My mind raced. “James, what, what if they called you on it?” I sputtered.
“I kind of didn’t have that part covered. But I knew I had to do something, and it was the first thing that came to mind.”
His unflinching gaze suddenly made me bold. “Why did you know you had to do something?” I asked coyly.
James looked at me, cocked his head to the side, and then smiled again. “Because I like you, Kira.”
Before I could talk myself into a bumbling lather, James leaned in and kissed me. His lips were soft, and he slowly put his arms around my waist so that I felt myself falling backward into the leather backseat. It had been nice with Matt, but something now just clicked and I knew that this was what it was supposed to feel like. It was all tingly and strange and too good to be true. We kissed the entire way downtown; the beeps and honks and sirens of New York seemed to fade to mute as we kissed deeper and deeper, almost as if we were making up for lost time. The whole summer, we were meters apart down the hall but miles apart in terms of being at this moment. Better late than never.
When we got to the venue and I revealed my surprise, his jaw hit the floor as he pulled me into him.
“Kira Parker. I can’t believe you!”
I could tell he was overjoyed by my secretly hatched plan and euphoric at the rush of the music starting—as I myself was on cloud nine thousand just to be beside him. Radiohead’s songs made everything that much more explosive as we made out under the blue-hued lights, but the truth was, we could have had a soundtrack of cacophonous sirens and it would have felt like Eden in that sweaty concert hall. We kissed nonstop throughout the set (we must have looked like those annoying people that you tell to get a room) and continued at the bar we went to after. It wasn’t until after James had walked me home and I floated to bed that I realized what this feeling was—I was in love.
Epilogue
I always love a good update, so let me just press the fast-forward button and tell you where things ended up six months after our cab mack-fest. The taxi home crashed into a wall, leaving us on side-by-side respirators at New York Hospital. Just kidding. Seriously, it could not have turned out better: After Alida’s premier issue of Skirt, newsstand sales soared. The new team was so passionate and dedicated and the whole vibe of the office was refreshed and excited. Alida led the staff in a great way—instead of being scared of our boss, we all looked up to her and wanted to do our best to kick ass. The mag was already nominated for multiple awards and had a cool new look and fun feel; people were reading it cover to cover, including my column, which I am thrilled to say has gotten great feedback through reader mail.
One day, while I had my nose in magazine spreads, a smiling Alida plopped a tabloid in my face. The New York Post featured a huge article with the headline HUGHES PUB HEIRESS SWINDLED. It went on to say that Daphne Hughes’s boyfriend, Matt, who had several aliases, had charged up a storm on her credit card and her daddy’s various accounts about town. She and pops would be pressing full charges, and her humiliation was as public as it gets. I kind of felt bad for her. But not that bad. As for “Matt,” he faced up to three years in the slammer. Karma!
When school started in September, I made a concerted effort to really be engaged, not just for my role at the magazine, but also for myself. I’ve managed to build a student life at Columbia—I have great new friends, I worship my professors, and I truly feel immersed in campus culture. But when the gang hits the keggers or has dorm room fiestas, I can push the eject button I’d made for myself over the summer. Instead of grody cafeteria food, I meet up with Gabe and Teagan (who are both loving their programs) for yummy ethnic binges downtown. When my roommate goes to scream at football games, I am working a Saturday shift at Skirt or wandering the streets finding cool boutiques opened by young designers in Brooklyn.
The cute frat boys my pals pine over may be great, but as I do my math problem sets or art history essays in the library, I don’t get distracted by them. Because I know when I am done, James will pick me up for another New York adventure—bands, photo shoots, late dinners, or just long walks. Last week, Alida told me that the fall collections (always shown the season before on the European runways) would be smack in the middle of my spring break from school, so I would be going on my first-ever trend-spotting trip with the senior fashion editors. James scheduled a huge cover shoot with the model du jour at the same time, so we’ll be together in the City of Light. I can’t believe it; I feel so lucky that I stayed on my own path all summer, which led me to now: the once-miserable summer intern who ended up the happiest girl in the Big Apple.
Acknowledgments
Jill and Carrie thank…the amazing Richard Sinnott, Jennifer Joel, Amanda Urban, Steven Beer, Tara Weikum, Mary Miles, Katie Sigelman, and Erica Sussman.
Jill thanks…the high school survival posse: Dana Wallach Jones, Lauren Duff and Lisa Turvey, plus my cheres Vanessa Eastman, Jeannie Stern, and Trip Cullman. Shout-out to the cousin cheerleading squad: Charlotte and Emily Coch and Julia and Alexa Kopelman, plus Mom, Dad, Will, Harry, and the nuggets Sadie and Ivy.
Carrie thanks her family as usual, the Huitzes and all of the people who made her past internship experiences lovely and not so lovely (which was good fodder for the book).
About the Authors
Carrie Karasyov & Jill Kargman are best buds who met at their all-girls private high school in New York City. They have cowritten two novels for adults—THE RIGHT ADDRESS and WOLVES IN CHIC CLOTHING, as well as BITTERSWEET SIXTEEN, their first book for teens. In addition to their joint projects, Jill Kargman is the author of MOMZILLAS, and Carrie Karasyov has written THE INFIDELITY PACT. You can visit Jill online at www.jillkargman.com.
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Also by Carrie Karasyov & Jill Kargman
BITTERSWEET SIXTEEN
Copyright
SUMMER INTERN. Copyright © 2007 by Carrie Karasyov and Jill Kargman. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub © Edition DECEMBER 2008 ISBN: 9780061974038
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