Part 10 (1/2)

Things were much more interesting in Annapolis than I'd ever suspected they would be, back when my parents had announced that that was where we were moving for the year.

It didn't take Liz long to figure out that she hadn't been missing much, not having been invited to popular kids' parties before. Stacy soon grew bored as well. When they finally announced that they wanted to go-we'd managed to polish off all the guacamole, and it didn't look like more was forthcoming-I nodded, because by then, I wanted to go, too. I'd seen what I'd wanted to see-Will's dad, who, in spite of what I'd been led to believe, seemed very nice; his stepmom, who seemed lovely; and the way Will interacted with Jennifer, which was exactly the way you'd expect a boyfriend and girlfriend to interact...not too lovey-dovey, or anything, but they held hands a lot, and I saw him lean down to kiss her once.

Did the sight send a dagger of envy into my heart? Yes. Did I think I'd make a better girlfriend for him than she did? Pretty much.

But the thing was, I wanted him to be happy. It sounds weird, but I really did. And if Jennifer made him happy, well, so be it.

Except...

What about that rose? The one that was fully blooming now in its vase on my nightstand, where it was the first thing I saw every morning when I woke up, and the last thing I saw every night before I turned out the light?

It wasn't until we were on our way out that I suddenly remembered I needed to let Lance know about our meeting with Mr. Morton on Monday morning. Telling Liz and Stacy I'd meet them out by the car, I went to find Lance to break the news.

But he wasn't out by the pool where I'd last seen him. And he wasn't anywhere on the first floor of the house, either. Finally, someone hanging out in the line for the bathroom on the second floor said they'd seen him go through the door to a spare bedroom. I thanked them, then went to the door and knocked on it.

But the music floating up from downstairs was too loud for me to hear whether or not Lance had said come in. I knocked a little harder. Still nothing.

Figuring if I couldn't hear him because of the music, he probably couldn't hear my knocking, I opened the door-just a crack-to see if Lance really was in there.

He was in there, all right.

In there making out with Jennifer on the bed. Jennifer, his best friend's girlfriend.

They were so wrapped up in each other, they didn't even notice the door opening. I quickly closed it, then hurried to lean against the wall across from it, my heart feeling as if it were about to leap out of my chest.

But before I even had time to register what I'd just seen-let alone wonder what it meant-I saw something even more horrifying.

And that was Will coming up the stairs, and heading for the very door I'd just closed.

CHAPTER TEN.

As often thro' the purple night,

Below the starry cl.u.s.ters bright,

Some bearded meteor, trailing light,

Moves over still Shalott.

”Oh, hey, Elle,” Will said, when he saw me.

It was a sign of how freaked I truly was by what I'd just seen that my heartstrings didn't so much as quiver at hearing him call me Elle.

”Hi,” I said faintly.

”Have you seen Jen?” Will wanted to know. ”Someone said they saw her come up here.”

”Jen?” I echoed. My gaze, though I tried not to let it, strayed toward the closed door to the spare bedroom. ”Um...”

What was I supposed to say? I mean, really? Was I supposed to go, ”Sure, I've seen her, she's right in there,” and let him walk through that door and find Jennifer and Lance in there, going at it?

Or was I supposed to lie and go, ”Jen? Nope. Haven't seen her,” and let him continue to live in total ignorance of the fact that his girlfriend and best friend were a couple of lying s.k.a.n.ks?

Who could make a decision like that? Why did I have to be the one who'd walked in on them? I mean, I wanted Will to break up with Jennifer so he could be free to hook up with me-you know, if h.e.l.l happened to freeze over, or something, and he asked me out.

But I didn't want to be the person who, however indirectly, caused that breakup by revealing his girlfriend's true nature to him! Because whenever this happens to girls on soap operas or the WB or whatever, they never end up getting the guy....

But before I could decide what to do, Will looked more closely at me and went, ”Are you all right, Elle? You look sort of...pale.”

I felt pale. In fact, I felt a little like I might throw up all that guacamole I'd scarfed down earlier.

”I'm fine,” I said, though it sounded like a lie even to my own ears.

”You're not fine,” Will said firmly. ”Come on. Fresh air time.”

Then something amazing happened. He took my hand-grabbed it like it was the most natural thing to do in the world-and steered me toward a door I hadn't noticed before. Then he pulled me up a narrow, steep stairway that opened out onto this kind of deck all along the roof of the house.

In spite of the party below, which was in full swing, it was quiet out on the narrow little deck. Quiet and dark, with a fantastic view of the stars overhead, and the bay stretched out below us, the moon reflected like a bright ribbon of light across it. A cool breeze lifted my hair from my face, and immediately, I started to feel a little better.

I leaned against the ornately carved railing that ran the length of the deck and gazed out at the bay, at the bridge that arched across it, and the occasional glow of a car's headlights as someone drove over it.

”Better?” Will asked.

I nodded, feeling a little ashamed of myself, and wanting to distract him from looking at me too closely-I sensed that I was still slightly green around the gills-I asked brightly, ”So what is this thing, anyway?” meaning the narrow parapet Will and I were standing on.

”You really aren't from around here, are you?” Will asked, with a grin. Then he joined me at the railing and said, ”They call it a widow's walk. All the old houses around here have them. People like to say they were built for the wives of sailors so they could come out and watch for their husbands' s.h.i.+ps to return.”

”Nice,” I said sarcastically. Because, of course, if the husband didn't return, it meant that his s.h.i.+p had gone down and the wife was now a widow, thus making her pretty little lookout post a widow's walk.

”Well,” Will said, with a laugh. ”yeah. But that's not really what they were for. They were built so people could climb up here and put out the flames if their roof caught fire, back when they had to use their chimneys for heat and cooking and everything.”

”Nice!” I said again, this time with even more sarcasm.

Will smiled. ”Yeah. I guess they should change the name.” He shrugged. ”The view's the same, no matter what they call it.”

I nodded, admiring the s.h.i.+mmering band of light the moon cast across the water. ”It's nice,” I said. ”Soothing.” Soothing enough to make a girl forget why she'd had to come out there in the first place. What was I going to do about Lance and Jennifer, anyway?

”Yeah,” Will said, totally oblivious to my inner turmoil. ”I never get tired of it. It's the one thing that always seems to stay the same. The water, I mean. The color changes. Sometimes it's flat. Sometimes there's chop. But it's always there. You can depend on it.”