Slow Twitch - Реинхардт Лиз. Страница 12

“The view.” She cocked one hip on the windowsill and gazed out. “You get a view of the lake and trees. And a good one. See that house?”

She pointed to a gigantic white mansion.

“Yeah.”

“That’s my family’s. We’re neighbors.” When she smiled at me, it was the slow, sexy smile I’d seen on girls’ faces way too many times, and it freaked me out.

“That’s nice. I have to go eat dinner soon, so, I’d love to talk, but--”

“We’re eating together.” Her voice was light and confident. “The families.”

Only I’m pretty sure she meant ‘The Families.’ “What does that mean? The Families? Are you my cousin or something?”

She wrinkled her nose. “No. Thank God. I’m not really a kissing cousins type, you know. The families are the Macleans, the Morgensterns, the Kicklighters and the Coopersmiths. Our families are some of the oldest on the East coast. Haven’t they drilled this into your head?” Before I could explain, she popped her hand over her mouth like she was really worried about offending me. “Oh, I forgot. You’re the--”

“Bastard.” A tiny blaze of anger lit me up. If there was one thing I couldn’t stand it was an innocent act. Just say what you wanted to say if you were going to open your big mouth at all. But I knew how to play it cool. “I’m starved. So, let’s eat.”

I had tried to give Caroline a pretty clear brush off, but I realized too late that was probably the worst thing I could have done. I’d met a few girls like her. Slumbunnieswas what Saxon and I called them. They were rich, bored girls usually visiting some relative in Sussex County who decided to slum it with some bad-ass country kids. They were always the most wild, the most willing to get in bed with you and get freaky, the ones who’d drink or snort or shoot whatever there was. Definitely not my bag, but Saxon had been with a few. Of course, technically Saxon was whatever the male version of a slumbunnywas.

Caroline smiled at me with that glint of a challenge I’d seen so many times in Saxon’s eyes, and I knew I was in deep whether I liked it or not. She curled her fingers around my arm when we walked down to dinner, and everyone at the table looked up and glowed like we were the sweetest couple they’d ever seen. They all shouted out their welcome to me. It was pretty overwhelming. Every solitary person got introduced to me, but I couldn’t remember a single name.

There were about seven courses and it was pretty fancy, but I didn’t worry about what fork to use or what to do or any of that crap. Brenna and I had eaten at some swank places, and she’d always just rolled her eyes and told me to relax when I got nervous, so I figured I’d take her advice. I ate with whatever fork or spoon was nearest my hand, and I didn’t talk with my mouth full or put my elbows on the table, but other than that, I wasn’t minding any p’s or q’s.

“So, Jake, dear, what colleges are you looking at?” asked the silver-haired woman across from me. My grandmother. She had dark red fingernails and a pretty, too-young face. I figured she’d probably had plastic surgery, but not the kind that made women look like crazy lion-women hybrids. I couldn’t imagine her kissing booboos or passing out cookies, but she looked fairly nice.

“To tell you the truth, I hadn’t thought about it much.” I put down my fork and tried not to bug out when every person at the table stopped talking and looked my way. “My finances weren’t the best, and I figured I would do two years at the community college and move on to Rutgers maybe. If my grades were good enough.” Brenna promised to help me with my academic work if I went.

The table went quiet.

“Rutgers?” My grandma’s voice questioned what I said, not too snotty, but not nice, either. “The state school?”

“Yes, ma’am.” My ears burned, so I knew they were bright pink, and I hated feeling like everyone looked my way and thought, ‘Stupid.’“It’s been around since the late 1700’s. I’m sure you know it.” I was aware I might come off as a simpleton, but I wasn’t, and I knew a barb when one hit.

“Well, like you said, that was when finances were a question. That’s not really an issue anymore,” she sing-songed. Everyone laughed like that was the best joke they’d heard in a while.

Caroline winked at me from across the table. I noticed she was drinking wine. So were the couple of other teenagers. I guessed it just wasn’t a big deal.

“So, do you have a girlfriend, Jake?” asked a woman who looked like Caroline, just older. Her mother? She looked much more like a sister, but this was a world where people obviously hated aging, so it was a little hard to tell.

“Yes, ma’am.” I cleared my throat, happy to be able to announce it in front of Caroline. “Her name is Brenna Blixen. She’s in Dublin, Ireland right now taking a writing course,” I bragged. Man, I wished I had Brenna there next to me. She could have handled this whole snooty gang, no problems.

“Blixen?” My grandmother wrinkled her brow. “Where do I know that name from?”

“Lylee’s friend,” Caroline’s mother drawled. “Don’t you remember, Mama D? She went on and on about her in Bermuda this spring.”

“Oh, that’s it. The art history professor who’s shaking it up in little old Sussex County.” She sighed. “Why do these women insist on wasting their talents in community colleges when universities would scoop them up?”

I clenched my jaw tight. Brenna’s mom didn’t have many warm feelings towards me, but she was a damn good teacher and a smart woman. “Mrs. Blixen likes to help students who don’t think of themselves as college material.” Everyone stopped talking again and looked down the table at me. “She knows how much it means for people to get equitable treatment, even if they are just community college students.”

“Bravo, Jake,” my dad slurred, obviously a few drinks in.

“Well.” My grandmother pasted on a smile. “He’s certainly a Maclean, isn’t he? All piss and vinegar!”

Then the whole dinner party laughed, and I felt like a champion ass. My grandmother (everyone called her Mama D; I wasn’t even sure what her name was) dominated the conversation until dessert, and I spent a lot of time looking at people who had my features, used my gestures, had my DNA running strong through them, but were nothing at all like me. Once we’d eaten our fresh cherry pie, the adults went to the drawing room for after-dinner drinks, the little kids were ushered off to bed, and the teenagers were set loose on the lake to have a bonfire.

Caroline attached herself to my side. “Brenna Blixen? In Paris she and Saxon were joined at the hip. Or the mouth. Or whatever.” She giggled behind her perfectly manicured little hand.

I stopped in my tracks. “Look, Caroline? That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about. I don’t listen to rumors about her, and anyone who wants to spread them should keep the hell away from me.” I kept walking and she ran to catch up.

“Wait! Jake!” She tried to link arms with me again. I shook her off. “C’mon, I was just kidding around,” she sulked.

“Then I must have a really shitty sense of humor.” I stalked forward, hands deep in my pockets. “Maybe it’s best if you and I keep our distance.”

“I don’t think we need to do that.” Her voice came out like a purr. “I’m just sort of outspoken, okay? The thing is, I always know what I want, and I tend to get it. So, why not just come along for the ride?” She smiled like she’d practiced her seductive look in the mirror every night.

She was pretty. Really pretty, and probably smart and possibly great in bed. But just because I could acknowledge those things didn’t mean that I wanted her. I knew her type, and I wasn’t about to be the object of her slumbunny attention.

“I get that you’re probably used to getting what you want.” I took two steps away from her. “But get ready for a shock, Caroline. I have no interest in you. And I’m not going to be your summer entertainment. So find someone else to screw.”