Rush Me (New York Leopards 1)

“Freshman year you said people were only friends with me because they were scared of me. Sophomore, when I ran for Homecoming, you were always sneering and saying things like ‘no one would dare run against her.’ As though I was a monster.” She repeated this bitterly, as though it had been burned into her memory.

My jaw worked as I tried to process that she’d actually remembered things I’d said, that they hadn’t slid off her like so much water. “It was self-defense.” And she had been terrifying.

“It was war,” Sophie said darkly and rather overdramatically.

It pulled me out of my confusion enough to refocus. Our past hadn’t been pretty, but I was more concerned about my brother’s future. “What about David?”

She actually ground her teeth with frustration. “What about him?”

“Why are you flirting with my boyfriend if you’re actually into David?”

She looked appalled at my stupidity, and shook her head, letting out a few airy scoffs before she got enough of a grip to answer. “You’re dating Ryan Carter. What am I supposed to do, ignore him? I’m not trying to flirt with him, it’s not like I want to steal him away or whatever dumb idea you have. Just—God, he’s Ryan Carter!”

“So you said. And what about David Hamilton?”

I’d broken the camel’s back. “You know what?” she yelled, and the red in her cheeks was no longer pretty, but deep and furious. “I am in love with David. And he loves me. And I know you don’t like that, but I don’t care. We make each other happy. And maybe, if you’d just get off your high horse and look at who I actually am, instead of some—dumb—memory you have from high school, you’ll realize that’s not a bad thing.”

Well, I thought, as I gaped at her, apparently I wasn’t the only one who became more articulate with angry.

“And if you don’t, you know what, I don’t care,” she continued, on a roll. “Because I have tried to make amends—”

“Hey, hey, calm down.” I held my hands up. “Truce. I mean—I haven’t actually noticed any amends, but I just—I just don’t understand you and David.”

“Why do you have to? Isn’t it enough that we love each other? What more do you need to understand? I’m sorry I don’t measure up to your ridiculous standards, but you’re not part of our relationship!”

I swallowed. She looked so vivid, so passionate, not bored or cooing or slyly cruel. And maybe she was right. Maybe I didn’t need to make sense of emotions, to boil them down into logic. “Okay, I don’t understand. But—you love him?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” I tried out a dry smile. “Sophie—did anything I said make sense to you? I mean, maybe you’re right. It’s your relationship. But—I’d really like it if you stopped bringing up the garbage incident.”

“Right.” Embarrassment flickered across her face, and she shifted uneasily. “I’d like it if you stopped thinking I was some sort of devil. Your parents are never going to like me if you don’t. And I’m trying. I don’t know what more you want from me.”

I shook my head. “I just wish you’d be less condescending. And passive-aggressive.” Maybe she really had thought we were at war, that I was attacking her. I tried out each word slowly, trying to format my thoughts. “If you really love David—that’s all I want. I’m not trying to sabotage you. I just want it to be sincere.”

“You’re also condescending.” Her lips turned up in what might almost be classified as a smile. “But maybe we can both try to...stop.”

“Or at least call each other on it,” I suggested. “Probably better than just sitting there, boiling over.”

She gave a short nod. “Yeah. Also, sometimes I freak out before I see you since I know you’re going to totally be on your soapbox and I try to grin and bear it and be nice and somehow you always misinterpret it.”

I tilted my head and almost laughed at the absurdity. “Okay. Next time I’m pretentious and you’re passive aggressive, we’ll kick each other under the table.”

“Fine.” This time I was sure I saw a smile. “I’ll be wearing pointed shoes.”

“Yeah, mine will have steel-enforced toes. Anyway. I should go

find Ryan.”

She nodded and started to move away, and then turned back. “He’s really hot. And famous, and rich. I didn’t know you had it in you.” She nodded firmly, as though she’d just paid me quite the compliment, and clipped away.

I shook my head, smiling faintly. Sophie Salisbury. Maybe she wasn’t the herald of the apocalypse, after all.

Crossing the room toward my friends, I noticed someone slink up to my side. Not certain it was anyone I wanted to see, I waited half a second, just long enough for a familiar voice to say in my ear, “What were you and Sophie talking about?”

I spun. “David! What are you doing here?”

My brother, unlike most of the khaki-clad guys, had actually donned a suit for the occasion. “I came with Sophie.”