“Good evening, Miss Brennan,” she said, holding her collar up tightly with one fist. “It's time to say good night.”
Whittaker looked at me apologetically and then got out of the car. I shoved the lottery tickets in my pocket and gathered up my roses as he came around and opened the door for me. My knees quaked as I placed one high heel on the sidewalk. Whittaker saw the hesitation and basically pulled me to my feet.
“Good night, Reed,” Whittaker said as Mrs. Lattimer backed up the slightest bit.
198
“Good night, Whit,” I replied. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” he said.
And then, much to my shock and, I'm sure, the shock of Mrs. Lattimer, he leaned in and gave me one last kiss. Closed mouthed, lingering, gentle.
“Ahem,” Mrs. Lattimer said. She didn't even clear her throat. Merely stated the word.
Whittaker pulled away, smiled all gooey, and got back in his car. I turned and smiled awkwardly at Mrs. Lattimer.
“A successful night, then?” she said.
“You could say that,” I told her, trying to quench the guilt. I hadn't had the chance to tell Whit how I really felt. Now he was going back to his dorm thinking he'd scored a second date. And even worse? Part of me was relieved. I really wanted to go to that damn party. I had to.
And, I mean, was it really so bad? Whittaker really wanted to go with me. He hadn't asked anyone else. What was wrong with accepting a good friend's invitation?
Ugh. I loathed myself.
“Come along,” Mrs. Lattimer said. “It's very late.”
I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm my nerves. Nerves from the kiss, from getting caught, from knowing that I was going to the Legacy and everything that meant to me, to Whit, to Thomas. I breathed in and looked up at the sky, but my gaze never got there. It stopped with a jolt at a window in the top floor of Bradwell. A window through which Missy, Lorna, and Constance were staring.
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My already spastic heart now sank clear down through my abdomen and into my toes. Constance. She had seen it all. It was written all over her face. The car, the flowers, the kiss. Her heart was breaking as she sat there and stared. And I was the one who had broken it.
200
FIRST IMPRESSIONS
I made the beds quickly on Saturday morning and raced out of Billings, hoping to catch Constance the moment she emerged from Bradwell. Once out on the quad I realized I hadn't been fast enough. Constance was already halfway to the cafeteria, flanked on one side by Kiki and Diana, on the other by Lorna and Missy. Like suddenly they were her best friends. Last week they couldn't have cared less about Constance, so I knew they were just aligning themselves with her because it meant standing up to me.
But I wasn't afraid of them. Compared to the people I had to deal with on a daily basis in my own home, these girls were teddy bears.
“Constance!” I shouted. There was a slight trip in her step. Lorna turned her head to look, then whispered something in Constance's ear. They all upped their pace. “Constance! Come on! Wait up!”
They didn't pause or even slow down. Luckily I could have caught them all even if I had a sprained ankle and a respirator. I jogged around and got in front of them. The look of pure hurt Constance cast my way was enough to take the breath out of me. They used that moment to move around me and keep walking.
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“Constance!” I placed my hand on her shoulder. She whirled around, red hair flying.
“What?” she snapped. Her face was all blotchy and moist, her eyes psychotically bright green and rimmed with red.
“I. . . I'm sorry, all right?” I said.
Constance narrowed her eyes and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “For what?” she asked, lifting her chin.
“For last night,” I said. “I know you saw us and I swear I didn't want any of that to happen. You have to believe me.”
“Right. You didn't want to go on an off-?campus date with one of the hottest guys at Easton,” Constance said. “You didn't want to get flowers. You didn't want to get kissed.”