“Miss Cassidy,” he says without looking over. The fact that he knew I was here checking him out but didn’t say anything turns me on.
Sarah had texted to say she was sending a car because she didn’t want us showing up on a motorcycle. I supported this idea. My hair would not hold up in the wind.
I see Harlin’s lip curve with a smile as he looks sideways at me. “Come here,” I say quietly. Without any hesitation, Harlin clicks off the TV and walks over, looking me up and down.
“So beautiful,” he says. I grab him by the tie and pull him closer to me, kissing him hard on the mouth. I can’t wait anymore. I need him.
I’m a combination of heat and desire as we stumble down the hall toward my bedroom, attached at the lips. His fingers are knotted in my hair and my hands have slipped off his fancy jacket. The town car can wait a little longer.
When we get into my room he pushes me against my door, closing it and pinning me.
“I love you,” he says. “I’ll always love you.”
I unbutton his shirt as his hand lifts up the hem of my dress. My clothes will stay on, and that should work well. I just want to be lost here with Harlin.
Always.
Chapter 16
W hat the hell are you two smiling about?” Sarah asks as we climb out of the car. She’s waiting on the stone front steps of the museum that her father rented out, looking kind of pissed.
“Nothing,” Harlin says, putting his arm around me. “It just took me forever to get dressed.”
She stares at him and then at me. “Gross. If that’s code for you two just did it in the car, please spare me.”
“Not the car,” Harlin says with a shrug.
“Whatever.” She looks me over and nods approvingly. “You look fantastic,” she adds. “I really have good taste.”
“You do,” I agree. “What’s the charity again?” Looking around the brick front, I see no reference to the cause, but there are lights swooping back and forth over the building, making sure everyone attending feels important.
“Owls, I think,” she says, turning to walk inside. “No.” She pauses. “The homeless.”
Harlin laughs. “I can see how you got those two confused.”
As we climb the steps I smile to myself and clutch Harlin’s arm. I feel a million miles away from my problems, which is exactly how far from them I want to be.
When we enter the lobby, I’m blown away. Roses and red velvet drape everything: the lobby desk, the restroom signs, even the nude statue that usually greets us. The sweeping marble staircase has bouquets winding up the railing and the entire room smells like flowers. Personally I think the zillion dollars of art is enough atmosphere, but apparently the rich don’t.
“I’m guessing there won’t be a band,” Harlin says.
“There is so,” Sarah defended. “Like half the symphony is here.”
“Not really the kind of band I was hoping for.”
“Oh, sorry, Harlin,” she says. “The Killers were already booked. Maybe next time.”
“Sort of cranky today, Sarah.” Harlin adjusts his tie and I’m sure he’s uncomfortable in it. “Didn’t you take your meds?”
“Naw.” She waves him off sarcastically. “I figured I wouldn’t get all crazy and jump in the fountain later if I did. And what fun is a million-dollar event if I don’t disappoint my family?” She’s joking but there’s a ring of truth in her voice, and the fun of the moment fades. We all feel it.
Sarah clears her throat. “Charlotte?” she asks. “Will you come with me to get a drink?”
“Sure.” I’m puzzled since I see the people in tuxedos walking around with trays of drinks, but I don’t argue. I give Harlin a quick kiss and follow Sarah, who’s already walking away.
I catch up with her and take her elbow. “You okay?” I ask.
“No. Not really.” We make our way through the crowd until we’re at the kitchen doors, servers rushing past us with trays of canapés.
“I’m pretty sure we can get our drinks at the bar, Sarah,” I say. But she keeps going until she pushes out the back door.
We step outside onto the loading dock and Sarah starts to pace. “I wanted to be alone.”
I look around. “Mission accomplished. But if you’re trying to put together an art heist, count me out.”
She glares at me. “Not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“No, really. It’s not,” she says. Her heels clack on the concrete as she walks back and forth in front of me. “The nuns called a little while ago.”
Chills run over me and I wrap my arms around myself. Sarah is staring at the ground as she continues to pace. Now I feel guilty for the art heist joke. “What did they say?”
She pauses, and then turns to me abruptly. “That I’m setting a bad example for the underclassmen. Seems Seth told the nuns I was starting rumors about him. That I was ‘desperate’ for attention, so I was trying to ruin his reputation.”
“He didn’t!”
“Oh yes. He even said that he was concerned about my mental stability. They let my father know that little tidbit too.”
“Wait. Douchebag Seth, who told everyone about you, went to the nuns and said you were spreading lies about him. Why would he do that? I don’t—”
“When I met him at lunch he asked me to clear up the rumor about his inadequate size.” She shrugs. “Which, by the way, is true. But he said his friends were making fun of him, calling him Tiny Tim.” She shakes her head. “I couldn’t believe that was the reason he wanted to meet with me. I thought he was going to apologize! He owes me a goddamn apology!
“So I refused. He called me a slut. I slapped him in the face. It was all very dramatic and awful, but I thought that was it. Apparently not. Instead he marched down to the main office and told Sister Mary Angela that I was out of control and sleeping around. And when I tried to get with him and he refused, I spread the rumor.”
“Why would they believe him? That’s ridiculous!”
She pauses. “Remember Brandon One-Brain-Cell Whaler? Well, he vouched for him. Said he did it with me in the locker room. He was so repentant that they didn’t even suspend him.”
“That lying bastard! I should have kneed him—hard—when I bumped into him in class. He’s so dead.”