Lust

by Robin Wasserman

  And what she saw wasn’t much.

  Short—an inch above freakish but only barely within the “cute” zone. Dull reddish hair. Pale, washed-out skin. Thick ankles (which she hadn’t even noticed until her mother had oh-so-kindly pointed them out to her and helpfully suggested she steer clear of skirts). Bulky thighs. Somehow, sometime, the lithe, slim body she’d had when she was younger—the one she’d never noticed until one of her mother’s friends commented in envious awe on how she could “eat like an elephant and look like a giraffe”—had disappeared.

  Now, she was just—medium. Bland. She knew that under other circumstances, in other, bigger towns, she wouldn’t be best friends with the school’s alpha girl; the A list wouldn’t notice her.

  But in this life, in this town, she was best friends with Harper—which is why she’d gone along with the drunken suggestion that they ditch their dates for the stupid formal and go on their own. Prove to the world that they didn’t need guys, that they’d have more fun without some testosterone-charged idiots pawing at them all night.

  She twirled once more in front of the mirror, her gauzy black dress flaring out as she spun.

  The other night at the Barnstormer, filled with alcoholic courage, spending the dance on the sidelines with Harper, watching a roomful of glamorous, dewy-eyed couples spin around the auditorium had sounded perfect.

  Funny—in the sober light of day (or rather, in the sober half-light of twilight, awaiting her ride)—it was starting to sound slightly less than perfect. Asinine. Insane. Pretty much the worst idea she’d ever heard.

  But unless she wanted to take her father as a date, it was too late to do anything about it. She ran a brush through her hair one last time and quickly put on another layer of lip gloss. Her ride wasn’t due for another twenty minutes, but she was done getting ready. Her parents—who had no idea there even was a dance—were out for the night. Miranda hadn’t wanted to suffer through them fawning all over her, pinching her cheeks and taking pictures—or even worse, suffer through them ignoring the whole thing and going out anyway. Better not to risk it. So the house was empty, she had plenty of time to kill—and there was a bottle of gin in the cabinet next to the sink that had her name on it.

  She had a feeling she was going to need it.

  When Kane had suggested that she and Miranda ride over to the dance with him, he hadn’t mentioned anything about the car—a limo. Sort of. It had a big backseat, all right, and a chauffeur up front, just like a real limo—but that was where the similarities ended. Kanes chariot of choice was a garish pink 1960s convertible, roughly the size of a boat, that made Harper feel like she was riding around inside a giant bottle of Pepto-Bismol. He also hadn’t mentioned anything about his date. And that, as it turned out, was a much bigger problem.

  “What are you doing here?” Harper sneered as she climbed into the car and took a seat—right across from Kaia.

  “Nice manners,” Kane chided her. “Didn’t I mention it the other day? Kaia’s my date.” He slung an arm around the ice queen, who was draped in a shimmery Anna Sui gown the color of emeralds. Even Harper had to admit that it was stunning—though not out loud.

  “Whatever, let’s just get going and pick up Miranda,” she snapped. “We’re late.”

  “Aren’t you going to say anything about our ride?” Kane asked. He gestured around the spacious backseat of the vintage convertible. “Limos are so—junior high prom. At least this has some style.”

  “What do I think?” Harper mused, glancing disdainfully at the velour seats—hot pink to match the exterior. She raised a hand to her hair, which had been carefully smoothed back into an elaborate upsweep—thanks to the lack of a roof on the rose monstrosity, she’d probably arrive at the dance looking like she had a birds nest on top of her head. “I think I like your taste in cars about as much as I like your taste in women.”

  “Classy, Harper, real classy,” Kane told her scornfully. Kaia, who had yet to say a word, just smiled and slid a hand onto Kane’s inner thigh. She leaned over and, eyes never leaving Harper’s face, whispered something in his ear.

  Kane’s eyes widened, and they both laughed.

  “My thoughts exactly,” he said, and began kissing her neck. As his hand grazed Kaia’s breast and her lips found his, Harper recoiled in disgust.

  Classy, Kane, real classy, she thought. It was going to be a long night.

  Adam always looked handsome in a tux. With his broad chest and chiseled features, he looked like a film star from the fifties, full of glamour and chivalry, ready to sweep her away on some elegant adventure. He gently pinned on a small corsage—a delicate white rose—and she wondered how her eye ever could have strayed to someone else. Much less a teacher.

  All the stupid fighting—she’d come so close to losing him. Beth shivered at the thought.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, tucking her silver wrap around her shoulders and rubbing his warm hand up and down her back.

  Inside the house everything had been so loud. Her brothers running circles around them. Her parents hopping up and down, snapping pictures and fawning over Beth as if they’d never seen her in a dress before. But out here on her front step, it was quiet and dark. Just the two of them.

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. “Let’s get going.” She was eager to get to the dance—and through the dance—because she had a surprise waiting for Adam at the end of the night. The sooner it came, the less time she’d have to worry about it.

  She’d never ridden in a limousine before, and when she saw the long black car waiting outside her tiny house, she stopped and closed her eyes, savoring the moment. Then Adam took her hand and they walked down the path together to the curb, where their carriage awaited. It was such a romantic, regal procession, under such a bright, starry sky.

  Beth felt like a princess—and she knew it was going to be a perfect night.

  “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Adam asked, handing her a glass of champagne and leaning back against the seat of the limo. It had set him back a hundred bucks, but it was worth it for the look on Beth’s face. He owed her so much—she could never know how much.

  “Only a couple hundred times or so,” Beth laughed, tucking a tendril of hair behind her ears and blushing. “But keep going, please.”

  “Ravishingly beautiful. Awe-inspiringly beautiful,” he told her, moving closer. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. More beautiful than—”

  She kissed him, and he drank in the intoxicating feel of her.

  It wasn’t just a line. She really was more beautiful than he’d ever seen her—the pale blue of her dress matched the deep ocean of her eyes, and its silky material hugged her body, revealing curves that he hadn’t even realized she had. Her cornflower blond hair, usually loose and flowing over her shoulders, was swept up into a loose bun, long tendrils framing her delicate face. And the way she was smiling—it was radiant, almost mysterious, as if she had some secret happy thought hidden away in the recesses of her mind. She was glowing—and looking at him as if he was the one who’d made her glow. Even the way she held her glass, her long, slender fingers curling around the narrow stem—even that was soft, elegant, perfect.

  She was perfect. And every time she looked at him with her loving, trusting eyes, he had to look away in shame. After all, every word out of his mouth was a lie, just pretty phrases designed to hide the truth. He could mean them all he wanted—and he did—but it wouldn’t change things. It wouldn’t change the one thing he could never say.

  “Are you okay, Ad?” she asked, and he realized he’d been staring at her.

  He smiled.

  “Just thinking of what a great night we’re going to have together,” he told her. Another lie.

  More lies piled up by the minute, and his skin crawled with the fear that everything was going to come apart. Especially tonight—when he and Kaia, and worse, Beth and Kaia, were bound to come face-to-face.

  “It’s going to be a wonderful nig
ht,” Beth sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “It’s going to be perfect.”

  Adam slugged back his glass of champagne and poured himself another—anything to get him through the night.

  Perfect?

  Unlikely.

  Miranda jumped out of the car almost before it pulled to a full stop—it had been all she could do to restrain herself from jumping out miles ago, at full speed. Between Harper and Kaia’s intermittent sniping and Kane and Kaia’s apparent inability to keep their hands off each other, the fifteenminute ride had felt like an eternity.

  Now that they were finally here, she just wanted to get out and away as quickly as possible—and if she managed to avoid being seen emerging from Kane’s hot pink cotton candy machine, that would also be a perk. Though the way her luck was running, it seemed unlikely. Speaking of incognito—

  “Harper!” It was Harpers hideously annoying sophomore clone.

  “Miranda!” And her equally annoying sidekick.

  “Kane and Kaia!” they chorused. “Hiiiii!”

  It was too late to escape. The two girls, dressed in identical satin slip dresses (Mini-Me in lavender, Mini-She in eggshell blue) tottered up to them on shaky heels. Their dates, two pimply sophomores who, in matching crew cuts and rented tuxedos, looked as identical to each other as the Minis (one was blond, one was brunette—they were otherwise interchangeable), trudged dutifully behind them.

  Kaia, Harper, and Miranda each nodded wearily at the fan club—Kane couldn’t even be bothered to do that much.

  “Kaia, your dress is gorgeous,” Mini-Me gushed. “Where’d you get it?”

  “Bitches-R-Us?” Harper suggested.

  “Anna Sui, actually.” Kaia glared at Harper. “Where’d you get yours, Wal-Mart?”

  “That’s where I got mine, too!” Mini-She cried. She linked arms with Harper and leaned toward her conspiratorially. “So, Harper,” she asked in a low voice, “where’s your date?”

  “Oh, Harper and Miranda came together,” Kaia simpered. “Isn’t that adorable?”

  Now it was Harper’s turn to glare. She extricated herself from the sophomore and moved quickly over to Miranda’s side.

  “Are you guys, like, a couple now?” Mini-Me asked, eyes agog.

  “No, no,” Miranda said hastily. God, this was just what she’d been afraid of. Worse, even. “We’re just—I—”

  “We told our dates to go screw themselves,” Harper jumped in. She glanced at Kaia. “Not everyone’s self-esteem is dependent on testosterone.”

  “Looking for some testosterone?” Kane asked, suddenly paying attention. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  He grabbed Kaia and swooped her down into a dramatic dip, kissing her as her hair grazed the ground. The sophomores giggled and Harper and Miranda just shook their heads until finally he pulled her up and took her hand.

  “Well, milady shall we away?”

  And they walked inside, Mini-Me, Mini-She, and their unfortunate dates in hot pursuit.

  “Suck it up, Rand,” Harper said, as Miranda’s eyes followed Kane’s figure into the gym. “You know he could care less about her—he’s just trying to be an asshole.”

  “He’s doing a pretty good job of it,” Miranda admitted.

  “Now see, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Harper pointed out. She grabbed Miranda’s arm and pulled her forward. “Come on, let’s go find some real men. You ready for this?”

  Miranda nodded and followed silently. Here we go, she thought gloomily. Ready—or not.

  chapter

  16

  The high school gym had been transformed. A diligent team of party planners (culled from a joint task force of student council members, cheerleaders, and some devoted PTA moms) had hung enough multicolored leaves, paper lanterns, and “welcome back” banners to turn the place into an autumnal paradise. Could you even tell that beneath all those decorations lay a dirty, smelly, multipurpose room that, in two days, would once again be filled with sweaty students and the occasional fistfight?

  In a minute.

  It even smelled the same, Adam mused, looking around in disdain at the tacky setup. He supposed all this crap was some girls idea of romantic—he was just glad it wasn’t anyone he had to date.

  “Is her back turned?” Kane asked Adam, who was supposed to be on the lookout for the nearest chaperone. They stood in a back corner, just under the bleachers— the exact spot that, if the teachers had any sense at all, they’d be watching around the clock. Where else would you go to make trouble? Fortunately for would-be troublemakers, common sense was commonly absent among the Haven High faculty—or at least, those unsavvy enough to get themselves roped into chaperoning a school dance.

  “Yeah, you’re clear,” Adam assured him. “Not that she’d see you.” (Dolores Martin, the school librarian, was about 140 years old and hadn’t been able to see more than ten feet ahead of her since the Nixon administration.) “What are you up to, anyway?”

  “I told you, it’s a surprise,” Kane said mysteriously. “I’ve equipped everyone else, but I had to improvise.” He pointed toward one of the guys from the swim team, who was gulping from a plastic bottle.

  “Vitamin water?” Adam asked, peering at the bottle.

  “Yeah, new flavor—kiwi strawberry with a little something extra.”

  “Extra?”

  “Vodka can be very healthy for you, you know,” Kane confided with a laugh. “But for you, my friend, something special. A little more risk—but a lot more style.” He pulled a tiny silver flask from inside his jacket and surreptitiously passed it to Adam. “Just don’t get caught.”

  Adam fumbled the flask for a moment, then pushed it back toward Kane. He could see it now—the laser beam eyes of his AP history teacher spotting a glint of silver coming out of his pocket. Getting pulled out of Beth’s arms and hauled off the dance floor in front of everyone. Thrown out, disgraced. Beth would certainly never forgive him for ruining her night over something so stupid. No, he had enough to worry about already.

  “Doesn’t seem like a great idea,” Adam explained, as Kane shook his head and slipped the flask into one of his outer pockets. “Especially the way my luck is going. Last thing I need is to get suspended for getting drunk on school property or something.”

  “Your call,” Kane said ruefully. “Well, I guess a man in love doesn’t need any other forms of intoxication. Speaking of which, I better go collect my date before your beloved tells her too many lies about me. Or worse”—he raised his eyebrows—“the truth.”

  Adam followed Kane’s gaze across the room and, with alarm, saw Beth and Kaia in a corner, deep in conversation.

  His heart missed a couple of hundred beats.

  “Uh, you’re right, we better go break that up,” he stammered. Kane started off, but Adam grabbed him and pulled him back.

  “Changed my mind,” he whispered, slipping the flask out of Kane’s pocket and, checking to make sure no one was watching, downing half its contents.

  He felt better already.

  “So what did you need to tell me?” Beth asked impatiently, glancing across the room at Adam. She held back a smile as she thought about what they’d be doing later tonight. If he only knew. She just wanted to be with him—and away from Kaia, who’d pinned her in a corner for some mysteriously urgent reason that had evaporated as soon as she’d gotten Beth alone.

  “Have I told you how great you look tonight?” Kaia asked sweetly.

  “Thanks. Can you just tell me what was so important?” The DJ had just started a slow song. “Take My Breath Away”—a little cheesy, maybe, but one of Beth’s favorites. She wanted to be swaying back and forth to the melody, eyes closed, head on Adam’s shoulder. Not here.

  “What? Oh, that was nothing. I mean, I thought you might want to know that Adam—” Kaia cut herself off with a sigh. “Oh … Check out Mr. Powell—doesn’t he look hot tonight in his tux?”

  “What about Adam?” Beth persisted. The last thing she
wanted to think about was Jack Powell, or how good he looked in his tux. Which, despite her best efforts, she’d already noticed.

  “Oh, we can finish this later. Maybe you want to go talk to Mr. Powell?” Kaia asked innocently. “I won’t mind—I know how close you two are.”

  For the moment Beth forgot about Adam and whatever secret was about to be revealed and studied Kaia closely. Did she—could she possibly—know?

  “We’re not close,” she said coolly, deciding, or at least desperately hoping, that Kaia didn’t know what she was saying. “And if you ask me, he’s not a very good teacher. Working with him on the newspaper sucks.”

  “That’s not what I heard,” Kaia said with a sly grin.

  “What are you talking about?” Beth asked in a hushed voice. All her breath had slipped away.

  But before Kaia could answer, Kane snuck up behind her and grabbed her waist, twirling her around. A moment later, Beth felt Adam’s strong hands around her as he lifted her off the ground and swung her into his arms. She hoped he couldn’t feel her trembling.

  “So what’s going on over here?” Kane asked, once the girls had stopped squealing.

  “Trust me,” Kaia said, looking directly at Adam. “You don’t want to know.”

  Lucky break that Powell was chaperoning the dance.

  Luckier still that he was standing amidst a small circle of other teachers. Kaia knew that no self-respecting chaperone could turn down an innocent request to dance with one of his students—at least, not without having a lot of explaining to do.

  Kaia excused herself and strode over to the cluster of teachers. Powell, seeing her approach, was already preparing his getaway.

  “Mr. Powell!” she exclaimed. “You look so handsome in your tuxedo! Think you could spare me a dance?”

  He glared at her, then smiled for the sake of the group. “Oh, Kaia, I’m not much of a dancer—you know, two left feet and all.”