Page 17 of Bad Reputation

Stopping short, I pull my arm from his grip. I raise my hand, shading my eyes from the sun. “I’m not really worried about your wants and needs, honestly. I’m here because my parents want me to be at their party.”

“Yeah, but—” he starts to explain.

“Yeah, no,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m going back to the house now.”

I turn and start to walk back. He catches up to my in two long strides.

“Wait, wait,” he says. “This isn’t going how I planned at all.”

“Oh?” I keep walking, refusing to slow down.

“I just… I think you’re very beautiful—”

“That is not a good reason to try to date someone,” I say.

“Well, you’re also smart, and you come from the right sort of family—”

I stop short again, whirling to face him. He sees the irate look on my face, and backs up a couple of inches.

“You don’t know anything about me, other than who my father is. You’re jumping ahead to whether or not you and I fit into your compatibility matrix before you even know anything about me!”

“I’m just being practical,” Rich defends. “I don’t want to waste my time, or yours.”

“This is why I don’t let my parents set me up,” I say, throwing my hands up. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go for a walk.Alone.”

He looks nonplussed, but I don’t really care. I’m pissed at my parents, pissed at this whole elite little world that they’ve created for me. It’s enraging, being stuck in the hamster wheel that they invented.

I veer off the path, heading toward the guest house. I need to cool down a little bit, without being bombarded by my mother or any of the would-be suitors.

The path grows more lush as I continue on, verdant trees cropping up as I reach the edge of our property. Though I’m headed for the guest house, I slow as I approach my favorite spot in the gardens.

A little clearing leads up to the oldest oak tree on the property. It’s massive, its branches spanning out at least ten feet on each side. In front of the trees, there is a little concrete bench. Nothing fancy, just a good spot for contemplation.

I walk to the bench and sit down with a sigh. This bench has seen a lot, and the tree has seen even more in its life.

I start thinking of Asher and Jameson, of how long their friendship has been. It’s almost noble, Jameson giving up whatever could have been between us to avoid hurting Asher. I mean, it still sucks, but it’s almost understandable.

I lapse into daydreaming, the party a mere echo in the far distance.

7

Emma

Six Years Earlier

“I promise you, you’re going to meet so many cute guys tonight,” my friend Candace whispers in my ear. “Plus I heard that there are going to be older guys there. Like they’ve already graduated and they have jobs and stuff. Can you believe it?”

She says it like we’ve won some kind of prize. I giggle as she pulls me down the sidewalk in a neighborhood near Stanford. We’re dressed to the nines and already a little tipsy.

I hear the party raging before we even see the house that it’s at. The house is modest at best, a little grey shack that’s barely big enough to hold two bedrooms. Loud music is pumping full-blast out of a pair of giant speakers in the yard; there are tons of people standing and talking over the obnoxiously loud music, and a few girls are dancing.

“See? What’d I tell you?” Candace says, squeezing my arm hard. “The real party is inside, though.”

I take her hand as we head up the driveway and squeeze between people to get to the front door. Inside is even more packed, with people having conversations while other people shimmy around them, heading for the front or back door.

“Tammy!!” Candace screams.

A pretty blonde head turns around. Tammy’s eyes widen, and she squeals with excitement. “Girls! You’re here!!”

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