather.

For all the Heathers of the world
, Kane thought. It always was. And he was getting a little tired of it. He’d always looked down on the guys at school with steady girlfriends,
relationships
. Suckers, he’d thought. Tying themselves down to one girl, being responsible, being trapped, and for what? A guaranteed date on Valentine’s Day? A constant ego boost?

A steady source of blow jobs?

Kane had al that already. And without al the whining, complaining, and demanding that seemed to come along with having a girlfriend.

On the other hand, lately, when he looked at Adam and Beth together, when he saw the way she looked at him, held him, Kane wondered. Was he missing out? Was it possible that Adam had stumbled onto something better? Kane didn’t believe there was anything out there better than the life he’d crafted for himself. But he had to be sure, because if there was, he would do whatever was in his power to have it.

In the meantime he’d have no trouble finding something, or someone, to occupy his time….

Heather wrapped her body around him, running her fingers through his hair.

“You’re amazing,” she whispered, kissing his ear, his neck, his chest.

Kane let her pul his shirt over his head and watched in appreciation as her pert breasts, tucked into a red satin bra, made an appearance, accompanied by a tan, taut stomach and slender, perfect legs. Then she pressed against him again, her hands massaging their way down his back—and he had other things to appreciate.

“You’re total y amazing,” she repeated.

“Yeah—I know.”

Kaia took a long sip of her vodka tonic and stretched out along the shal ow bench of the Jacuzzi, her long, jet black hair fanned out along the marble edge. She closed her eyes and moaned in appreciation as the jets pummeled her muscles and al of her stress melted away into the steaming water.

Not that she had much to be stressed about. Stress required caring what happened, wanting something, worrying about something,
doing
something—and none of that posed much of a problem in the lame exercise in smal town boredom that passed for her life these days. No, any stress she’d had was left behind in New York, along with her friends, her boyfriends, her uncaring bitch of a mother, and her Saks Fifth Avenue credit card. Al this apathy was probably doing wonders for her complexion—too bad there was no one around to see.

“Need a refil , Ms. Sel ers?” the maid asked cautiously.

“No thanks, Alicia,” Kaia said sweetly. It was useful to be nice—sometimes—to the help. After al , she didn’t think her father—if he ever came back from his latest business trip

—would appreciate hearing that she’d drunk her way through half his liquor cabinet. Right now it was her and Alicia’s little secret, and Kaia intended it to stay that way.

It was a good thing, too, because if it weren’t for the Jacuzzi and the booze, and the satel ite TV, she’d go crazy out here.

Ever since her mother had shipped her out to the middle of nowhere, claiming that a year at her father’s house in the desert would do wonders for her character, life had become one long, uninterrupted stretch of tedium. While her mother was taking ful advantage of her new childless state, whoring around New York’s spas, sales, and singles bars like a middle-aged Hilton sister, Kaia was stuck here in this scorching hot ghost town, making nice with the low-rent losers who made up the local teen scene. She’d caught only the occasional glimpse of her father, who’d claimed he was delighted to have her, then promptly left town, returning to his desert McMansion and his delinquent daughter for a few hours each week before getting the hel out again.

Kaia couldn’t blame him. If she had the cash, she’d head for the hil s (or better, L.A., only a six-hour drive away) and never look back.

But Daddy Dearest had sliced through al her credit cards, so she was stuck. Now that she’d proven to herself that she could bed the two hottest guys in school—and for such a smal and pathetic school, they were pretty damn hot—she was fresh out of ideas. Adam Morgan, with al of his supposed virtue and loyalty, hadn’t been much of a chal enge, but the payoff had been fun, though not as much fun as watching his puppy dog face crumble when she’d blown him off a heartbeat later. Kane, on the other hand, had been no chal enge at al , but that’s not to say he didn’t have his merits….

But now it was only October, and she was already bored. Again. What next? Storm the “popular crowd” and get voted homecoming queen? Rededicate herself to last month’s quest of screwing—and then screwing over—the dashing French teacher who seemed to think he was too good for her? Snag one of her father’s credit cards and get the hel back to New York?

Kaia let her head sink under the water for a moment and then burst back above the surface, the cool desert air stinging her dripping face. She was too blissful y comfortable right now to worry about tomorrow, or the next day. She was sure that eventual y she’d manage to find herself some interesting trouble.

She always did.

Adam brushed Beth’s blond hair out of her face and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead. This time when he climbed out of bed and began to hunt around for his clothes, she made no move to pul him back down. It was too bad; things were so much easier when they were kissing instead of talking.

Then he didn’t have to worry about al the things he wasn’t al owed to say, things that kept threatening to spil from his lips. Things like, say, “I slept with Kaia.” Every time he opened his mouth, he feared the confession would pop out. Part of him just wanted it out in the open. Anything to be free of al this crushing guilt.

And, of course, when they were in the midst of hooking up, they were also relieved of the burden of not talking about the reason they always
stopped
hooking up. It was the only time they could, for once, ignore their biggest problem: sex—or the lack thereof.

It had been bad enough this summer, when it seemed like he couldn’t say anything right, when Beth assumed sex
was
al he wanted and seemed to silently hate him for it.

Almost as much as he hated himself … because sometimes it felt like sex was al he wanted. But ever since the dance at the beginning of the school year, things had, on the surface, been much better—and beneath the surface, where it counted, much, much worse.

It was al a little hazy for him, but from what he could piece together from his drunken, fragmented memory of the night, Beth had decided that she was ready to sleep with him—

and he’d passed out. When he awoke, sometime early the next morning, she was staring at him in disgust and wouldn’t say a word.

They hadn’t talked about it then, or the next day, or any time afterward. She had never brought it up. And he had never apologized.