Bright Young Things

by Anna Martin

  “Did she?” Clare demanded, clearly knowing the answer.

  “That’s not the point,” Adam said. Mia sniffled into Jared’s shoulder, and he rubbed her back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. He wasn’t great with emotional females.

  “Look,” Clare said. “I get why you’re upset. But Ryder is a big girl. If she wants a dramatic exit, who am I to stop her?”

  “She wasn’t trying to kill herself, you asshole,” Mia said, her voice turning to ice.

  “You sure? Who would blame her? Eternal youth and beauty. Isn’t that what we all want? If she wants to pull a Monroe/Cobain/Winehouse, then whatever.”

  “No,” Chris said. “Not whatever. Not when it’s my shit.”

  “It’s not like you put a serial number on the pills, Chris,” Clare hissed.

  Other students had given them a wide berth when walking back to their own cars or to the bus, clearly not wanting to get caught up in what was turning into an intense conversation. Jared was still slightly concerned that someone was going to overhear them, not knowing if rumors would start swirling, whether Clare or Chris would get in trouble if word got out. Or both of them.

  No matter how rich Clare’s daddy was, it was unlikely he could get her off a charge of supplying illegal drugs. Especially when someone had ended up in the hospital.

  “Have you been to see her yet?” Mia said suddenly.

  Clare whirled around. “Why the fuck would I have done that?” she drawled.

  “Where have you been, then?” Jared asked.

  “I told you,” she said, her grin turning predatory. “Flying high with people other than the diet cokeheads in this town. Unlike some people, I know my limits.”

  “Is that why you didn’t show up this morning?” Adam said acidly.

  “Please.” Clare tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Like anyone cares.”

  “Just because Jared can get away with not turning up to class, it doesn’t mean you can,” Adam said.

  Clare glanced to Jared, then to Adam, then back to Jared again. Something flickered across her face, though Jared couldn’t quite catch it. She smirked, and Jared’s stomach clenched. He was suddenly sure she knew something, or at least thought she did. Jared dropped his arm back to his side and tried very hard not to think about what he and Adam were doing when Mia had called from the hospital. What they were on the verge of doing. What he was on the verge of losing.

  “You should go and see Ryder,” Mia said gently. “She was asking where you were.”

  Clare looked like she was battling something—probably her conscience, though Jared wasn’t convinced she actually had one. Eventually she sighed and nodded. “Fine.”

  “She didn’t tell anyone where she got the shit from, Clare,” Mia continued. “She didn’t tell.”

  There was a strange, almost childlike timbre to the confession. Once again, Jared was reminded that this eclectic group of people had been friends for a very long time. He looked around the almost empty parking lot and rolled his shoulders, feeling a tight strain across the back of his neck.

  “I’m gonna go,” he said awkwardly.

  Adam gave him a small smile. “I’ll see you later?”

  Clare raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah,” Jared said, not scared of her anymore. This version of Clare—feeling the hangover-inducing effects of a drugs binge and looking shit for it—was not an intimidating sight. He gave Adam a nod and a smile in return. “Okay.”

  Chapter 10

  Chris always hosted a party between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Apparently it was as traditional as turkey and tinsel. The theme varied from year to year, but he was going all out for 2014 and hosting a white party.

  “Who do you think you are, fuckin’ Oprah?” Clare bitched.

  Adam murmured something low in Jared’s ear about her white bikini going see-through in a pool that past summer, which made Jared snort with laughter into his nuclear waste-colored Jell-O.

  Chris was insistent, though. Anyone not following the rules of his crib wouldn’t be let in. It had taken a lot for him to convince his folks to let him host another party. All the parents in town were on high alert after what had happened to Ryder, and they were serious about making sure no one else fell victim to the horrors of drug abuse.

  Whatever.

  Adam had told Jared all of Chris’s stash had gone. He wasn’t growing weed any more—at least, not on his parents’ property—and any dealings in the stronger stuff was strictly underground. Adam had been pissed off when he told Jared about it. Selling shit was Chris’s main source of income, and now it had been squashed by a couple of idiots who didn’t know how to play nice.

  Still, according to Adam, there was going to be plenty of white powder at the white party. Enough to party on.

  Relations between the tight knot of friends and the rest of the school were tenser than Jared had seen since he arrived in Washington. Other kids were scared shitless of Clare. That was nothing new, but these days they looked at the rest of the Scooby gang with a new wariness and respect, like they were expecting someone to blow up at any moment.

  Ryder was out of the hospital, pacemaker free, thank God. She’d been given a prescription instead to keep her little heart going at its normal rate, and been told not to do any strenuous exercise. After the white party, she was coming back to school, or so rumor had it.

  “Hey,” Adam said, leaning in to murmur in Jared’s ear.

  They were supposed to be paying attention to the projected image at the front of the class, a close-up of some cells wriggling around under a microscope in real time. From the desk, their teacher paused in his lecture and scowled, but didn’t call Adam out.

  “What?” Jared hissed.

  “I need to go into the city to get something to wear for the fuckin’ white party. Wanna come?”

  The proposition was a sexy snarl in Jared’s ear, and the fabric of his uniform trousers suddenly felt tighter across his crotch.

  “Sure,” he said in a low voice.

  “Awesome.”

  Adam fell back onto all four legs of his chair with a thunk, and Jared couldn’t help but feel he was being watched for the rest of the class, phantom eyes burning into the back of his neck.

  Jared was alone in his next class, no Clare or Adam or anyone else to distract him. It was probably unsurprising that he was doing better in history than any of his other classes. By the end of the school day, there was a faint, throbbing headache threatening behind one eye and Jared popped a couple of Tylenol before tucking his books in his locker and strolling out to meet Adam.

  “Thought we’d ride in the Jag,” Adam said, leaning against his British racing green, S-type Jaguar. It was a classic, highly desirable car, so of course he drove it to school to show off.

  Jared climbed in without commenting, pulling the knot of his tie loose and pulling it off over his head, throwing it in the backseat as Adam pulled out of the lot and into the flow of traffic along the main street.

  Adam had already started to undress. He was wearing his unbuttoned shirt loose over a white T-shirt, tie and blazer already abandoned. The stereo was blasting Black Sabbath, a band Jared didn’t know Adam liked. He guessed it was something about paying homage to where the car had been made.

  “So, how was your day?” Adam asked as he pulled onto the I-5 and let the engine of the car do what it did best, and broke about three speed limits in the space of ten seconds.

  “Ugh. Not bad.”

  Adam shot him a grin and pulled around an ambling semitruck. “Did you miss me last period?”

  Jared barked a laugh. “Of course,” he drawled, only half joking.

  They had that kind of relationship now, one where they could rib each other and tease, the sort of friendship that normally took years to build. Jared had stopped questioning Adam’s motives, stopped wondering what the thought process was behind that beautiful, smirking smile.

  Truth was, he liked the way Adam looked at him, liked
the way it felt when he got to look back. There was no shame in their attraction to one another. No one was giving them a hard time for being gay, for liking the way the other guy was put together. The sexy combination of nature: genetics and nurture. Money.

  Jared found it easy to get over the fact that Adam was absolutely no angel. He fucked other people, both before and since meeting Jared, or got his dick sucked even if he didn’t fuck them. They were guys, they had those urges. Jared understood that. Adam didn’t let anyone else in his bed, though. He didn’t sleep beside those guys after hour-long makeout sessions.

  And Jared had a feeling that meant more than any dick-sucking that was going on.

  It was an hour journey into Seattle, so of course Adam canned it in just over thirty minutes. He pulled up in front of Nordstrom and walked around the car to let Jared out, like he was a real gentleman or something.

  Jared slid out of the car, pocketing his phone and patting his ass to make sure his wallet was in his back pocket. Adam noticed the gesture but didn’t comment. He locked his precious car and strode into the store, not waiting for Jared to fall in step beside him.

  “Fucking white party,” Adam grouched as they lazily roamed the racks of high-end menswear. “Normally I’m down with whatever nineties throwback shit Wallace wants to do, but seriously? No one has worn all white since ninety-seven.”

  “You could always go with stonewashed denim,” Jared said, tongue firmly tucked in cheek.

  “Fuck that,” Adam said emphatically. He lifted a Tom Ford knitted sweater from a rack and held it up. “This might work.”

  It was a chunky knit in an off-white color, classy and stylish. Jared lifted the tag with one finger and blinked at the price. Jesus.

  In the next half hour, Adam found a pair of tailored shorts, cut slim so they hugged his thighs. He tried the whole outfit on, modeling it for Jared, who nodded his approval.

  “Nice.”

  “Thanks. Do you want to look for anything?”

  “In here? No. Where’s H&M?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know about you, but I’m not spending twelve hundred bucks on an outfit for one party. Especially not when some drunk chick is likely gonna spill beer all down the front of it.”

  Adam rolled his eyes and ducked behind the heavy velvet curtain to change back into his uniform.

  “Don’t blame me when you’re not well dressed,” he called back.

  They’d been getting snooty looks from the sales clerk since they walked in, either for their uniforms or their outrageous flirting or the fact that they were young. So Jared felt more than a little smug when Adam handed over his purchases, totally nonchalant, then swiped his Amex to pay for it.

  “Dick,” Adam muttered as they strode out of the store. “H&M. Are you serious?”

  “Deadly,” Jared said. “Come on, pretty boy. Slum it with me.”

  He threw his arm around Adam’s shoulders and matched his pace as they walked the few blocks, clearly heading into a more down-market territory, before Adam stopped and stood in the doorway to the familiar store.

  “Are you sure about this?” he said, his face perfectly serious. “Once you go in there, you know there’s no going back. It’s poly-cotton blend from here on out.”

  Jared pushed Adam and frog-marched him into the store.

  Inside, it was blissfully generic. It only took Jared a few minutes to find a simple white button-down that rolled to the elbows. It had a white-on-white stripe that was actually quite nice. He didn’t mind spending forty bucks on something he’d wear again. The chinos he found were off-white, rather than pure white, but so was Adam’s sweater, so he didn’t think it would count as a violation of Chris’s rules.

  “See, less than a buck fifty,” he said, throwing in some gangsta slang Biggie would be proud of. “No need to spend a month’s fucking allowance on threads.”

  He paid in cash, to prove a point, and stuck his hand in Adam’s back pocket as he grumbled under his breath all the way back to the car. Before he slid into the passenger seat, Jared planted a wet kiss on Adam’s cheek.

  “Thanks for bringing me out here.”

  Under the frown, the edges of Adam’s lips quirked up. It was a brief smile, but a telling one.

  “Come on. I’m taking you to dinner,” Adam said as he pulled out into the flow of traffic. “And we’re not going to fucking McDonalds, before you try and drag me to another one of your white-trash haunts.”

  Jared laughed off the insult, knowing Adam didn’t mean it, making it all the more funny. They ended up in some fancy seafood place.

  At the door, Adam was greeted by a hostess who hugged him like an old friend while Jared stood back awkwardly and felt a rush of possessiveness. Who was this bitch, and why was she hugging his… his friend like that?

  “Jared, this is Sophie,” Adam said. “This is my mom’s favorite place to go when she’s in town, so I know Sophie and Anton well.”

  Feeling like a dick, Jared broke into a smile and extended his hand to shake Sophie’s. She led them to a table near the kitchen, a small space for two in an intimate little alcove.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” she said with a nod, then ducked back to her station.

  Jared let Adam order, not trusting himself around the French titles on the menu.

  “Can’t I just get some fucking fries,” he muttered when Adam was done.

  “I ordered you dauphinoise potatoes. Trust me, they’re amazing.”

  “What else?”

  Adam huffed. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “Not at all,” Jared said easily, leaning back in his chair. Adam had ordered white wine with their meal, and Sophie had brought over two glasses without questioning him or asking for ID. It was crisp and bright, the flavor bursting on Jared’s tongue as he took a sip. Wine wasn’t usually his thing, but this was nice. He could get used to the expensive stuff, it seemed.

  With the glass of wine cradled against his chest, Jared looked around the restaurant, appreciating the warm, European feel of the place. The chef obviously took pride in sourcing local décor, along with local ingredients. Seattle was a good place to go for fresh seafood, after all.

  When the food arrived, it was all on one serving platter: a bowl of fish stew in a light sauce, piles of thinly sliced potatoes and leeks, and a mountain of sharp green beans, peas, and broccoli.

  “Wow,” Jared murmured. “Looks good.”

  “It is. Help yourself.”

  Large silver serving spoons were balanced on either side of the platter and Jared dug in with enthusiasm.

  “You see why I love this place?” Adam asked rhetorically as he speared a piece of flaky white fish, examined it, then licked the fork clean. In different circumstances—maybe when Jared wasn’t so focused on eating—he would have been hyperaware of the soft pink tongue and how it wrapped around the tines of the fork.

  The room was warm, and the wine complemented the food perfectly, and Jared felt himself relaxing, truly relaxing for the first time in a long time. He couldn’t quite name what had changed. It was probably a combination of factors, and Adam’s leg knocking against his under the table didn’t harm that general feeling of well-being.

  “So, what’s going on with Clare and Ryder?” Jared asked as he helped himself to more green beans. “I’m not sure I was following everything that went down.”

  “You mean Clare and her diet cokeheads?”

  “No… well, yeah, I wanna know who she was partying with. But she said something about Ryder pulling a Cobain?”

  Adam sighed. “Ryder’s mental health has always been in a state of flux,” he said carefully. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “She does this on purpose?”

  “I don’t know much,” Adam said and reached for his wine. “She’s been in the hospital a few times for overdoses. Once it was pills and vodka. Clare called that her Monroe episode.”

  “Christ. She really is a bitch.�
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  “She was the one who took yellow roses to Ryder’s hospital room every weekend until she got out of the psych ward.”

  “I don’t get it,” Jared admitted.

  “Me either. Clare has some theory that it’s a cry for attention. Ryder is the ignored kid in her family. Dylan is her fucking twin and he skipped a grade, so he’s at college already, despite being born ten minutes after her. And Tyler has a lot of special needs, so their parents spend a lot of time with him. She’s sort of left out.”

  “So she, what, resorts to suicide attempts?”

  “I don’t think she actually wants to kill herself,” Adam said. “She just wants someone to notice her.”

  “That’s so sad.”

  “Watch,” Adam said knowingly. “She’ll be out of the hospital soon and everyone is going to make a massive fuss of her. At school, at home, everywhere. I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve that or anything, but it’ll happen. She needs it, I guess.”

  “What happens if—"

  “Don’t,” Adam said sharply. “We’ve all done the what-if game. She’ll go back into therapy after this whether she likes it or not. Clare will make sure of it.”

  “She could have died.”

  “I know,” Adam said.

  “Does Clare really not care?”

  “I have absolutely no idea what Clare thinks. She was at a UDub party on Saturday night, before you ask. Playing with the big boys.”

  “That woman is a walking contradiction.”

  “The key word there was ‘woman,’” Adam said, smiling over the top of his glass.

  “Amen to that.”

  When the last scrap of sauce had been scraped up with a crust of bread, Adam leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “So good,” he murmured.

  “Much better than McDonalds,” Jared agreed, pleased when Adam grinned without reservation.

  “Told you,” he said lightly.

  “Are you going to get me a McFlurry from the drive-through on the way home?”

  “No fucking way.” Adam laughed.