New Girl (11 page)

But if she wasn’t…what had happened? Blake had said something about a boat that went missing that night in the storm. Had Becca taken it out? She couldn’t have. It was pitch-black down there at night, and in a storm? She could have just called a cab, like Blake had said, on the payphone in the lobby and…left.

To make my brain strain more, I clicked on her pictures. I could only see a few, but they were enough. In the one she had set as her default, Max was kissing her on the cheek, and she was smiling. In the next few, she just looked pretty. She looked like she was
trying
to look pretty, but she was undeniably succeeding. All the comments on her pictures confirmed it.

A sudden jab of uncharacteristic jealousy struck me. She’d been new at Manderley last year. How had she managed to make so many friends here, made such an impact, while I was greeted with only hesitance quickly followed by disinterest? Madison and Julia made some kind of an effort with me, and Johnny was nice. Max was…something. Blake was nice, too, I guessed. But Dana…

There was only a handful of people I’d even talked to, and all of them—except maybe for Cam, who rarely spoke—seemed morbidly and irreversibly affected by Becca. They all knew her. It’s not like each of them talked only about her, but somehow that seemed more significant.

I don’t know what happened to me, then. I was depressed about being away from home and jealous of Becca one moment, and then the next, something shifted in me. It was as if my skeleton turned to iron—I was strong, and I would not have my happiness and fate decided by some popular girl who had reigned before I got there.

It wasn’t up to Becca or Dana how I lived my life.

CHAPTER NINE

BECCA LEANED ON MAX, WITH HER DRINK IN
hand. His arm was around her, tightened a little to keep her steady. He laughed at something Johnny said. Becca wasn’t really paying attention. She was watching the way Johnny’s muscles flexed when he moved his arms. He was too hot. But she couldn’t go for him. She’d already gotten the ungettable.

Well. Almost gotten him. Tonight was the night to seal the deal. Madison and Julia had given her sympathy and said “not to feel too badly about him not wanting to get together officially, because really he just never does that.”

Fuck that.

Becca’s eyes slid involuntarily up Johnny’s body and she flinched when she realized he was looking at her, too. She smiled and bit her bottom lip. Quickly she glanced up at Max, who had been taking a swig of his drink and didn’t notice.

“Max,” she said, readjusting her attention to him. “Let’s go outside.”

“Okay.”

Johnny had already turned away when Becca looked back.

She grabbed his hand. “Lead the way.”

Max guided her through the crowd, smiling and shaking his head at all of the “ooh’s” and “get it, Holloway!” as they passed by.

Once they were outside, she gave him the look that always made boys kiss her.

It worked. He laid a hand on her jawbone and pulled her toward him. He was a good kisser. She should want this. But she felt like something was missing with him. She kissed him harder, hoping she could forget the thoughts in her mind.

She pulled away and smiled slyly. Then she yanked his arm and guided him away from the door and into the darkness behind the boathouse.

He silently allowed her to take him there. Then, in the darkness where she could pretend he was anyone, she kissed him hard. He kissed her back. So he
was
capable of not kissing just like a Nice Guy. She scratched his back, and all the way around the waistband of his boxers, which were a little higher than his slightly loose pants. She unbuttoned his top button. She could feel that he wanted it. And she was going to give it.

His grip on her waist tightened. She bit his lip and unzipped his pants, slowly dropping to her knees. She ran her hands up and down his legs, and kissed the sharp muscles of his hip. Then she did it.

A few minutes later, her lips were pink and so were Max’s cheeks. She’d finished and then zipped and buttoned him back up.

“Becca…” Max said. He pulled her in toward him, and kissed her from her raw lips to her collarbone. Then he saw the look on her face. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said, as unconvincingly as she could.

“You’re obviously not…what’s wrong?”

She sighed, a tad theatrically. “Nothing…”

He looked her in the eyes and silently demanded an answer.

“I just…never do that sort of thing. And—” she intentionally let her breath quiver “—I just don’t want you to think I’m a slut.”

She’d used her sex appeal to get her anywhere she’d ever been in life so far. And this was not the first time she’d had this conversation.

“I don’t.”

“How could you
not?
I mean I’m not even your
girlfriend…
”

“I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She was worried about exactly that. She
wanted
him to spread around how fantastically talented she was at…stuff.

“I appreciate that. But I don’t care about what other people think. I care about what
you
think. And I want you to think I’m respectable.
God…
first we
did it
on my first night here, and now this? I’m so stupid.”

Becca ran a hand through her long hair, swooping it to one side.

“No, you’re not.”

“Why would you like me?” She put on her cute voice.

He shrugged. “I just do.”

That was not a good answer. She was used to guys falling at her feet and giving her laundry lists of reasons why they loved her.

She paused, and then tried to look sullen. “We just can’t do this again. We can’t do this until—I mean, unless we’re official. I just can’t live with myself.”

Becca watched him decide what his next move was.

“If that’s how you feel about it, I understand.”

She nodded. Dammit. He wasn’t going in for this.

Later that night, after Max had been too understanding and left her alone the rest of the night, Becca went up to her room to stumble out of her clothes and into a slip.

“You okay?” Dana asked from her bed.

Shut. Up.
That was all Becca wanted to say. But instead she held up a hand and gave thumbs-up, her other hand putting pressure on her throbbing head.

“Should I get you some water? I have some Excedrin.”

“Two.” She held out a hand again, without looking. She heard Dana scrambling up and out of her bed to get the bottle.

“Here,” said Dana, handing her a bottle of water and the pills.

“You don’t have any
cold
water?”

“No, sorry.”

Becca took the Excedrin. “Gimme another one.”

“Another what?”

“Pill.”

“You’re really only supposed to take two, I think.”

“Just
give
it to me,
Jesus.
You’re not my mother, so don’t baby me.”

“Fine, I’m sorry.” She put another pill in Becca’s extended palm.

Becca downed that one, too. “What are you, mad now?”

“No…?”

“Okay, then.”

“When was the last time you ate?” Dana asked sheepishly.

“Like…five hours ago.”

“What did you have?”

“A salad. Why are you—?”

“Because you’re not supposed to take that stuff on an empty stomach.”

That was probably true. She didn’t need to feel even sicker in the morning than she was already bound to.

“Fine.”

Becca threw on a sweatshirt and then walked down to the always-open dining hall in bare feet and no bra. She looked like hell, and really hoped she wouldn’t see anyone.

But of course, Johnny was sitting at a table in the middle of the hall, eating a sandwich.

He spotted her and smiled. “C’mere.”

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey. So where’d you and Max go off to earlier?”

“We were just talking.” She eyed him, and ran a finger through her hair. “Where were you? You were gone when we came back in.”

“Yeah, I mean the hottest girl at the party left, so I didn’t see why I should be there anymore.”

“Oh, yeah?” She smiled.

He nodded and took a sip of his Sprite.

“So are you and Max…”

“I’d have to be really stupid to go out with a guy already, wouldn’t I?” She didn’t want to think about how Max had rejected her earlier.

He shrugged. “Maybe. I think he likes you. He never talks about that kind of thing though.”

“I don’t care if he does.”

One bagel and the rest of Johnny’s Sprite later, he was walking her out of the dining hall. She suddenly didn’t want to go up to sleep yet. Her headache was already gone, and she had a second wind of energy gusting through her.

“Hey, what’s down that hallway?”

Johnny looked where she pointed. “Oh, that’s…the staff room and a bunch of the teachers’ offices.”

She smiled and marched down the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“Come on! I wanna see this ‘staff room.’”

He followed her. “You’re a crazy little girl, aren’t you?”

She pulled open the heavy wooden doors that led to the darkened hallway. He closed them after they walked through.

Becca turned and could feel she was inches from him. She felt the light that slipped through the crack in the doors hit her face. She narrowed her eyes at him and whispered, “I’m not a little girl.”

He gave a small moan as she looked up at him. She could see his eyes now. He made the tiniest movement toward her and she turned to run down the hallway, her bare feet tapping against the hardwood floors. She stopped in front of the double doors that had Staff Only written in gold.

He strode after her and pushed down on the handle to open one of the doors.

“I can’t believe it’s not locked.” He held it open for her and then shut it behind them.

This room was also dark. There were flags around its perimeter and a long, darkly wooded meeting table in the middle, surrounded by chairs. There was an unlit fireplace, and a mantel beneath a large oil painting of the dean.

She took off her sweatshirt, aware that her slip rose a little as she did so. She tossed it on the ground.

“Well, if you’ll please take your seat at the end of the table—” she gestured at the biggest chair “—this meeting can begin.”

Johnny smiled and sat down where she’d indicated. She slid onto the table in front of him. Maybe it was the alcohol left in her system, but he was a lot more attractive than she’d noticed before.

“I think we both know why we’re here.” Johnny spoke smoothly.

Becca’s heart leaped a little, but she remained composed. “I think I need reminding.”

“Because,” he said, slouched in his seat, “we’ve got a student here at Manderley who is just not behaving.”

“I think I know who you’re talking about.”

“The miscreant who led poor Johnny Parker into the break-in of this—” he pounded on the desk and moved toward her “—very room.”

“Really? Because as
I
see it, poor little Miss Normandy was influenced by this Mr. Parker.”