The Longest Ride Page 4

  Whenever she heard those slogans at the chapter meetings, she'd wanted to raise her hand and ask her fellow sisters if they honestly believed that the amount of spirit she showed during Greek Week really mattered in the long run. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't imagine sitting in an interview and hearing her future boss say, I notice here that you helped choreograph the dance number that helped to put Chi Omega at the top of the sorority rankings your junior year. Frankly, Miss Danko, that happens to be exactly the skill set we've been searching for in a museum curator.

  Please.

  Sorority life was part of her college experience and she didn't regret it, but she never wanted it to be the only part. Or even the major part. First and foremost, she'd come to Wake Forest because she'd wanted a good education, and her scholarship required that she put her studies first. And she had.

  She rotated her drink, reflecting on the past year. Well... almost, anyway.

  Last semester, after she'd learned that Brian had cheated on her for the second time, she'd been a wreck. She'd found it impossible to study, and when finals rolled around, she'd had to cram like crazy to maintain her GPA. She'd made it... barely. But it was just about the most stressful thing she'd ever gone through, and she was determined not to let it happen again. If it hadn't been for Marcia, she wasn't sure how she could have gotten through last semester at all, and that was reason enough to be grateful she'd joined Chi Omega in the first place. To her, the sorority had always been about individual friendship, not some rah-rah group identity; and to her, friendship had nothing to do with anyone's place in the pecking order. And so, as she had since the beginning, she would do what she had to in the house during her senior year, but no more than that. She'd pay her fees and dues and ignore the cliques that were no doubt already forming, especially the ones that believed that being a Chi Omega was the be-all and end-all of existence.

  Cliques that worshipped people like Mary-Kate, for instance.

  Mary-Kate was the chapter president, and not only did she ooze sorority life, but she looked the part as well - with full lips and a slightly turned-up nose, set off by flawless skin and well-defined bone structure. With the added allure of her trust fund - her family, old tobacco money, was still one of the wealthiest in the state - to many people, she was the sorority. And Mary-Kate knew it. Right now, at one of the larger circular tables she was holding court, surrounded by younger sisters who clearly wanted to grow up to be just like her. As always, she was talking about herself.

  "I just want to make a difference, you know?" Mary-Kate was saying. "I know I'm not going to be able to change the world, but I think it's important to try to make a difference."

  Jenny, Drew, and Brittany hung on her every word. "I think that's amazing," Jenny agreed. She was a sophomore from Atlanta, and Sophia knew her well enough to exchange greetings in the mornings, but not much more than that. No doubt she was thrilled to be spending time with Mary-Kate.

  "I mean, I don't want to go to Africa or Haiti or anything like that," Mary-Kate went on. "Why go all the way over there? My daddy says that there are plenty of opportunities to help people right around here. That's why he started his charitable foundation in the first place, and that's why I'm going to work there after graduation. To help eliminate local problems. To make a difference right here in North Carolina. Do you know that there are some people in this state who still have to use outhouses? Can you imagine that? Not having any indoor plumbing? We need to address these kinds of problems."

  "Wait," Drew said, "I'm confused." She was from Pittsburgh, and her outfit was nearly identical to Mary-Kate's, even down to the hat and boots. "You're saying that your dad's foundation builds bathrooms?"

  Mary-Kate's shapely brows formed a V. "What are you talking about?"

  "Your dad's foundation. You said it builds bathrooms."

  Mary-Kate tilted her head, inspecting Drew as if she were a mental midget. "It provides scholarships to needy children. Why on earth would you think it builds bathrooms?"

  Oh, I don't know, Sophia thought, smiling to herself. Maybe because you were talking about outhouses? And you made it sound that way? But she said nothing, knowing Mary-Kate wouldn't appreciate the humor. When it came to her plans for the future, Mary-Kate had no sense of humor. The future was serious business, after all.

  "But I thought you were going to be a newscaster," Brittany said. "Last week, you were telling us about your job offer."

  Mary-Kate tossed her head. "It's not going to work out."

  "Why not?"

  "It was for the morning news. In Owensboro, Kentucky."

  "So?" asked one of the younger sorority sisters, clearly puzzled.

  "Hello? Owensboro? Have you ever heard of Owensboro?"

  "No." The girls exchanged timid glances.

  "That's my point," Mary-Kate announced. "I'm not moving to Owensboro, Kentucky. It's barely a blip on the map. And I'm not getting up at four in the morning. Besides, like I said, I want to make a difference. There are a lot of people out there that need help. I've been thinking about this for a long time. My daddy says..."

  By then, Sophia was no longer listening. Wanting to find Marcia, she rose from her seat and scanned the crowd. It really was packed in here, and it was getting more crowded as the evening wore on. Squeezing past a few of the girls and the guys they were talking to, she began to slip through the crowd, searching for Marcia's black cowboy hat. Which was hopeless. There were black hats everywhere. She tried to remember the color of Ashley's hat. Cream colored, yes? With that, she was able to narrow down the choices until she spotted her friends. She had started in their direction, squeezing past clusters of people, when she caught something from the corner of her eye.

  Or, more accurately, someone.

  She stopped, straining for a better sight line. Usually, his height made him easy to find in crowds, but there were so many tall hats in the way that she couldn't be sure it was him. Even so, she suddenly felt uneasy. She tried to tell herself that she'd been mistaken, that she was just imagining things.

  Despite herself, she couldn't stop staring. She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach as she searched the faces in the moving crowd. He's not here, she told herself again, but in that instant she saw him again, swaggering through the crowd, flanked by two friends.

  Brian.

  She froze, watching as the three of them moved toward an open table, Brian muscling his way through the crowd the way he did on the lacrosse field. For a second, she couldn't believe it. All she could think was, Really? You followed me here, too?

  She felt a flush rising in her cheeks. She was with her friends, off campus... what was he thinking? She'd made it plain that she didn't want to see him; she'd told him point-blank that she didn't want to talk to him. She was tempted to march right up and tell him - again, right to his face - that it was over.

  But she didn't, because she knew that it wouldn't make any difference. Marcia was right. Brian believed that if he could just talk to her, he could change her mind. Because he thought that at his most charming and apologetic, he was irresistible. She'd forgiven him before, after all. Why not again?

  Turning away, she worked her way through the crowd toward Marcia, thanking God she'd left the tables when she had. The last thing she needed was for him to saunter up, feigning surprise at finding her. Because no matter what the facts were, she'd end up being painted as the heartless one. Why? Because Brian was the Mary-Kate of his fraternity. An all-American lacrosse player blessed with startlingly good looks and a wealthy investment banker father, Brian ruled their social circle effortlessly. Everyone in the sorority revered Brian, and she knew for a fact that half the girls in the house would hook up with him given the slightest encouragement.

  Well, they could have him.

  Sophia continued to weave through the crowd as the band finished one song and rolled into the next. She glimpsed Marcia and Ashley near the dance floor, talking to three guys wearing tight jeans and cowboy hats, w
ho she guessed were a couple of years older than them. Sophia made her way in that direction, and when she reached for Marcia's arm, her roommate turned, looking almost flustered. Or, more accurately, drunk.

  "Oh, hey!" she drawled, dragging out the words. She maneuvered Sophia forward. "Guys, this is my roommate, Sophia. And this is Brooks and Tom... and..." Marcia squinted at the guy in the middle. "Who are you again?"

  "Terry," he offered.

  "Hi," Sophia said, the word automatic. She turned back to Marcia. "Can I talk to you alone?"

  "Right now?" Marcia frowned. She cut her eyes toward the cowboys as she turned to face Sophia, not bothering to hide her irritation. "What's up?"

  "Brian's here," Sophia hissed.

  Marcia squinted at her, as if trying to make sure she'd heard her right, before finally nodding. The two of them retreated to a place farther removed from the dance floor. It wasn't quite as deafening, but Sophia still had to raise her voice to be heard.

  "He followed me. Again."

  Marcia peered over Sophia's shoulder. "Where is he?"

  "Back by the tables, with everyone else from school. He brought Jason and Rick."

  "How did he know you'd be here?"

  "It's not exactly a secret. Half the campus knew we were coming tonight."

  As Sophia fumed, Marcia's interest flickered to one of the guys she'd been talking to, then she turned back to Sophia with a trace of impatience.

  "Okay... he's here." She shrugged. "What do you want to do?"

  "I don't know," Sophia said, crossing her arms.

  "Did he see you?"

  "I don't think so," she said. "I just don't want him to start anything."

  "Do you want me to go talk to him?"

  "No." Sophia shook her head. "Actually, I don't know what I want."

  "Then just relax. Ignore him. Hang with me and Ashley for a while. We don't have to go back to the tables. Maybe he'll leave. And if he finds us here, I'll just start flirting with him. Distract him." Her mouth curved into a provocative smile. "You know he used to have a thing for me. Before you, I mean."

  Sophia pulled her arms tighter. "Maybe we should just go."

  Marcia waved a hand. "How? We're an hour from campus, and neither of us has a car here. We rode with Ashley, remember? And I know for a fact that she's not going to want to leave."

  Sophia hadn't thought of that.

  "Come on," Marcia cajoled. "Let's get a drink. You'll like these guys. They're in graduate school at Duke."

  Sophia shook her head. "I'm not really in the mood to talk to any guys right now."

  "Then what do you want to do?"

  Sophia caught sight of the night sky at the far end of the barn and suddenly felt the overwhelming desire to get out of this sweaty, densely packed scene. "I think I just need some fresh air."

  Marcia followed her gaze, then looked at Sophia again. "Do you want me to come with you?"

  "No, that's okay. I'll find you again. Just hang around here, okay?"

  "Yeah, sure," Marcia agreed with obvious relief. "But I can go with you..."

  "Don't worry about it. I'm not going to be long."

  As Marcia headed back to her new friends, Sophia started toward the rear of the barn, the crowd thinning out as she moved farther from the dance floors and the band. A few men tried to catch her attention as she maneuvered past them, but Sophia pretended not to notice, refusing to be sidetracked.

  The oversize wooden doors had been propped open, and as soon as she stepped outside, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. The music wasn't nearly as loud, and the crisp autumn air felt like a cool balm on her skin. She hadn't realized how hot it was inside the barn. She looked around, hoping to find a place to sit. Off to the side was a massive oak tree, its gnarled limbs stretching in all directions, and here and there, people were standing in small groups, smoking and drinking. It took a second for her to realize that they were all inside a large enclosure bounded by wooden rails radiating from either side of the barn; no doubt it had once been a corral of sorts.

  There weren't any tables. Instead, knots of people mostly sat on or leaned against the rails; one group perched on what she thought was an old tractor tire. Farther off to the side, a solitary man in a cowboy hat stared out over the neighboring pasture, his face in shadow. She wondered idly whether he, too, was in graduate school at Duke, but she doubted it. Somehow, cowboy hats and Duke graduate school just didn't go together.

  She started toward an empty section of the railings a few fence posts down from the solitary cowboy. Above her, the sky was as clear as a glass bell, the moon hovering just over the distant tree line. She propped her elbows on the rough wooden rails and took in her surroundings. Off to the right were the rodeo stands, where she had watched the bull-riding contests earlier; directly behind them was a series of small enclosed pastures, which held the bulls. Though the corrals weren't lit, a few of the arena lights were still on, casting the animals in a spectral glow. Behind the pens were twenty or thirty pickups and trailers, surrounded by their owners. Even from a distance, she could see the glowing tips of the cigarettes some of them were smoking and hear the occasional clink of bottles. She wondered what the place was used for when the rodeos weren't in town. Did they use this place for horse shows? Dog shows? County fairs? Something else? There was a desolate, ramshackle feel to the place, suggesting that it sat empty much of the year. The rickety barn reinforced that impression, but then what did she know? She'd been born and raised in New Jersey.

  That's what Marcia would have said, anyway. She'd been saying it since they were sophomores, and it had been funny at first, then had worn thin after a while, and now was funny again, a kind of long-running joke just between the two of them. Marcia was from Charlotte, born and raised only a few hours from Wake Forest. Sophia could still remember Marcia's bewildered reaction when she said she'd grown up in Jersey City. For all intents and purposes, Sophia might as well have said she'd been raised on Mars.

  Sophia had to admit that Marcia's reaction hadn't been completely off base. Their backgrounds couldn't have been more different. Marcia was the second of two; her father was an orthopedic surgeon, and her mother was an environmental attorney. Her older brother was in his last year of law school at Vanderbilt, and although the family wasn't on the Forbes list, it definitely resided comfortably in the upper crust. She was the kind of girl who took equestrian and dance lessons as a girl and who received a Mercedes convertible on her sixteenth birthday. Sophia, on the other hand, was the child of immigrants. Her mother was French, her father was from Slovakia, and they'd arrived in the country with little more than the money they had in their pockets. Though educated - her father was a chemist, her mother a pharmacist - their English skills were limited and they spent years working menial jobs and living in tiny, run-down apartments until they saved enough to open their own delicatessen. Along the way, they had three more kids - Sophia was the oldest - and Sophia grew up working alongside her parents at the deli after school and on weekends.

  The business was moderately successful, enough to provide for the family but never much more than that. Like many of the better students in her graduating class, until a few months before graduation she'd expected to attend Rutgers. She'd applied to Wake Forest on a whim because her guidance counselor had suggested it, but never in a million years could she have afforded it, nor did she really know much about the place beyond the beautiful photos that were posted on the university's website. But surprising no one more than her, Wake Forest had come through with a scholarship that covered tuition, and in August Sophia had boarded the bus in New Jersey, bound for a virtually unknown destination where she'd spend much of the next four years.

  It had been a great decision, at least from an educational standpoint. Wake Forest was smaller than Rutgers, which meant the classes were, too, and the professors in the Art History Department were passionate about teaching. She'd already had one interview for an internship at the Denver Art Museum - and no, they hadn't
asked a thing about her role at Chi Omega - which she thought had gone well, but she hadn't heard back yet. Last summer, she'd also managed to save enough to buy her first car. It wasn't much - an eleven-year-old Toyota Corolla with more than a hundred thousand miles on the engine, a dent in the rear door, and more than a few scrapes - but for Sophia, who'd grown up walking or riding the bus everywhere, it was liberating to be able to come and go as she pleased.

  At the railing, she grimaced. Well, except for tonight, anyway. But that was her fault. She could have driven, but...

  Why did Brian have to come here tonight? What did he think was going to happen? Did he honestly believe that she'd forget what he'd done to her - not once or twice, but three times? That she'd take him back just as she had previously?

  The thing was, she didn't even miss him. She wasn't going to forgive him, and if he hadn't been following her, she doubted she'd be thinking about him at all. Yet he was still able to ruin her night, and that bothered her. Because she was allowing it to happen. Because she was giving him that power over her.