Devious | Chapter 22 of 37

Author: Cecily von Ziegesar | Submitted by: Maria Garcia | 2955 Views | Add a Review

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“Whoa.” Sebastian let out a low growl when he opened the door to his dorm room. Brett was standing there in her cropped leather Fendi jacket over her emerald green silk spaghetti-strap Betsey Johnson dress. The dress set off her catlike green eyes and porcelain skin to perfection. In her four-inch Stuart Weitzman peep-toe patent leather pumps, she was almost at Sebastian’s eye level. “You look incredible. Are you sure we’re just going to the movies?”

Brett grinned despite herself. She twisted the ends of the patterned silk Hermès scarf her mother gave her for Christmas around her wrist. “I just wanted to look nice.”

That wasn’t quite true. The revelation that Chrissy had dated Sebastian was like a wake-up call. With Jeremiah Mortimer, Brett’s previous—and only other—boyfriend, it had been so much easier. He went to St. Lucius Academy, fifteen miles away, and it didn’t matter who he’d dated since Brett didn’t need to face his exes all the time. The one time she’d run into an ex of Jeremiah’s at a Waverly party had ended in complete disaster.

The situation with Sebastian wasn’t at that level of horror just yet—but it was strange, nonetheless. She hadn’t even known Sebastian before she started to tutor him over the fall. He mostly hung out with seniors, potheads, and slackers, and while his crowd had occasionally crossed paths with Brett’s, it wasn’t like they knew all the gossip about each other. And so Brett had no idea who he’d dated—or at least, she hadn’t, until yesterday, when she’d followed up Benny’s suggestion and met with Devon Sprague. Devon, a blond senior girl on Brett’s varsity field hockey team, kept a file on her laptop chronicling every rumored Waverly relationship, hookup, flirtation, and everything in between. A discreet chat at CoffeeRoasters was all it took for Brett to learn that in the past year alone Sebastian had managed to “date”—she used the word loosely—the following girls, in addition to Chrissy and Alexis: Leila Rodriguez, a pretty art student who’d been accepted early to RISD; Molly Theal, a slutty blond softball player who was notorious for taking her clothes off at Waverly parties; and the overly tattooed Leigh Nissonson, who made the pre–Brad Pitt Angelina Jolie look sane.

“You okay?” Sebastian asked, stepping back and taking Brett’s chin in his hand, his strong fingers warm against her cold skin. His dark eyes, almost black, were so wide and caring, how could she doubt him? “You look like you just spaced out.”

Brett smiled weakly. He was so handsome, in a simple white button-down that set off his olive skin and a pair of dark-rinse Levis. But how many girls had stood right here in his doorway and thought the exact same thing? Had Leila Rodriguez sprawled out half naked on his bed while he told her how beautiful she was? Had Molly Theal admired the cheesy Italian flag that took up half his wall?

Brett smoothed her dress out over her knees and tried not to think about it. Why did she even care whom he’d been with? He was with her now. “I’m fine.”

“I’m just going to grab my keys from this dude upstairs.” Sebastian opened the door.

“This dude upstairs?” Brett repeated, grinning. “You lent your beloved Mustang to some guy whose name you don’t even know?”

Sebastian shrugged his shoulders, a bewildered expression on his face. “I think it’s Mike. Or Ike. Something like that.” He kissed her on the forehead.

“I doubt there’s an Ike who goes to school here,” she teased.

Sebastian shook his head in mock outrage as he walked out the door. “I’ll be back to deal with you in a minute.”

She loved watching him walk—it was more of a swagger, really, and when she first met him it had annoyed her. Just another overly confident Waverly player, she thought. But once she got to know him, she discovered he was just comfortable in his skin. He didn’t worry about being from tacky New Jersey; he was, in fact, proud that he came from the Garden State and that his father owned a lucrative chain of car dealerships across the tristate area. Unlike Brett, who had for years told people her father was a surgeon, omitting the “plastic” part of his job description out of embarrassment.

Brett got to her feet, the heels of her black pumps clicking against the hardwood floor. With Sebastian gone, she had an incredible urge to look through his stuff. Not to find evidence of other girls, of course—but just to prove to herself that there wasn’t any. She quickly opened his desk drawers, searching for mementos of girlfriends past. Since the postcard in Chrissy’s room did come from him, she wanted to see if he kept any postcards from girls. But the only things on Sebastian’s walls were his enormous Italian flag, and a giant poster of The Godfather.

She opened the long, narrow pencil drawer, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw a stack of pictures. The one on top was of Sebastian having a snowball fight with a girl in a pink puffy coat. Brett looked closer. Wait, that was her. It was taken over break, in front of Sebastian’s dad’s house. His father must have taken the shot without Brett knowing. She smiled, remembering how she’d tackled Sebastian from behind and pushed him into the snow. He kept this in the top of his drawer? That was so sweet.

A knock at the door made her jump. She quickly dropped the picture back into the drawer and closed it guiltily. But when she opened the door there stood Tricia Rieken, wearing a pair of red stilettos, tight black jeans, and a tight black Ed Hardy tank top that showed off her huge chest. Brett had always suspected the rumor about her boob job was false, but when presented with her balloonlike breasts practically popping in her face, she had to admit the rumor seemed awfully valid.

“Yes?” Brett asked coolly, crossing her arms over her own chest. She’d hated Tricia ever since freshman year, when she’d flirted her way to an A in Monsieur Lamont’s French class—an A that Brett had to earn.

“Just looking for Seb.” Tricia peered over Brett’s shoulder, as if Brett were hiding him. Then her heavily mascaraed eyes lasered in on Brett. “We hang out every Friday night.”

Hang out? From Tricia’s outfit, it was obvious she hadn’t come over to play board games. “Guess you’ll have to find something else to do,” Brett replied sharply, slamming the door in Tricia’s face.

She slid into Sebastian’s desk chair. What the hell? Okay, so not only had Sebastian hooked up with half the females at Waverly, he also had a regular Friday night booty call with one of the skankiest. How could a guy even like someone like Tricia Rieken? She was all boobs and no personality.

The door opened again and Sebastian came in. His hair was flopping sexily over his eyes, but Brett was too annoyed to think it was cute.

“You missed Tricia,” Brett announced. “If I’d known you had a regular date on Friday nights, we could have seen the movie some other time.”

“Oh, shit.” Sebastian rubbed his forehead, a chagrined look in his eyes. “I forgot about Tricia.”

“You forgot about her? About the skanky girl you hook up with every week?” Brett sprang to her feet, too irritated to sit still. When her mother got angry, she always paced back and forth across the room, flailing her arms. Brett had to squeeze her arms to her sides to keep from doing the same. Maybe it was genetic. “What about Leila? And Alena? And Chrissy? Did you forget about them, too?”

“Brett, what are you talking about?” The familiar amused gleam lit up Sebastian’s eyes. “You can’t be jealous of girls I was with before I met you.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be, if there were, like, two or three.” Brett twisted her scarf tightly around her finger, accidentally snagging the delicate fabric with her chunky rose coral ring. “But I can’t even count them all!”

“Calm down, okay?”

Her voice softened as she looked out the window. “Am I just the next one?”

“No!” Sebastian’s face darkened. She felt him step closer behind her, and she almost jumped when his strong hands grabbed her waist. He breathed into her hair. “Look, all those girls are in the past. I don’t do that anymore.”

Brett turned to face him. “So… what am I?”

“You’re my future.” His mouth curled up at the corner, hesitantly, as if afraid of sounding cheesy. But her heart melted. Okay, so it kind of sounded like a line, but it was also ridiculously sweet. And she could tell he meant it. No one had told her she was his future before.

“I guess that’s all right, then,” Brett replied, stepping into his arms. She tenderly wiped the lock of hair off his forehead with her finger, planting her lips in the same spot. His hands slid up and down her sides, and a warm feeling coursed through her body.

How could she care about stupid Tricia Rieken when she had this?

“We’d better get going if we want to make the movie,” Sebastian murmured into Brett’s ear. He kissed her on the cheek, just inches from her lips.

Brett closed her eyes. “Let’s make the later show.”


art Instant Message Inbox
BennyCunningham:You’re working w/ Julian on some movie for Jan Plan, right?
AlanStGirard:Let me guess, you want to know if we saved U a part. You’re in luck—we do have a small, topless role I think you’d be perfect for.
BennyCunningham:Thanks but no thanks. Just wanted to know if it’s true about him and Tinsley.
AlanStGirard:That they’re kaput? Fraid so. But don’t even think about it—he’s not your type.
BennyCunningham:Freshmen are not for me. Dean’s sons are more my type.
AlanStGirard:Too bad Isaac’s with Jenny.
BennyCunningham:That’s just a dirty rumor!
AlanStGirard:Dunno. Heard she had dinner at his house tonight.
BennyCunningham:That could mean anything!

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Great book, nicely written and thank you BooksVooks for uploading

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