Free The Ivy: Secrets by Lauren Kunze, Rina Onur Page A

sunshine—who it was without having to look.
    “Hi,” she said, turning, a smile playing on the corners of her lips in spite of the exhaustion and near starvation.
    Clint grinned and let his backpack slide to the floor, then propped his elbows on the reference desk and leaned toward her.
    “Do you need—” she began, sitting back on the stool in front of the computer. “I mean, can I help you with something?”
    “As a matter of fact,” said Clint, smiling even wider, “you can.”
    “With a book,” she asked, flushing and trying to stay professional.
    “Yes,” he agreed, leaning across the counter even farther. “A book.”
    “I’ll look it up,” she said, moving the mouse to tab out of her e-mail and open a new browser. “What’s it called?”
    “It’s called . . . Come to Lunch with Me .”
    Come to — She stopped typing midway through the word lunch. Her stomach growled. “Lunch?”
    “With me,” he added, eyes twinkling, not unkindly, with amusement.
    “Um, I would love to . . .” The hair on her neck and arms had just crept up like reeds standing to attention in a chilly gust of wind. Someone was staring at her. She looked over Clint’s shoulder, and sure enough, there she was.
    Alexis.
    She was gripping the sides of the Intermediate Microeconomics textbook, glowering. Gregory stood in line at the coffee counter, waiting to order drinks. Slowly Lexi shook her head once.
    “But I can’t. I have to work,” Callie whispered.
    “That’s cool.” Clint’s smile was unwavering. “What time do you get off?”
    “Four,” said Callie distractedly, watching Lexi dig into her shoulder bag and pull out her cell phone. Gregory returned to the table with two cups and set one in front of Lexi. He did not glance in the direction of the reference desk.
    “A late lunch, then.”
    “Clint, I—I can’t,” she said, her eyes darting away from his face and falling blankly on her e-mail.
    “You can’t or you don’t want to?” he asked.
    She was silent. Did she want to? Was there anything else in the world that she didn’t want more ?
    “Look,” said Clint, taking her silence as a bad sign, “I had some time to think over break, and I realized I made a mistake, giving you an ultimatum like that. It was wrong: immature, pushy. I got frustrated and was out of line. Of course I want my girlfriend to feel like she can tell me things—anything—but in order for you to feel comfortable about opening up, I have to be a good boyfriend first.”
    Callie swallowed the lump in her throat. Still she couldn’t speak, as if an invisible muzzle were attached to her jaw with an invisible chain stretching across the marble floor into Lamont Café where Lexi held the end of it instead of her phone, her fingers tugging instead of texting furiously.
    “I’m not ready to give up on us,” Clint continued. “If you don’t want me anymore—if you want me to go away and leave you alone, I will. Just say the word.”
    She shook her head. “No,” she murmured, barely audible. “No, I don’t want that.”
    “But—” Clint started to smile—“if there’s any chance that I can make things right . . .” He reached across the desk for her hand. She let him take it and twine her fingers through his. “Then I’m not going anywhere.”
    The computer screen flashed as her inbox refreshed and a new message appeared at the top.
    From: Alexis Vivienne Thorndike
    To: Callie Andrews
    Subject: FWD: To: [email protected] TIP ALERT! Ivy league girl involved in SEX TAPE SCANDAL!!!
    The video features Callie Andrews, a freshman at Harvard University, and Evan Davies of UCLA. A link is included . . .
    Callie didn’t make it past the first sentence before the room started to spin. She swayed on her stool, gripping the edge of the counter and trying to focus on Clint’s face. She was barely conscious of jabbing the Off button on the monitor before dizziness overtook her and she toppled over, smacking her head on