She took the phone away from her ear. "Miranda, I have to take this," she said lamely. "I'm sorry."

Tears still streaming down her face, Miranda looked at her best friend in shock.

"You're kidding, right? You're going to leave me here so you can talk to Kaia?"

Harper looked confused for a moment, then looked away.

"I'm sorry, I just have to." She gave Miranda another hug, but Miranda pulled away.

"This won't take long," Harper promised. "I'll meet you back by the fire, and we'll talk the whole thing out. I swear."

"Whatever." Miranda turned away, her shoulders shaking. "Have fun talking to Kaia. Tell her I say h.e.l.lo," she added bitterly.

Harper didn't respond, and when Miranda finally turned around, she was gone.

Harper hurried back to the clearing and knelt by Adam's side, handing him her cell. "Adam, there's a call on my phone that I think you need to take," she whispered urgently.

"What? What do you mean?" He looked at the phone in confusion.

Harper pulled him away from the campfire and led him off into the woods, away from everyone, stopping when they'd reached a cl.u.s.ter of low-hanging trees.

"Just trust me, it's important-something you're going to want to hear."

She left him alone and, bewildered, Adam put the phone to his ear. The reception was shockingly clear.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Adam, it's Kaia."

"Kaia? Jesus, what the h.e.l.l are you calling me for? And on Harper's phone?"

"Adam, don't hang up-please. This is serious."

She sounded desperate and, against his better judgment, he took his finger off the end b.u.t.ton. For the moment.

"You've got one minute-talk," he said gruffly.

"I don't know how to tell you this," she began hesitantly. "I went into school today-it was open, you know, and I wanted to do some laps in the pool, and, well, I didn't think there'd be anyone else there, but-"

She stopped.

"Spit it out," he ordered.

"They were there when I came in," she said haltingly. "In the locker room. All over each other."

"Who?" But he thought he knew. A hollow s.p.a.ce opened inside of him as he waited for the words to be spoken aloud, to make it real.

"Beth and Kane."

There it was. Three syllables. Funny that it took so little to ruin everything.

"And I'm supposed to believe that? From you, of all people?" He wanted to believe she was lying-but couldn't. He was the one who'd been lying, to himself. All along, telling himself there was nothing to worry about. Stupid.

"Why would I lie about this, Adam? Look, I know I've treated you ... poorly in the past."

He let out a barking laugh. That was the understatement of the year.

"But I have a lot of respect for you," she said, emotion filling her voice. "You don't deserve this."

"Kaia, I'm not throwing away a two-year relationship on your say so," he said hollowly.

"I thought you'd say that," she responded. "That's why I called on Harper's phone. It's camera-equipped-and I've got proof."

He looked at the phone's tiny view screen, and a moment later there they were, right in front of him-Beth and Kane, in each other's arms. Naked. Entangled.

The screen was tiny, the resolution poor, but he could make out Beth's hair, her face, the mole on her left shoulder blade. He could see her kissing Kane, rubbing his bare chest, letting him lick her neck and-he flipped the phone shut. Hanging up on Kaia, shutting out the nightmarish pictures. He'd known it was true, yes, but to see it?

The images were seared into his brain. He smashed his fist into the ground, a volcano of rage erupting within him. He slammed the phone into the ground as hard as he could and stomped on it, imagining it was Kane's neck he was crushing beneath his heavy boot.

"Adam, are you okay?" Harper asked tentatively, emerging from behind the trees.

"Go away, Harper," he said in a strangled voice. No one should see him like this.

"Adam?"

"I just need some time alone, okay? I just-please, Harper, go."

She nodded and backed away.

"You know where to find me when you need me," she promised.

Promises-what were they worth to him anymore? Adam sank onto the ground and laid his head in his hands. Was this his fault? Had he started it, sleeping with Kaia in the first place?

No.

A cold certainty filled him, a righteous rage-this was no one-time thing, no harmless fling. This was Beth, his Beth, so innocent, so trustworthy-supposedly-and Kane, his best friend, his bro, his loyal and true ally. This was an affair, a dirty, sc.u.mmy, poisonous affair between two heartless traitors who'd betrayed him and everything he thought was real.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to hit something, someone.

He wanted to cry.

But instead, he just sat there on the cold ground, immobile, silent.

It was all over now, all of it. There was nothing left.

When it became clear Adam had hung up on her, Kaia snapped the phone shut with a satisfied grin. He could deny it all he wanted, but she knew he'd believed her the moment the words were out of her mouth. He'd believed it before she even picked up the phone. The pictures were just gravy-but they'd definitely sealed the deal.

"Kaia, I'm getting bored in here. Why don't you come back to bed?" the languid, British voice called to her from the bedroom-where the handsome British man who owned it lay sprawled across his silk sheets, waiting for her.

"Be right there!" she called. "And I've got a surprise for you."

She stopped in the small kitchen and pulled a can of whipped cream and a jar of chocolate syrup out of the fridge. Powell always said he didn't like surprises, but this one would be too sweet to resist. She gave herself a quick once-over in the hallway mirror and then, turning off her phone and laying it on the counter, headed down the hall to begin her night for real.

I've done my part now, she thought, sending a telepathic message out toward Kane and Harper, who were about to reap the benefits of a carefully laid plan. Your turn-just don't screw it up.

Eventually, the anger had seeped out of him.

Or rather, the anger was still there, like acid, burning a hole deep inside of him, but all his energy had washed away, and he felt slow, heavy, weighed down by a deep sadness. And he knew then that he didn't want to be alone.

He walked back toward the Pit to find Harper-but she found him first. She was sitting on the ground by the side of the trail. Waiting for him.

"You're always there when I need you," he marveled, his voice breaking midway through the sentence.

"Oh, Adam," Harper moaned. "Kaia told me-I'm so sorry, I-"

"Please, stop," he said quietly. "Let's not-just stop."

A tear trickled down his face and she caught it with her fingertip as it rolled down his cheek, then pulled him into a hug. He leaned against her, crying silently in her arms, deeply ashamed, and knowing that there was no one, no one in the world he would allow to see him like this. No one but Harper. He leaned against her, and she held him up. Like always.

"I broke your cell phone," he murmured into her hair.

"I don't care about that," she said, pulling back and looking him in the eye. "I care about you." She gently pressed her hand against his cheek. "Let's take a walk," she suggested. "I think you need some air."

She put an arm around him and led him down the forest trail and away from the pit. They walked in silence, past the silhouetted trees and shadows cast by looming rock formations. The night was bright, the moonlight filtering in through a canopy of leaves. At the edge of the woods they turned to make sure the Grace bus and van were still there, silently waiting in the parking lot. Then they walked along the perimeter of the woods, listening to the whispering wind and the distant howling of a coyote.

Adam, lost in a world of his own thoughts and regrets, noticed none of it.

Finally, Harper led them over to a square, flat rock that lay tucked between a cl.u.s.ter of saplings.

"Just like our rock," she said, scrambling up onto it and pulling him after her. They lay back on the cool granite and stared up at the sky-and she was right, it did feel for a moment like they were back home, in the backyard, a million years ago, when it had been just the two of them and everything had been so simple.

His mind dipped through the past, skidding across memories of long-ago days. So many moments that had brought him to this one. And Harper-he turned his head to look at her and realized she was staring at him, eyes awash in love and sympathy-Harper had been there for almost all of them. She was the one constant in his life. His father gone, his mother useless, his girlfriend and his best friend- No, there was only Harper. Loyal. True. Just thinking about her, just lying there so close to her made the anger subside, made the world seem almost bearable, made the red tide of pain and betrayal recede.

She reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently, and he squeezed back, then shifted onto his side and looked at her. For the first time, really looked at her. And realized what he'd been missing. Slowly, wordlessly, he sat up, pulled her up beside him, then tipped her chin up, closed his eyes, and melted into her.

The moment their lips met, it was as if he'd been waiting forever to hold her in his arms, and he drank her in hungrily, urgently, needing the contact, the pressure of her arms around him, her lips on his, their bodies entwined. He didn't need Beth, he thought angrily. And he would prove it.

Time stretched-and it felt like they'd been on the rock, folded into each others' arms, forever, would be forever- And then Harper pushed him away.

"I can't, Adam," she whispered.

"Harper-" He reached out for her.

"No, not like this," she protested, sitting up and drawing away from him.

"Is it too fast? Is it-"

"It's too soon, Adam," she said tenderly. "You're hurt. You're angry." She brushed his hair out of his face and kissed him on the cheek. "When we do this ... if we do this ... I don't want it to be because you want to get revenge on Beth."

"I'd never use you, Harper," he protested.

"I know that-don't you think I know that? But I think ... I think we should wait. Until you know what you really want."

I want you. That's what he wanted to say. But the words choked in his throat because he knew she was right. And she didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve that.

He lay back on the rock again, sighing.

"I'm so f.u.c.ked up, Harper," he admitted. "How did things get so f.u.c.ked up? I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I just don't know."

She kissed him softly on the lips and then lay back beside him, taking his hand.

"We'll figure it out, Adam. Together."

The night had seemed interminable. Harper had disappeared into the woods, and Greg had refused to listen to her apology, so Miranda had picked her way through the forest, following the narrow path back toward Valley Glen High School. Alone. She'd made her way to the parking lot and stood by the empty Haven bus. Alone.

Finally, the pizza party had ended, the Haven High fans had surged into the parking lot and boarded their bus and the van, and now Miranda was speeding toward home. And, slouched down in a seat right behind the driver, peering out the window into the darkness, she was still alone. Completely and utterly alone.

She hadn't noticed whether Harper, Adam, and Greg had made it back in time, and she didn't really care. It's not like any of them were worried about her, wondering where she was or if she was all right. Harper's amazing disappearing act had made that pretty clear.

No, she was on her own-and maybe, she thought bitterly, she'd better get used to it. After all, who understood her? Who was there for her when she needed someone to lean on? Good old Miranda, always there to lend a sympathetic ear, always ready to give advice-but when was it ever her turn? When she was the one who needed help, who needed some support, then there she was-alone.

What was the point of putting everything you had into a friendship when all you got back was ... well, nothing?

She leaned back against the worn leather of the bus seat, trying to get comfortable, trying to ignore the shouts and laughter coming from the seats behind her. She closed her eyes, willing herself to be tired, to lose herself in sleep. But her mind refused to relax.

It was a five-hour ride back home, and she had nothing to do but curl up in the dark, wide awake, and contemplate the misery of her own existence.

Good thing she had enough material to last her the rest of the night.

They rode home on the van together, side by side, hand in hand. Adam had decided he was in no shape to ride on the rowdier fan bus with most of the team. As the van pulled onto the road, he wrapped an arm around Harper, pulling her close, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. She snuggled up against him, her head on his chest, and listened to his heart, beating in time with the gentle rocking of the van.

She felt so warm, so safe with him by her side. And the taste of him was still on her lips-she'd waited so long for him to look at her like that, to hold her like that. Which had made it all the harder to push him away. Even harder than it had been to watch him in all that pain, to watch him raging against himself and the world and know that she could end it for him with just a few quick words-but that doing so would cost her everything. So she'd stayed silent, played the loyal and dutiful friend-and it had worked. Better, and faster, than she'd ever imagined.

It didn't matter how she'd gotten here, she reasoned. All that mattered was that she was here now, and she was close, so painfully close, to getting everything she wanted. She just had to be careful-she couldn't rush it, couldn't let him rush it. Patience, time-and then, the big payoff.

As the night wore on, a deep quiet settled over them. Harper closed her eyes and breathed in Adam's closeness; in the quiet dark, it felt like they were all alone in the world. Together. She leaned against him, her cheek resting on his chest, rising and falling with his steady breaths, slowly drifting off to sleep. After so much time and energy spent planning the next step, looking toward tomorrow, and the day after that, Harper had finally found herself in a moment she could enjoy for what it was, a moment she wished would last forever.

If only it could.

CHAPTER.

13.