Who? Jason? I asked her. He’s friendly to everybody.

Perhaps, but there is also Mr. Blaine. Though I urge you to discourage his attentions.

I studied the insolent teen staring down at me, his lips rigid, his eyes forbidding. Much as I wished otherwise, I was sure he was up to no good. Sam? That’s ridiculous, I told her.

It ought to be so, replied Jane, but I fear it is not. He appears to be capable of very little of value, but he did manage to detect your intelligence and kindheartedness. He seems drawn to these qualities in you.

I considered this and, for an instant, I was flattered. But Sam being sincere in his admiration struck me as preposterous, and I said so. The guy only likes to fight with me.

Jane sighed. You have much to learn about human nature, Ellie.

Sam puffed out some air. “Are you bored or something?”

“What? No,” I said to him.

“You look like you’re really out of it. Or lovesick over that loser Jason. Or maybe high,” he added, as if issuing a challenge.

“Well, I’m not any of those.”

He rolled his eyes and his grip on my hand and waist tightened. “Heard you brought your cousin along tonight.” He nodded in the direction of my companions. “She’s kinda hot.”

My throat seized up.

“Maybe I should ask her to dance later,” he threatened.

“Maybe you should,” I snapped back, although, like a brainless twit, the thought made me irrationally jealous.

“Well, that’s why I asked you to dance. Figured you could give me a proper introduction.” He shot me an audacious smirk.

Ouch.

To Jane I said, What did I tell you?

To Sam I said, “Fine.” I pulled out of his grasp, crossed my arms and glared at him, hoping to God I hid my emotions well enough. Sam could never be trusted with the truth about my feelings for him. He’d pounce on any display of weakness.

He stared at me in frigid silence before pivoting on his sneaker sole and ambling toward Angelique.

I took a deep breath and followed him.

“Hey,” he said to her. “I’m Sam and you’re…cute.”

Gag me, I thought, because it was, you know, still the ’80s.

But Angelique grinned at the lame line. “Hi, Sam,” she said.

Terrie, who stood watching this train wreck from a mere two feet away, murmured, “Watch it, Blaine.”

Sam shrugged, then turned his highest-wattage smile on my cousin. “What’s your name?”

Angelique glanced between the three of us and looked confused. “Angelique?” she said, her voice uncertain.

“Yes,” I said, trying to help her out because, no matter how displeased I might’ve been about her tagging along with me that night, everything about Sam’s recent hot-cold, fake-flirting, wacko behavior displeased me more. “Sam Blaine, this is Angelique Lawson. She’s here visiting. Try to be polite for a change.”

Sam acted as if I were invisible. He said to Angelique, “Too bad you’re not planning to stay for good. We could use a few new faces here, especially pretty ones like yours.” He grinned at her and my insides twisted. “Can I talk you into hanging around?”

Angelique blushed. She looked so flustered I worried she might break into nervous French at any moment.

He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Ah, Angelique. Well, I’m glad we met. Maybe I’ll see you later tonight?” He reached out and patted her arm.

“Peut-être,” she murmured. “I mean, perhaps.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up and he became even more debonair. “Oh, you speak French? J’aime le français.” He bowed slightly and gave her another of his winning grins.

Jane declared, I abhor this boy, her tone startling in its vehemence.

I gulped back my own displeasure. Since when did Sam Blaine speak French? He’d taken only Spanish classes since sixth grade.

My cousin stammered out a timid “O-Oui.”

“Fantastique,” Sam said, glancing over at me. Finally. “Well, we’ve got Spandau Ballet coming up soon, and there’s somewhere else I need to be for it.” He arched a victorious eyebrow in my direction, then turned back toward Angelique. “Au revoir, ma chérie,” he told her.

Then, very deliberately, he eyed a sophomore female I recognized all too well. The girl stood along the wall with a small troupe of friends nearby, and Sam made sure I knew who he was looking at before striding toward her.

With Terrie glaring at his back and my cousin staring at him with an expression of pure astonishment, I told myself I was glad to see Sam walk away. I just wished he’d have walked toward almost anyone else.

Ellie, stop this, Jane ordered. Feel no regret in his departure. You are right to be rid of him.

Yeah, probably, I said as I watched him sidle up to Stacy Daschell and grin at her in that charming, charismatic way that came so naturally to him.

Jane’s disdainful sniff echoed in my mind. He would have brought trouble upon you, and you know too well he meant only ill will to your cousin.

I know. Then the voices outside my head began debating and I was forced to pay attention to the females I could see.

“He’s an, um, interesting guy,” Angelique said.

“He’s a little snot,” Terrie replied. She made a fist, punched it into her opposite palm and caught my eye.

I blinked but tried to keep my expression impassive. Jane was right, of course. Sam’s intentions toward my cousin were hardly, as she would say, “honourable.” Especially not now when he had his arm around Stacy’s shoulders. Damn him.

Angelique saw where I was looking and frowned. “Um, Ellie, is something going on that I should know about? Should I not be talking to him?” Her forehead creased and she squinted at me with a look I interpreted as total bewilderment. “There was an odd…oh, je ne sais quoi, I guess, between you two. Sorry about the French.” She nibbled on her lip.

I almost laughed. “Yeah, I don’t know what it is either, but total hate has to come pretty close.” I shrugged at her, trying to keep the hurt from showing. “Talk with him, if you want. I don’t care.”

Terrie’s gaze flicked toward the ceiling and back, but she refrained from saying the “Yeah, right…” that I knew she was thinking. Terrie had, after all, caught me writing “Ellie Blaine” on a piece of scratch paper back in September.

As we watched Sam pull Stacy away from her friends and toward a darkened corner, Terrie motioned us closer. “Stacy’s totally wasted,” she said, the voice of authority on school gossip. “And she just got dumped, you know.”

“Really?” I didn’t know. I didn’t think anybody ever dared to cross Stacy, not even her upperclassman, wrestling-champion, now ex-boyfriend. And he dumped her! Huh. Wonders never ceased.

“You mean that blond girl, right?” Angelique jabbed her finger in Sam and Stacy’s direction. “The tall, snooty-looking one with the really pointy nose?”

In spite of myself, I did laugh this time. Sometimes it was easy to appreciate my genius cousin. “The very one.”

Do not look, Jane told me.

Why not? I looked anyway.

Across the gym, Sam whispered something in Stacy’s ear, which made her crack a smile. Then she leaned against him and touched her pointy nose to his straight one. He grinned at her again, extra brightly.

I swallowed.

Terrie grabbed a few more brownies from the refreshment table. “Here,” she said, thrusting the dried-out chocolate squares at my cousin and me. Repulsive, but eating them gave us something to do.

When I stepped away to toss out my napkin and scavenge around for another Dixie cup of soda, I saw a couple of guys from Terrie’s biology class talking to her and Angelique. All four of them spontaneously laughed about something.

I downed my thimble of Pepsi and took a step back toward them just as that Spandau Ballet song came on. It was “True.”

Do not look, Jane said again.

But I ignored her and glanced over at Sam, who had his lips on Stacy’s neck. Stacy, meanwhile, threw her head back and put her hands on Sam’s ass.

Aw, no.

I saw my friend and my cousin being led to the dance floor by the two bio guys. All of them looked like they were having more fun than actors in a Love Boat episode.

Do NOT look, Jane warned for the third time.

But did I listen? No. You’d think I’d learn.

Now Sam’s mouth covered Stacy’s. He was in the process of devouring her whole, and she was letting him. Right there. In full view of everyone. To the sounds of Spandau Ballet.

I winced.

Then the worst of it happened.

As he traced patterns on her back and dipped his fingers to her waistband to skim the top of her jeans, he caught my gaze and held it. He lifted one corner of his lips in acknowledgement and projected his most conquering stare right back. He all but shouted across the gym, “See what you’re missing, Ellie Barnett? See how I don’t need you to have a good time. I could have anyone I want, and I don’t want you.”

And at that moment, when his triumphant blue eyes turned away from mine and fixed on Stacy’s unnaturally perky chest, I vowed I wouldn’t want him either, not even in secret. Jane was right about him being a big jerk like Wickham. And I knew with absolute certainty that I’d never let myself get seduced into liking Sam Blaine again, no matter what.

Let me repeat: NEVER.


Which just goes to show how wishy-washy I turned out to be. Because, as the years went by, look at what I did. Not only did I let myself get seduced into liking Sam Blaine and into taking some consequent action (but just once, okay, and we used a condom), in no way was I able to keep secret the private heartache that resulted.