Up Over Down Under (30 page)

She was glad to be keeping busy, whether by performing actual intern duties or by chowing down on finger food. It helped in her efforts to circumvent Parker, whom she'd been studiously avoiding since her arrival. His parents were good friends of the Ritters, so of course he'd arrived with them. He was hard to miss, tall and broad-shouldered in his tux, but they'd managed to avoid any run-ins since the awkward kiss, and Billie wasn't looking to break that streak anytime soon.

She allowed herself to dwell momentarily on the last e-mail she'd received from Eliza. It was gracious of Eliza essentially to give Billie the go-ahead to date Parker, and Billie genuinely appreciated the gesture.

But what if it was too late?

She'd blown Parker off when he'd tried to kiss her, and even told him that she didn't think she could get involved with someone who'd dated Eliza. For all she knew, she'd made a very convincing argument. Even if Eliza
had
spoken to him and told him about her relationship with Macca, who knew what frame of mind Parker was in right now? He was probably over Billie, having written her off as too naïve to be worth another thought.

It was sad, really, when you thought about it—her first kiss and her last kiss, one and the same.

At least she wouldn't have to talk to him for the next hour or so, when she'd be manning a table for the silent auction. Iris had plucked her out of the crowd when her shift came up, leading her by the elbow to a table with a photo of a hybrid car and a sheet for writing down auction bids.

The car was one of the most expensive auction items, and though Mr. Ritter had plenty of supporters with deep pockets, Billie found her table to be less crowded than some of those around her. Therefore, she had nowhere to hide when Mr. and Mrs. Ritter wandered up with a group of friends in tow.

“Hello, Billie,” Mrs. Ritter said. Billie couldn't help but notice that, for once, Mrs. Ritter's smile seemed actually to reach her eyes, which sparkled their reflection of her lake-blue silk dress. Clearly, tonight Mrs. Ritter was in her element. It suited her.

“Hi,” Billie said, smiling back. The situation was definitely still strained at home, but she owed it to Iris, to S.A.S.S, and even to herself to be professional tonight. “Are you interested in the car?”

“If everyone drove hybrid, carbon emissions would be significantly reduced,” Mr. Ritter said. “I've been trying to get my wife to agree to go hybrid for ages.”

Mrs. Ritter only rolled her eyes. “Safety first, darling.”

“Right,” Billie mumbled. She swallowed hard, not sure if, after everything that had happened, she had it in her to say what was on her mind.

She glanced to the right and saw that, for the first time all evening, Parker was looking directly at her. He had to know how hard it was for her to face Mr. Ritter. And what was it he had said when they'd had coffee?
He has to admire your passion. I know I do.

She didn't know whether or not Mr. Ritter admired her passion. But she hoped, at least, that he would appreciate her honesty.

“You know,” she said, glancing first into Mrs. Ritter's eyes, and then directly at Mr. Ritter, “hybrids are fantastic, but electric cars offer an even lighter carbon footprint.”

Mrs. Ritter frowned. “Electric cars aren't really market viable right now,” she said.

Billie shook her head. “Actually, Nissan recently unveiled a five-year plan for their product development that placed a high emphasis on electric cars. It's only the wave of the
future
if we refuse to embrace it
today.
”

Mrs. Ritter raised her eyebrow, stepping aside so one of her friends could place a bid on the car. She was silent.

Mr. Ritter, however, burst out laughing. Billie looked up at him, startled. “You're right, of course,” he said, noticing her curious expression. “You're also the first person to contradict my wife—or me—in years.”

Billie looked down. “I'm sorry,” she said.

Mr. Ritter tilted his body so that he could look her directly in the eye. “Don't be,” he said. “Don't be.”

 

 

Later that evening, Billie was coming out of the restroom, marveling at the contradiction of the tiny, individually wrapped cosmetics and toiletries that were all labeled “organic,” in the ladies' lounge, when she bumped directly into Mr. Ritter again. Talk about mortifying. He must think she was a total clod.

“Having a good time?” Mr. Ritter asked. She didn't think he was asking just about the evening.

“I am,” Billie said, considering. “But—I wanted to tell you…” She paused.

Mr. Ritter widened his eyes, questioning.

“I…I think I'm going to do the sit-in. With the Green Gorillas. And, um, the article for the Fairlawn paper.” She couldn't deny the thrill she got at thinking about protesting alongside the other Green Gorillas.

“Are you.” It wasn't a question.

“Yes?” Billie squared her shoulders. “Yes.” It wasn't a question, either.

But Mr. Ritter surprised her, stepping forward. “Good,” he said firmly.

“Good?” Billie was confused.

Mr. Ritter sighed. “The truth is, Billie, you actually remind me a lot of myself when I was your age. I was very idealistic. Once upon a time, I would have been the one pushing for electric cars, insisting hybrid engineering wasn't enough.”

“What happened?”

“Reality happened,” he said, looking thoughtful. “I'm part of the system now, and in order to make things happen, I need to work
within
the system.” He smiled. “You'll see.”

Billie shrugged. “I sort of hope I don't. See, that is.”

He smiled. “I sort of hope you don't, either. And that's what youth is for—idealism. So I hope you have a great time with your protest. And that you change a lot of people's minds about Proposition Seven. I'd love to have a budget increase that allowed us to move forward with the cleanup more quickly.”

Billie grinned. “I'd love that, too.”

 

 

Billie had barely made it down the hallway when she felt a tap at her shoulder and whirled around. This time, it was Parker. He smelled like high-end shampoo and sports deodorant. He really was attractive. It was a shame she'd had to push him away. There was no way that he was still interested in her—no matter what Eliza may or may not have said to him. Boys had very fragile egos—she'd read that in a magazine once.

“Was that what I thought it was?” he asked, incredulous.

“Depends what you thought it was.”

“It sure looked like Mr. Ritter playing nice with you,” he said.

Billie nodded proudly. “Yup. Said I reminded him of himself. All filled with good intentions and the like.”

“You are,” Parker said. “You're the quintessential dogooder. Not to mention—you clean up pretty nice, too.”

She blushed. “Thanks. All of the makeup is organic.”

Parker laughed. “I wasn't worried. Besides, Fiona told me about your makeover. She said that she and Annabelle basically pinned you down and forced a curling iron on you.”

“Just about. But I rather like the results, I have to say. When were you talking to her?”

“We danced for a bit before it was time for her to man her auction station,” Parker confessed.

Now it was Billie's turn to raise her eyebrows. “Really?” As much as she assumed that Parker was well over his feelings for her, she hadn't thought he'd be so quick to move on to another bird.

“Really. She's actually quite funny once you pry her away from her ball and chain.”

“I'll have to take your word for it,” Billie decided. “I guess I hadn't thought that she was exactly your type.”

“And what would you know about my type?” Parker asked, his eyes twinkling.

This was it: the moment of truth. She had to just go for it. Didn't she?

“Eliza—” she said, almost choking on the name.

Parker held up a hand. “I spoke to her. We're not together anymore. And I told her...” He trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Yes?” Billie's stomach flipped. Could he be about to say what she hoped he was about to say?

“I told her that I had feelings for you,” he said, the words coming out in a rush. “And she was okay with it.”

Forget flipping—her stomach was doing a full-on back handspring. Billie wanted to jump up and down and giggle like a little girl.

Instead, she managed to maintain her composure. “Really,” she said. “Are you sure you wouldn't rather have another dance with Fiona?” She grinned to show him that she was only kidding.

Parker smiled in a way that made the corners of his eyes crinkle up adorably. “You're cute when you're jealous,” he said. “Actually,” he went on, “you're pretty much always cute.”

Swoon. It was all Billie could do not to melt into a puddle right there on the ballroom floor. She channeled all of her energy into remaining upright and returning Parker's steady gaze.

“So,” Parker said, breaking into her thoughts. “You've got a few weeks left of your semester abroad. The banquet has come and gone. Proposition Seven is on hold, despite our best efforts. What now?”

Billie giggled. He was right—so much had happened. And yet, she wasn't too concerned. There was still the Green Gorillas, the sit-in and article…and lots of other causes. She wasn't done fighting. Not by a long shot. Mr. Ritter seemed to respect Billie's sticking to her convictions. So she was just going to keep right on doing so. And best of all? She'd have Parker at her side while she did.

“I'm sure we'll think of something,” she said to Parker, stepping forward and letting him take her hand in his own. “No worries.”

He leaned forward to kiss her, pausing only to brush a wisp of hair off of her forehead. “No worries, indeed,” he agreed.

And then they didn't say anything at all.