school,” I deflected, while picturing the girl in my head. Her straight, bleached out hair, her angular features, and that scowl of loathing whenever she looked at me.

I fought the urge to run the back of my hand over my lips, rubbing off Henry’s kisses.

“I don’t know about you Stanford girls, anyway…” Tyler went on, but I turned away, focusing first at the landscape painting past his shoulder, then down at my open book, the words on the page whirling around. I took in a long breath, held it, blew it out, reeling in my disgust.

Of course it wasn’t fair of me to be pissed at Tyler; he was only the messenger. And to be angry with Henry over this wasn’t exactly fair and impartial, either. What he did before we met had nothing to do with me.

But the thought of Henry and Lilah together did show an amazingly low—and I’m sorry, desperate—lack of taste and judgment on Henry’s part. From out of nowhere, I felt on the brink of laughter, considering all the years she must have pined for him. No wonder her hatred for me reached new levels last fall. On top of my beating her out for the internship two years ago, the girl was actually jealous.

Tyler was talking again, still droning on about the women at Stanford. I couldn’t help wondering if he and Mel had had a fight earlier, if that was why he was suddenly so bitter toward the female population of Palo Alto.

“Over the holidays,” he continued, “I was with Henry for, like, one day. I was kind of asking him advice about Mel.” He shot me a look. “He didn’t know who I was talking about, though.”

I laughed. “I’m sure your secret is safe.”

“Mel and I are pretty off-and-on, you know? I was frustrated at the time and not sure what to do. Anyway, Henry told me about this other girl he knows, same kind of thing, I guess. She was dating one of his friends. She…” I was only half-listening, staring down at the table, noticing the subtle marbley veins in the wood, different levels of brown and black, reminding me of Henry’s hair. “She started blowing hot and cold, like, mind games, hard to get and whatever,” he went on. “Henry told his friend flat-out to break up with her.”

A sudden coldness wrapped around my core. “What do you mean, he told him to?”

Tyler smiled. Perhaps he and Mel did have something in common: a love of gossip.

“I don’t know all the details.” His voice was hushed yet excited. “But from what I figure, Henry had to practically convince this guy, this buddy of his, to dump her.”

Whatever creature had lurched in my stomach five seconds ago, it was now doing back flips while wearing spiky shoes and a spiky helmet. “When”—I swallowed, trying to feign indifference—“was this?”

Tyler thought for a minute, fingering his chin. “Recently. End of last semester.” He scooted over, closer to me. Something in my expression encouraged him to continue without me questioning further. “So, like, he didn’t break them up literally, he just convinced his buddy to dump her. Hilarious, right? I mean, who has the rocks to do that? Only Trip. Classic.”

My gaze slid from his face, my vision once more taken over by images of Henry. But this time, the picture included Julia crying on the floor of our kitchen because the guy she loved had disappeared. My vision expanded to show Knightly standing over her, wearing a haughty smile.

“Seemed pretty proud of himself, too,” Tyler added.

“He said that?” I blurted. “Henry actually said that?”

“Well, like I said, I don’t know the whole story, but… Hey, you were his neighbor. Did you know the chick he dumped? I take it she was a hick.” He wrinkled his nose. “Small town. No money.”

I knew my face was flushing, heat and fury rolling up from my chest. “Your cousin should learn to mind his own damn business.”

Tyler threw his head back and burst out laughing. “I would love to hear you tell him that. Yeah, that’d be really hilarious.”

I saw red as I stared at him, and knew I was about to spring from the floor and cause real damage if he kept talking. It was only a matter of time.

“Anyway.” Tyler finally stopped hooting. “His buddy’s totally free and I’m sure his sweet little ex found herself a new”—he cocked an eyebrow—“stud.”

Instead of going all Karate Kid on his ass, I found I had no strength. I dropped my face in my hands, my cheeks and eyelids so hot I was sure my temperature had spiked over a hundred.

“Hey,” Tyler said, “you okay?”

“Migraine,” I murmured through my hands. “Agony.” I stumbled to my feet, pain impeding my vision. I reached for my textbook but only bumped its corner. It fell to the floor and I didn’t bother picking it up. “I’m not going tonight.” I moved toward the stairs. “I’ll tell Mel.”

“What about Henry?”

I whipped around, using the last of my strength. “Tell him to go frack himself.”

Not having the presence of mind to remember that Julia was home in Florida for the week, I called our house first. No answer. After the second time I got voice mail on her cell, I left a message.

“Julia?” I spoke after the tone. “Julia, I’m sorry…sorry I haven’t returned your calls this week. I’ve been… busy. I’m sorry.” I rubbed the heel of my hand over my throbbing forehead as I paced around the four-poster bed. Even the faint light from the late afternoon’s overcast was killing my eyes. “There’s so much I need to tell you, bunny. I’m just…so sorry.”

Of course she would not understand why I was frantically apologizing, but betrayal to a friend, even unintentionally, wasn’t something one could blurt out over the phone. When I didn’t know what else to say, I ended the call.

All the while, Mel was banging at the bedroom door. “Spring? Springer? What do you mean you’re not coming?”

I tossed my cell on the bed, and mumbled something through the door about not feeling well.

“Will you be okay?”

I would.

“Do you want me to stay home with you?”

I did not.

“Well, all right,” she quietly said. “Grams won’t be home until tonight. Will you be okay alone?”

I assured her that I would.

From the window, I heard the faint hum of a motorcycle down below, drawing closer to the house. Two tires on the gravel driveway. Thirty seconds later, Mel’s voice was in the living room. Then Knightly’s. The sound was nails on a chalkboard that I couldn’t drown out. I glanced at the doorknob where my backpack had been hanging earlier with my ear buds inside. I sighed, realizing they were both downstairs. So I sat on the edge of the bed and, to block out that excruciating voice from below, I pressed my hands over my ears.

A few minutes later, I felt the vibration of the front door shutting. I waited, lowering my hands just in time to hear the sound of a car driving away.

They were gone.

I picked up my cell, trying Julia again. Still no answer. I held my hands over my chest, feeling hot and tense, my heart pounding too hard. I tried to breathe but couldn’t seem to take in more than tiny puffs of air. Everything hurt.

I felt like a traitor—to Julia, to myself, to everything I believed in. Even though I’d unknowingly been fraternizing with the enemy, I couldn’t stop the guilt. To block out that feeling, I concentrated on the anger, the betrayal. The only solace was that it had only been kissing.

Yes, despite what I’d wanted to happen, I’d only kissed him. And it meant nothing. He meant nothing.

Weakness and gravity pushed me onto the pillows, but that made my head throb more fiercely, so I rolled to my side and slid off the bed.

With all the lights off, the living room was murky. Shadows and bits of late afternoon sun broke though the overcast, painting shapes and curves on the eastern wall. At the foot of the stairs I stopped, glancing around the

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