Appealed (The Legal Briefs, #3)(27)

“I . . . just . . .”

There’s only one explanation—there are two Kennedy Randolphs at this school.

I go with that.

“Kennedy?” I ask, using my hands to imitate her height. “Short, glasses, brown hair? My . . .” I swallow. “That Kennedy?”

And out of the blue, he starts to look pissed. Affronted. “That’s right. She’s smart, funny, and has the biggest heart of anyone I know. She’s also got a beautiful smile and eyes that are the most fascinating—”

I walk away. I can’t listen anymore. If I do—I’ll f*cking lay him out.

I head straight for the girls’ upperclassmen dorm. I don’t think, I don’t stop to talk to anyone, and my jaw is so tight it’s a miracle my teeth haven’t cracked by the time I get there.

I pound on her door with the side of my fist—and I don’t stop until it opens.

Her eyes look shiny behind the glasses, her nose a little red—like she’s getting a cold. Her gaze traces over my face for a few seconds and then her back straightens. “What’s up?”

“Are you going out with William Penderghast?”

She steps out into the hall with me, closing the door behind her.

And then she blows my soul to kingdom come.

“Yes, I am. Why do you ask?”

For a second I don’t answer her. It takes me time to find any words.

“Why do I ask? Because what about last night?” I try to keep the devastation out of my voice, but I don’t know if I manage it. “I thought . . . I wanted . . .”

Her voice cuts, like a razor blade to the wrists. “Last night was fun. But it didn’t mean anything—I know that. I can handle fun just like everybody else. And now I’ll do my thing with William and you do yours with—”

“You’ll do your thing with William? Seriously? What the f*ck was I—the warm-up act?” I yell, anger on full display.

Fury flashes in her eyes, turning them aflame. “What’s the matter, Brent? Did I hurt your precious boy-feelings? Did you expect me to follow you around like every other girl in school? Take your crumbs when you’re feeling charitable?”

I don’t really understand everything she’s saying—the haze of disappointment is too crushing. Because, yeah, it hurts. As lame as it sounds, last night meant something to me. She means something to me. And apparently I don’t mean dick to her.

So I do what comes natural. Cover it up. “I’m just surprised, is all. If I knew you were so easy, I would’ve hooked up with you years ago.”

Her cheeks go fire-flaming red—with embarrassment or anger, I can’t tell.

“I’m not easy.”

“You sure? You may not think you’re easy, but actions speak louder than words. William and I will have to compare notes to see. Because I didn’t even have to try last night. It felt pretty f*cking easy to me.”

It’s a shitty thing to say. I wouldn’t be surprised if she slapped me—that’s what girls do when they’re offended. That’s why they call it a bitch-slap.

But, like I’ve always known, Kennedy Randolph isn’t your average girl. She doesn’t slap me.

She punches me. Right in the mouth.

My head snaps back and I taste blood.

“Damn it!”

But when I open my eyes, when I look back at her face, all the anger bleeds out, like a hemorrhaging artery. Because Kennedy doesn’t look furious anymore, or even angry.

She looks . . . crushed. Holding back tears—but just barely.

“I hate you,” she forces out, shaking her head. “I hate you.”

Her words reverberate in my bones, echo in my head.

In history, we watched a documentary on the Vietnam War, with actual footage of a battle from a reporter’s camera—of a soldier, a young guy who was shot.

Badly.

And when it happened, his face, more than anything, looked surprised—stark white with shock . . . because there was suddenly a hole in his chest where his heart had just been.

When Kennedy turns her back and slams the door in my face—I feel the exact same way.





8


The present, in the pub


“I went to your room that morning. She answered the door in your jersey—said you were in the shower. She offered to let me wait, but she warned me that you two were back together. That I’d look really desperate just showing up at your room like that.” Kennedy swallows hard and breathes deep. Like the memory alone is causing her actual pain.

“She never told me—”

“No, she wouldn’t have, would she?” Kennedy looks into my eyes, smiling bitterly. “I was going to wait. I thought I at least deserved to hear it from you.” Her voice strangles at the end, her eyes shinier than they should be. “But then Cashmere asked me what I had really expected. She said you were a hero and I was a zero and nothing was going to change that. Did I really think you would leave someone like her for someone like me?” She licks her lips slowly.

“I was still reeling from the night before. From the excitement, the total f*cking joy over what we’d done. But when she put it like that . . . I believed her. So I left. William stopped me in the quad on the way back to the dorm. He asked me out . . . and I said yes.”