After that, Shane had sounded happy. “That’s great. We’re going to have so much fun.”
“It sounds perfect,” Lucy told him. She worried her earring a little harder, and the back popped off, disappearing under her bed. “Oh, crap.”
“Is something wrong?” Shane asked.
“No.” On her knees, Lucy felt under the bed with one hand.
“Are you sure? You sound funny.”
Lucy’s palm found the little piece of metal. “Everything’s fine,” she said with forced brightness.
“Good. I hope you know, I want our weekend away to be wonderful,” he said, sounding so sincere and sweet that Lucy couldn’t imagine wrecking his mood by mentioning Jesse’s surprise visit. I’ll wait and tell him in person, she reasoned to herself. That way he can see from the look on my face how little Jesse matters to me.
“I’ve been thinking. Why does Shane even have to know about Jesse being here?” Lucy asked her friends now, trying to sound casual. “It’s no big deal.”
“It’s kind of a big deal,” Cleo said. “What if Jesse turns up when you’re someplace with Shane?”
“Forsythe isn’t that small,” Lucy said. “Is it?”
“Oh, honey.” Matteo took her chin in his hand and tipped her face up so she had no choice but to meet his green-flecked eyes. “Listen to Uncle Matteo. Your life is a house of cards. If you’re not careful, a good wind is going to blow the whole thing down.”
Matteo’s words ringing in her ears, Lucy sat cross-legged on her unmade bed, cell phone in hand. She wished she had Brittany nearby for moral support, but earlier that week, Britt had come down with a fever. Her parents had driven her home to recover, and now the room and the dorm surrounding it seemed uncannily quiet. Lucy typed out a text message, then erased it. The whole business with Jesse seemed too complicated to put into a text, or even to explain over the phone.
Instead, she sent Shane a message suggesting they have lunch together on Friday. A few seconds later, he texted back a yes.
So that was settled. While she waited for Friday, she tried to concentrate on classes, on schoolwork, on rehearsal. She did her best to remember that she had a boyfriend so amazing her friends called him Dream Boy. She tried not to care whether or not Jesse had left Philadelphia for good. Even so, every now and then he would pop into her thoughts. She’d remember how warm his kiss had felt in the autumn night, and, for a moment, she’d forget how she was supposed to be feeling. Falling in love with Shane. Completely over Jesse.
XXI
Is everything okay?” Shane asked Lucy when they were almost to the mall. He seemed to survey her through his sunglasses, though they were mirrored and she couldn’t tell for sure. “You’re so quiet.” He’d been telling her about the amazing tickets he’d landed to Wicked—fifth row, center—and about the restaurant he’d found for dinner, a Thai place where a lot of Broadway actors supposedly ate.
“Oh,” Lucy said. “Sorry.” She’d been silently running through the speech she’d prepared: It’s no big deal, really, but the guy I dated this summer—he showed up on campus looking for me. He tried to kiss me, but I wouldn’t let him. Okay, so that last bit was a lie, but the rest was true. I told him about you. About us. How we’re seeing each other now. I told him to go away and leave me alone. I just thought you should know.
That morning before class she had rehearsed the speech in front of the mirror until she could get through it without her voice trembling. But actually saying the words to Shane was a different story. Lucy was afraid she might blush the way she always did when she felt self-conscious. Would he get the point she wanted to send—that she’d moved on, that Jesse was just an inconvenient bit of her past—or would he get the exact opposite message?
Shane fiddled with the climate controls. “Are you warm enough?”
“I’m totally fine,” Lucy said, her words coming out weirdly vehement. Should I tell him now? she wondered. But Shane had already returned to the subject of their upcoming trip, listing things they could do before the play—gallery-hopping in Chelsea, maybe, or browsing at The Strand bookstore.
I’ll tell him later, Lucy thought. Over lunch.
At Pizza Plenty, she cut her slice into smaller and smaller pieces, too anxious to eat.
“You’re on some kind of diet?” Shane asked, gesturing at her plate.
Lucy looked up at him, puzzled.
“I hope not. You’re beautiful just the way you are,” Shane said. His pizza finished, he picked up his fork and started spearing and eating her tiny pieces, one by one.
He’s so nice, Lucy told herself. Why am I afraid to come clean with him? Of course he’ll understand. She set down her knife and fork and took a deep breath. But before she could speak, Shane asked how rehearsals for Rent were going.
Grateful for the reprieve, Lucy answered his question in a rush of words, telling him about the other night, how Celia Bursk and her friends had been waiting for her to fall on her face but instead she’d done pretty well. She described how wonderful it felt to be rehearsing the part of Maureen. “I can’t believe I almost quit the play,” she added.
“Whoa.” Shane put up a hand. “You were going to quit the play?”
“Oh,” Lucy said. “I guess I forgot to tell you.” She filled him in on the conversation with her father, how he’d threatened to stop paying her tuition if she didn’t drop out of Rent.
“Wow,” Shane said. “That’s harsh.”
“He’s being a total tyrant,” Lucy agreed.
“But…” Shane polished off the last of Lucy’s pizza. “Why don’t you just stand up to him? Tell him the truth. Wouldn’t that be better than misleading him?”
“Oh, no,” Lucy said. “You don’t know my dad. He never backs down from a fight.”
Shane didn’t reply, and in the silence, Lucy grew flustered. “I’m not usually dishonest,” she said. “I don’t make a habit of lying to my folks. Or to anyone.”
“Of course,” Shane said. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s just that my father’s being totally unreasonable. He thinks he can micromanage my life. Shouldn’t I get a say in what I do for fun? Or does he not want me to have any fun at all?” Lucy could hear the pitch of her voice getting higher and higher.
Shane leaned in closer. “I’m on your side, Lucy.” He put his hands over hers on the tabletop. “It’s just, by not telling your dad the truth, you’re running a pretty big risk. What happens if he finds out you’re still in the play?”
Lucy, who had been wondering the exact same thing for most of the week, didn’t reply.
“Isn’t it better to discuss the whole thing with him? Maybe go home and talk to him in person?”
Picturing her dad at his angriest, that vein throbbing in his temple, Lucy flinched.
“Maybe you just need to make him see how much this means to you,” Shane said.
“You haven’t met my father.”
“I could drive you there,” Shane said. “Be your moral support.”
How could Lucy not be touched by such a kind offer? “That’s very sweet. But doesn’t that sound really unpleasant to you? Tense, I mean.”
He rubbed her hands again. “Sure. A little. But I just want to make things turn out okay for you.”
There he went again, being unbelievably kind. How could Lucy bring up the visit from Jesse now? I can’t, she told herself. Not just yet. But definitely before we leave the mall.
After lunch, they wandered through the Galleria. Neither of them had classes that afternoon, and Lucy didn’t have to be back on campus until her seven o’clock rehearsal. Finally they wound up in front of Books Incorporated, at the far end of the mall.
“Want to go in?” Lucy asked. Dragging Shane into clothing stores felt awkward, and she’d grown tired of feigning interest in the sports-supply stores he’d wanted to visit. Books seemed like a good compromise.
While Shane stood in line at the bookstore café, Lucy browsed her way through her favorit
e sections: drama first, and then travel. When she noticed a batch of bright orange spines, she did a double take. The new edition of Wanderlust: Europe was out. She pulled out a copy and took it to a table.
“Dreaming of next summer?” Shane set their lattes down on the table and slid into the seat opposite Lucy.
“I wish,” Lucy said. “If only I could go back to Europe.”
“Maybe someday,” he said.
Lucy opened the new Wanderlust. “I met one of the authors while I was in Italy. Ellen something. She took me along on one of her research trips.” While she hadn’t liked Ellen much at the time, in retrospect it seemed pretty cool to know a real author. “I have to check out her section.” She found the contributors’ page. “Look! That’s her. Ellen Lavish. She was writing the chapter on Florence when I met her.”
“Cool,” Shane said. While he read the latest issue of Philadelphia Magazine, Lucy riffled through Wanderlust, a plan forming in her mind. What more natural, less alarming way of bringing up Jesse could there be? “I met some interesting people in Europe…” she began, trying for the perfect segue.
Shane nodded, not looking up from his magazine.
“Some of them were great, and others were…” Just then, Lucy found the Florence chapter. “Oh! Here’s Ellen’s section.” She read a passage about the Mercato Centrale aloud to Shane. “This sounds just like her! She was always going on and on about how authentic everything was. Authentic this and authentic that. Tell me: How can a plate of pasta or a hotel be inauthentic?” Lucy flipped forward to a section titled “Day Trips from Florence.” “Look!” she exclaimed. “There’s an entry on Fiesole, this town just outside the city. It was the most incredibly beautiful place, with a view of the Tuscan countryside, and Florence off in the distance.”
Shane nodded absently. “Sounds nice.”
“It’s amazing,” Lucy said. “I’ll show you. There’s got to be a picture.…” She turned the page and fell silent.
There was a picture, captioned Fiesole Is for Lovers, of a couple kissing on an overlook, the hills and olive groves of Tuscany rolling away below them and Florence’s skyline just visible in the distance. The couple leaned into each other, oblivious to the fact that they were being photographed, his arms twined around her waist, hers thrown back as though the kiss had caught her by surprise. It took Lucy a full second longer to take in the obvious: his longish dark hair, her wild, windblown curls.
She slammed the book shut.
“Didn’t you want to show me something?” Oh, sure, now Shane was paying attention.
“Never mind.” Lucy clutched the book to her chest. “The picture wasn’t any good.” Only one person could have taken that snapshot; only one person—besides herself and Jesse—had been on that hillside. Eyes shut, she could still see Charlene running downhill toward her, camera dangling around her neck, bouncing with each step. But why? And why would she have given it to Ellen to use in such a public way? She betrayed me, Lucy thought.
“Aren’t you going to drink your latte?” Shane asked, leaning back, a puzzled look on his face. Good thing he couldn’t read her mind.
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Lucy complied, taking a sip and thinking fast. Now there was no way she could bring up the subject of Jesse; she was way too flustered. Her voice would come out all weird and trembly, and then if Shane should decide to glance at the Fiesole chapter, he’d see that picture and jump to all kinds of conclusions. He’ll think I’m upset about Jesse, when it’s really Charlene I’m angry with, she told herself. Not only had Charlene spoiled her first kiss with Jesse, she’d taken that moment—possibly the most romantic of Lucy’s life so far—and given it away. To Ellen, of all people. Who had put it in a book, for the whole world to see. Charlene made me feel like I was being the unreasonable one, Lucy thought, fuming to herself. But she was spying on us!
She jumped to her feet, Wanderlust in hand. “I’ll put this back.”
“You’re not going to buy it?”
Lucy mumbled something about the book being a waste of money. But back in the Travel section, hidden from view, she allowed herself one more look. The book fell open right to the picture, and though she couldn’t help feeling just a little bit glad that someone had captured the moment on film, she was no less furious at Charlene.
For the whole ride back to campus, Lucy tried to make polite, neutral conversation, but failed, to the point that Shane became concerned. “Are you okay?” he asked, taking his eyes off the road to examine her.
“Oh, everything’s fine,” Lucy said, maybe a bit too quickly.
“Because you’re acting…” Shane struggled for the right words. “Unlike yourself.”
Lucy summoned a smile. “I’m fine. Really.” But a moment later she fell silent again, fuming and plotting. The minute she got home, she decided, she would call her mother, who could find out Charlene’s room number in Marston Hall. And then, first chance she got, Lucy would march over there and tell her a thing or two.
XXII
Lucy was still furious as she took the stairs two at a time up to Charlene’s dorm room. It was just after ten PM but, knowing Charlene, she might even be in bed already, lavender-scented satin sleep mask over her eyes. Lucy knocked on the door of room 415 firmly, to show she meant business. A freckled girl in an oversize Phillies T-shirt cracked opened the door.
“I’m looking for Charlene Barr,” Lucy said, and the door opened wider to reveal Charlene at her desk, hands poised above her laptop, regarding Lucy with surprise in her pale blue eyes.
Charlene’s room was as tidy as Lucy would have expected it to be, with peach throw rugs and white lace curtains at each window. Charlene wore a fuzzy yellow bathrobe, and her hair was held back by a matching headband. “Lucy?” she said with evident surprise. “What are you doing here?” She looked almost happy to see her old traveling companion, as though she’d forgotten how messed up things had gotten between them.
“I need to talk to you. In private. Is there somewhere we could go?”
Charlene’s roommate lunged for the door. “I was just headed to the lounge, anyway,” she said, and slipped out.
“Is something wrong?” Charlene had taken in the expression on Lucy’s face and was starting to look alarmed. She gestured toward her neatly made bed with its many fussy throw pillows.
Lucy took a seat, feeling some of her fury drain away. She’d never been very good at confrontations. “Yes, something’s wrong,” she said, sounding more hurt and less stern than she’d intended. “Have you seen the new Wanderlust: Europe?”
“Not yet.”
“There’s a photograph in it. Of a couple kissing on a hilltop in Fiesole. A picture that only one person could have taken.”
Charlene paled. “She put that in the book?”
“Of course she did.” Lucy’s voice rose. “What did you think she would do with it? Why would you give it to her otherwise? Why did you even take that photo in the first place?” Unable to sit still, she jumped to her feet and stalked back and forth in the narrow dorm room. “You violated my privacy.”
For a long moment, Charlene said nothing. Exhausted by her own rant, Lucy returned to the bed and waited.
“I shouldn’t have,” Charlene said.
“Then why did you? Why?”
“I’m not sure,” Charlene said, her words coming slowly, deliberately. “There was something so… I don’t know… beautiful about the two of you, kissing like that, with the landscape behind you. I was taking pictures of everything, the way you do when you’re on vacation. That night at dinner I showed my photos to Ellen, and she asked if she could have a copy of that one. I didn’t think she would use it in Wanderlust.” She paused. “I feel betrayed.”
“You feel betrayed?” Lucy’s voice rose again.
“I’m sorry, Lucy,” Charlene said.
“Well,” Lucy said. Now that she’d gotten the apology she’d come for, she wasn’t sure what to say next. Though the conversation had been far from satisfy
ing, she stood to go.
“Wait,” Charlene said. “Don’t leave. I’m sorry about something else, too.”
Lucy sat back down.
Charlene reached for a throw pillow and crushed it against her chest. “I’ve been thinking about how unpleasant things got between us at the end of our trip. And about some of the things I said to you in Italy.”
“It’s okay,” Lucy said automatically.
“It’s not,” Charlene insisted. “I shouldn’t have given you the silent treatment in Rome. It’s just… it really hurt my feelings when you and Jesse went off together without me.”
”Oh,” Lucy said.
“And I shouldn’t have called you… you know. Spoiled. You were nothing but nice to me that whole trip,” Charlene said. “Well, up until you called me coldhearted.”
Lucy felt her cheeks go hot again. “I’m sorry,” she said meekly.
“I know I must have seemed coldhearted.” Charlene spoke that last word as though it tasted bitter. “But I didn’t mean to be. I just didn’t want you to get your hopes up about some guy you met in a hostel.”
“Oh,” Lucy said again.
“Still, I’ve been thinking. I shouldn’t have told you he was using you. I didn’t want to admit it, not even to myself, but I guess I was jealous.”
“You were?”
“I could tell you and Jesse had something special. Seeing you together made me wish I’d said yes to Simon after all. That I’d gone with him to Mittenwald, I mean.”
Lucy threw back her head and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Charlene asked.
“Lately, I’ve been thinking you were right about Jesse. And about vacation flirtations—that they aren’t meant to turn into anything else. All they do is spoil you for your real life, and mess with your head, and…” Realizing she’d revealed more than she’d meant to, Lucy bit her lower lip. “Jesse’s here,” she said.
Love, Lucy Page 16
