Unforgettable Read online

  “This looks familiar.” His eyes darted around the bathroom—no doubt he was remembering that this was the very place they’d first hooked up. “I think I was in here in a dream once,” he said jokingly.

  “Maybe you were.” Tinsley leaned backward against a sink and noticed that Julian was wearing a shell necklace, the kind a girlfriend would buy when she was on vacation in Nantucket or Fire Island. Tinsley, narrowed her eyes. Obviously, she wanted Julian to have had girlfriends before—she didn’t want to have to train him completely—but that didn’t mean she wanted to see remnants of them hanging off him.

  “Nah, it couldn’t have been a dream.” He glanced over his shoulder at Tinsley and his dark eyes called her toward him. She wanted him to come to her, but she couldn’t resist. “You always wake up from them.” Tinsley stepped away from the sink, her bare feet touching the cold tile floor of the shower. She pulled the curtain closed behind her and ran one hand across Julian’s chest. She pushed him against the stall wall and kissed him like she hadn’t seen him in months, though in reality it had been about three hours.

  “Did you miss me?” she teased, in between kisses. His hands were gripping her sides, his fingers playing with the bottom of her red American Apparel T-shirt, begging to be allowed to go underneath.

  Julian growled and his hands touched Tinsley’s bare skin. She shuddered a little, as they crept oh-so-slowly up her ribs, and just as she was about to slap them away—he couldn’t go there without asking permission, of course—the bathroom door rattled open with a loud clang. They pulled their lips apart and their eyes widened in surprise, but Julian didn’t take his hands off of Tinsley’s body.

  Tinsley pressed a finger to Julian’s lips, her pulse racing. As they held their breath the intruder started to sing, “Da de da de da dum . . . da de da de da dum . . .” Julian’s beautiful eyes formed question marks as Tinsley tried to determine the person who belonged to that voice. It wouldn’t be a big deal if it was a girl who was easy to push over, like a sophomore or a nerd—Tinsley could just enlist the girl’s help in sneaking Julian into her room, and they could continue their romantic interlude there. The two of them tried not to giggle as they listened to the sounds of peeing. Just as she was about to peek around the curtain, the voice broke into words: “Don’t stand, don’t stand so, don’t stand so close to me. . . .” Tinsley’s jaw dropped. Fuck. Of course Pardee was a cheesy Police fan. Tinsley had heard—the whole first floor had heard—the dorm adviser, Angelica Pardee, complaining loudly to her husband this morning to either fix their shower or find “a real man” who could. Apparently, he’d been unable to do so. Tinsley pressed her finger harder against Julian’s lips as they heard her flip-flops slapping against the hard floors. How was she going to spin this one if Pardee pulled back the curtain and found Tinsley in the shower stall with a guy?

  Then came the sound of the curtain of the adjacent stall being pulled back and the water being turned on. Jesus. That was close. “Come on,” she mouthed, nodding toward the door. “We’ve got to get you out of here.” Julian feigned not understanding, and whispered back at her, “What? You want to make out some more?” He leaned in to kiss her.

  “Later!” she accidentally said out loud, thankfully at the same moment that Pardee broke into song once again.

  “Her friends are so jealous, you know how bad girls get. . . .” Tinsley rolled her eyes, inching back the shower curtain and sneaking through, pulling Julian behind her. She motioned toward the window, but just as he was about to step through it, a group of girls appeared on the sidewalk, heading toward the dorm’s front entrance. Damn it. There was no way Tinsley could let them see her sneak Julian out of the bathroom window—it would take about five seconds before the entire campus knew that she was hooking up with a freaking freshman.

  “Not that way,” Tinsley whispered urgently. She tugged him away from the window, almost making him fall, then dragged him, tiptoeing, out the door. He tried to kiss her again but

  Tinsley slapped him away, a little more violently than she’d intended to.

  “You can sneak out my window,” she hissed. But before they were halfway down the hall, the front door started to open, and she quickly grabbed the handle of the broom closet, stuffing a protesting Julian inside.

  “What are you doing?” His muffled voice came from inside the closet as a cluster of giggling girls turned down the corridor.

  “I’ll get you in a minute, when it’s safe,” Tinsley growled under her breath. She quickly removed the irritated look from her face and strode toward her room, trying to look as natural as possible.

  “T!” Sage Francis cried out just as Tinsley had reached the door to her bedroom. “Where the hell were you?” Tinsleylookedfromhertotheothergirls,notcomprehending. “What are you talking about?” she asked with icy disinterest, her hand poised on her doorknob.

  “You missed the Women of Waverly meeting?” Sage shook her corn-silk-blond hair back and forth, chewing a wad of bubble gum too big for her mouth. Sage had recently read something online about how an hour of gum-chewing burned a hundred calories, and she had quickly adopted the habit, dying to shed the five pounds that were always plaguing her. But Tinsley thought the overpowering scent of spearmint had to be doing Sage’s love life more harm than good.

  “The what?” Tinsley didn’t know what she was talking about, and she didn’t much care. So long as nobody knew what she’d been doing for the last half hour.

  Sage’s jaw dropped. “Did you not get Brett’s e-mail?” Her eyebrows were raised in concern, but she clearly loved knowing something Tinsley didn’t.

  “The . . . uh, Women of Waverly?” Tinsley made her voice as disdainful as possible. The Women of Waverly? It bored her just to say it.

  “Well, you missed out!” Sage’s voice was bubbling over with excitement, and Tinsley couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy that everyone had done something she hadn’t. Sage tugged at something underneath her thick navy turtleneck. “Sorry, this underwire keeps, like, stabbing me.” Tinsley simply raised a dark, neatly plucked eyebrow, trying not to be annoyed. She fingered the doorknob, part of her wanting to slam the door in Sage’s smug face and leave her there adjusting her bra, part of her wanting to know what Sage was talking about. She’d be damned if she’d ask another question about Brett’s stupid club, but still, that didn’t mean she didn’t want to hear about it.

  Sage finally glanced up and saw Tinsley’s irritated look. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I’ve got to change. But come up with me—I’ll fill you in.” “Sure, whatever.” Tinsley stalked up the stairs, following Sage as she prattled on, leaving a trail of yellow and orange leaves from the bottom of her magenta-and-lime plaid Burberry wellies as she walked. Tinsley was so caught up in how not jealous she was feeling that she’d forgotten all about what she’d been doing that night—and that Julian was in a dark broom closet, wondering what the hell was taking her so long.

  EasyWalsh: What’re you doing? I need to talk to you.

  CallieVernon: ’Bout what?

  EasyWalsh: In person. Could you sneak out? Meet me at the stables tonight?

  CallieVernon: Tonite? I’m busy.

  EasyWalsh: Please? It’s important.

  CallieVernon: If you want to talk to me so badly, you’re just going to have to wait until tomorrow. In the daylight.

  EasyWalsh: All right. Before bio lab?

  CallieVernon: Whatever. I’ve got some news for you too.

  EasyWalsh: ’Kay. Miss you. G’night.

  CallieVernon has signed off.

  JulianMcCafferty: Dude, did you relock the tunnels on your way back home last weekend?

  HeathFerro: Whaddya mean? The door in Lasell?

  JulianMcCafferty: In Dumbarton.

  HeathFerro: UR shit outta luck—locked it behind us. Didn’t want any strangers sneaking in.

  JulianMcCafferty: U know any other ways out?

  HeathFerro: WTF R U doing over there now? Tinsley give you a booty call?


  JulianMcCafferty: You’re such an idiot.

  HeathFerro: Listen, bro, if you’ve fi gured out how to get into her pants, you can defi nitely figure out how to get out of that dorm.

  9

  WAVERLY OWLS DO NOT SNEAK INTO OPPOSITE-SEX DORMS—UNLESS THEY HAVE A WAY OUT.

  Jenny walked carefully over toward Callie, trying not to spill the mugs of hot cider she held in either hand. Her roommate was perched on the edge of one of the red couches, holding her cell and texting furiously. After the Women of Waverly meeting officially disbanded ten minutes earlier, Brett and Kara had been attacked by swarms of happy girls wanting to thank them for putting the whole thing together, leaving Jenny and Callie on their own. As she approached with the mugs, she saw Callie drop her phone back into the pocket of her navy Ralph Lauren raincoat.

  “Thanks,” Callie said, looking up with surprise as Jenny handed her the mug. Her cheeks were flushed, and Jenny couldn’t help but wonder if it was due to the sweltering temperature inside the atrium or whatever she’d just been texting about.

  “Wanna head back?” Jenny asked, putting down her cider as she realized she was too hot to drink it. Even though she’d taken off her heavy wool sweater and was just wearing a thin black Club Monaco tee, she could feel that her bra was damp with sweat. Gross.

  “Yes,” Callie answered, looking relieved. “Let’s go.” The two of them headed out into the dark, chilly night, and Jenny stopped for a minute, letting the cool air hit her hot skin before pulling on her sweater. Up ahead of them a flock of other girls made their way back to the dorms. Callie and Jenny lagged behind a little, the only noise coming from the dried leaves crunching under their shoes. They weren’t talking, but for the first time Jenny could tell that it was a comfortable silence that had fallen between them.

  In some ways it was sad that things with Easy were officially over, that she’d made a pact with Callie, and that now even if Easy came back and said he loved her, she’d have to refuse him. But looking into Callie’s eyes and promising in front of the whole world that their friendship would always come before Easy, or any other boy for that matter, made Jenny realize how crippled with guilt she’d been over the whole situation. Maybe if she were a different person, someone like Tinsley, she could have dated Easy without the guilt, and it could have been wonderful. But she was done with trying to be someone else. She was Jenny Humphrey, like it or not, and Jenny Humphrey did not steal other people’s boyfriends.

  “Hey, I’m going to leave a note for Brett,” Jenny said as they stepped into the lobby of Dumbarton. The floor was covered with leaves and dozens of girls’ footprints. Pardee was going to be pissed tomorrow when she saw the mess.

  “’Kay.” Callie grinned at Jenny over her shoulder as she walked toward the staircase. Jenny watched her for a second. Despite the fact that Callie had tightened the drawstring on her gray flannel L.A.M.B. pants as much as humanly possible, the pants still sagged down to her hips, revealing a tiny strawberry-shaped birthmark near her bony spine. Jenny wished she could stuff some cookies into her, but even the delicious, warm gingerbread ones hadn’t tempted Callie at the meeting tonight. “See you later, roomie!” She waved as she disappeared from sight.

  Jenny smiled back at her, still feeling all warm and fuzzy from the meeting, and headed toward Brett’s room. As she passed the hall broom closet she paused. What was that beeping sound? It was faint, but it was definitely coming from the closet. Curious, Jenny cracked open the door.

  “Ohmigod!” She jumped back. There was someone in there! A guy! She might have screamed if she hadn’t quickly recognized Julian, that tall freshman who was always hanging out with the older boys. He was holding a black cell phone in his right hand, his thumb poised to start texting.

  “Shhh!” he hissed, looking almost as startled as she felt. “What are you doing here?” Jenny whispered back, glancing down the hallway. She couldn’t see anyone, but she could hear Benny Cunningham and some other girls in the lounge watching Grey’s Anatomy reruns.

  “I was, uh . . .” Julian’s pupils were dilated from standing in the dark, making Jenny wonder how long he’d been in the closet. And how he got there in the first place. “Looking for something I left here this weekend.” Jenny smiled skeptically. “What, your cleaning supplies?” She leaned her head against the edge of the door, suddenly very conscious of the presence of a boy in Dumbarton.

  Julian toyed with the frayed edge of his tight-fitting Pearl Jam T-shirt. A charcoal gray flannel shirt was tied carelessly around his waist. “Well, leave no stone unturned, and all that.” “Oh, sure.” Jenny raised her eyebrows and played along, wishing she was wearing something more exciting than her chunky wool Diesel sweater. “So, uh, what exactly is it you’re looking for?” His brown eyes gleamed in the darkness, as if her question surprised him. Jenny couldn’t help giggling. It was kind of fun to watch him struggle. He peered over Jenny’s shoulder. “My . . . uh . . . my lighter.” Jenny nodded sympathetically and tapped her nails against the cool brass doorknob. “I’ll keep my eyes open for it. What’s it look like?” “A Zippo. Silver, my initials—JPM—engraved on it.” He paused and grinned, revealing a tiny dimple below his slightly chapped lips. “Have you seen it?” “Sorry.” Jenny giggled and shook her head, conscious of how frizzy her hair probably looked right now. “What’s the P stand for?” Julian unwrapped his shirt from his waist and stuck his arms into it but left it unbuttoned. His head bumped against the empty shelf at the top of the closet—he was tall. “Padgett.” “Padgett,” she repeated, nodding thoughtfully. Must be one of those family names. “That’s cool.” “Look, don’t get me wrong,” Julian started, scratching his head. “I’m having a good time talking to you and all, but, um, I’m not too crazy about the idea of getting expelled. And you probably don’t want people to think you’re crazy, talking to a broom closet.” “Oh, right.” She giggled. “Let me go do some surveillance.” Jenny closed the door softly and crept down the hall to the lounge. About eight girls were glued to the television, and they weren’t going to move until their show was over, not even for commercials. She whirled around and almost ran straight into Angelica Pardee as she came out of the bathroom in a thick, flowered robe that looked like something from her grandmother’s closet, her hair wound up tightly into a white towel turban. “Hi!” Jenny said brightly, stepping to the side to let her pass.

  “Hi, Jenny.” Pardee nodded, her characteristic look of annoyance spread across her damp face. “Have you noticed that there seems to be low flow in those shower heads?” “No, uh, I hadn’t.” Jenny tried to keep her voice sounding normal, but she could tell from the way Pardee was looking at her that she must sound funny. She’d never won at a game of poker in her life.

  “All right.” Pardee sighed and headed back toward her apartment at the end of the hall. “I guess I’ll have to talk to buildings and grounds about that too.” Her flip-flops thwacked against the polished mahogany wood floor, leaving a trail of wet footprints in her wake. At least she hadn’t noticed the muddy leaves. Jenny waited until she heard Pardee’s door lock before she threw open the closet door.

  “Quick! Pardee’s getting dressed right now, so it’s the perfect chance.” “You’re sure it’s safe?” Julian asked nervously, peeking out into the hallway. “I’m kind of getting used to it in here.” Jenny giggled again and grabbed his arm, tugging him down the hall. Her heart raced and she felt like she was playing hide-and-seek. “Just stop talking!” she whispered, slowing down when they approached Pardee’s door. The two of them tiptoed past it, then toward the back door. Jenny didn’t breathe again until the door was open, and Julian was standing on the grass outside.

  “There,” she whispered firmly. “Now, get out of here!” She tried to sound stern but a smile crept into her voice.

  Julian exaggeratedly wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “My guardian angel. You saved my life.” “Fine. You owe me one.” Jenny made a shooing gesture with her hands. “I’ll keep
looking for your lighter, Padgett.” Julian gave her a funny smile that she couldn’t really decipher. “See you around,” he said finally, and then disappeared into the moonless night.

  Jenny stood in the doorway by herself for a moment, taking a deep breath of autumn air before bursting into laughter. Her relationship with Easy might be on its last gasp, but suddenly it seemed other boys might breathe some life into Waverly too.

  JulianMcCafferty: Hey, where’d you go?

  TinsleyCarmichael: Ohmigod, are you out? I forgot all about you.

  JulianMcCafferty: I kind of noticed.

  TinsleyCarmichael: Sorry ’bout that—something came up. I’ll make it up to you.

  JulianMcCafferty: Yeah? How?

  TinsleyCarmichael: I’ll see you tomorrow. We can fi nish what we started.

  JulianMcCafferty: Think about the ways in which you can apologize.

  TinsleyCarmichael: I’m thinking. . . .

  10

  PRIVATE OWL CONVERSATIONS SHOULD HAPPEN PRIVATELY. AS IN, NOT IN PUBLIC.

  Unbearably early the next morning, Callie stood in the doorway of her Latin class, willing herself not to fall asleep on her Chloé knee-high-booted feet. The manage to get out of bed on Monday and Wednesday mornings was to set out a new outfit the night before. Today she wore her Iisli cashmere wrap sweater in the palest pink imaginable, a brand-new Theory black skirt with a kick pleat in the front, a sexy pair of hand-crocheted black tights, and her black leather riding boots. But neither her sexy outfit nor the adrenaline high from last night’s girl-talk meeting could keep her spirits up—Latin was mind-bendingly boring, and Mr. Gaston, who, every Wednesday called on one student to recite five lines of the Aeneid from memory, did not make it any more bearable. She paused outside the door to his classroom to take five deep breaths.

  “Can we talk for a sec?” Easy suddenly stood in front of her, wearing his army-green-and-gold-striped wool sweater—the one with the holes in the elbows. Callie hated that she knew every piece of his wardrobe by heart. And that she had his schedule memorized and therefore knew when she could and couldn’t expect to see him. He was supposed to be across campus right now, in Webster Hall. So what was he doing here?