American Beauty by Zoey Dean

Author:Zoey Dean [Dean, Zoey]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: JUV014000, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9780316041621
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2008-07-31T14:00:00+00:00

Not a Screw-and-Run Guy

Ben’s cell phone rang out the first three notes of the Who’s “Baba O’Riley,” but he ignored the call because Blythe was winding her way through the tables of the outdoor patio section of Trieste to meet him. The inside of the club was a series of enormous themed spaces set up by some of the most famous movie set designers in Hollywood. There was a room set up to look like a giant emergency room, complete with bottles of alcohol suspended in medical bags over the massive bar. Another was decorated like a cave, with a special glass floor that changed colors in time with the music. But the part of the club Ben liked best was definitely the patio; it was set up to look like a wacked-out version of a suburban family’s backyard from the middle of the twentieth century, complete with individual barbecues, an aboveground pool where clubgoers could cool off during a hot night of dancing, and life-size cardboard cutouts of President Eisenhower, President Kennedy, and other world leaders. He saw Blythe stop and take a second glance at Winston Churchill.

She was a damn great-looking girl, he had to admit—on the short side, and very curvy, à la Salma Hayek. In fact, she looked a little like that actress. Her naturally raven-black hair fell straight past her slender shoulders, compliments of her mom, a full-blooded Sioux. As she had confided to Ben one night, her grandparents still lived on a reservation in Nebraska.

Blythe was a fascinating girl. She dressed like a pretty stuck-up bitch. Most everyone at Princeton thought that was exactly who she was. It was authentic, too, from her father’s Portland, Maine, first-family blue-blood side. Ben didn’t know how Blythe’s parents had actually met, but he did know that her family background was an uneasy mesh of two very different worlds.

They’d met at the movies, of all places. Blythe had taken off her shoes during a midnight showing of Rocky Horror that she’d gone to with a girlfriend for nostalgia’s sake—evidently, back in junior high, she’d been a fixture at the midnight Saturday show at Portland’s sole art house. Somehow, her black velvet Steve Madden wedge heels had migrated to the row where Ben was sitting with Jack and two girls they’d met at the Ivy Club on Prospect Avenue.

They’d ended up going out for coffee, and that wasn’t all they’d ended up sharing. They’d ended up becoming friends, and then things had progressed.

Shit! Why had he let it happen? How had hanging out turned into … more? Ever since he’d come home for the summer, Blythe had been calling to discuss their “relationship.” To make matters worse, she’d called over the weekend to say she’d be in Los Angeles in two days visiting her older brother, Derek—a junior development exec at Disney. She couldn’t wait to be with Ben again. To Ben’s shock, she’d started talking dirty to him; all the things she remembered about him, and all the things she wanted him to do to her when they saw each other.

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