Robin Wasserman - Lust

And Harper just wanted to be alone. Her mother had dragged her father off for a weekend of “antiquing”-both he and Harper knew this was code for “digging through unwanted, flea-infested crap at roadside junk sales,” but neither had much desire to puncture Amanda Grace’s illusions. Harper’s mother spent her time in a world of her own making, one that was infinitely richer, more elegant, more high society, more appropriate than the dirty present, in which the Grace family, once lords of the manor, now struggled to keep their heads above water.

But Harper was trapped in the harsh reality of the present: an empty house, empty hours to fill. As the phone began to ring again, Harper moaned and pulled one of the couch pillows over her head to drown out the noise. She’d been self-medicating with vodka and cookie dough, but forty-eight hours of that had only left her with a persistent thudding headache and periodic waves of nausea. In a few hours she would crawl into bed, hide under the covers, and pass out, trying not to think about waking up Monday morning and facing the world.

Struggle with a smile, she thought. It was her mother’s cardinal rule. Do whatever you need to do-but never let them see you cry.

Kaia shut off her phone.

She was sick of seeing Adam’s name pop up on the caller ID what seemed like every five minutes-and face it, it’s not like anyone else would be trying to call.

She shuffled down to the kitchen to snag another pint of Ben and Jerry’s. When she’d arrived in town a few weeks ago, the refrigerator and freezer had been completely empty, the sparkling stainless steel kitchen with its state-of-the-art appliances virtually unused. Typical bachelor pad. Even though the bachelor in question was a fifty-two-year-old defense contractor with two ex-wives and a seventeen-year-old daughter. Kaia didn’t know what her father had been eating-it’s not like there were a lot of takeout options in town, and she somehow didn’t see Keith Sellers pulling his BMW sedan into the Nifty Fifties lot on a regular basis.

Since she’d arrived, she’d had the cook stock up on her favorite foods-at least the ones that could be purchased nearby or shipped in-and, after so many years of nonstop restaurant cuisine, she had to admit that night after night of home-cooked meals was actually a welcome change. Even if she did usually eat her gourmet food spread out on a TV table in the den-the dining room was too large and impersonal for one. And one was the most she ever got.

Anyway, she’d sent the cook home for the weekend, and instead of her usual diet of whole grains, soy, and fresh greens, she was treating herself to a couple of days of soggy pizza and Ben and Jerry’s. Why not? Hadn’t she accomplished her mission? Didn’t she deserve a little reward?

Kaia scooped some Chubby Hubby into a ceramic bowl (ecru colored, to match the walls) and squeezed some chocolate sauce on top. Perfect. Grabbing a spoon, she headed back into the living room and settled onto the couch, just in time for the beginning of a ‘Very special” Lifetime movie. Like all Lifetime movies, it was a cautionary tale of teen pregnancy or anorexia or domestic violence or something-Kaia didn’t really care. She just liked to watch all the fucked-up people sort out their problems in such reliably melodramatic ways. And it helped kill the time.

“You’re grounded!” her father had shouted in exasperation when she’d strolled in the door a little before dawn.

She’d just smirked. Grounded? As if that were a punishment in a place like this-as if there were anywhere else in this town she’d rather be than on her couch, watching shitty movies. Grace was nothing but tedium. Which her father might have known if he’d spent more than five minutes with her since she’d come to town. But no-he’d swooped home on the one night she was out until dawn, freaked out, grounded her, then disappeared before she woke up the next morning. Off he went on another “business trip,” along with his omnipresent personal assistant, who, conveniently, looked like a low-rent Playboy Bunny.

As if the maid was really going to enforce the whole grounding thing if Kaia decided to leave the house. In fact, Kaia realized, it would almost be worth the trouble of venturing out, just to force the confrontation…

Almost, but not quite.

No, on Monday morning she’d go back to work, so to speak-continue her pursuit of Jack Powell, enjoy the taste of her conquest over Adam, sit back to watch the chaos that would inevitably ensue. And if anyone asked, she would describe a whirlwind jaunt to Manhattan, a jet-setting weekend filled with star-studded parties and risqué encounters-much like the weekend she was sure all her East Coast “friends” were currently sleeping off. Not that any of them would bother to tell her about it-or take a break from the high life and visit her in exile.

But no one had to know that. She turned up the volume on the TV-it was anorexia this time, with an “all star cast” featuring some guy from 7th Heaven and that woman from The Facts of Life (she showed up in 70 percent of all Lifetime movies-and Kaia would know).

It was a guilty pleasure, Kaia acknowledged, scarfing down another spoonful of her ice cream. Embarrassing, yes-but all in all not such a bad way to spend a weekend.

By Monday, Adam had less of a grip than ever on what he wanted to say to Kaia-he just knew that he needed to talk to her, needed to see her, needed it more with every passing minute. The guilt of what they’d done was crushing him; he’d managed to avoid Beth all day long, but his luck couldn’t last forever. Even so, his nightmarish visions of what might happen were far less vivid than his impassioned memories of what had happened, and…

And basically, he was completely confused.

“Kaia!” he called, finally spotting her glossy black hair in the crowd as the final bell echoed through the halls. “Kaia, wait up a minute!” He jogged to catch up with her, breaking into a bright smile as she turned to face him. She was wearing a form-fitting black shirt that laced up the front and jeans so tight they could have been painted on. The indecision and complexities of a moment ago seemed to melt away.

“Adam.” She sighed. “What is it?”

“Where were you all weekend?” he asked, hoping not to sound too desperate. He was, he reminded himself, a superstar on this campus. He was beloved by the masses, adored by throngs of girls. He shouldn’t need to be chasing one through the halls, even if she was so beautiful it hurt, even if her touch made him forget that there’d ever been anyone else. No girl was worth humiliating himself. And yet-he heard the panic creeping into his voice. And couldn’t stop it. “Didn’t you get my messages?”

“I was away,” she said shortly. “Back in New York. So what did you want?”

“I wanted-“Adam broke off. What did he want? That was the whole problem, wasn’t it? He wanted her, of course, right here, right now. But didn’t he also want to be with Beth, his sweet, innocent girlfriend? Other than the awkwardly mumbled hellos exchanged at their neighboring lockers, they hadn’t spoken in almost a week, which was the longest time in months he’d gone without hearing from her. And he missed her, he did-but it was hard to remember that when his eyes, without his permission, remained riveted on Kaia’s deep red lips.

He pulled her out of the path of the crowd and into a small alcove behind the lockers and lowered his voice. He’d just make it up as he went along.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said urgently.

“So you got me. Talk about what?”

About what? What else?

“About, you know, about what we did, ” he whispered, darting his head around to make sure no one could overhear. “About what we’re going to do about it.”