Diana Peterfreund - Under the Rose

Gone was the air of wariness and derision I was so accustomed to. There was no Ms. Hyde present this morning. Granted, we’ve all had our rough times in the tomb, but I should at least be able to recognize a fellow Digger’s expression of joy, should have seen it at least once—during a good song, a good lobster tail, a last-minute Kaboodle Ball victory? I’d observed our resident snorter, Nikolos, looking happier to be hanging out with the other Diggers than Jenny ever had.

And that’s when I realized it: Jennifer Santos was miserable being a Digger. She hated it. I made the command decision not to go up and talk to her because, in this moment, she was really happy, with the kind of elation I’d never once witnessed inside the tomb. And now I knew those dirty looks she always gave me when I ran into her outside were actually her begging me not to remind her of how we knew each other.

The real attrition threat was not Nikolos. It was Jenny. How could I have missed this?

I began to back away very slowly, hoping the bright fuchsia of my make-Brandon-miss-me sweater wouldn’t attract the attention of my fellow knight, and slammed right into Brandon. For a moment we stood frozen, half falling, shoulder to shoulder, back to chest, butt to things very much not butt.

“Ouch!” He put his hands on my waist and held me. Held me for a whole, unnecessary second after I was completely steady on my feet again. And then his hands were gone, leaving behind them a whispered imprint, a ghostly pressure and warmth so vivid I swear I thought I could feel every whorl on his fingertip. Even through my sweater.

Of course, his outburst and that second of hesitation were all it took to gain the attention of every eye in the place, including Jenny’s. I watched her face fall into its usual dour expression and bit my lip. Behind her, the blond guy’s gaze dropped to my neckline and he frowned.

“Hi, Jenny,” I said.

“Hi, Amy.” Behind her, I saw the guy give me a once-over, and his lips curved into a slow, contemptuous smile. My psychic powers must have been on in that coffee shop, for I came to my second blinding flash of insight for the morning—Jennifer Santos had broken her oath of secrecy and told this person about my C.B.

And no, I wasn’t simply overreacting because of my uncomfortable situation with Brandon and all the leftover stress I’d been feeling about my report and how the other Diggers would take it. Honestly, I knew without a doubt this was the case. I knew it. This guy’s expression couldn’t have been any clearer if he’d been holding up a neon sign saying “I know who you did.”

“Who’s your friend?” I asked, straightening and looking him right in the eye. Have you told him what sluts you think we all are?

“This is Micah Price,” she said. “Micah runs the prayer group I’m in. Micah, this is Amy Haskel. I tutor her in fractals.”

I don’t know a fractal from a fraction, but sure. “Nice to meet you,” I said, and held out my hand.

He didn’t take it. Of course, last time I ran into Micah Price, he’d practically pummeled Josh into the pavement. Thinking back on it, perhaps I should have let him. Would have saved me from all that through-the-wall giggling.

Brandon stepped forward. “Hi, I’m Brandon.” He pumped Jenny’s hand and then gave Micah a little punch on the shoulder. Jenny raised an eyebrow in my direction but I was in no mood to play nice. She’d told her boyfriend about me. I was fighting my better instincts to keep my oath, knowing it may well break my best friend’s heart, and Jenny had told her snobby blond boyfriend all about me. For what? A funny anecdote? Bragging rights about all the cool stuff she’d heard in the Rose & Grave tomb? My throat began to burn. She wasn’t just any Digger. She was a Diggirl. Didn’t that mean anything to her?

“Well, we should go,” Jenny said quickly, as the laser-powered glares I was shooting in her direction finally hit their mark. “See you later.”

“You bet,” I replied, my voice like ice.

I leaned against the counter and watched them leave. Brandon stood beside me. “You know that guy?” When I shrugged, he went on. “He’s bad news.”

“How bad can he be? Super-Christian, runs a campus prayer group?”

Brandon shook his head. “It’s not a prayer group so much as a cult. He lived across the entryway from me freshman year. Sometimes I would hear him talking in there. Nothing he was saying sounded very Christian to me.”

“So, like what? Intolerance and stuff?”

Our coffee order came up and Brandon began fitting the cups into the cardboard carrier. “Yes, that, and…other stuff. Don’t get me wrong; I love a good prayer group.” Who doesn’t? “But he didn’t seem to be so much about God or the Bible as he was about himself. About following him on his…crusade. I don’t know. Tell your tutor to be careful around him.”

“She’s not my tutor.”

He handed me a coffee cup. “Amy, don’t you think I know you’ve never taken fractals in your life? I’m a math major. If you needed help, you’d ask me.” He stopped. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Not this semester.”

We headed toward the entrance, and though Brandon was balancing way more coffee than me, he held the door open as I stepped through. “I’d like to change that, if I can.”

I swallowed, trying to clear my throat of all the sentences threatening to rush out at once. I don’t think that’s a good idea, and Why are you doing this to me now? and Where the hell can all this lead except to make me feel miserable that I gave you up and Aren’t you smug that finally you’ve gotten me pining for you?

I was still trying to formulate an appropriate response when Brandon grabbed my elbow and pulled me back under the awning. “Wait,” he whispered.

Oh, God. No. I may not be the best person in this relationship, but I could take the high road when the situation demanded. Brandon was happy with Felicity, and I would not be the one to let him jeopardize that in some moment of weakness brought on by tight jeans and a tighter sweater. “Brandon, I don’t think—”

“Shh.” He peeked around the entrance. “They’re still out there. Can you hear?”

Oh. As soon as I paid attention to something other than my heartbeat and my ex’s proximity, I could.

“Micah, no! It’s not like that,” Jenny was saying, practically…sobbing?

“This is what we agreed on, Jen.” His voice was perfectly even, as if he were discussing the weather. “I fail to see how anything has changed. You were the one that told me—”

“Not here, please. And not now. Seriously, it’s not right.”

“You promised me you would. You swore it. Were you lying? Were you lying to me ?” And there was a hint of emotion in his voice, a carefully reined anger that slipped a bit on the “me.”

“No, of course not. It’s just so hard. So much harder than I thought it would be. I’m not sure I want to do it anymore.”

“I don’t understand. I love you, Jen. Don’t you know that? I trust you.”

“I know. I know you do.” Her voice broke on her words.

“And you love me…don’t you? Don’t you love me? If you love me, then why is it so hard to do what I want?”

Enough! “That bastard,” I hissed and would have stormed out of the foyer, but Brandon put his hand in front of me.

“You’ll humiliate her.”

“I plan to eviscerate him.” Betrayal or not, she was my Diggirl, and I was going to show my support. I’d teach this budding sexual predator that “no” meant no. I’d sic the full force of the Eli Women’s Center on his ass. But Brandon held me firm, and I didn’t move.