Rush Me, Page 25

  “Yeah, it is. I’m not a gold-digger. After all, I have my own job. I can support myself.”

  I bit the inside of my lip, resisting the urge to derail into my own relationship. “David deserves someone who really cares about him. He deserves someone kind, and intelligent, and good.”

  Her brows flew together. “Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean? I do care about David! How could you say that!”

  Easily. Because while she flattered and cooed in David’s presence, I hadn’t seen much proof that she’d changed from the girl who tripped me at graduation. She couldn’t possibly be so unaware of her own behavior, could she?

  “Because I don’t think you’re good enough for him.” My words came out crisp and annunciated, as though, after years of sitting on them, I knew exactly what I wanted to say. “You were the pettiest, cruelest person I’d ever known. You were a bully, Sophie. You made my freshman year miserable. You hurt my friends. Didn’t you realize the detrimental effect you had on everyone around you? Did you really not know you were a bully, or did you just not care?” I shook my head. “You still are a bully.”

  “No, I’m not!” she cried, and I actually looked at her, instead of inward, at the teenage adversary I’d never been able to speak against. But now, the girl in front of me looked like she wanted to cry. “Are you kidding? All I’ve tried to do is fit in!”

  I crossed my arms, unable to respond. Sophie may have been a classic case of insecure mean girl, but wanting people to like her didn’t excuse mocking everyone who didn’t. It didn’t excuse making fun of at me at my family’s table and flirting with my boyfriend for attention while her own sat beside her.

  Instead of snapping again, Sophie’s face crumbled. “Look, I know we didn’t get along in high school—”

  “Didn’t get along?” I shook my head. “You hated me. You made fun of Carly’s accent and called Madison a lesbian. God, you weren’t just insulting them, you insulted entire demographics.”

  “We were kids!”

  “Yeah, then. And what about two months ago, when you told the table about the garbage incident?”

  “It was funny!” she protested. “Everyone laughed!”

  “Everyone laughed at me. And good God, Sophie, so did my own brother. You’re poisoning him. You’re turning him into one of your clone-like sycophants. All he ever does is talk about how wonderful you are, and echo your ideas and put you ahead of his own family. What have you done to him?”

  She pressed her hands to her eyes. “You’re a bitch.”

  I stared at her. Oh my God. I had just made Sophie Salisbury cry.

  Maybe I was a bitch. Maybe my mother was right, and the green-eyed monster had reared its head when David spent all his energy on Sophie.

  I couldn’t quite stop, though most of the venom drained from my voice. “You ruined my life for a solid year. I begged my parents to let me transfer because of you. I could have given Sylvia Plath a run for her money in the suicidal poetry department. Ten minutes of insults isn’t torture, Sophie. Four years is.”

  She was silent. Her mouth twisted up, and she shook her head in a tiny movement. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry?”

  I blinked. Actually, I had never imagined she would say such a thing. “Are you?”

  She glared at me through watery eyes. “Are you sorry for making fun of me all the time?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Her cheeks reddened prettily, as though she’d streaked rouge across them. “You always looked down your nose at me. You said no one liked me. You’re still saying that. You think you’re better than me.” She blinked rapidly, and not from shock. “How do you think I liked that, knowing you were judging me all the time?”

  I tried not to gape. “I was never judging you. I was trying to stay out of your way!”

  “Freshman year you said people were only friends with me because they were scared of me. Sophomore, when I ran for Homecoming, you were always sneering and saying things like ‘no one would dare run against her.’ As though I was a monster.” She repeated this bitterly, as though it had been burned into her memory.

  My jaw worked as I tried to process that she’d actually remembered things I’d said, that they hadn’t slid off her like so much water. “It was self-defense.” And she had been terrifying.

  “It was war,” Sophie said darkly and rather overdramatically.

  It pulled me out of my confusion enough to refocus. Our past hadn’t been pretty, but I was more concerned about my brother’s future. “What about David?”

  She actually ground her teeth with frustration. “What about him?”

  “Why are you flirting with my boyfriend if you’re actually into David?”

  She looked appalled at my stupidity, and shook her head, letting out a few airy scoffs before she got enough of a grip to answer. “You’re dating Ryan Carter. What am I supposed to do, ignore him? I’m not trying to flirt with him, it’s not like I want to steal him away or whatever dumb idea you have. Just—God, he’s Ryan Carter!”

  “So you said. And what about David Hamilton?”

  I’d broken the camel’s back. “You know what?” she yelled, and the red in her cheeks was no longer pretty, but deep and furious. “I am in love with David. And he loves me. And I know you don’t like that, but I don’t care. We make each other happy. And maybe, if you’d just get off your high horse and look at who I actually am, instead of some—dumb—memory you have from high school, you’ll realize that’s not a bad thing.”

  Well, I thought, as I gaped at her, apparently I wasn’t the only one who became more articulate with angry.

  “And if you don’t, you know what, I don’t care,” she continued, on a roll. “Because I have tried to make amends—”

  “Hey, hey, calm down.” I held my hands up. “Truce. I mean—I haven’t actually noticed any amends, but I just—I just don’t understand you and David.”

  “Why do you have to? Isn’t it enough that we love each other? What more do you need to understand? I’m sorry I don’t measure up to your ridiculous standards, but you’re not part of our relationship!”

  I swallowed. She looked so vivid, so passionate, not bored or cooing or slyly cruel. And maybe she was right. Maybe I didn’t need to make sense of emotions, to boil them down into logic. “Okay, I don’t understand. But—you love him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” I tried out a dry smile. “Sophie—did anything I said make sense to you? I mean, maybe you’re right. It’s your relationship. But—I’d really like it if you stopped bringing up the garbage incident.”

  “Right.” Embarrassment flickered across her face, and she shifted uneasily. “I’d like it if you stopped thinking I was some sort of devil. Your parents are never going to like me if you don’t. And I’m trying. I don’t know what more you want from me.”

  I shook my head. “I just wish you’d be less condescending. And passive-aggressive.” Maybe she really had thought we were at war, that I was attacking her. I tried out each word slowly, trying to format my thoughts. “If you really love David—that’s all I want. I’m not trying to sabotage you. I just want it to be sincere.”

  “You’re also condescending.” Her lips turned up in what might almost be classified as a smile. “But maybe we can both try to...stop.”

  “Or at least call each other on it,” I suggested. “Probably better than just sitting there, boiling over.”

  She gave a short nod. “Yeah. Also, sometimes I freak out before I see you since I know you’re going to totally be on your soapbox and I try to grin and bear it and be nice and somehow you always misinterpret it.”

  I tilted my head and almost laughed at the absurdity. “Okay. Next time I’m pretentious and you’re passive aggressive, we’ll kick each other under the table.”

  “Fine.” This time I was sure I saw a smile. “I’ll be wearing pointed shoes.”

  “Yeah, mine will have steel-enforced toes. Anyway. I should go
find Ryan.”

  She nodded and started to move away, and then turned back. “He’s really hot. And famous, and rich. I didn’t know you had it in you.” She nodded firmly, as though she’d just paid me quite the compliment, and clipped away.

  I shook my head, smiling faintly. Sophie Salisbury. Maybe she wasn’t the herald of the apocalypse, after all.

  Crossing the room toward my friends, I noticed someone slink up to my side. Not certain it was anyone I wanted to see, I waited half a second, just long enough for a familiar voice to say in my ear, “What were you and Sophie talking about?”

  I spun. “David! What are you doing here?”

  My brother, unlike most of the khaki-clad guys, had actually donned a suit for the occasion. “I came with Sophie.”

  “Shouldn’t I have seen you earlier?” I shook my head. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I can’t believe you’re at my high school reunion.”

  “What did you say to Sophie? She looked upset.”

  I muffled my immediate impulse to ask why he hadn’t run after poor little Sophie, then. “You know what? Maybe you’re right about Sophie. Maybe I haven’t been giving her enough credit.”

  “Of course you haven’t,” David blustered. “Sophie is the sweetest, most innocent—”

  “Don’t get carried away.” I reached up to pat his cheek, and he looked outraged. “But, you know what? I’m in a good mood. And she seems to, if not regret the past, at least genuinely want to make a fresh start. Which makes sense. It’s your relationship.”

  “That is the most ungracious apology I have ever heard!”

  “Hey.” I propped my hands on my waist. “Neither one of us really apologized. But we came to an understanding.”

  “You should really apologize—”

  “Okay, Dave.” I guessed some things never changed. “I have to go find my boyfriend. See you at home.”

  “Try to convince him to come to San Leandro for New Year’s!”

  Shaking my head, I walked away.

  * * *

  My friends were standing in the corner of the room closest to the bar, standing in tight circles from which they safely surveyed former classmates. I popped in between Madison and Carly, looping my arms through theirs. “Hey, girls. Have you seen Ryan?”

  “Not lately.” Carly finished her pint and set it down. “Though we’ve seen a surprising amount of decent, if boring, former tools.” With her newly free hand, she reached across the circle and patiently plucked Kate’s drink away from her. “Not that any of us want anything to do with them.”

  Kate blushed. “Give me some credit! This is our reunion! There is no way I would hook up with anyone.” She snuck a look across the room. “But don’t you think Charlie Watson turned really good looking? And he’s in grad school.”

  Madison hooked her arm through Kate’s. “No. We agreed, remember? Not happening.”

  I laughed, and Carly raised her brows at me. “What was that thing with Sophie?”

  “What, were you guys watching?”

  Madison spoke up dryly. “I think the whole class was. And hoping it would turn into a showdown.”

  I laughed again. “We are way too mature for that. Obviously. No, we were just sorting out...old wounds. I feel kind of cleansed now, actually.”

  “How Zen.”

  “I don’t know if that’s Zen, exactly.” Kate still eyed Charlie Watson. “I mean, I think that kind of forgiveness is a tenant of Buddhism, but I think Zen’s more mediation... Though now that I think about it, maybe I don’t really know... Would it be that wrong if I just sort of struck up a conversation with him and got his number? That’s all I’d do. I swear.”

  I laughed and hugged them all. “I love you guys. Don’t let Kate do anything too crazy,” I told Madison and Carly. “I’ll be back, but I have to go find Ryan now.”

  Kate glanced back my way. “I am never crazy. And good Lord, that man is stunning.”

  “Thanks.” A grin split my lips. “I tend to think so.”

  I ran into a handful of former jocks that had chatted with Ryan, but they told me he’d left in search of me. Bemused, I walked away from that clump, having just talked to them more in five minutes than I had in all of high school.

  The first rule of being lost in the woods was that one person has to stay still, but I decided that didn’t apply when the woods made up a fairly small inn. I checked the rest of the public rooms, and then headed outside. There were a limited amount of places he could end up, even if he also searched each nook and cranny. Hopefully we wouldn’t pass over each other. I checked out the gazebo and the tennis courts, and then headed for the pool area. There was a small pool house with showers, but Ryan wasn’t there either. Then I remembered the inside pool, and headed back through the halls.

  I passed Thomas on my way, and he caught my arm. “Hey, where are you going?”

  “Oh, hi, Thomas.” I peered past him distractedly. “I’m looking for Ryan. Have you seen him?”

  Thomas sounded skeptical. “Seriously? That guy again? Rach, I don’t get what you see in him.”

  I switched my attention to Thomas. What kind of thing was that to say? “He’s my boyfriend. Obviously I see a lot of good in him.”

  “Really? You don’t just see a rich celebrity?”

  “Hey. He’s more than that.”

  “Uh-huh. He gets obscene amounts of money for playing a stupid game.”

  “Football isn’t stupid. And it’s not like he just keeps all that money.”

  “Oh, really? Wasn’t that a Jag you guys drove up in?”

  “He did a commercial for them. They gave it to him.”

  “Yeah? And how do you know his other millions don’t go to the same way? You ever asked him about that?”

  I dealt him a hard glare. “For God’s sake, Thomas, he started the Jean Carter Foundation.” I sighed. “You don’t get it. I don’t even need to ask him. I know him.”

  I almost surprised myself by how fervently I meant that. But other than the Manhattan apartment—which even I would buy if I had that sort of money—he didn’t spend money obscenely. He had a bike and a car, but not two or three. He ate at local diners, not five star restaurants with two hundred dollar tabs. He wore jerseys and T-shirts half the time. The only time I’d seen money spent on appearances was for the Children’s Gala—and I’d also seen the check he’d signed for them.

  But that was the thing. I didn’t need to see the checks.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked Thomas, tired of the whole thing. I started past him, heading for the pool house and giving the door a half-hearted twist. To my surprise, it was unlocked, and I stepped in, peering about in case Ryan had taken a very wrong turn.

  Lights came on automatically. The still indoor pool cast rippling blue shadows against the white walls, and potted plants stretched up between the lawn chairs. For a moment, I flashed back to junior year of high school, when the entire class crammed in here for Casey’s sweet sixteen.

  But Ryan wasn’t here, so I turned to go.

  Thomas blocked my way. He looked terribly earnest, but something in his languid posture irritated me. “Because.” He shook his head so that a dark forelock fell over his forehead. “I don’t think you should be with him. I think we should give it a go.”

  What.

  No.

  I stared at Thomas Brewer, high school dreamboat, and could not believe my luck. Seriously? How had this just happened? And why did I feel like it was a comedy of errors?

  “Thomas.” My irritation died down a bit in light of his earnest wooing. “That’s sweet. And, you know, I was madly in love with you in high school. But...” I shrugged, wanting to laugh. Honestly. What was the likelihood an old crush would actually profess interest?

  Too bad I no longer had any romantic feelings for Thomas Brewer at all.

  “You did?” His face lit up, and then in a heartbeat he crossed the space between us and pressed his lips to mine.

  Chapter Twe
nty-Three

  Thomas’s lips were warm and insistent, but unfortunately, all I could think about was how they were Thomas’s lips, and it was really too bad I wasn’t seventeen and delirious anymore. I took a quick step back, and when he followed, I brought a hand up and gently pressed him away.

  I sighed. “Oh, Thomas. You should have tried that five years ago. It’s not going to happen now.”

  For just a moment, his expression reminded me of a small boy throwing a tantrum, before he morphed into a concerned friend. “Are you kidding? Come on, Rach. What are you doing with him? Are you going to become one of those girls who just follows her boyfriend around and lives off his money?”

  I could feel the dig twist my stomach. “Don’t be disgusting.”

  He grabbed my arm. “You’re not part of that world. You don’t want to be. How many of his games have you gone to?”

  I wrenched my arm away. “A handful!”

  “Yeah? Not Thanksgiving, though.”

  “I was with my family.”

  “Cause obviously he’s not important enough that you actually wanted to be with him! And you’ve never been interested in sports. You’re lying to yourself, Rachael, and I don’t know why.” His face softened, and he reached up to brush my cheek. “You’re only going to get hurt.”

  And then, just as loud as my pounding heart, footsteps echoed across the pool house and Ryan appeared. I caught the cold anger etched on his face, the barely restrained emotions, before he took my hand and wedged himself between me and Thomas. “You want something, Brewer?”

  Thomas jutted his chin out, despite being a good head shorter and a small person lighter than Ryan. “Yeah, I do.”

  Ryan’s arm tensed. It was powerful enough to launch a ball three quarters of the way across a football field. Or to break a man’s face. I tugged on his hand, feeling unnaturally helpless. “Ryan.”

  Thomas leveled a look at me even as he took a hasty step back from Ryan. “This is who you want to be? Attached to some jackass?”