Powell grumbled, but Kaia was done with him for the night. And finally, after she’d agreed to model her new Malizia bikini for him in person sometime soon, he let her go.
She hung up the phone, but before laying it down on the deck, had a better idea. She dialed Reed’s number and held her breath, surprised by how much she suddenly wanted him to answer.
But the phone rang and rang, and eventually Kaia gave up. She slid down farther and farther into the water, until only the tip of her nose and her dark eyes hovered above it. Kaia never let herself depend on anyone, and so she wouldn’t let it bother her that Reed was unavailable. Still she couldn’t help wondering where he was…and whether he was thinking of her.
Adam blew off practice.
He had to.
Once, basketball had been an escape, a way to get out of his own head and relax into the rhythm of running, leaping, throwing, pushing himself to the limit. It had been a refuge.
And then Kane joined the team.
These days, Adam didn’t have the energy to sink many shots or work on his passing. Every ounce of strength was devoted to resisting the temptation to bash in Kane’s smug face, and pay him back for ruining Adam’s life.
Only, after the encounter with Harper, Adam didn’t have much strength left.
So he ditched practice, seeking a new refuge from the ijiess he’d made of his life. He needed to turn off his brain, and the 8 Ball, a dank pool hall at the edge of town, was fhe perfect place to do it.
It was dark, even during the day-black boards over the windows ensured that no afternoon light would slip in and disturb the handful of surly regulars. It was a place to hide. And, with five-dollar pitchers, a place to forget.
He’d come here with Harper once, and she’d put on a disgusting show, throwing herself at the sleazy goth bartender. Maybe it should have been a sign. But Adam had ignored the warning, and instead dumped a pitcher of beer on the bartender’s head in a jealous rage.The bartender had vowed to make him sorry if he ever returned-and so, since then, Adam had known to stay away.
But Adam was tired of doing what was good for him-things managed to blow up in his face, anyway. So why bother?
“Can I get a Sam Adams?” he asked the bartender. It was the same guy. Good.
“Don’t I know you?” the loser asked, pushing his greasy hair out of his eyes to get a better look.
“Is that supposed to be a pickup line?” Adam asked sarcastically. “Because trust me, I’m not interested.”
“You’re the asshole,” the bartender exclaimed. As if, in a place like this, that was a distinguishing characteristic.
“Who are you calling an asshole?” Adam stood up and gripped the edge of the bar. All the emotion that had been simmering within him finally rose to the surface-and in a moment, he knew, he could give it permission to explode.
“I thought I told you never to come back here,” the scrawny weasel complained. He turned away. “I’m not serving you. Get out.”
“Or what?” Adam growled.
“Or I’ll call the cops on your underage ass. In fact, maybe I’ll do it, anyway, just for fun.”
Adam flexed his muscles.
Made a fist.
Pulled back, and-
Stopped.
If he let himself lose control, he might never get it back again.
So instead of smashing in the bartender’s face, he grabbed a glass from the bar and threw it, hard as he could, to the ground.
“What the hell are you doing?” the bartender cried, as glass sprayed across the floor.
“I have no fucking idea,” Adam said honestly, and walked out. There were plenty of other bars in town, plenty of cheap drinks. Plenty of ways to forget.
And that was exactly what he needed.
If it was too dangerous to let himself react, then-at least for one night-he could let himself drown.
She was like a statue in the moonlight, pale, graceful, glowing in the night. He sucked in a sharp breath, forcing his body to stay calm. He couldn’t afford to give himself away.
She was so close-and it was so hard not to reveal himself, and take possession of her. As was his right.
He’d been with her before; he would be again. But nothing was more delicious than watching from a distance, knowing that she belonged to him.
She climbed out of the hot tub, and he held his breath. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. Her perfect, glistening body, slicing through the air, every step precise, premeditated. As she toweled herself off, shivering, she suddenly froze, staring out into the darkness.
He froze, too, and it felt as if their eyes had locked. Had she sensed his invisible presence? His heart slammed in his chest, and his fingers tightened against the fence post he’d crouched behind. Moments like this-the threat of being caught, the chill of a near miss-made the game worth playing.
But he’d learned well how to minimize the risks, and knew she would never catch on. Nothing was sweeter than facing her day in and day out, knowing that she could never imagine what lay behind his mask.
She liked to think she didn’t trust anyone, but she trusted him. She underestimated him, and he allowed it.
For now.
Chapter 3
They’d decided to go old school.
E-mail would have been more efficient, and a Web site might have been snazzier, but after serious consideration, Beth and Miranda had decided that neither had the technical prowess to put something like that together undetected. And plausible deniability was key.
E-mails could be traced. Circuits always led back to their source. But paper was untraceable-and as editor in chief of the school paper, Beth had access to all the printing equipment she needed.
She pulled the stack of flyers out of the printer as Miranda ejected their disk and wiped their work from the computer’s memory.
“Behold,” said Beth, holding up the crimson sheet crammed with dirty little secrets. “Our masterpiece.”
Miranda grabbed a copy and quickly scanned the elegantly designed layout.
“Unbelievable, isn’t it, that they were able to accomplish so much in their short, sordid lives?”
“I’m not sure ‘accomplish’ is the right word,” Beth said, reading out a few of her favorites. “‘HG used to steal money from the collection plate. AM is impotent. KG is afraid of the dark.’ I’m not sure what it is they’ve accomplished.”
“Other than making asses of themselves,” Miranda said, and laughed. “Well, thanks to us.”
They’d included some gossip about a bunch of randoms, too, just for cover. But that was a diversion. Soon everyone would know that KG was so desperate, he had to trick girls into sleeping with him; that sometimes HG still stuffed her bra. Neither Miranda nor Beth knew much about the mysterious new girl from the East Coast, but before everything came down, Harper had passed along a bit of juicy info about Kaia and Haven High’s resident pothead that was too weird not to be true.
“Are we really doing this?” Beth asked, as she split the pile in half and handed one stack to Miranda. It was almost 6 A.M., which meant there’d be plenty of time to spread them all over school before even the most diligent early bird appeared for his worm.
“Definitely.” Miranda swung her long, reddish hair over her shoulder and looked defiantly up at Beth. “It’s exactly what they deserve.”
“I guess…”
“No second thoughts,” Miranda ordered. “They screwed us. Both of us. Because they thought we’d put up with it.”
And Beth remembered the surprise in Kane’s eyes when she’d pushed him away for the last time. The mocking look in Harper’s every time Beth dared confront her, as if knowing that sweet, quiet Beth would always be the one to back down first. And she remembered the way Adam had treated her when he’d thought she was the cheater, his cold, unrelenting cruelty, the unwillingness to bend, to trust, to forgive.
Now she was supposed to just get over it? Because betraying Beth, well, that didn’t really count? “You take the science wing, I’ll hit the lockers by the cafeteria,” Beth said determinedly. Forget moving on. Forget backing down.