HISTORY
“Did you understand a single word Professor Friedman was saying?” Chelsea Phibbs asked Scarlett.
Scarlett swung her backpack over her shoulder and turned to her friend, who was in her French novels lit seminar. Chelsea was smart and spoke almost as many foreign languages as Scarlett. Almost. “Yep. Today’s lecture was all about the meaninglessness of human existence. Cheerful stuff.”
“How did you even figure that out?”
Scarlett grinned. “Because I’m so brilliant?”
“Ha-ha.”
“Plus, I’ve read The Stranger twice before. It’s kind of a cool book. Weird, but cool.”
“I guess. I read The Myth of Sisyphus in high school. I think I liked that better. It wasn’t as confusing, anyway.”
The two girls were walking down a tree-lined path outside of the Taper Hall of the Humanities. It was Friday afternoon and especially warm and balmy for late March.
“I’m off to linguistics,” Chelsea said, glancing at her watch. “What class do you have next?”
“I’m done for the day, but I have to go downtown for this, uh, photo shoot for, uh, Life and Style.” Scarlett felt almost embarrassed saying this, especially to a bookworm like Chelsea who probably never read the tabloids.
“Ooh, photo shoot! You’re such a celebrity! Can I have your autograph? Please, please, please?” Chelsea giggled.
“Very funny. You know I have to do this, right? It’s part of my job.”
“Yeah, I know. Hey, it beats serving enchiladas.” Chelsea worked part-time at a Mexican restaurant near campus. “Soooo. What are you up to this weekend?”
“I’m having dinner with Liam and Jane and some friends from high school tonight. You want to come with us? It should be fun,” Scarlett said—although “fun” might not be the best way to describe hanging out with her boyfriend, her best friend, her best friend’s ex-boyfriend, and his best friend who Scarlett had hooked up with once several years ago, on Hendry’s Beach, just after someone’s going-away-to-college party. And maybe would have hooked up with again, if he hadn’t gone off to college himself.
“Sounds great, but I have to work till, like, midnight. Ugh. Maybe we can do something tomorrow? I’ll text you.”
“’Kay. Well, have a good time at work, señorita. Adiós!”
“Yeah. Have a good time posing for cleavage shots! Just kidding!” Chelsea added hastily when Scarlett pretended to throw her book bag at her.
Scarlett headed in the direction of her car, which was parked in one of the student lots. As she fished through her pockets for her keys, her cell rang.
Liam’s name came up on the screen. Scarlett flushed with pleasure. She hadn’t talked to him all day, and she missed hearing his voice.
She stopped on the sidewalk and pressed Talk. “Hey!”
“Hey! What’re you doing?”
“I just got out of class. What are you doing?”
“Oh, making a lot of calls.” He sounded a little stressed. “Listen. I’ve gotta bail on dinner. My friend put me in touch with this director who might have some camera work for me. He wants to meet and talk, like, tonight.”
“Ohmigod, that’s fantastic!”
“You sure? I’m sorry. It’s bad timing, but he’s a busy guy, so I didn’t want to say no.”
“No, I totally understand.”
“I miss you. Are you busy right now? Do you want to grab food or something? I’m near the Grove but I could meet you wherever.”
Scarlett sighed. “I wish. I’ve got this photo shoot downtown.”
“Oh, yeah, that. Okay, well, I’ll call you later?”
“’Kay.”
“Bye.” Liam had hung up before Scarlett could add I miss you, too.
Scarlett stared at the phone in her hand, wishing she could just cancel the photo shoot and meet Liam instead. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to dinner, either, now that Liam wouldn’t be there.
Because what was it going to be like with her, Jane, Caleb, and Naveen? Given their respective histories, it would almost seem like a double date, right? Soooo awkward.
Except that she already had a boyfriend. Who had no idea that she and Naveen had a history. Maybe she should have mentioned it to him just now?
Later, she told herself. It really wasn’t a big deal. For all she knew, Naveen had a girlfriend of his own and would be bringing her along.
“Janie! Scar!”
Scarlett wove her way through the crowded tables at STK, with Jane following close behind. Caleb was waving them over from a booth, looking like his usual hot self. (He knew it, too—the jerk.) Next to him, looking equally hot, was Naveen Singh, sans girlfriend or any sort of date whatsoever.
Naveen was wearing his wavy black hair shorter than Scarlett remembered. His white button-down shirt and khakis made him look older, more professional … not like the wild, disheveled surfer boy she remembered from high school.
There was a flurry of cheek kisses and hugs. Naveen’s hand lingered for a moment on Scarlett’s back when he hugged her. “Hey, it’s been ages,” he said. He smelled faintly of some spicy aftershave.
“Yeah, it has,” Scarlett agreed. Smiling, she gently maneuvered herself out of his embrace and scooted back into the white leather booth, far away from him. Then she tugged on Jane’s hand and pulled her down next to her.
“What are you doing, Scar?” Jane whispered.
“Sit!” Scarlett hissed, keeping her smile plastered on her face. Now the seating arrangement was perfect: Naveen and Caleb on one side, Scarlett and Jane on the other. No one could get in trouble that way.
Scarlett had no problem with Jane and Caleb being friends. But she was concerned about Jane getting sucked back into dating him again. Jane had fallen madly in love with Caleb when they were together in high school, only to have him dump her after his freshman year at Yale because, according to him, she “deserved better” (which was basically boy code for I want to be free to hook up with other girls). Scarlett spent many nights last spring consoling Jane when she couldn’t stop crying about him, trying to cheer her up with funny movies and countless pints of Ben & Jerry’s.
Besides, Jane was still recovering from her relationships with her completely dysfunctional ex, Jesse, and the perpetually unavailable Braden. She needed to keep her life simple for a little while.
“Soooo.” Caleb glanced expectantly at Scarlett, then Jane. “What did you girls do today?”
“School,” Scarlett said.
“Work,” Jane added. “What are you guys up to? Naveen, are you in school or working or what?”
“I’m a sophomore at UCLA,” Naveen said, taking a sip of his drink. “Premed.”
“Wow. Dr. Singh!” Jane said, sounding impressed.
“Yeah, my boy here is planning on becoming a plastic surgeon,” Caleb explained, slapping him on the back.
Scarlett stared at Naveen incredulously. “Seriously? You want to spend your life carving up people’s faces?” she asked him. Her father was a plastic surgeon, and she had nothing but contempt for a profession that made money from making women (and men) believe that surgically altering their appearance would bring them happiness.
“Actually, I want to specialize