Chapter Eleven

Elizabeth

"So apparently tequila gives you courage." I say to Gia as she joins me at the table. If anyone told me years ago that I'd be sharing breakfast with Gia Campbell and commiserating over our girlfriend problems I would have admitted them to Shady Brook.

We decided to meet someplace neutral where I wouldn't have to worry about running into Carly. It's a little diner across the street from the docks and so far I like it, but mostly because nobody here knows me. Truckers and shipmen drink coffee and flirt with a waitress who looks like she's been working here since before I was born.

"Tell me about it," Gia smiles. "So what did you do?"

"I went to the penthouse and told Carly I wasn't giving up on us." It's been a week and I still can't believe I did it. It's been a week and I still can't believe I haven't followed up on my promise.

"Ok, so what now?" Gia asks the question that has been galloping through my mind leaving a distinct headache in its wake.

"More tequila and I'll figure it out?"

"You have to get a girlfriend." Gia says it like it is the most natural thing in the world. She says it like my heart doesn't already belong to someone else.

"What?"

"It's simple. Everyone is going to be at the Deception Ball, including Carly. I'm going to find you a gorgeous date, you are going to go to the ball and Carly is going to be insanely jealous."

"Gia, this is not high school and I don't like playing games."

"Believe me, when Carly sees you with another woman, she won't think it's a game."

I have a sinking feeling that this plan is going to backfire, but desperation muddles my brain along with my common sense.

"Ok."

Jason

Even as I pick cookie crumbs from my hair I have to admit that Miranda is the third cutest baby I've ever seen. Having spent last night meeting all of the Kane women, I'm sure they would all be incredibly offended that Miranda isn't number one.

The smallest Kane throws another cookie at me, but I'm on to her game and catch it midway. The laugh that erupts into the room nearly chokes me because it's been so long since I've used those muscles. I clear my throat in an attempt to loosen the chunks of grief that have lodged themselves there since Emily's death. I don't feel a searing pain when I think about her anymore; it's just a relentless emptiness now.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Carly asks as she walks into my living room unannounced as usual. She looks at Miranda like she's never seen a baby before.

"I'm babysitting."

"Because all the fourteen year old girls in town were booked?" She gets closer and Miranda flings a cookie at her. It lands right on Carly's nose and another burst of laughter claws it's way out of my gut.

"Because it makes me feel better," I say.

I've never said anything that sappy before, but it's true. Of course Kendall figured this out long before I did and has since conveniently come up with excuses to use me as an emergency babysitter.

"Whose kid?" Carly asks as she rubs her nose and sits next to me on the couch. Her skin is drawn tight around eyes that lack the spark I'm used to.

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters. Why are you keeping secrets from me?"

"Why are you keeping secrets from me?" I throw the question back at her and I'm surprised when she looks at the door like she'd rather leave than talk.

Carly screws up and then comes up with a crazy plan and I talk her down. That's what we do. It's what we have always done. Obviously things are different now. She doesn't have a plan and if she did, I don't think I would have the energy to save her from it.

"You look better," she says, ignoring my question.

"You look worse."

She laughs, but it's crooked and broken and turns into a stifled sob.

"Carly, talk to me." She stays silent and plays with Miranda's hair. "You and Elizabeth--"

"Don't." Her voice strangles the name.

"You can talk to me. Always."

She finally looks at me. Tears cling to her lashes, refusing to fall.

"I can't," she chokes out. "I can't think about her. That's the only way I know how to get through the day."

"I'm sorry I haven't been there," I say. I know it's not enough, but it's all I have.

"Me too," she cuts me off. "I mean, I'm sorry I haven't been there for you."

She softly rubs her thumb over Miranda's cheek then walks out the door.

Gia

"Try on the red one." Bianca yells excitedly over the dressing room door.

She picked me up three hours ago and insisted we go shopping. I originally thought she just wanted to get away from her mother, but as I look at the last of the dresses she picked out, I now know her thoughts were nowhere near that innocent.

After the blue Armani: "The hem is a little long." Her finger runs horizontally along my thigh where silk meets skin.

After the green Roberto Cavalli: "I don't think it has enough lift." Her thumb grazes the top of my breasts causing my nipples to harden and rub the tight jersey fabric.

After the black Versace: "I think the corset is too tight." Her fingers run down my back and stop just short of me passing out from lack of oxygen.

I look at myself in the full-length mirror. The red Elie Saab hugs my body like I was the designer's muse. Bianca steps in behind me. Her eyes travel from my bare shoulders down to my feet and back up to my eyes. The temperature of her gaze turns the small room into a sauna.

"This is the one." Her voice rasps against my body and strokes me with each word.

"Are you sure?" My voice sounds like someone I've never met before.

Bianca walks over to me, never breaking eye contact. She kneels next to my legs and slowly scrapes her fingernails up the inside of my thigh.

"It's the perfect length," she says. Her fingers stop momentarily at the hem before they continue their journey. Her hand disappears under my dress and one of her fingers swipe a faint line along my thong. My knees buckle. I clutch onto her shoulder to keep from collapsing. My blood pounds in my ears and I drip to the beat.

"Bianca, what are you doing?" It's obvious, but those are the only words I can find. She moves my thong aside and the feel of her skin against my folds forces my hands onto the mirror and a moan to rumble from the back of my throat. "Jesus."

"I've just been wondering what you would feel like." She says innocently like we aren't committing a misdemeanor.

This is not how I planned it. There was supposed to be satin sheets, roses, and Marvin Gaye, not a department store and random top forty. We should stop. Our first time should be perfect.

She gently circles my clit and her moan drenches me. I turn around, grab Bianca by the shoulders and push her up against the mirror. She lets out a surprised gasp that's muffled by my lips crushing hers. I don't wait for permission. My tongue pushes into her mouth as she pulls me closer. We kiss for two seconds or maybe an eternity before I move my lips to her chin. Her neck. Her collarbone. I lick and bite and suck her nipples through the fabric of her shirt. My hands hurriedly work on the buttons of her pants.

"Are you girls ok in there?"

"Fuck!" That comes from both of us as we freeze with my lips around her nipple and her hands in my hair.

"Yes," I say, recovering first. Bianca is still breathing too hard to formulate anything other than four letter words. "We'll be out in a second."

"Well let me know if you need anything, I'll be right here," the helpful sales associate trills.

I channel my need into a final kiss. I look at myself in the mirror and study the dress. "I think you're right. This is the one."

TBC...