Beautiful Disaster (Privilege 2)

Kaitlynn let out a deep, throaty laugh. "I kill you and I get nothing,"

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she said. "No, no, no. I'm going to keep you around, Ariana. We had a deal and you are going to make good on your part." She reached down, grabbed Ariana around her upper arm, and yanked her off the floor. Ariana had never felt so defeated. So humiliated. So stupid and lost and alone. Kaitlynn opened the door with her free hand, then shoved Ariana through it into the brightly lit hallway. If Ariana had a modicum of self-respect left, of hope, of pride, she might have resisted or struggled or fought back. But she just went limp. Kaitlynn stood in the doorway of her posh hotel room, looked Ariana up and down, and scoffed derisively. "Now let me spell it out for you in terms you'll understand. Get me. My effing. Money. You have until Friday." Then she let the heavy door slam right in Ariana's face.

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SHOUT IT OUT

By six o'clock the next morning, after a restless night of staring at the ceiling, Ariana's mood had miraculously improved. She felt much more positive. Much more herself. It was all the sanctioned yelling, she was sure. And the fresh air.Plus, staring at a shirtless Palmer for the last half hour might have had something to do with it.

"Pull!" Ariana shouted, gripping the handles on either side of her flat seat with both hands. "Pull! Dig in and pull!"

Palmer let out a grunt of effort as he worked his oars. His dark hair had been blown forward by the wind, forming a sort of fauxhawk down the center of his head, and his face was ruddy from the effort of the workout. Ariana saw a tiny rivulet of sweat working its way down his perfectly smooth chest, between his very defined pecs. She continued to shout as she watched the droplet wend its way lower and lower. When it reached the waistband of his sweatpants she glanced

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away, her face searing. She looked past him to Adam--who was paler, skinnier, and less attractive--and shouted even louder.

"Pull! What kind of weaklings are you? Pull!"

The weaklings comment earned a few laughs from the guys. Palmer even broke concentration for a moment to look up at her and smile. But they dug in harder and the boat flew forward. Even Landon, who was almost as scrawny as Adam, grunted as he strained. Ariana was impressed. She would have thought that a pampered pop star like him would be averse to hard work. But then, as she had learned at the Brenda T, people were often surprising.

As the boat lurched forward, Ariana held on for dear life and smiled. Maybe she was good at this. Maybe Palmer had made the right decision when he'd picked her over Lexa. Somehow, Ariana couldn't see that sweet little thing finding the proper voice to motivate anyone. But Ariana had that voice inside of her. That pent-up adrenaline and rage. It was nice to put it all to good use.

As the boat sailed by the low-lying APH boathouse at the edge of the river, decorated with blue, gray, and gold flags and the APH crest, Ariana closed her eyes for a moment, just to feel. Just to absorb her surroundings. The warm breeze against her face, the salty, fresh scent of the river, the birds cawing overhead. Suddenly a voice in her mind spoke up out of nowhere.

It's going to be okay, she told herself Kaitlynn gave you till Friday. That means you have three days to figure it out, and you will. You always do.When she opened her eyes again, Palmer was looking right at her with obvious longing in his eyes. She felt the force of his gaze deep

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down inside her and, for a moment, allowed herself to relish it, and to relish the thrill of being right. He wanted her. A hot, desirable, unattainable boy was obviously attracted to her. It was the best feeling in the world.

But he had a girlfriend. Which made him scummier than the underside of this boat just for looking at her that way.

Control yourself, Ariana. Control.

But she really didn't want to.

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STOLEN MOMENTS

The jubilant sound of guys' voices and laughter filled the boathouse as everyone celebrated a productive first practice. The cedar walls gleamed with a fresh coat of shellac, and the crew boats shelved along the walls were waxed to a shine. The guys had tossed their things-- duffel bags, boxer shorts, T-shirts, sweatshirts, and sneakers--all along the benches that ran down the center of the room, creating a sense of carefree disarray. Ariana would have loved to loiter in the corner for a while and enjoy the camaraderie, the shirtlessness, and the testosterone-filled atmosphere, but she had an exam to get to in fifteen minutes. As the guys grabbed their clothes and towels off the hooks at the back of the room on their way to the showers, Ariana slipped her hobo bag over her head and tried to slink out.Unfortunately, halfway through the doorway she slunk right into Palmer.

"Leaving so soon?" he asked, arching his eyebrows.

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Somehow he had already showered, and his shoulders were dotted with little droplets of water. His arms were stuck through the arm-holes of his T-shirt, which he pulled over his head as he slipped by her. Ariana was breathless as she noted the various spots in which the soft gray cotton clung to his body.

Control, Ariana. Control."I have to go," she said.

"Second breakfast?" he asked as the guys emptied out toward the shower room. He tossed his towel into his APH crew duffel, which sat on a bench in front of a wall of lockers, and zipped it up. Then he slid his gold band up his arm, where it tightened over his bicep. "I'll come with."

"I'd rather you not," Ariana said tersely. No reason to tell him she was not headed back to the cafeteria. No reason to share anything more with him than she already had. She could not give him another inch. If she did, it could be dangerous.

Palmer blinked as he lifted the heavy bag onto his shoulder. "Okay, I have to ask . . . did I do something to offend you?"