Ephemeral (The Countenance) (25 page)

I see Cooper through an entirely new lens. The softness about his person, the low seductive way about him, the incessant flirting that he doesn’t bother hiding despite the fact I have Wes filling those boyfriend shoes. He likes me, and more than a friend. I’ll have to be careful not to lead him on—God forbid I bury my relationship with Wes because of Coop.

He gives a dry smile before spinning back around and my stomach does a soft roll again.

One thing’s for sure. As soon as I get the information I need, I’m going to stay the hell away from Cooper Flanders.

24

Fighting Words

The sun never escaped the harness of the dark, frosted gloom. An oppressive sky won the wrestling match against the anemic fiery orb. It sheltered us from those long forgotten rays, and we never experienced the light of day.

After dinner, the rain starts in—thick and heavy like skillets falling from the sky. I packed some things for the weekend, although Fletch suggested we don’t leave until almost midnight because there’s a party at Henderson in his honor. Of course, given the fact it’s in his questionable honor, Jen agreed to the ludicrous hour of departure. Call me old or a baby, but customarily I like to be in bed by then.

At said party, bodies rush around, strategically colliding into one another every now and again, prompting outright illegal levels of enthusiasm. Each person is coifed and accessorized to perfection. A regal air envelops them. Something exquisite encapsulates the entire lot of Wall Street’s spoiled descendents. Most of the high school parties I went to back home severely lacked or never saw this degree of sophistication. At Ephemeral, the hair, the clothes, even the shoes, reek of extravagance. Each student seems christened by the genetic lottery—their facial structures alone mandate they adorn the oversized windows at Abercrombie & Fitch.

Nevertheless, I’m pretty sure the raging hormonal inferno that’s taking over has nothing to do with my brother. How this party is in his honor is beyond me. Believe me, none of them are thinking too deeply about Fletch. In fact, I’ll go out on a limb and declare this entire event a ruse in the name of vodka and whiskey, and whatever else it is they’re shooting off Jax Thompson’s perfectly flat stomach.

It’s easy to see why
Blaine
, who I’ve been informed will also be joining us on our weekend excursion to my imaginary parents estate, would be drawn to someone like Jax. For one, she’s palatable. She’s not as pretty as Jen, but few people are, and after a while, looks can get as stale as potato chips. Another thing about Jax: she laughs at every damn thing. Sure it’s probably an induced reaction from the questionable narcotics racing through her bloodstream, but what’s not to like about a bubbly personality?

Jen probably drove Blaine into Jax’s thorny arms with all that talk about fornication and adultery while denying him the pleasure of both. She most likely, and quite by accident, got him all worked up under the wrong pretense, and he bumped into Jax on his way out of Austen House one night. Jax is a testament to physical perfection, plus the fact she’s got the face that can launch a thousand dicks doesn’t exactly help Jen’s predicament. Cheats like Blaine and Tucker don’t really put a whole lot of credence in commitment anyway, they run into girls like Jax, and the natural course of a penis takes over. He should have ended it with Jen long before making the decision to anatomically explore with someone other than my counterfeit sister. Blaine has Tucker written all over his sorry ass.

“Excuse me,” I whisper, backing out of the wall of humanity I’ve managed to land myself in. I look up to find a barely there seductive smile on the paragon of perfection—Cooper. He’s wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with a small hole just below the collar, and an unexpected wave of heat sweeps through me at the sight of him. There’s something undeniably attractive about Cooper in general, both inside and out.

“Hi.” I take in a quick breath, withholding the urge to throw my arms around him. It’s my natural inclination to console myself in Wesley’s absence with comfort sex as evidenced by my time spent with Tucker, but I doubt I’ll be putting that into practice any time soon. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for coming to stuff like this.”

“I don’t—usually.” He pushes his hand in the small of my back and helps usher us through the crowd. A warm tingle spears through me as the warmth of his hand radiates over my spine. We pass a throng of girls as they speed outside. One of them holds a cup under her mouth, periodically gagging over it.

“Close call.” Cooper lets his hand linger over my sweater a moment longer than it needs to. “I like all the vomit I wear to be my own.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

“Traditionally bodily fluids are low on my list of accoutrements.” The edge of his lip curves just this side of a crooked grin. “But I might make an exception for you.”

“You would make an exception for me?” I open my mouth feigning surprise.

“Yeah, you know,” he says, tipping his chin down to his chest, “the occasional blood vial—or something you might like to exchange with me voluntarily.” His cheek slides up the side. “Saliva.” He swallows hard as though he just realized he said that out loud. “For experimental purposes of course.”

“Of course.” My toes curl in my shoes at the thought of exchanging saliva with Coop.

If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Cooper Flanders was trying to seduce me into an erotic salivary exchange right here in the commons area of Henderson hall. Cooper has the face of a god. I suppose the art of seduction isn’t all that necessary to get the girls he wants. In fact, I’m pretty surprised that he doesn’t have a girlfriend. For all I know, he keeps twenty on the side like Flynn.

“So you don’t mind my bodily fluids. Any other things I should know about you?” I reach into a bowl of nuts and suck the salt off the shell of a pistachio.

“I like vanilla.” He leans over me and scoops up a handful himself. His chest touches down against my shoulder, makes me want to press against it in gratitude for the simple act of believing me. “Most people are drawn to chocolate, but I can live without it.”

“Sounds like you, my friend, are on a wayward path to nutritional destruction. Chocolate is the key ingredient to a lifetime of delirious happiness. I can easily convert you.” I try not to linger on his strange glowing eyes that hold the beauty and depth of stars on a clear summer night.

“I find this chocolate conversion doubtful.” The dimple below his eye gives a quick wink. “I do like other things—cherries but not bananas, sushi, not fish sticks.”

“So, you like food.” My heart thumps unnaturally as he takes me in. Drinks me down as if I were about to disappear. “I hear men are equally obsessed with food as they are—”

“Hey, beautiful.” Wes growls in my ear. His soft cologne wraps itself around me like a sheath, reminds me that my heart belongs to him, that he’s still in that body, locked in that mind somewhere.

“Have a good weekend.” Cooper starts to walk away just as Wes catches him by the back of his shirt.

“Thanks for setting everything up with your dad.” Wes ticks his chin up when he says it. “I owe you.”

“Glad to help.” Coop nods into me and says good night. I watch as he walks out the door and drains his plastic cup over the railing.

“Guess he wasn’t staying long,” I say, watching the doorway as though he might magically reappear.

“I’m surprised he showed to begin with.”

“You never did elaborate on what exactly the clean-up committee is and why Cooper is a card-carrying member.” I turn and writhe in Wesley’s arms. It feels good like this with Wes. Safe. A thousand crazed Spectators could burst through the windows, and I wouldn’t have a thing to worry about.

“His father…” He depresses it out in a sigh. “He runs experiments on them.”

“What kind of experiments?”

He shrugs. “No clue.”

Kresley saunters over, flanked by Grayson and an offensively dressed Jax. Come to think of it, they all offend me on some level.

“I heard you’re going away this weekend, Wes.” Kresley grinds the words through the air.

I take her in, the easy way she places her hand over Wesley’s chest like she owns him, like she acquired him at an estate sale and has the receipt to prove it.  

“Fletch—I’m going with Fletch,” he corrects.

“Watch out.” She slithers her hand over his chest. “Fletch and white trash seem to go hand in hand these days.”

I step in front of Wes, intercepting Kresley’s touchy feely tirade.

“He’s going with
me,
but he’s too much of a gentlemen to admit it.” I lean in toward her and whisper. “He’ll probably sneak into my room at night—tuck me in, tell me scary bedtime stories that may or may not involve you getting hacked to pieces before he kisses me goodnight.”

A hard slap ignites across my cheek. I pause taking in the burn before lifting my chin. Wes pulls me back abruptly, shouting at Kresley to get the hell out.

Grayson yanks me in by the wrist. Her red-painted lips pop off the backdrop of her pale features. “You’re a beast,” she whispers it low for my ears only. Her voice resonates deep like that of a man—like maybe
she
was the beast.

“Step back.” Kresley maneuvers between us. “I fight my own battles.”

Wes steps in with a look of rage on his face. “Don’t you ever fucking touch Laken again. She’s not your punching bag, Kres. Get over it.”

She shoots Wes a strangulating glare before taking off and dissolving into the rain. Grayson and Jax hesitate before filtering back into the sea of bodies.

“What was that all about?” Carter comes up, laughs out the words as she says them. Her sugary perfume does its best to asphyxiate me, a toxic combination of cotton candy and spring flowers.  

Fallon leans on Carter’s shoulder and closes her eyes, gurgles something about drinking too much.

I’m ashamed to admit I’m a little jealous of Fallon. I was sort of warming to the idea of it just being Carter and me. Back home I had Amber. We didn’t belong to any clique. It was just the two of us, each with our respective boyfriends. But, in all fairness, I really don’t know Fallon. All I know is what I can see, blond roots sprouting like snow against her coal black hair—sort of the opposite of Grayson with her blond on black. They’d look like a checkerboard if they ever got into a fight.

“Hello?” Carter waves her hand in front of my face.

“I guess Kresley thought she would serve up her gossip with a side of battery,” I say, trying to quell a headache from taking flight.

A jolt of lightning fills the night sky, illuminating the room as bright as the afternoon sun.

“You know what they say, payback’s a bitch.” Fallon squints into me. I’m not sure if she means for Kresley or me, but I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, at least until she starts to beat the shit out of me. Then I’ll simply return the favor.  

“That’s right.” I lean into Wes. “It is.”

“No revenge, please,” he whispers it warm in my ear.

“Well, you did say please.” I wrap my arms around him and take in that ebony hair, those serious eyes.

I can’t believe I’m spending the entire weekend with Wesley.

Sometimes happiness is the best revenge.  

25

Home Bound

The party is still going strong as Wes and Fletch toss our bags into the back of Jen’s car. We leave for the Anderson estate at twelve forty-five in the morning, and as far as I can tell, this all could have been done after the sun came up, not during a midnight downpour. Fletch sits up front with Jen. Rumor has it Blaine will be meeting us in the a.m. I’m guessing he wanted to play a game of Jax before the weekend hit, and my sister put him under another dry spell. I’d like to place him under a permanent dry spell by way of yanking his balls right off his body, and if the mood should strike, I just might.

Wes scoots in. I purposefully sat in the middle, so I could rest my head on his shoulder and lull myself to sleep with the rhythm of his breathing. When Wes and I finally got together as a couple back home, I used to lay my head on his stomach and we’d watch the night sky for shooting stars. His body was as soft as a waterbed. I could listen for hours at the odd sounds and gurgles. Wes was his own universe, and I could hardly wait to discover him. And now there are more layers, more intricacies that I want desperately to unearth. How could he be a Count? How could I?