Robin Wasserman: Lust

They were guys, after all, and friendship-even best friendship-had its limits.

“Whatever,” he finally continued. “Just give it a rest, okay? Beth and I are not breaking up anytime soon.”

Kane winked and gave Adam an intentionally hokey leer.

“No problem. I guess if I had a girl like that willing to climb into bed with me, I wouldn’t want to let her out anytime soon either.”

Adam flushed and said a silent prayer to whoever watched over sex-obsessed teenagers that Kane wouldn’t notice his sudden silence and obvious discomfort. Beth was willing to climb into the bed, all right. She would lie there next to him, her perfect body nestled against his. She would kiss him, and caress him, and drive him crazy with desire, and-

And that was about it.

Harper heard the old Chevy roar into the driveway and rushed to the window. There he was. Lean. Tan. Shirtless. His golden hair bronzed by the sun, his hundred-watt smile piercing through his obvious exhaustion.

Adam. Her next-door neighbor. Her childhood friend-her partner for swimming lessons, playground dates, imaginary tea parties, and the occasional game of doctor.

And now, years later: Homecoming king. Star of the swim team. The basketball team. The lacrosse team. Basically, an Ail-American high school stud. None of which meant much to her, considering how lame their school was, and the fact that she usually saw sports as a crutch for the mentally weak. Besides, that’s not what she saw when she looked at him. Or, at least, not all she saw, not anymore.

She opened the window, about to call out to him, to wave-then thought better of it and just watched. What she saw when she looked at him was her oldest friend, the boy who knew all of her secrets and liked her anyway- the boy she’d recently discovered was a man she wanted to be with. Might even be in love with.

What a hassle.

The poor little overlooked best friend, languishing in the shadows, the man of her dreams blinded by the bright glare of puppy love. Tossing his true soul mate aside in favor of a human Barbie doll. It was such a pathetic cliché-and Harper didn’t do clichés. She liked to consider herself unique, and she wasn’t a huge fan of seeing her life turn into a second-rate knockoff of a third-rate teen chick flick. Especially one that starred her as the weepy protagonist too wimpy to open her mouth and take what she wanted.

But on the other hand-just look at him.

Postgame, Adam was hot, sweaty, and shirtless, and his taut body gleamed in the sun. Harper couldn’t take her eyes off him-that tan six-pack, those firm pecs, the broad biceps that, if she used her imagination, she could feel ever so gently tightening around her…

There was just one problem with the picture-perfect romance-the picture-perfect girlfriend. Beautiful Beth. Blond Beth. Bland and boring Beth.

Lately, the Blond One was all Adam could talk about, and it was driving Harper slowly but surely insane. He was probably even now heading inside to call her, to whisper sweet nothings in his lilting Southern accent (an adorable holdover from an early childhood in South Carolina). He was probably already planning some sickeningly sweet, romantic candlelit dinner for their last night of summer. He was just that kind of guy. It was disgusting. And it should have been her.

Harper slammed the window shut and crossed the room to her bed, which was covered in clothes-a haphazard pile of unsuitable first-day-of-school possibilities. She burrowed through them in frustration, wondering how it was possible that with all these clothes, she never had anything to wear.

The beaded yellow tank top with pleated ruffles and an off-center sash that had looked so promising in the store? Hideous.

The stonewashed denim jacket that hugged her curves and made her feel like a supermodel? So last season.

The tan blouse and matching scarf her mother had brought home as a surprise last month? Yeah, maybe-if she was forty . And was a desperate housewife.

No. She needed something special, something that would make her look good. Really good, Harper mused, fingering a lime green miniskirt that she knew would show off her tan-and potentially, depending on how far she bent over, a lot more.

It was simple. Harper wanted Adam-and Harper always got what she wanted.

It was just a matter of figuring out how.

Senior year, day one.

Harper sighed. An hour into the year, and it already felt like an eternity At least she’d already managed to snag a coveted Get-Out-of-Class-Free pass, this time in the guise of eagerness to welcome some newcomer to their hallowed halls. Because, of course, she wanted to give the girl a warm and cheery Haven High welcome.

As if.

“Ms. Grace, you’re late!” called the school secretary, catching Harper wandering slowly down the hall and hauling her back into the office. “Come in, come in! Meet Haven High’s newest student.”

Squirming out of Mrs. Schlegel’s greasy grip, Harper put on her best good-girl smile. It never hurt to curry some favor with the school’s high and mighty (or their secretaries), and besides, a new student was something to see. Something new and different-and there was very little at Haven High that was ever new or different. She just hoped this one wouldn’t turn out to be as big a loser as the last new girl had been. Heidi Kluger. A fat girl’s name, Harper supposed-she shouldn’t have been too surprised. But today-

“Harper Grace, meet Kaia. Kaia Sellers, Haven High’s newest senior.” Mrs. Schlegel beamed at the two girls, as if expecting their lifelong friendship to begin immediately. “Kaia, Harper will be showing you around today I’m sure she’ll be happy to give you all the 411 you need.”

Harper barely noticed the secretary’s pathetic attempt to co-opt some teen “lingo”-she was frozen, staring at the new girl. Who was most definitely not fat. Not ugly. Not a loser.

No, from the BCBG shoes to the Marc Jacobs bag to the Ella Moss top, this girl was definitely a contender. Long, silky black hair, every strand perfectly in place (Harper unconsciously raised a hand to her own wild mane of loose curls). A delicate, china doll face with just a hint of makeup to bring out her deep green eyes and high cheekbones. And the clothes… Harper squelched a stab of envy, thinking of the pile of rejects still lying on her bedroom floor. The winning ensemble, hip-hugging jeans and a white backless top (the better to show off her deep tan) had seemed a good choice in the morning, but although she’d driven two hours to Ludlow this summer to find the Diesel knockoffs, she could hardly call them haute couture. Faux couture, maybe. No one around here could tell the difference. But this girl-in a red silk printed halter and matching red Max Mara skirt, an outfit Harper was sure she’d spotted in last month’s Cosmo -this girl looked like she could.

Trying her best not to imagine what the arrival of this cooler-than-thou girl might do to her carefully maintained social status, Harper took a deep breath and began the tour. She led Kaia (what kind of a name was that, anyway?) down the hall, furiously searching for something to say that would make her sound more sophisticated than the smalltown hick Kaia was sure to be expecting.

But, wit and charm failing her when she needed them the most, Harper settled for the obvious.

“So, where are you from?”

“Oh, around,” Kaia said, looking bored. “We have an apartment in New York-and my mother keeps a place in the country. Of course, some years I’m away at school…”

Boarding school? Harper fought to maintain a neutral expression-just because the new girl was the epitome of urban rich cool and looked as if she’d just walked off a movie screen was no reason to panic.