It Girl #10: Classic | Chapter 9 of 36

Author: Cecily von Ziegesar | Submitted by: Maria Garcia | 2873 Views | Add a Review

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4

A WAVERLY OWL IS ABOVE JEALOUSY—
UNLESS PROVOKED.

Brett Messerschmidt crumbled a slightly stale blueberry muffin between her fingers and idly wished she’d gotten herself a bagel instead. A glance at her nails confirmed that her Vernis Please! Purple by Night polish was starting to chip. She looked across the table at her dark-eyed, dark-haired senior boyfriend, Sebastian Valenti. He was sprawled back against his chair, his vintage-looking John Varvatos long-sleeved T-shirt with the word BOWERY emblazoned across the front hugging his lean, muscular chest. His long legs were kicked out under the table, touching Brett’s sleek black Stuart Weitzman knee-high boots while he toyed with the remains of his omelet. She only just barely kept herself from sighing with smug happiness.

Sebastian looked up as if he’d heard the sound she hadn’t quite made, and his full lips curled into his usual amused smile.

“You’re totally checking me out,” he said, his low voice teasing.

“What?” Brett shrugged so that her bright red hair swung out from behind her ear. “Who are you, again?”

“I’m the guy you’re still checking out,” he said with that pure, easy confidence that sounded like a swagger. “You can’t help yourself.”

They’d been playing this game ever since Sebastian had admitted that while he’d dated a lot of girls before Brett, he’d never felt this way about any of them. Brett’s own romantic history was a bit tangled, but she knew she’d never felt anything like this, either. Naturally, Sebastian had taken that as an opportunity to be a wiseass, which, Brett had to admit, made her feel more cherished and adored than any sweeping proclamation or intense recitation might have done.

She waved her hand dismissively, but the side of her hand caught the edge of her coffee cup. The dark, hot liquid spilled across her bright orange plastic tray, soaking her picked-over muffin.

“Great,” she said, frowning at her tray. “Happy Monday morning.”

“See?” Sebastian said with satisfaction. “You’re so into me it makes you clumsy.”

Brett stuck out her tongue at him.

“I’m pretty freaking amazing,” Sebastian continued, grinning while he spread his hands out as if he were too hot to touch, “so I can’t really blame you. The truth is, I actually feel sorry for you.”

“I’m a little less interested in this game without coffee, Sebastian,” Brett told him, narrowing her eyes at him.

Sebastian sat up and leaned across the table, bringing his full lips tantalizingly close to Brett’s. His dark eyes filled with devilish glee.

“I feel so sorry for you that I’m going to get you more coffee,” he said, standing up. “A splash of milk and two Splendas. Coming right up.”

Brett watched him walk away, unreasonably touched that he knew how she liked her coffee—so much so that she had to reach up and feel her face to see whether she was wearing a goofy, lovesick smile. Which of course she was. Instead of embarrassing her, it just made her giggle.

The volume in the dining hall suddenly spiked, as phones everywhere beeped and rang and her Nokia vibrated loudly from the depths of her glossy maroon Burberry satchel. Brett was startled for a moment but then remembered that it was Perfect Match day—the best part of February and Valentine’s Day, if you were single. It was Waverly tradition that all the Perfect Matches went to the annual Valentine’s Day Ball together instead of with whomever they might happen to be dating at the time. Assuming, of course, that it wasn’t the same person, which it almost never was.

A few tables away, Verena Arneval let out a whoop, then started whispering excitedly to Emmy Rosenblum, brandishing her BlackBerry. Even sad Suzanna Goldfinger, who lived next door to Brett in Dumbarton, was staring fixedly down at her flip phone at the table where she sat apart from the others, looking, well, less droopy than usual.

Brett gazed across the dining hall and saw Sebastian’s lean back as he bent in close toward the coffee machine. Then she glanced across the table. His phone was just sitting there, abandoned. Like he wanted her to check it. Her own phone was still vibrating intermittently in her bag, but she ignored it. She reached over and picked up Sebastian’s phone instead.

She clicked open the Perfect Match e-mail, telling herself that she was just curious. It was funny how Perfect Match was only a survey, and yet everyone acted like the results meant something. Brett told herself she was simply interested in what Sebastian’s results might be—on, like, a sociological level. It had nothing to do with the fact that he’d dated almost every single female member of the student body—only a slight exaggeration—and that Brett was a little tiny bit insecure about it.

Nothing to do with that at all.

But as Brett read the e-mail, her eyes scanning over the words until they reached a name, she felt herself freeze solid in her chair.

She had to read the name again, just to be sure she wasn’t hallucinating something so vile. So… unacceptable.

Brett heard a familiar, obnoxious peal of laughter float through the air of the dining hall, and she swiveled around, knowing who she would see before her gaze found Sebastian. He was still over by the coffee machine. But this time, he was sporting a new appendage: Isla Dresden.

Sebastian leaned against the table, Isla leaning in toward him. She tipped her upper body close to his, no doubt giving Sebastian the great news that she of all people was his Perfect Match. She leaned in even closer, shaking her tousled curls back from her face, and put her hand on Seb’s muscled arm. Brett reached up and fingered the ends of her short, sleek red bob.

Rather than cutting Isla off and bringing Brett—his girlfriend—her much-needed coffee, Sebastian was smiling. Talking. While her coffee sat in his hand, getting cold. Isla let out another rolling, riotous laugh.

Brett felt her whole body overheat, and she knew her cheeks probably matched the fire-engine red of her hair. She wouldn’t be surprised if actual steam were coming out of her ears. He was flirting.

She knew that she should trust him—that she’d promised to trust him, and that he’d given her absolutely no reason not to.

But if Sebastian didn’t want her to be jealous, then he shouldn’t flirt with über-skanks right in front of her face.

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Alice
Great book, nicely written and thank you BooksVooks for uploading

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