James shakes his head. "Leave me out. I don't have time to join you."
He smiles when he sees me, and as he puts his arm over my shoulder, I can't help wondering what it would take for Christie's words to come true and how many women have tried—and failed—to change James. A lot, probably. There's no reason to believe I could succeed. And then the nagging thought comes back: I am the first one he brought with him, after all.
"Neither will I," snaps Christie, jiggling her foot. "You could show some consideration for the others when planning such trips, Ralph. Not all of us are still living off our trust fund at twenty-eight."
Ah, yes. One of the things that will ensure I'll never be one of them. I finance my life at Stanford through scholarships and bookkeeping, not a trust fund. I take an involuntary look at Natalie, who just came out of the building. The look of superiority on her face hasn't faded one bit.
"That's your own fault," Ralph says. "I plan to enjoy the good life while it lasts."
He grabs Angela and Natalie by the waist. "What do you two dolls say about Malaysia next week?"
"Thomas, you in?" Angela asks.
"Of course."
"Parker?" the lark asks. Her lack of surprise at Ralph's words makes me wonder how often they go on such spontaneous trips around the world.
"He's part of the responsible group," Ralph says mockingly.
Parker chooses to ignore him and answers courteously, "Some other time, Natalie."
"Ah, I'll give Dylan and Simon a call. It'll be like a college reunion," Ralph screeches, kissing both Angela and Natalie on the cheek.
"So you all met at Stanford?" I ask.
"Minus Parker," Thomas retorts, a dreamy look starting to contour on his face. "Four insane years."
"I’ve known James and Parker since boarding school," Natalie says proudly.
It's as if someone dropped an ice cube on James's spine. His arm on my shoulder turns rigid. No, his whole body stiffens and his gaze, fixed on her, has a glacial coldness to it. No one else reacts to her statement in any way, except Parker, who shoots Natalie a warning look.
"Serena and I will be going," James announces and after hurried goodbyes, in which Christie gives me a thumbs up, and Parker makes me promise that we'll meet up before he returns to London. Natalie ignores me as fully as I ignore her, listening to Ralph go on and on about Malaysia, and we head to the Porsche.
"You didn't have to do that," I say when we're both in the car. "I wouldn't have minded going out with them."
"I thought you'd be more comfortable if it’s just the two of us," he says, driving out of the parking lot.
I stare at him, unsure what to make of this. Was the animosity between Natalie and me so obvious? Or did he anticipate all the trust fund and expensive trip talk would be awkward for me to listen to? Probably the latter. He, like Natalie, must be aware that I'm not one of them.
For a fraction of a second I think about asking him what the deal with the boarding school was, but a glance at his still rigid fingers clasping the wheel tells me it isn't the best topic for conversation.
"So what now?" I ask playfully.
"Are you hungry?"
"Nope. Jess stuffed me with her famous paella earlier."
"Pity," he says, the corner of his mouth lifting to form his trademark smile. His grasp on the wheel is less stiff. "I know a place in San Jose with the best chocolate fondue on the west coast."
"Chocolate fondue?" I squeak. "Really?" I blush as I realize he hasn't forgotten my little fondue story. Saturday night, he noticed a dark spot the size of a half dollar on my left thigh, a souvenir from a burn I got during one of my very few attempts at cooking: chocolate fondue. I read fourteen different recipes in preparation, and all I managed to come up with was a hard, grainy mess no one could look at, let alone eat. I kept to my truce with Jess ever since: she cooks, I clean.
Seeing what we were up to before and after this conversation, I'm amazed James remembered any of it.
He smirks. "Should I take that as a yes?"
"You'd better." I grin.
We take the highway to San Jose, leaving behind the ocean and the sunset. I peek out the window, to see if I recognize anyone from the group behind the wheel of the cars we pass, but his speeding makes my task impossible. It also shortens our journey from the normal twenty minutes to twelve.