The Ivy: Rivals (7 page)

Everyone at the table leaned forward.

“The beautiful thing about people like Grace is that one day, they always go too far. Even if they appear to be a nuisance or seem to be getting in your way, you don’t have to lift a single finger because ultimately, they will always be their own undoing.”

A strange hush seemed to have fallen across the room, and Callie felt the same shiver of fear that she’d experienced earlier in the
Crimson
. But then Lexi’s expression brightened and she said cheerily, “Enough talk of silly rivalries! Especially when what we really want is to hear more about all of you!”

Sydney and Penelope exchanged a nervous glance.

“Yes,” Anne agreed. “We already know where you’re from, what subjects you’re studying, and what you like to do for fun. . . . Why not tell us something a little juicier—something embarrassing?”

“Or something that you’ve never told anyone else before,” Lexi added, nodding enthusiastically.

Everyone stayed silent. Even the two girls who were undergoing The Lexi Experience for the first time were smart enough not to spill.

Anne’s attempt to force—ahem—
facilitate
bonding reminded Callie of the first week of school when her entryway’s prefect Charlie Sloane had made them play a game called Two Truths and Lie in an attempt to get everyone better acquainted. She cleared her throat. “We could, uh, play a game?”

“A game?” said Anne.

“Yeah, like, uh . . .” She looked at Mimi and Vanessa.

“Well, there’s the classic Fuck-Chuck-Marry,” Vanessa dove in, “or Would You Rather, or—ooh—I know, how about we play Never Have I Ever!”

“Never have I ever . . . what?” asked Mimi.

“It’s very simple,” Vanessa explained. “Everybody holds up five fingers,” she said, raising her palm above her half-eaten eggs Benedict, “and then each girl goes around the circle and says something that she’s never done before, and if you
have
done the thing she says, you have to put a finger down—and drink!”

“The last girl left standing wins,” Anne added.

“Or loses,” Alessandra offered with a sultry wink, “depending on how you see it.”

“Penelope, why don’t you start us off,” said Lexi, who, skeptical at first, had warmed to the idea.

“Okay,” said Penelope, setting down her fork. “Here’s an easy one that ought to knock most, if not all of you, back by a finger. Never have I ever had sex.”

Six fingers went down amidst an exchange of smiles and knowing nods. The only two girls left with all five remaining were Penelope and—

“Really, Vanessa?” asked Anne. “You and Tyler haven’t . . . ?”

Vanessa, her cheeks slightly pink, shook her head.

Lexi smirked. “Take it from someone older, Vanessa, when I say that you can’t expect him to wait forever. He
is
a guy, after all, and this is college, not high school, so the rules—”

“Actually, you
can
expect him to wait forever,” Callie interrupted. “Forever or until you’re ready, whichever one comes first.” And you can always come and talk to me about it if it’s bothering you, she added silently, wishing she could say it out loud. Vanessa, however, did not look particularly grateful for the intervention; Callie faltered, staring at the tablecloth.

“Ah, well, in
your
case,” Lexi addressed Callie, “caution and taking everything in that arena very, very slowly are certainly advisable.” She turned to the others: “I don’t know if you had the opportunity to read recently about Callie’s little on-screen adventures—”

“Don’t worry,
Lex
,” Callie blurted before she could stop to think, “Clint and I aren’t planning anything with a camera any time soon.”

If someone in the downstairs lounge had dropped a cuff link, they all would have been able to hear it.

“NEVER HAVE I EVER,” Mimi boomed suddenly. “
Er, Jamais je n’ai jamais . . . Oh, je sais:
Never have I ever stolen
juste un peu de cocaïne
from
une strip-teaseuse
in Ibiza!”

“What?” said Callie.

“Why are you drinking?” asked Vanessa.

“Because I just remembered,” said Mimi, “that I have.”

Vanessa shook her head. “My turn! Never have I ever . . .” She shot a sidelong glance at Callie. “Never have I ever hooked up with my best friend’s crush.”

Thanks a lot, dude, thought Callie, putting down another finger and taking a sip of her drink. Penelope had lowered a finger, too. So had Alessandra.

“In high school,” Alessandra volunteered, “when people are petty about that sort of thing. As if I could possibly control the fact that he was never interested in her.” She shrugged.

“Women are always complaining about men treating them like objects,” Penelope chimed in, “but then we turn around and try to lay claim to ones we barely even know, as if we could call dibs.” She laughed.

“I think there’s something to be said for loyalty,” Lexi said, silencing Penelope’s laughter. “Why throw away a friendship for someone who is almost certainly
not
your soul mate? Men,” she continued, lifting her glass, “are a dime a dozen, but best friends are forever.” She beamed at Anne and they clinked their glasses, the rest of the table soon following suit.

“It’s your turn,” Vanessa said, nudging Callie.

“Right,” said Callie. She glanced down at her nearly empty plate. “Never have I ever dined and dashed.” Never have I ever even considered it—until today, she thought miserably. Mimi and Anne both put a finger down. “Also high school,” Anne offered apologetically. “On a dare.”

Their waitress appeared and began to clear the plates.

Sydney shifted in her chair. “Never have I ever gotten a grade below an A minus,” she said.

There was a collective groan, and everyone put a finger down. Callie could practically see Lexi and Anne mentally writing
wet blanket
under Sydney’s name on HPpunch.com.

“My turn?” Lexi asked as Anne signaled for the bill. Looking around the table, she took stock of the situation, noting who had the least number of fingers remaining. “Never have I ever hooked up with Gregory Bolton,” she said finally with a mischievous glance at Alessandra.

Alessandra inhaled sharply. “What?” she whispered, staring, along with everyone else, at Callie’s index finger, which she had unthinkingly lowered.

Crap crap double crap, thought Callie, clenching and unclenching her fist in an attempt to make it appear that random finger spasms were something that happened to her all the time.

Lexi narrowed her eyes at Callie. “When did
that
happen?”

No such luck.

“Freshman week, during le ‘camp Harvard,’” Mimi quickly lied.

Callie held her breath, waiting for Vanessa to contradict Mimi’s story. Vanessa, however, just sipped her water silently.

“It was a silly mistake,” Callie said. “The same one that the rest of our dorm and half the school also m— Oh . . . sorry,” she said, grimacing at Alessandra. Lexi stared at her hard from across the table.

“I understand he has quite a reputation,” Alessandra said, chewing on her lip.

“Pay no attention to them,” Lexi said, placing a hand on Alessandra’s back, “or to what anyone else has to say about Gregory. I’ve been friends with his cousin since he was in diapers, and in all that time I’ve never known him to go out with anyone more than once. Well, maybe twice, but that usually only meant that he forgot about the first time. He’s different with you.”

“He liiikes you,” Anne said, elongating the i in a singsongy voice. Then she handed the waitress her credit card. Callie breathed an enormous sigh. All she had to worry about now was dodging Anne until she had the money to cover her portion of the bill: something that she unfortunately already had experience doing when her club dues had been late last semester. Speaking of which, she still had no idea who had mysteriously paid that hefty price. . . .

“Maybe he
more
than likes you,” Lexi suggested, snapping Callie out of her reverie.

“Maybe . . .” Alessandra said slowly. “It’s hard to tell. Things were very casual and irregular at first. You know, mostly he called only late at night or—”

“Didn’t you read my article about never answering the phone after midnight?” Lexi interrupted with an expression of mock horror on her face.

“I did!” Vanessa cried. “It was totally genius. I also used your five simple steps to trick him out of the bedroom and into the restaurant on Tyler, and they worked like a—”

“Great,” Lexi cut her off. “That’s really great, Vanessa. Alessandra, you were saying?”

Alessandra smiled. “Something changed right around the time this semester started. He calls at more appropriate hours now. We go on actual dates. Last Sunday he asked if I wanted to get breakfast, and then he asked if I wanted to ‘give being exclusive a try’—just like that!”

“Perhaps we can attribute some of the credit to our little Stoplight party,” Anne ventured. “And by the way I’ve been meaning to tell you: I
loved
your dress.”

“Ooh, yes, it was to die for,” Vanessa agreed. “Did he get you anything special for Valentine’s Day? Diamonds? A small island, perhaps? After all, he
is
a Bolton. An island would be, like, only a small chip in the old trust fund.”

Alessandra wrinkled her nose. “He got me . . . a book.”

Penelope grimaced sympathetically. “Well, you can’t let yourself read too much into that, sweetie.”

Or . . . you could actually
read
it, thought Callie. “Which book?” she blurted suddenly.

“What?” asked Alessandra.

“Um, you know—what was the title?” Callie asked.

“Honestly,” said Alessandra, “I don’t even remember. We have so much reading to do for class—it’s like he assigned me extra homework.”

“I’ll have to give him a talking to the next time I see him,” Lexi said, her eyes darting to Callie—specifically to her neck. “Although at least a book is a lot more
personal
than some
generic
item of jewelry.” Smirking, she pulled a compact out of her purse and checked her lip gloss. Callie’s hand flew to the necklace Clint had given her. Jealous much!?

“Actually,” Alessandra mused, “I do think it’s nice that he doesn’t feel the need to flaunt his wealth.”

Damn, thought Callie. And just when I was about ready to give myself permission to start calling you Perky Boobs again. Clearly P—
Alessandra
—had yet to meet the Compensation Car: the Porsche 911 Carrera.

“It’s your turn,” Anne prompted Alessandra. She must have been dying to tell them that never had she ever worn white after Labor Day or something.

“Oh!” said Alessandra. “Let’s see. . . . Never have I ever . . . been in love. At least not
yet
,” she finished with a smile.

Callie and Lexi watched each other lower a finger like two shooters might while lowering their guns.

“I’m out,” Callie said. “I lose.”

“
Au contraire
, you win!” Mimi cried. “Is that the limo I see outside?” she added, pointing to the window.

“Yes, it should be here by now,” said Anne. “Who’s up for swinging by Newbury Street to do a little shopping?”

“I am!” Vanessa cried.

“Me too,” said Penelope.

“What time will we get home?” asked Sydney as everyone stood and walked toward the stairs. “Because I have a
lot
of work that I should really get started on. . . .”

“Callie.”

Callie stopped walking and turned.

Alessandra had hung back. “Could I talk to you for a second?”

Callie shot Mimi an imploring look, but Mimi just shrugged and bounded down the stairs.

“What’s up?” Callie asked when Alessandra had reached her, though she was fairly certain she had an idea.

“We’re friends, right?” Alessandra asked.

Callie hesitated.

“What I mean is that I think you’re cool and that I would
like
to be friends,” Alessandra amended.

“Me too,” said Callie slowly. And it was true; at least Callie found disliking Alessandra difficult, even in spite of her growing bond with Lexi . . . and with Gregory.

“Great,” said Alessandra. She was quiet for a moment. “Gregory thinks very highly of you,” she said eventually.

“What makes you say that?” Callie asked, looking out over the railing at the first floor below.

“Just something he said after class last week,” Alessandra answered. “But he didn’t need to say anything; I can tell from the way he listens when you talk.”

“What did he say?” Callie asked, unable to resist.

“It was kind of nice in a mean way, actually. He said that you’d be a lot less annoying if you weren’t so smart. At the time I thought nothing of it, but now, given that there’s a history . . .”

“I wouldn’t really call it a
history
,” Callie said. Well, at least not if you define
history
by actual events (sum total: ~six hours) rather than amount of time wasted obsessing (sum total: ~way too embarrassing to tally). Or a
history
of pissing me off! “A lot less annoying”—what the hell was that?

“Anyway, we’re just friends,” Callie finished. “Not even friends, really, just friendly. Maybe even more neighborly than friendly.” It all depends on the day of the week, Gregory’s mood, and the position of the moon in relation to the earth and sun.

“So . . . that thing at the beginning of the year . . . ?”

“It was just . . .” Callie hesitated. It was one thing to lie by omission but another to do it directly to someone’s face, even if she didn’t owe Alessandra anything. “One moment, nothing serious,” she finished finally. “And it already feels like it happened a million years ago.”

Alessandra still watched her, hovering at the top of the stairs.