Envy - 2 by Robin Wasserman Read Free Book Online Page A

how to lose (of course, another thing she loved was that it was a skil he didn’t need to use very often). “What can I say? I came, I saw, I conquered.” And this was different from the rest of her life how? “You came close in that last game,” she conceded, softening a bit.
    “Yeah, real close,” Adam said sarcastical y, rol ing one of his striped bal s into a corner pocket. There were stil four left on the table.
    “What? Can I help it that I’m a natural?” Harper asked with a grin.
    “Yeah, yeah, come on, champ—let me buy you a victory drink before I take you home.”
    He grabbed her hand and led her to the bar, and Harper took a deep breath, glad he was a step ahead and couldn’t see the way her face lit up at the touch of his fingers on hers. They’d had such a long, amazing afternoon, laughing and bickering and horsing around. Not flirting—for how could you flirt with someone you’d known your whole life? Flirting required some air of mystery, the sense that you were hiding more than you were revealing, the possibility that a look, a word, a touch al meant more than you were wil ing to admit. With Adam, everything was transparent, every move anticipated and understood.
    Not that she didn’t have her secrets, of course. There was the smal fact that she was hopelessly in love with him. The smal er fact that she was conspiring to send his girlfriend into the arms of another guy.
    But when they were together, and things were going wel , stuff like that disappeared. It was like she could stop hiding, stop strategizing, stop anticipating, and just be . Not “be herself,” because who was the “real” Harper Grace after al ? Who knew? Who cared? No, with Adam, she didn’t have to worry about being herself—but she didn’t have to be someone else, either, like she did for the losers at school. Being popular was like a 24/7 game of Let’s Pretend. It didn’t matter to them who she real y was—al that mattered was who she needed to be. Who she appeared to be.
    With Adam, it was different. She was different. She was, they were, Harper-and-Adam, a seamless organism different and somehow better than either one alone. And there were times, when she caught a look in his eye or felt the comfortable weight of his arm around her waist, that she knew he felt it too. She could read him like that. Completely.
    They were, thus, way beyond flirting.
    Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Chip, the scrawny bartender-cum-bouncer-cum-heavy-metal-wannabe-boy-toy grinning at her from behind the scratched-up bar.
    Chip was cute enough, and useful—one of the reasons she’d gotten so good at pool was that Chip could always be counted on for a few free drinks, making the 8 Bal a perfect late-night pit stop. Once, in a fit of alcoholic gratitude, she’d even agreed to a date. Big mistake. Now he couldn’t stop leering at her, and unless she wanted to start paying for her beer, she couldn’t afford not to flirt back. Besides, how painful could unadulterated adoration be? And if Adam happened to notice how easily she could turn a guy on? Wel , so much the better.
    When they reached the bar, Chip ignored Adam, who was attempting to order. Beer for Harper, soda for him—he was too conscientious to drive drunk. Such an adorably good boy. Chip eventual y nodded absentmindedly in response to Adam’s request, and fil ed a glass with beer, never taking his eyes off Harper.
    “How you doin’, beautiful?” he asked, grazing his fingers along hers as he handed her the glass. His eyes dipped down from her face to her cleavage, blatantly enough that even Adam noticed—she could tel by the way he stiffened next to her. She loved it. He was priming himself to defend her honor. Perfect.
    “Better, now,” Harper replied, taking a demure sip and smiling up at Chip through lowered eyes.
    “You’re looking better than ever, I’l tel you that much.”
    Harper flicked her hair away from her face and giggled. “I bet