Envy

straight ahead.

He got into position, readied the ball on his fingertips, imagining its perfect three-point arc ending in a nearly silent swoosh.

“By the way,” Kane said nonchalantly, still on the ground where Adam had left him. “If I see your girlfriend tonight, should I tell her you say hello?”

Air ball.

After the basketball game ended-rather abruptly-Kane rushed home to shower and change, then drove right back to school. He met Kaia and Harper in front of the dark building, their figures illuminated by the low-watt yellowish lights. Kane pulled out his key-he had keys for almost every door in town-and they slipped inside.

There was always something about being in the school after hours, after dark. An illicit thrill, the undercurrent of tension and excitement-the possibility of getting caught. The halls that were so familiar and oppressive during the day transformed into a dark, shadowy no-man’s-land for them to explore.

It made no sense-sneaking into school would likely get them into no more trouble than sneaking out of it, which all three of them did on a regular basis. But there was still something there-an unspoken feeling that just by being there at this hour, alone in the dark, they had somehow taken ownership of a side of the school its true owners had never known.

Of course, in a sense, they owned the school during the daylight hours too-so it wasn’t a big leap of the imagination.

They crept down the hallway, single file, keeping an eye out for the janitor. Kane went first, leading the way, unable to stop dwelling on the game. It had been so easy to get a rise out of Adam-it was the kind of thing he did best. A skill that had always made him proud. At least in the past.

Next came Kaia, silently marveling at the excitement and nervous energy churning in her stomach, despite the fact that this little caper was far tamer than many she’d successfully pulled off on the East Coast. Maybe it had something to do with the night before-the touch of Jack Powell’s body had lit up something inside of her, something that had lain dormant for a long time.

And finally, Harper. Decked out in trespassing haute couture (black faux cashmere sweater, dark jeans, Sketchers sneakers in place of her usual heels, the better for softly padding through the empty halls). She gripped the bag holding Kane’s digital camera tightly. Things were going so smoothly, so perfectly-was something about to happen to screw everything up? Or should she just accept that the universe was on her side, guiding her toward an inescapable destiny?

Kane led them to the girls’ locker room, unlocked the door, and flicked on the lights. They squinted in the sudden brightness, then got down to business. Harper pointed out Beth’s locker-it probably wouldn’t matter much on the small screen, but they’d agreed that the backgrounds should match as exactly as possible.

Then Kaia took the camera and Harper stripped off her shirt-her height and body type were closest to Beth’s, and again, they’d agreed this was best. She unbuttoned her jeans, but then paused.

“Bashful, Grace?” Kane asked, chuckling. His laugh echoed through the room, bouncing off the grubby linoleum and washing over them. He’d already stripped down to his silk boxers. “Come on, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

She sneered at him. Stripping down in front of Kane was no big deal-it was the camera she couldn’t stop thinking about. And not just because, when it came to kinky fun, she’d never been into the whole Kodak moment scene. It was more that seeing the camera made it real. What they were about to do-and who it was going to hurt. Harper knew she could put a stop to the whole thing in a second-just call it off, send everyone home.

Instead, she peeled off her jeans.

“You do know how to sweet talk a girl,” she said sarcastically. “I know we all look the same to you.”

“Well… that may be true,” Kane admitted. “But in this case, I mean you’re nothing I haven’t seen before. Or are we forgetting that fateful day after Shayna’s eighth-grade birthday blowout?”

“Kane,” Harper said warningly, shooting a glance at Kaia, whose affected veneer of boredom couldn’t disguise her sudden interest. Harper and Kane had vowed never to speak of The Incident again. And never had-until now.

“I, for one, remember it very well,” Kane mused. “You, me, a jug of grain alcohol. Good times, good times.”

“Kane! Shut up.” She balled up her jeans and threw them at him. He caught the denim missile easily and tossed it back to her.

“Chill out, I’m just trying to lighten things up. Just reminding you that my arms are not such an alien place for you to be.”

Harper rolled her eyes. “I’ll never understand how you manage to get anyone to fall for that dirtbag ‘charm’ of yours,” she complained.

“Ask Beth-she’s falling for it, hook, line, and sinker.”

At that, Kaia cleared her throat and waved the camera in the air.

“Guys? Speaking of Beth, maybe we should get a move on with the task at hand? Much as I’m enjoying the Harper and Kane show, I don’t really need to spend the rest of the night watching you two practice flirtatious banter.”

Kane nodded. “You’re right, enough flirting-”

“That was flirting?” Harper interjected. “We really are in trouble.”

“Like I was saying,” Kane continued, staring down Harper, “enough flirting, down to business.” He mugged for Kaia and the camera. “Come on, I’m ready for my close up, Ms. DeMille.”

“Okay then, hotshot, let’s get started. Nice and slow.”

The next hour passed in a blur, a steamy montage of sexy poses and ever-changing camera angles.

Here was Harper draped in Kane’s arms, her head resting on his bare chest.

Flash, click.

And Kane tracing his fingers down Harper’s bare back.

Click.

Harper and Kane pressed together, their lips locked in a kiss.

Click.

And more, and more, and more.

Not that Harper was enjoying the rubbing and the pressing and the groping and the kissing of the fake hookup. And not that Kane was turned on by the warm, supple body writhing in his arms, her mind committed to someone else, her body all his. Kaia, certainly, could not have been taking a secret thrill from the voyeurism of it all, playing the puppet master, barking out commands, suggesting poses, capturing it all on film.

All three of them, they assured themselves, would never sink low enough to actually enjoy the depravity.

Still, when the pictures were all taken, the arms and legs untangled, the clothes back on, all three were sorry to see the evening end.

“Well, it’s been fun, ladies,” Kane said, grabbing the camera and flipping appreciatively through the stills they’d captured. “You look good, Grace.”

“You’re not going to start chasing after me now, are you?” Harper asked, feigning disgust.

“Oh, don’t be so full of yourself. You may look good,” he pointed out, “but I look better.”

“On that note, should we get out of here?” Kaia suggested. “I think we got what we needed.”

“Here’s my cell, Kane.” Harper handed over her phone, with its own stock of photos still intact. “So you’re sure you can actually make this work?”

“Have no fear-my Photoshop skills are second only to my carnal skills-and you’ve got personal confirmation of those.”

“Gross, don’t remind me,” Harper complained, smacking his chest good-naturedly. “Come on, let’s go-I think after that, we could all use a drink.”

They crept out as silently as they’d crept in, and drove off together into the dark night, the cell phone and digital camera safe and sound in Kane’s bag. It was the dynamite that would blow Beth and Adam’s relationship apart-and the fuse had just been lit.

The dunk tank guy, Greg, had been only too eager to take Miranda for dinner, and they’d met at seven that night at the one nice restaurant in town. It turned out he was a junior (a bit embarrassing, but not nearly as bad as