Envy

brought him to this one. And Harper-he turned his head to look at her and realized she was staring at him, eyes awash in love and sympathy-Harper had been there for almost all of them. She was the one constant in his life. His father gone, his mother useless, his girlfriend and his best friend-

No, there was only Harper. Loyal. True. Just thinking about her, just lying there so close to her made the anger subside, made the world seem almost bearable, made the red tide of pain and betrayal recede.

She reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently, and he squeezed back, then shifted onto his side and looked at her. For the first time, really looked at her. And realized what he’d been missing. Slowly, wordlessly, he sat up, pulled her up beside him, then tipped her chin up, closed his eyes, and melted into her.

The moment their lips met, it was as if he’d been waiting forever to hold her in his arms, and he drank her in hungrily, urgently, needing the contact, the pressure of her arms around him, her lips on his, their bodies entwined. He didn’t need Beth, he thought angrily. And he would prove it.

Time stretched-and it felt like they’d been on the rock, folded into each others’ arms, forever, would be forever-

And then Harper pushed him away.

“I can’t, Adam,” she whispered.

“Harper-” He reached out for her.

“No, not like this,” she protested, sitting up and drawing away from him.

“Is it too fast? Is it-”

“It’s too soon, Adam,” she said tenderly. “You’re hurt. You’re angry.” She brushed his hair out of his face and kissed him on the cheek. “When we do this… if we do this… I don’t want it to be because you want to get revenge on Beth.”

“I’d never use you, Harper,” he protested.

“I know that-don’t you think I know that? But I think… I think we should wait. Until you know what you really want.”

I want you. That’s what he wanted to say. But the words choked in his throat because he knew she was right. And she didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve that.

He lay back on the rock again, sighing.

“I’m so fucked up, Harper,” he admitted. “How did things get so fucked up? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I just don’t know.”

She kissed him softly on the lips and then lay back beside him, taking his hand.

“We’ll figure it out, Adam. Together.”

The night had seemed interminable. Harper had disappeared into the woods, and Greg had refused to listen to her apology, so Miranda had picked her way through the forest, following the narrow path back toward Valley Glen High School. Alone. She’d made her way to the parking lot and stood by the empty Haven bus. Alone.

Finally, the pizza party had ended, the Haven High fans had surged into the parking lot and boarded their bus and the van, and now Miranda was speeding toward home. And, slouched down in a seat right behind the driver, peering out the window into the darkness, she was still alone. Completely and utterly alone.

She hadn’t noticed whether Harper, Adam, and Greg had made it back in time, and she didn’t really care. It’s not like any of them were worried about her, wondering where she was or if she was all right. Harper’s amazing disappearing act had made that pretty clear.

No, she was on her own-and maybe, she thought bitterly, she’d better get used to it. After all, who understood her? Who was there for her when she needed someone to lean on? Good old Miranda, always there to lend a sympathetic ear, always ready to give advice-but when was it ever her turn? When she was the one who needed help, who needed some support, then there she was-alone.

What was the point of putting everything you had into a friendship when all you got back was… well, nothing?

She leaned back against the worn leather of the bus seat, trying to get comfortable, trying to ignore the shouts and laughter coming from the seats behind her. She closed her eyes, willing herself to be tired, to lose herself in sleep. But her mind refused to relax.

It was a five-hour ride back home, and she had nothing to do but curl up in the dark, wide awake, and contemplate the misery of her own existence.

Good thing she had enough material to last her the rest of the night.

They rode home on the van together, side by side, hand in hand. Adam had decided he was in no shape to ride on the rowdier fan bus with most of the team. As the van pulled onto the road, he wrapped an arm around Harper, pulling her close, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. She snuggled up against him, her head on his chest, and listened to his heart, beating in time with the gentle rocking of the van.

She felt so warm, so safe with him by her side. And the taste of him was still on her lips-she’d waited so long for him to look at her like that, to hold her like that. Which had made it all the harder to push him away. Even harder than it had been to watch him in all that pain, to watch him raging against himself and the world and know that she could end it for him with just a few quick words-but that doing so would cost her everything. So she’d stayed silent, played the loyal and dutiful friend-and it had worked. Better, and faster, than she’d ever imagined.

It didn’t matter how she’d gotten here, she reasoned. All that mattered was that she was here now, and she was close, so painfully close, to getting everything she wanted. She just had to be careful-she couldn’t rush it, couldn’t let him rush it. Patience, time-and then, the big payoff.

As the night wore on, a deep quiet settled over them. Harper closed her eyes and breathed in Adam’s closeness; in the quiet dark, it felt like they were all alone in the world. Together. She leaned against him, her cheek resting on his chest, rising and falling with his steady breaths, slowly drifting off to sleep. After so much time and energy spent planning the next step, looking toward tomorrow, and the day after that, Harper had finally found herself in a moment she could enjoy for what it was, a moment she wished would last forever.

If only it could.

Chapter 13

Adam awoke the next morning with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was as if, even before he was fully awake, even before his mind had wrapped itself around the horror of the night before, his body had known that something was deeply, deeply wrong. When he’d staggered home last night at three a.m., a part of him had wanted to call Beth, to drive over to her house, bang on the windows until she let him in, shake her until she admitted what she’d done.

He’d wanted to call her last night, the moment he’d found out. But he’d stopped himself. It wasn’t because he was afraid he’d say something he shouldn’t-it was because he wanted to see her face, wanted her to be there right in front of him when he told her exactly what he thought of her. He didn’t want anything-not static, not some misplaced twinge of pity or forgiveness-to get in the way.

He knew that this moment, coming face-to-face with her, would be the hardest one to get through, that if he were going to crack, were going to buy the inevitable denial and tearful “have pity on me” routine, it would be then. But he also knew that if he could get through the encounter without breaking, he could be rid of her forever.

It was Harper who’d convinced him, who’d persuaded him to wait until he’d calmed down and his head was clear-or at least until morning. And now morning was here. A storm of anger was still simmering just beneath the surface-he was almost afraid to pick up the phone. Once he released himself, once he let out all the emotion he’d been bottling up since the night before-he didn’t know how he’d stand it.

But he couldn’t do nothing. That would be worse.

So Adam rolled out of bed and dialed the familiar number, suppressing his nausea and affecting a cheerful, innocent voice.

“I’m so happy you called!” she said.

“I missed you!” she said.