Pride

slightly parted, and all he could feel was his desperate need-

“We should really get back inside,” she said awkwardly, breaking away from him.

He dropped his hands to his sides abruptly. What the hell had he been thinking?

“I should-go find Harper,” he stammered.

“And Kane.” She sighed. “I guess I should…” She shook her head. “Let s just go back inside.” They threaded their way back toward the sliding-glass door to the living room, but before they stepped through, Adam stopped her.

“I’m glad we talked,” he told her, leaning close. “I really want things to be better between us.”

“They will,” she promised, and took his hand.

They stood at the threshold, and Adam knew he had to step inside, rejoin the party, find Harper. But Beth’s hand was still tightly wrapped around his, comforting and warm.

And he really didn’t want to let go.

“I can’t believe you let him out of your sight,” Kane taunted her. “You really think that’s safe?”

“Would you just shut up?” Harper snapped irritably. She was so sick of Kane’s overblown ego, his superiority complex-as if he were really so much better than the rest of them. “Adam loves me,” she maintained. “I’ve got nothing to worry about. You, on the other hand…”

She turned away to join Kaia, who was lying low and flipping through CDs in the back corner, obviously trying to stay out of the line of fire, but too curious to slip out of the room.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Kane asked, flinging himself onto a small leather couch pressed against the wall. “Beth and I are just fine.”

Harper just snorted.

“Got something you want to share with the rest of the class, Grace?”

“You and Beth are a walking disaster,” she informed him. “A ticking time bomb, a train wreck, a-oh, pick whatever tired cliche you want. The whole relationship is a joke.”

“I’m not laughing,” he said in a dangerous voice.

“But everyone else is,” Harper countered. “It’s so obvious she’d never be with you if Adam hadn’t broken up with her. She never would have even looked at you.”

“What about you?” Kane asked, rising from the sofa and striding toward her. “Like Adam would ever have dropped Beth for the town slut?”

“You can insult me all you want,” Harper said, feeling the bile rise in her throat. Sticks and stones may break your bones-but names seeped inside and killed you slowly from within. Not that she’d ever admit it. “But I know the truth,” she insisted. “Adam wants to be with me.”

“Only because he thinks Beth cheated on him,” Kane pointed out.

“So?”

“So? So she didn’t-or have you forgotten that little detail? In this delusional world you’ve created for yourself, have you forgotten that we just made him think she cheated on him?” He grabbed Harper by the shoulders and gave her a rough shake. “Snap out of it. He’s not with you because he wants to be. He’s with you because you tricked him. You lied to him.”

“We lied,” Harper corrected him. “And it doesn’t matter.” She pulled herself away and turned her back on him, hugging herself in an effort to hold it together. “He would have come to me eventually. We just sped things up a little.”

“No, Beth would have come to me eventually,” Kane countered. “They always do. You, on the other hand, would still be alone.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Harper asked in a tight and muffled voice.

“Why are you trying to pretend you’re so much better than me, that your relationship with Adam is oh-so-perfect, while Beth and I are-” He turned Harper around to face him, and she met his gaze fiercely. “We’re the same, you and I.”

“We are not,” she insisted.

She glared at Kane, at his smug, superior face. He didn’t care about anyone, about whom he lied to, whom he hurt. That wasn’t her, she assured herself. She only did what she did because she had to. It wasn’t her fault. That person, cold and calculating, heartless-she could act the part, but it wasn’t real. It wasn’t her.

“We are, Harper,” he pressed on. “Looking at you, it’s like looking in a mirror. Why don’t you just admit it? For once in your life, why don’t you just tell the truth?”

“She doesn’t know how.”

Kane glanced up at the sound of the cold, thin voice-but Harper didn’t need to. She’d recognized it. She’d know his voice anywhere. But finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. She had to turn around, had to see his face-and Adam was frozen in the doorway, Beth by his side.

The world went dark for a moment, and Harper thought she would pass out-longed for unconsciousness. But then everything swam back into focus, and it was real. He was there. And from the look on his face, she could tell.

He’d heard everything.

At first, their angry voices hadn’t really registered. Adam hadn’t processed what they were saying, what it meant. It was only when Beth, standing beside him just outside the doorway of the small study, issued a quiet moan, that he had understood.

He had blundered in here looking for Harper, and he’d found her, he realized. The real Harper.

The four of them stood frozen in silence for a moment, just staring at one another in disbelief. Beth broke first.

“How could you?” she cried, her eyes whipping back and forth from Harper to Kane. “Did you really think you’d get away with this?”

Kane shrugged his shoulders and flopped down on the couch. “Sure, I did,” he admitted, his hands propped casually behind his head. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised.”

“I-I-” Beth stopped stuttering and burst into tears, fleeing the room. Adam wanted to chase after her, but it was as if his feet were stuck to the floor. He couldn’t move-couldn’t take his eyes off Harper.

“Adam-” She rushed up to him, put her hands on his shoulders, “Adam, please, you have to understand.”

Gently but firmly, he took her hands off his body and returned them to her sides.

“Don’t touch me,” he warned her in a low monotone. He felt a dull, hard anger spreading over his body. Not the burning rage that had swept over him when he’d found out about Beth. This was something different, something new. He felt calm and cold, as if his veins had turned to ice, as if something inside of him had died.

“You were my oldest friend, my best friend,” he told her slowly. “I trusted you.” Past tense. “I thought I loved you.”

“Adam, please,” Harper begged, tears streaming down her face. In all the years he’d known her, he had never seen her cry. He wondered idly whether he should be feeling surprise, or pity. He felt-nothing. Hollow. Spent.

“I love you, Adam!” Harper cried, throwing herself against his chest, clinging to him. “You mean everything to me.”

“And you mean nothing to me,” he spit out, pulling himself away. “You’re nothing.”

She flinched at his words, but he had moved beyond caring. He wasn’t even trying to hurt her. He was just stating a truth. Everything he’d believed in, everything he’d trusted in, it had disappeared. There was nothing left but emptiness. The Harper he had known-the Harper he may have loved-just didn’t exist. Smoke and mirrors, a pretty illusion. That was all.

“I have to go now,” he said mechanically. “I have to find Beth.”

“Then go,” Harper said, slumping down to her knees as if she’d lost the strength to stand. “Just go. But you know you won’t be happy with her, Adam. You know it won’t be like what we had. What we had was real.”

“And you killed it.” Adam pointed out. “Maybe you can forgive yourself for that,” he added, stepping around her and out the door, “but I can’t.”