No One But Us

by Elizabeth O'Roark

  “Fuck it.” I sigh, realizing I’ve caught Ginny’s hero worship. Maybe there are some unsavory parts to my past, but I am doing my best to come back from them. I go to a good school, I work hard and—most importantly—I am not my parents. So I refuse to be intimidated by this girl just because she made law review.

  I get downstairs and can see Allison on the deck from inside the house, perched on the arm of James’ chair. She is long and elegant, her sleek black hair straight out of a shampoo commercial. She’s still in the suit she must have worn to work, and despite the drive, her clothes look like she just pulled them off the dry cleaner’s hanger ten minutes ago.

  I’m wearing what I can only assume is a T-shirt purchased from Baby Gap.

  I am not my mother. It’s just a uniform. I’ve done nothing wrong. Bracing myself, I slide the door open. Her eyes shoot straight to me, as if she’s been waiting for this moment, expecting it.

  “Allison,” James says, glancing quickly at me and away. “This is Elle, Ginny’s best friend.”

  “How lovely to meet you,” she says, her eyes roaming over me.

  Her smile is like an alligator’s: all teeth and a clear intent to attack. She makes a point of giving me yet another once-over. “Ginny said you worked together. Apparently it’s not at the senator’s office. You look like you just walked off the set of a rap video.”

  “That’s the uniform, Allison,” says James. His sharp tone wipes the smirk right off her face.

  “At the bar you work at?” she asks him. “Well, she must get plenty of tips, dressed like that.”

  “That’s the uniform she’s forced to wear,” he says, the words clipped and angry. “The same one Ginny is forced to wear. So maybe you should tone it down some, huh?”

  She looks incredibly displeased now, and I get the feeling she blames me for all of it. At least I no longer have to feel guilty about wanting to steal her boyfriend.

  Work goes poorly as usual. I spend the entire night apologizing to someone, and the entire time I’m also thinking about James back at home with that witch. When the tray of frosted mugs and pitcher of beer I’m carrying hits someone in the head and falls on me, I’m pretty much ready to write the night off entirely, except I’d rather be at work than forced to see Allison and James together. She might be a bitch, but she’s beautiful and elegant in a way I will never be and can’t begin to compete with. She seemed, on the deck, like an adult—my first reminder in a while that there really is a difference between 19 and 25. And they’ve been apart for weeks, so if they aren’t all over each other yet, I imagine the moment is approaching when they will be.

  When I finally get home, I discover that Max was not joking about hosting a pre-birthday bash for Ginny, and I’m in no mood for any of it. I smell like an unappealing combination of grilled meats and cheap beer, and all I want in the whole world is a shower and bed. Except when I get upstairs, Ginny’s got the door locked. I knock, but no one answers, so I return downstairs to find Max.

  “Nice job,” I tell him. “Ginny loves her party so much she’s barricaded herself in our room and won’t let me in. I need to shower, and I’m sure as hell not using the outdoor one with a bunch of strangers around. And I need a T-shirt.”

  “You can borrow something of mine and use my shower,” he suggests. “If you leave the door unlocked, I might even join you.”

  I nod. “Thanks for reminding me to lock the door.”

  I grab a T-shirt from his drawer and enter the bathroom. To my infinite surprise, it’s actually clean, and he has nice stuff in the shower, although most of it appears swiped from an upscale hotel. I take my time, hoping that if I’m in there long enough, Ginny will have unlocked the door so I can go to sleep.

  The lights are off in the bedroom when I emerge.

  “You can stay,” says Max.

  It’s dark, but I can hear the smirk in his voice, accompanied by a female giggle, which alerts me that he is not alone.

  “Pass,” I groan, walking to the door. “Have fun.”

  I open the door and swing into Allison. Her face is so smugly triumphant I begin to think she must want me to hit her.

  “No one is safe around you, are they?” she crows. “Just like your mom.”

  I stare at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I know your type, Elle. You make a point of stealing what isn’t yours.”

  I head to the back deck, rage burning its way through my chest. I hate her for saying it, for comparing me to my mother. And I also hate that in a small way it’s true. I’d steal James from her in a heartbeat if I could.

  James is there when I get outside. I sit, taking a curious sideways glance over at him. He looks worn—the stubble, the circles under his eyes. He never did shower. He still looks like shit. Granted, he looks like gorgeous shit that I would do very, very bad things to given the chance, but for him…it’s not his best look.

  “What’s up with you?” I ask. “Your girlfriend’s here, but you look like someone just shot your dog.”

  He shrugs and looks over at me. His face, in the moonlight, looks both young and old. Resolved and torn. “I broke up with her. In May. She asked me to wait, to not make any rash decisions because she thinks this is just me freaking out. And my parents gave her a fucking internship at their firm, so I thought it would make it weird for everyone involved if I ended things while she’s still there. But then I broke up with her again last week. That’s why she’s here, even if she’s claiming it’s for Ginny. I don’t even want to be in the same room with her.”

  I’m so thrilled I could burst into a song-and-dance number right here on the deck.

  “I used to be more like Ginny,” he continues. “I knew exactly what I wanted and how I was going to get there, and if I had doubts, I just ignored them and plowed through. I’m not sure what it says about me that I can’t seem to do that anymore.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the best way to go about things anyway,” I tell him. “I mean, look at Ginny. She’s ignoring some pretty clear signals that she wants something other than Alex, because she’s telling herself that in the grand scheme, he’s what will make her happy. But if her experience with him is entirely composed of things that don’t make her happy now, how could that be true? She’s so devoted to the outcome that she won’t allow herself to question it.”

  He meets my eye then, and it’s just like the time we spoke about law school. The time he said I was dangerous. He looks at me as if he’s surprised to find me here at all, as if he’s suddenly seeing me for the first time. In a good way.

  “You’re so young, but sometimes I listen to you, and it feels like you’re the one who’s older. You say things that I’ve thought when I’m at my best, at my clearest, but you say them with so much certainty that I believe them coming from you.”

  “That’s my newscaster voice.” I smile. “I’ve been trained since birth to deliver complete bullshit with authority.”

  “You could still do that, you know,” he says. “People will forget.”

  “I don’t know.” I sigh. “A part of me still wants it, and another part thinks that no matter what I accomplish, people are always going to think of me as the intern who slept with Edward Ferris. Twenty years from now, there will continue to be some doubt about whether I truly earned the position I’m in.”

  “There’d have been doubt anyway,” he says gently. “Look who your dad is. Or was. There was always going to be some question of whether you’d gotten where you were because of yourself or because of him. There probably isn’t a single female on TV who hasn’t had someone suggest, or think, that she used her looks to get where she is.”

  “I suppose,” I say. “It’s not just that, though. The way they covered it all up, the way they made me the guilty party when they knew I wasn’t. Even the way they initially tried to cover up my father’s affair… It’s just kind of repugnant. I don’t know that I want to be a part of that.”

  He reaches out and rests his
hand on my arm. “You won’t be, because that’s not the kind of person you are.”

  Before I can ask what he means, the sliding door opens. His hand falls away quickly, but not quickly enough.

  Allison stands there, arms folded across her chest. “Am I interrupting?” she asks coolly.

  “No,” I reply, standing to leave. I allow myself one look back at him, and our eyes meet for a single moment. I’m not sure which of us looks more unhappy as I go inside.

  Chapter 22

  JAMES

  Elle leaves and Allison stands there, staring me down as if she just caught us having sex out here. And I probably look guilty as hell because even if we were doing nothing wrong, my head is not in the right place where Elle is concerned. I’m guessing Allison knows it, too.

  She laughs, but the sound is bitter. “So how is that, dating a teenager? It must be weird for you, after spending most of your year around actual adults.”

  I exhale heavily. I knew this was coming. “Elle and I are not dating, as I’ve told you before.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Yeah. You became super distant the minute she arrived here, but I’m sure that was a coincidence.”

  In the recesses of my brain, I wonder if this is true—if right from the start my attraction to Elle is what hammered home the fact that I was never going to want Allison that way.

  “I wanted to end things last spring, remember? You convinced me to wait, and I gave it a shot, and it just wasn’t working for me.”

  “You gave it a shot? What kind of shot did you give it? You took off from Connecticut the first day of our internship!”

  I throw up my hands. “What did you want me to do? Stay at a job that was going to make me miserable so I could remain with a girl I’d already ended things with once?”

  “Do you know how awkward it is for me there now, James? I work for your parents, and not only did you up and run, but now I’m the girl their son dumped.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and pray for patience. “I’m sorry about that. But I told you I didn’t think working together there was a good idea. I told you the situation with my parents was a little tense and you ought to intern somewhere you’d want to work after graduation.”

  “Exactly, James. And I wanted to work there, with you.”

  I exhale heavily. I could not have been more clear about my intentions when Allison and I started dating. I wanted things to stay casual. But Allison doesn’t have a whole lot of experience with not getting her way, and she seemed to assume she’d get it with us too.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I know this isn’t how you wanted things to go. But I think we’ll both be better off in the long run.”

  “Don’t think you’re going to spend the whole summer fucking some brain-dead model and come slinking back next fall.”

  Anger spikes in my chest. “I’m not sleeping with her, and I have no idea where you got the idea she’s brain dead, but given she’s at the same Ivy you went to, I’d watch how far you go with that.”

  “Yeah, and I’m sure that’s her appeal, right? Her big, luscious...brain.”

  “I’m not having this conversation with you,” I tell her, rising. “You can take the bed; I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  Her eyes widen. “Are you serious right now? I drove all the way down here and we’re not even sleeping together?”

  I tell her I am completely serious and walk inside.

  If I’m turning down my first chance to get laid in nearly two months, I’m either really over Allison...or I’m way too into someone else.

  Chapter 23

  ELLE

  The next morning, I get up to make Ginny’s birthday cake. I’m still annoyed that she locked me out of the room for so long last night, but I stifle my irritation. I even start waffles since that’s her favorite breakfast.

  The smell of baking draws my housemates into the kitchen—first Max, then James, and finally Ginny.

  “Isn’t Allison great?” she squeals as I pour the batter onto the iron.

  “Mmmm,” I reply—a noise that means nothing at all, but one I know she will take to mean agreement.

  Allison emerges last, dressed like she’s heading to the ladies’ tea at the country club—white capris, a cashmere tank, a scarf around her neck. Meanwhile, James is now shirtless and still wearing Thursday’s shorts, which he may or may not have gone running in. I’m heartened by the fact that he sure doesn’t look like a guy who’s trying to get laid.

  Allison fixes her icy smile on me and comes to the opposite side of the island. “I can take over,” she says, pulling the waffle iron away from me and reaching out her hand, fully expecting me to hand over the batter.

  I’m kind of stunned. Who the fuck does she think she is, walking into my fucking kitchen and trying to take over my fucking waffles? I grab the waffle iron by its cord and yank it back to me.

  “I think I’ve got it, thanks,” I say.

  “Are you sure?” she asks. “Because it smells like something’s burning.”

  “Boys,” I call out. “Do you smell anything burning?”

  They both say no. I try not to gloat.

  “Fine,” she snaps. “I’ll set the table.”

  Set the table? Are we the Rockefellers now? I raise a brow at Ginny, cutting strawberries, but she doesn’t acknowledge it, acting as if she hasn’t heard a word of our conversation. And if she did, I’m sure, she’d fall squarely on Team Allison.

  “You barely have enough plates,” says Allison with a sigh. “And where are the napkins?”

  “We just use paper towels,” I reply.

  She opens the refrigerator. “And no juice either. Ginny, do you want to walk to the store with me?” Ginny drops her strawberries so fast you’d think she was a puppet led by Allison.

  James sighs. “This isn’t brunch at the Ritz Carlton, Allison. We’ll live without juice.”

  Allison stops in place, but instead of replying to him, she turns to me. “Are we safe leaving you with Max and James?” she asks. “Is it only married men you seduce?”

  “Allison,” says James, and there is no longer flexibility in his voice. “That’s enough.”

  I am momentarily speechless.

  “You told her about Edward?” I finally ask as the door shuts behind them.

  “No,” he says. “Ginny must have.”

  “Dude,” says Max. “What the fuck is going on? I’ve never been a fan of Allison’s, but that was fucked up, even for her.”

  “She got the wrong idea last night about something, and now she’s losing her shit over it.”

  “Got the wrong idea about what?” asks Max.

  James glances at me swiftly before his eyes drift shut. “She’s threatened by Elle.”

  “As well she should be,” quips Max. “No woman wants to walk in and find her boyfriend sharing a house with a freaking model, especially one with a rack like Elle’s.”

  “Shut up, Max,” says James.

  “Tell me where I’m wrong,” he argues.

  Allison’s dislike bothers me more than it should, probably because I know she views me the same way people in my office did: as some kind of man-stealing slut.

  But honestly, what’s upsetting me right now has nothing to do with that. What really hurts is Ginny, and her complete defection to the other side. She didn’t try to defend me in the least.

  I pull the cakes out of the oven and set them on top of the stove. “I’m out of here.”

  “Where are you going?” asks James.

  “Elsewhere,” I say. “I’ll be back in time for the party.”

  I head upstairs for my purse, but before I’ve even grabbed it, James appears, filling the entire frame of the door.

  “Don’t leave,” he says, sitting on the end of Ginny’s bed. “Don’t lend credence to what Allison says by running off like you’ve done something wrong, because you haven’t.”

  “I’m not running off,” I say quietly. “But for whatever reason, I seem to create tensi
on for Allison. This is your weekend with her, and neither of you should have to deal with that. It’s just two days.”

  “You’re not creating the tension. It was already there, and she wants to blame it on you.”

  “I don’t understand how you ever could have been with someone like that.”

  “You’ve seen her at her absolute worst. To be honest, I never dreamed she could be as awful as she’s been the past 24 hours. I feel like I don’t even know her. But I haven’t been into it, I think, all year. I wanted to be, because everyone loved her and because it was all so easy, but I just wasn’t.”

  “I get the whole thing about trying to make something work, but—all year?” I ask. “How could you have gone with it that long?”

  “The problem is everything at school sucked—going to class, studying, being with her. I couldn’t separate it all out. I don’t think I had any idea how bad it was until I got here.”

  “You just needed time apart?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I realized it wasn’t fair to her. I’d forgotten how it was possible to feel about someone, what it was like to really…crave something, instead of just accept the things you have.” He glances up at me suddenly as if he’s said too much.

  “Is that why you’re not showering?” I ask with a smile. “So she won’t feel like it’s such a loss?”

  He grins. “Maybe? I hadn’t really thought it through, but yeah, I guess this is the first time in my life I’ve gone more than two days in the same clothes.”

  “She may be a keeper if she’s willing to put up with you looking like that.”

  “So you’d have kicked me to the curb?” he asks.