Lust

the car-or, as he preferred to speak of it, his “love machine”-but after a few slobbery kisses, she’d suggested they stop off for a drink. If she was going to make it through a night with Derek, sober just wasn’t going to cut it. (Though she knew from experience that drunk was an equally unwise way to go; when dealing with Derek “Magic Fingers” Cooper, it was best to keep your wits about you. Moderation, that was key.)

So-one drink. One long drive down a dark road, hiphop blasting from the speakers, Derek keeping one hand on the wheel and the other massaging the contours of her inner thigh. Harper let her hand creep across into his lap, returning the favor-after all, he was incredibly hot, and with the music blaring, it was too loud for him to say anything dumb that would spoil the pretty picture.

Ten minutes more and they were there. “Lover’s Lane”-in this case, a quiet stretch of back road with plenty of cactus tree cover and open space for the picnic blanket Derek “just happened” to have in his trunk. They lay on the scratchy blanket and groped each other, with plenty of heavy petting and heavy breathing. Soon Harper was sprawled out on her back, wearing nothing but a pair of violet satin panties. She was also bored out of her mind.

“You’re so hot,” Derek said, stroking her breast with his meaty hand and then leaning in to plant a slobbery kiss on it. “I mean, really hot,” he added, coming up for air.

“Mmm-hmm,” Harper agreed as she shifted position, searching for a comfortable spot on the gravelly, uneven ground. No luck. She shivered-September wasn’t such a great time to be out at night with no clothes on, she supposed. On the other hand, she thought, her mind wandering as Derek kissed (or, judging from the feel, licked) a path across her chest, at least the stars were beautiful. She’d never been one for star-gazing, but she needed something to do.

“You’re hot too,” she added mechanically, after it became clear that Derek was waiting for something of the sort. And was that the Big Dipper? she wondered idly.

It had been like this for the whole tedious, predictable night. Sure, at first it had been good to be reminded of how desirable she was, but it had gotten old. Fast. Or maybe she was the one getting old-because, for whatever reason, she just couldn’t get into things. In the past, she would at least have had a little fun before drifting into boredom. Put her brain to sleep and let her body run on autopilot. But now, it was like she couldn’t stop herself from thinking.

And thinking and Derek? Not a match made in heaven.

Not that he wasn’t a pretty perfect physical specimen, Harper conceded, running her tongue along the outline of his ear and then kissing her way down his neck. She’d give him that.

No, she wouldn’t be lying here naked in an abandoned field on a ratty blanket with some guy who couldn’t cut it on the A list. Ripped chest, deep blue eyes, cut biceps, adorable dimples on his face (and butt)-he certainly wasn’t getting through life on his wits.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you look just like Lara Croft?” he asked, rolling over on his side and gazing at her with an adoring look that made her cringe.

“Who?” If, in the heat of passion, he was comparing her to some ex-girlfriend, he was even dumber than she’d thought.

“You know, Lara Croft. Tomb Raider.” Derek paused in his inch-by-inch examination of her body. “It’s kind of lame, not as good as Madden NFL or Grand Theft Auto-but dude, she’s hot.” He went back to work. The guy was industrious. “Mmm, not as hot as you, babe.”

Okay, Harper decided, enough was enough. Seriously-video game chick? Even an ex-girlfriend would have been better than that.

Harper abruptly pulled away from Derek and began collecting her rumpled clothes from where they’d fallen during his hasty scramble to strip her bare.

“I’m a little tired, Derek,” she said, squeezing into her strapless bra and pulling her top over her head. “Can we head home now?”

“But I told you, I’ve got protection,” he protested, confused. He tugged lamely at her shirt, trying to pull it off again; she wriggled out of his reach. “We were just getting started!”

“Well, now you can get started getting dressed,” she informed him, throwing his pants in his face. “Because I promise you this-it’s not going to happen.”

Chapter 8

It had been two days.

Beth and Adam still weren’t speaking to each other-and Beth was desperate.

Which was the only possible explanation for her call. A last, the very last, resort.

And after all, there was no one else. She hated to admit it, but after getting together with Adam, she’d drifted away from most of her girlfriends. There was nowhere else to turn.

Desperation sucked.

She flipped open her small Winnie the Pooh phone book to the right page-after all this time, she still didn’t know the number by heart-and began to dial.

“Hey, Harper, it’s… Beth,” she said timidly, once the other girl had answered the phone. And they began to chat. Awkwardly pushing through all possible areas of small talk (big surprise, there weren’t too many), Harper at least had the grace not to ask, “Yeah, but what do you really want?” though Beth was sure it was at the forefront of her mind. And why not? When had she ever called Harper “just to chat”?

As Harper prattled on about something that had happened to Mr. Greenfield’s toupee during third period, Beth asked herself again whether she really wanted to have this conversation. Whether she could actually bring herself to have it out loud. She shuffled through some papers on her desk, began doodling on the back of one, nothing but meaningless scribbles, but it passed the time and calmed her down. Finally, she glanced over at the bed, which she’d neglected to make that morning. The sheets and comforter were tangled and strewn haphazardly across its surface; it seemed a bigger mess than one person could possibly have made on her own, even tossing and turning all night, as she had. It was the bed that convinced her; she didn’t want to be on her own there, not forever.

“Harper, can I ask you something?” she interrupted. Harper was still talking, laughing about whatever it was she’d just divulged, but she broke off immediately, sensing the tension in Beth’s voice.

“Of course.”

“Well…” Beth had no idea how to begin. “You and I have spent a lot of time together, but we don’t really know each other that well, I mean, I guess we’re not really friends…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Harper said quickly. “Anyone important to Adam is a part of my life. You know how close we are.”

Beth felt a quick stab of pain at the words-yes, of course she knew how close Adam and Harper were. Hadn’t she suffered through hours of conversation about how wonderful Harper was? What a great friend she was? How misunderstood she was? Like she needed a reminder that her boyfriend considered some other girl his best friend, maybe his soul mate. (He’d never said it aloud… but then, Beth had never had the nerve to ask, not wanting to hear the answer.) Platonic soul mate, she reminded herself-and, after all, why else had she picked up the phone?

“You do know him better than anyone else-probably better than I do,” Beth admitted, gritting her teeth. “That’s kind of why I wanted to talk to you.”

There was a long pause.

“Well,” Beth began again, “maybe it’s been obvious that Adam and I haven’t been getting along all that well lately.”

“Really?” Harper’s voice oozed concern. “I hadn’t noticed-what’s wrong?”

“It’s been a lot of little things, I guess-but, I mean, there’s this one big thing hanging over us. And I think-no, I know, that’s the real problem.”

“What?”

“You’ll laugh.”

Of course she would laugh. Harper went out with a different guy every week, and Beth was sure she wasn’t pushing any of them away with some half-articulated excuse that she only half believed herself. Not that she