Robin Wasserman - Envy

“Uh, yeah,” Alexa mumbled. “You know we’ve been seeing each other. You know, nothing serious.”

“I don’t know,” Kaia corrected her coolly. “Maybe you should enlighten me.”

“Oh, I already told you all about it. I’m sure of it. You remember-you said you didn’t care?”

It was an utter lie. But pointing that out would violate the code, the code that forbade you to ever admit to caring. Not when you were with a guy, not when the guy moved on to someone else, not when your supposed friends stabbed you in the back.

Kaia didn’t really care about the code-but then again, she didn’t much care about Tyler or Alexa, either. So she let it pass.

“Actually, he’s here right now,” Alexa finally remembered to mention. “Want to say hello? Ooh, Tyler, quit it. I’m on the phone.” There was a series of giggles, then a disconcerting pause during which Alexa and her Harvardbound hottie were doing who knows what, then, “Sorry, I’m back, what were you saying?”

Before Kaia could answer, the doorbell rang-it was like a gift from the gods.

Or possibly the delivery guy, waiting outside with the pizza she’d ordered. Either way, it was a sign.

“I was saying I have to go-hot party to get to,” Kaia lied easily.

“Sure, sure-awesome to talk to you, K, we miss you so much here. Oh, Tyler, for fuck’s sake, quit it. We think about you all the time. No,Tyler, I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to Kaia. Kaia . Tyler, stop it! I mean it!”

“Yeah, miss you, too,” Kaia said dully, her voice drowned out by giggles. She shook her head in disgust and hung up the phone.

Think about her all the time? Yeah, right.

She hated them all for a moment-her parents for forcing her into exile, the friends who’d left her behind even though she was the one who’d left, Harper and her cronies here, who had all the social capital that Kaia had worked so hard to accumulate in her old life. You can’t take it with you, they say.

Ain’t it the truth.

She shuffled down to the front door to collect her pizza and got another unpleasant surprise.

“It’s you,” the scruffy delivery guy grunted when she opened the door.

“Do I know you?” It seemed a highly unlikely-and highly disturbing-prospect.

“We’ve met. I rescued you?” He spoke slowly, his words spaced out as if he were in danger of forgetting which one came next. It was the kind of voice that you imagined saying “yo” or “dude” every other word-so much so that the words almost didn’t need to be said. They were just implied.

Still, it was true, they’d met before. Under the dweebish Guido’s hat and apron was the same grody guy she and Harper had blown off in the Cactus Cantina. And now my night is officially complete , she thought in disgust.

“Oh yeah,” she grudgingly admitted. “What was your name? Weed? Seed?”

“Reed,” he corrected her, glowering. “Hopefully next time you’ll get it right.”

Weed would have been more appropriate, she decided, judging from the smell hovering around him and the glassy look in his eyes. He reeked of pot.

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time,” she retorted.

“Fine with me, princess.”

“I hope you don’t treat all the people you serve in this manner,” Kaia said haughtily.

“Not too many people home to serve on a Saturday night,” he said with a sly smile.

Was he actually criticizing her social life? Or would that be giving him too much credit? Veiled insults take brain power, and Kaia was sure this guy was running on empty. She knew she should just shut the door and go back to her night, lame as it was-but there was something about this guy that held her in place. Maybe it was his deep, dark, intense gaze, or the way his soft lips curled up into a knowing smile-

She shuddered. Surely she hadn’t sunk low enough to be attracted to a guy like this . Raw sex appeal notwithstanding, he was still a delinquent pothead. A delivery boy, she reminded herself. That was it.

“Better sitting at home eating shitty pizza than running around town delivering it like a servant on wheels,” she pointed out, trying not to watch the way his body moved beneath his tight black T-shirt.

“Dude, at least I get paid,” he countered. “If you think about it, you’re kind of paying me to hang out with you.” He snorted and shook his head, as if pitying her. “I can think of better ways to spend my money.”

“You know what? Me too.” She snatched back the couple dollar bills she’d given him for a tip and slammed the door in his face.

“And then he asked you out?” In her excitement, Harper almost dropped the phone. She flopped back onto her bed and kicked her legs in the air in triumph. This could be just the loophole she was looking for.

“He gave me his phone number,” Miranda clarified. “It’s not the same thing.”

Details, details. “Okay, but he basically asked you out. Excellent.”

“Um, were you not paying attention when I described what an annoying loser he was?” Miranda asked. “And did you miss the part where he dumped a bucket of water on my head?”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Harper teased her. “Besides, that was just his way of flirting. Maybe he’s a little shy and awkward. I think it’s adorable.”

“Since when do you find shy and awkward adorable?”

Harper’s mind was racing. Sure, now she was betraying Miranda by helping Kane get another girl-if you wanted to look at it that way. But as Harper saw things, Kane had made it painfully clear that he wasn’t interested. Just because she’d sworn a solemn oath to Miranda that she’d do everything she could to make it happen… well, what was she? A magician? It’s not like she had any power over what Kane wanted.

The problem was just that Miranda might not see it that way. So if Miranda found some other guy to lust over in the meantime, someone who actually wanted her in return, and she got swept up in some torrid new romance? Well, she’d stop feeling so shitty about the Kane thing and Harper could stop feeling so guilty.

Problem solved.

“I say you go for it,” Harper urged. “How long has it been since you’ve gone out on a date?”

“Can I plead the fifth?”

“Miranda,” she said warningly.

Miranda sighed. “Okay, okay, too long.”

“And why is that?”

“I don’t know-because I’m fat? Because I have frizzy hair that now looks vaguely like seaweed? Because I’m so short that a guy has to fall over me before he notices I exist?”

“Shut up, loser,” Harper snorted. “You know none of those things are true. Plenty of guys ask you out.”

“Sucky guys.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about-you’re too picky. They can’t all suck.”

“Oh, trust me-”

“No, I don’t trust you. You’ve got these impossibly high standards that no guy could ever measure up to and then you complain about being alone. I’m tired of it.”

“So I’m supposed to have no standards?” Miranda asked.

“No, you’re just supposed to be realistic. To take a chance once in a while on someone who’s not one hundred percent perfect.”

“I don’t think Kane’s perfect-”

Harper rolled her eyes, glad Miranda couldn’t see her through the phone. This was getting pathetic.

“Great. So there’s one guy in all these years who measures up. You think maybe it’s time to branch out a little?”

“Why are you yelling at me?” Miranda asked in a small voice.

“I’m sorry.” Harper took a deep breath. “I’m not yelling. I just want you to be happy, Rand. So what if this guy’s not the one? So what if he’s not as hot or as charming as the Great and Powerful Kane? You don’t have to marry him-just go out with him a couple times. Think of it as practice. And who knows,” she continued, hating herself for it, “maybe you’ll even make Kane jealous. You know guys always want what they can’t have.” She knew that was one idea Miranda would find impossible to resist.