“What’s the phrase? Payback’s a bitch?”
Ilena shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re Ilena and Mallory and nothing can touch you. You fuck with everyone, thinking you won’t ever get fucked back. Your actions have consequences, Ilena.” He rammed the back of his head against the booth and spit out, “They duct-taped everything. My door, my backpack, my head to the fucking pillow. Asshole told everyone it was my fault. But he’s the one who made the bet, and he’s the one who lost it. Fuck. They called me Barney Jizz for weeks. No one wants to hang with Barney Jizz.”
Ilena went numb. She couldn’t process his words.
“I dropped out. My parents nearly divorced. Wouldn’t pay a cent. I went from Harvard to community college and worked my ass off, and it didn’t matter. I never thought I’d get this chance. And then...” He gave a perverse grin. “‘Nice to meet you,’ that’s what you two self-centered bitches said at Grayson’s speech. Like I’d never existed. Then Aubrey said the same with a look on her face like she was orgasming right there. Theuniverse owed me, and it finally paid up.” He leaned across the table. “Oh, and tell Mallory I’ve still got the panties. Picked ’em right out of the trash. Gave them to Aubrey for our one-month anniversary. Course, they didn’t fit. Her ass is just too fucking big.”
Instinctually, Ilena’s arm darted out and red liquid spread like a bloodstain across his white shirt. Ilena set her empty wineglass back on the table.
“Bitch!” He propelled himself out of the booth, slapping at his chest before flinging his hand at the glass, which fell but didn’t shatter. “You’ll regret that.” He spun around, grabbing his buzzing phone from his pocket. He mumbled something Ilena couldn’t quite make out. His fingers tapped, and he said clearly, “Office, clean shirt, then I burst this motherfucking AIM bubble. Ingenious this, you crazy bitch.”
A drop of red wine rolled onto the web between Ilena’s thumb and index finger, and she dried it with a cocktail napkin despite the trembling in her hand. A text came through from Aubrey. They were all meeting at some place just down the street, Better Bar. She breathed in methodically as she gathered her white coat.
Ethan, goddamn Ethan.
How could she have come to this pissant excuse for a man? One who couldn’t get past being a boy.
She slid to the edge of the bench seat, far enough to look at the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the bar. There he was, outside, leaning against the window, his hand clutching his phone. Then, he pushed himself off the window, on the move.
Panic unfurled inside her, and she rushed out to the street, the chill in the air prickling goose bumps as she left her coat in the bar. Her heart pounded her chest and dark spots crowdedher vision as she whirled around to find him. She caught a glimpse, his arched back, his forceful stride, jaywalking across the street toward the plaza with AIM on one side and his office on the other. She couldn’t let him reach either.
She shouted to him, calling his name, one she never actually knew in college; she’d have never recognized him, her only interaction was with him in that low-drawn hoodie. Ethan didn’t hear her, or he heard her and didn’t care.
She started to run. Her heart nearly burst when she caught a glimpse of the long, bronzed hair she recognized as well as her own. Mallory was on the opposite side of the street, heading away, in the direction of the bar in the text. But Ilena needed her, needed her help to fix this. She missed her best friend and she missed her husband and missed the woman she’d been when she met them both.
“Mallory,” she cried. She pointed to Ethan, her fingers shaking, her throat dry, her words hoarse and desperate. “Stop him, we have to stop—”
Whatever Mallory understood in that moment didn’t matter. Ilena had asked for help and Mallory gave it. Mallory cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed, “Ethan!” His stride slowed, but he didn’t stop or look their way. Ilena opened her mouth, and the next “Ethan!” resounded in unison, their combined power strong enough to make him freeze.
He turned away from the oncoming traffic and toward them.
It all came at once. Screech, honk, sparks, the shattering of glass, the pooling of blood.
Ilena felt as though she’d been lifted out of her body, seeing it all from another time, another place. A place where she could agree to words she would have never imagined.
When Mallory said, “Aubrey can never know,” Ilena hesitatedfor a microsecond before she nodded and reached for Mallory’s hand, letting her lead them to meet Aubrey at Better Bar, making a promise to herself that Mallory would never know the full truth either. She’d never tell her that she had met with Ethan in order to betray her best friend.
53
Ethan
Harvard University
Twenty-One YearsBeforethe Outing
He drew the strings tight, and the fabric molded to his head. The hem of the hood rested heavy against his forehead.
“Ingenious,” the resident adviser said, rubbing his beard. Several strands of duct tape remained affixed to the wall. The RA assessed the adhesion visually, then with a slight tug of his calloused index finger and thumb. “Truly remarkable. This is just the kind of innovation and tactical thinking Harvard is looking for.” He faced the girl with hair the color of a dead crab and tits big enough to nurse a cow who’d tricked them into carrying her fucking low-rent box from the subway stop. He wasn’t a fucking valet. Or a moron. The moron was his jackass of a roommate who’d actually put their fucking killer dorm room on the line.
It was the other chick’s idea. The stuck-up one with eyes of ice, and he hates himself that he’d do anything to fuck her. Still. She’d made him do it. Staring at him from the doorway with gleaming hair and fluttering lashes, teasing him, testing him. His dick throbbed, about to burst.
Now he’d lost his goddamn Hugh Hefner dorm room to the cunt.
The RA walked the pair, who must have gotten in off of blow jobs not SAT scores, down the hall. The crowd who’d gathered to hear the ruling dispersed.
“Come on.” His fuckwad of a roommate picked at the hair on his arms. “I’m sticky as shit.”
