Lust

“Spit it out, I’ve got a hot date coming over,” he joked. Probably it was a joke.

“Do you have-do you know which chapter we were supposed to read for Setlow’s class?” God, she hated herself sometimes. It was an asinine excuse for calling him, which, she supposed, was appropriate, since it had been asinine to call in the first place. She looked down at herself in disgust, at the oversized T-shirt and boxers she’d thrown on after dinner, her lying-around-and-watching-TV outfit. Or, the way things were going, more like her boring, frumpy, destined-to-grow-up-into-an-old-maid-and-die-fat-and-alone outfit. A fate Miranda supposed she deserved, since she apparently didn’t have the nerve to do anything about it.

“You called me to check up on the homework?” Kane asked incredulously. “Stevens, are you feeling okay? Taken any recreational drugs lately?”

She laughed shakily. At least he’d bought it. She didn’t know whether to be angry at herself for chickening out, or grateful that whatever insanity had convinced her he might be interested had subsided before she could make a complete fool of herself.

“Miranda, you still with me?” he asked, when she didn’t respond.

“No, yeah, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was stupid. I’d better go,” she babbled, all in one ragged breath, and snapped the phone shut before he could say anything else.

Stupid was right.

Adam sat in his empty living room, staring at the darkened screen of the TV. The phone rested on his lap, as it had for the last half hour, ever since he’d flipped off the TV in disgust, midway through some crappy sitcom. He’d picked up the phone, determined to make things right. And then he’d put it down. He’d gone through the pointless routine again and again, even dialed part of the number a few times, but couldn’t bring himself to finish.

He wanted to apologize to Beth, of course he did. But he didn’t know what to say. He still wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for, to be honest, or even whether he was the one who should be apologizing in the first place. His mother often claimed that the man was always the one who should be apologizing-and that was certainly his father’s way. Adam Morgan Sr. had apologized and apologized, but it was, Adam supposed, never enough. At least it hadn’t been enough to stop his mother from throwing plates at his father’s head, or sneaking a gulp from an ever-present bottle of scotch when she thought her young son wasn’t looking. Adam resolved-not for the first time-that there was no way he would ever model his relationship after his parents’ short-lived marriage. Better to die alone than go down that path.

Still, Adam reasoned, he’d obviously done something wrong. Hurt Beth in some way. And hurting someone he loved was the last thing he’d ever wanted to do.

He picked up the phone. Dialed the familiar number. Listened to it ring.

“Hello?”

He opened his mouth, closed it again.

Hung up.

Chapter 9

Harper had gym first period the next morning. Though this was normally, and with little competition, the bane of her week, she was actually looking forward to it this time-it would give her just the opportunity she needed. Kane was stuck in gym too-killing time on the basketball courts while the girls paraded lazily around the tiny track. The geniuses behind Haven High’s physical education program had a somewhat lackadaisical attitude when it came to female participation. The guys had a rigidly determined schedule: football one week, soccer the next, running sprints the week after that. If the girls, on the other hand, chose to opt out of the period-or because of their periods-and do some “power walking” around the track instead, that was fine.

Harper knew it was sexist and offensive and she should probably lead a schoolwide campaign to remedy the problem… but since she hated gym even more than she loved muckraking, she had little incentive to do so. Besides, sexism sometimes came in handy-this morning, for instance. As she stood in the middle of the ragged field with the rest of the girls, waiting for the teacher to explain the morning’s paltry athletic task, she figured she’d soon have no problem sneaking off, grabbing Kane, and doing Miranda’s dirty work for her.

It was no surprise that Miranda had chickened out the night before. The only surprise was that Miranda had even entertained the idea of asking Kane out in the first place. Harper had only suggested it as a joke, an empty dare. She’d never expected Miranda to actually buy into the idea.

Small wonder that she hadn’t followed through.

“Kane,” Harper called to him, once she’d made it safely over to the courts. She poked her face through the chainlink fence and waggled her fingers at him. “Over here! I need you for a minute.”

Kane tossed in an effortless layup that swished through the net and jogged over to join her.

“What’s up, lover?” he asked, his familiar smirk already painted across his face. (Kane’s motto: Never leave home without it.) Only Kane could still look debonair in a Haven High gym uniform-bright orange T-shirt and ungainly brown shorts. Harper wasn’t too thrilled to be seen out in public in the female version, especially by the entire guys’ gym class, but sometimes you had to make sacrifices for your best friend. Plus, the T-shirt was a couple of sizes too small and she knew that despite the hideous color, it showed off more than a few of her best attributes. Kane, for one, blatantly sizing her up, didn’t seem to mind.

“Who are you taking to the stupid dance next week?” she asked, skipping the small talk.

“Ah, I don’t know if I’m even going,” he told her, shrugging. “I’m sick of the girls here-great asses but no spines.” He paused for a moment, then widened his eyes in a purposely exaggerated look of surprise. “Why, Grace, was that just your clumsy way of asking me out? I’m flattered, I’m flabbergasted, I’m-”

“An idiot, I know,” she cut in. “Now shut up.” She took a quick look around, making sure no one could overhear them. While a few of Kane’s cronies had stopped shooting hoops and were clustered together on the court looking over at the two of them, they were safely out of earshot. “Look, I think you should ask Miranda.”

Kane burst into laughter.

“And why the hell would I do that?”

Harper smacked him on the shoulder.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked irritably. “Why wouldn’t you do that?”

“Harper, it’s Miranda,” he protested.

She stared blankly at him.

“I mean, she’s great and all-smart, fun-”

“Beautiful, witty, a great dancer,” Harper continued.

“Yeah, whatever-but it’s still Miranda.” He rolled his eyes, but Harper just looked at him, her face betraying no expression. “As in ‘Miranda, can I copy your math homework?’” he continued. “Or ‘Miranda, what’s a seven-letter word for sarcastic?’, not ‘Miranda, how I love to lick whipped cream off your breasts. ’”

Harper took a quick step back.

“Please, please tell me you’ve never actually said those words to a girl,” she begged him.

“Woman, actually,” he bragged.

“God, you’re pathetic. And now that image is burned into my brain. Thanks.”

He just smiled at her, the picture of innocence.

“So you can see why I’m not going to ask her, right, Grace?” He paused, and then a glimmer of understanding dawned on his face. “Why’d you ask, anyway-does she have a little crush on me or something?”

He started to laugh again, but she cut him off quickly.

“As if she’d go for an idiot like you-no, I was trying to do you a favor,” Harper said, thinking fast. “I figured you’ve probably had your fill of bimbos by now. Obviously, I was wrong.” And she began to walk away. Even pretending to jog around a track would be better than this.

“Harper, wait!” he called after her. “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you on exactly that topic,” he said conspiratorially once she’d turned back around.

“Bimbos?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Being fed up with them. I’ve got my eye on someone new, and I think you’re just the girl to help me get her.”

“The great Kane Geary-actually admitting he needs someone’s help?” Harper was still disgusted-but also