Isn't She Lovely (Redemption 0.5)(12)
We both turn toward the sound of my name being called, and I recognize Joe and Gary walking toward us. Joe’s got that stupid grin on his face that tells me he’s way past sober, but Gary merely looks puzzled, and that’s worse.
“Where the hell have you been?” Gary demands. “Isn’t this supposed to be your party?”
It’s only “my party” because I pay for the beer—always—but I don’t argue. And I don’t blame Gary for being confused. Sitting out in the backyard during a party isn’t typical behavior for me. Sitting out in the backyard with someone who looks like she belongs in The Addams Family is even less typical.
He gives Stephanie a curious glance, but at least he doesn’t ogle and then ignore her; instead he reaches out a hand. “I’m Gary.”
“Neat,” she says snottily, as though daring him to question her presence. I don’t know if she smokes, but if she pulled out a cigarette and blew smoke in his face, I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised. The scene had that kind of feel.
“Sorry to steal away your Golden Boy,” she says, pulling her hair back in a ponytail, a gesture that attracts undue attention to her cleavage. Joe’s practically drooling, but Gary and I are made of classier stuff and barely sneak a glance.
Okay, a long glance.
“So, you guys are … friends?” Gary asks.
I feel a little clutch of panic. How the hell do I explain this? I can’t say that she’s just a tagalong with a great rack, marking her as one-night-stand material—they’d eat her alive. But if I brush her off altogether, I’ll look like a dick.
Stephanie solves the problem for me.
“Not friends,” she says succinctly. “I just stopped by in hopes of scoring a free drink, and he told me to scram.” She’s already moving back toward the side of the house, ready to make her escape. “Don’t worry, your boy Ethan here would never slum it with someone like me.”
Now hold on just a goddamn minute. Who said anything about slumming it? Sure, her presence is a little uncomfortable. And yeah, I don’t exactly want everyone to know that I’m hanging out with the film nerds for the summer. But my social group isn’t that snobbish.
Well, okay, maybe they are.
But I’m not.
I reach out to grab her arm, and it’s so skinny, my fingers can wrap all the way around her bicep. “This is Stephanie Kendrick,” I say, ignoring the way she tries to tug her arm free. “We’re friends.”
She lets out a strangled sound at that. “Oh, God, no.”
“Good friends,” I say emphatically, just to annoy her.
“Um, okay,” Gary says with a shrug. “Well, how about you and your friend get inside so we can finish off this school year right. The beer’s waiting.”
“Gosh, I’d love to,” Stephanie says sweetly, giving me the eyelash flutter she threatened me with earlier. “But I’ve gotta go. Lots of cats to kill tonight.”
She looks pointedly at my hand on her arm, and I realize I’m being ridiculous by holding her here. Boorish, really. But still I take my sweet time letting her go, letting my fingers brush the soft skin of her inner arm.
I think I hear her give a sharp intake of breath, but that’s probably wishful thinking, because her eyes never lose the look that says Go ahead and die before she wrenches free and backs up several steps.
“See you around, friend,” she says, discreetly lifting her hand and flipping me the bird.
I can’t help it. I smile.
And suddenly the next few months don’t look so shitty after all, because I know exactly how to keep myself occupied all summer.
I’m going to figure out what makes Stephanie Kendrick tick.
Chapter Five
Stephanie
“Hey, babe.”
Don’t call me babe. Don’t call me Steph. Actually, don’t call me anything at all, you cheating turd.
“Hi, David.” I push past him into the familiar apartment. I’ve lived on campus for all three years of college, but David moved off campus after freshman year to a tiny one-bedroom in the East Village. His semi-famous musician dad pays for it, and although it’s small, it has a classic coolness about it that I’ve always loved.
“That’s all the stuff you have?” He looks in surprise at my backpack and one suitcase.
“Yeah. Camille was planning to leave most of her stuff behind when she went to Phoenix, so I put mine into a storage unit.”
A storage unit whose fee was nonrefundable, leaving me with the option of having to find a cheap furnished place at the last minute (impossible) or eat the cost of the storage and try to pay rent in a new place (also not possible).
David grabs a beer from the fridge and gives me a kind are-you-okay look. “I was surprised to hear from you. I thought pigs would fly before you’d ask to move in.”
Me too. I throw my backpack on the couch and wheel my suitcase into the corner, shaking my head at the beer he offers. “I’m only here until I can work something else out. And I’m not moving in, just sleeping on the couch for a couple of days.”
Please, God, let it be just a couple of days. Still, it’s nice of David to let me crash here. Especially since I’m pretty sure that the last time we talked, I told him I’d deep-fry his balls if he came near me again.