Classic (8 page)

B
rett stuck her hands into the pockets of her navy double-breasted coat and buried her chin against the blue-and-black plaid
Armand Diradourian scarf her sister, Brianna, had sent her as a part of her latest care package from New York. Ahead of her,
Isaac led the way up the steps to the dean’s house. His house.

The last time Brett had been here, she’d stormed off from the infamous Jan Plan party, furious with Sebastian. That memory
did not exactly inspire her to be any more excited about
this
visit. But Isaac was really nice—he’d met her on the quad as promised and they’d had a nice walk over—and Brett really could
go for a glass of wine to get her mind off his bitchy, boyfriend-stealing sister. She didn’t know why she’d been paired up
with Isaac. He seemed sweet, but as far as Brett could tell the only thing they had in common was that they both liked Jenny.

She walked up the steps behind him as he tugged off one of his brown leather gloves and flipped open the box that concealed
the security pad beneath. She watched him tap a very long string of numbers into the machine.

“Wow, that’s some door code,” she observed. “I can’t remember more than four numbers at a time.”

“Neither can I,” Isaac said, grinning over his shoulder. “Which is why the password is my birthday and then my sister’s, so
we’ll all remember it. My dad gets pissed if we have to call security just to let us into the house.”

Brett smiled at him and followed him into the foyer. She glanced up at the stained glass cupola, which glowed prettily in
the afternoon sunshine. The dean had had it repaired almost immediately after the party, Brett had heard. You’d never know
that Isla had crashed through it—and had somehow survived to continue ruining lives.

Brett pulled off her scarf, shoved it in one of her pockets, and followed after Isaac as he headed toward the kitchen in the
back of the house. He shrugged his coat off and tossed it on one of the benches in the small eating area, so Brett did the
same. She smoothed her hands over her hips. She’d dressed for the Three-Legged Race in dark midnight blue J brand cords, shiny
black patent leather Repetto ballet flats, and a charcoal gray hip-length Inhabit cardigan with chunky buttons. She fingered
one of the buttons as she stood in the kitchen, amused for some reason that even in the dean’s fancy residence the ancient
Waverly radiators kept up their symphony of hissing and clanking. It was the same in Dumbarton.

“Let’s get the pregame going,” Isaac said with his cheerful, open smile, and pulled on the door on the wall nearest him, waving
Brett through. “I’ve been waiting forever to really christen this wine cellar. Probation lasted way too long.”

“Tell me about it,” Brett agreed, although she wasn’t sure exactly how much Isaac, as the dean’s son, had actually suffered.
She was pretty sure
he
hadn’t had the questionable joy of being restricted to a dorm and then only let out for academic reasons, usually monitored
by a member of the faculty.

“I missed Jenny,” he said as he led the way into the cool cellar. Brett felt herself soften. How sweet was this guy? He’d
hated not seeing Jenny as much as Brett had hated not seeing Sebastian for all that time. Though Brett was pretty sure Sebastian
wasn’t telling Isla all about how much he’d missed Brett.

She shook her head and forced herself to forget about Isla for a few minutes. How often was she going to find herself in the
dean’s fully stocked wine cellar? It was a dim, concrete-floored space filled with wooden racks teeming with elegant bottles.
She shouldn’t let Isla ruin this, too.

Isaac selected a bottle from one of the racks in front of them, then pulled it out and set it on the little table in the middle
of the cellar. When she moved closer, Brett saw that the table had been made from a weathered wine cask turned on its side.

“I hope that’s a good one.” Brett nodded at the wine bottle. She felt grown-up, standing in a dimly lit wine cellar with a
good-looking guy who she knew wasn’t about to make any kind of move on her. It was like one of those scenes from her future
life she might have dreamed about back when she
had been in eighth grade and desperate to get to boarding school.

“It’s a nineteen ninety-two Screaming Eagle cabernet,” Isaac said. He grinned. “My dad has like ten cases. He won’t even notice
it’s missing.” He deftly opened the bottle and poured the rich, red liquid into two glasses. He put down the bottle and picked
up his glass. Brett did the same.

“To Perfect Match,” she said, because it felt like the right moment for a toast.

“Perfect Match,” Isaac said. They clinked their glasses together, and then Brett took a long sip of the wine. It was rich
and smooth and warmed her instantly.

“Nice,” she said. She kept herself from laughing again, because what did she know about wine? Brett was never sure if she
actually liked wine or only wanted to like wine. But she definitely liked the
idea
of wine—and she really liked how holding a red wineglass in her hand made her feel. Like she was Lady Brett Ashley from
The Sun Also Rises
, maybe, instead of Brett Messerschmidt from Rumson, New Jersey.

“My dad can be kind of annoying sometimes, especially when he’s doing his whole ‘dean’ thing,” Isaac said, rolling the stem
of his wineglass between his palms. “But he definitely knows his wine.”

Brett settled in on a small stool beside the table, deciding to take notes for Jenny. Isaac was such a gentleman—so friendly
and sweet, not at all like so many of the usual jerky, obnoxious Waverly guys. Jenny had completely lucked out. Brett felt
loyally that such luck was well-deserved, especially after Jenny’s
string of boys gone wrong: Easy, Julian, Drew. Isaac was obviously the one worth waiting for.

“We were pretty happy at our old school,” Isaac said. “But I have to say, I’m psyched that Waverly is turning out to be even
better.”

“Of course,” Brett said, confident that they weren’t really talking about the school. “There’s a reason so many people love
this place. It’s just… better than other places, you know?”

Isaac’s eyes met hers, and his lips twitched into a smile. “It really is,” he said softly.

They were just finishing up their second glasses of wine, Brett’s brain full of gushy things to tell Jenny about her man,
when they heard footsteps from up above—and the unmistakable trill of Isla’s laughter.

Isaac looked up toward the ceiling and brightened. Brett forced a smile.

“Must be my sister,” he said, like Brett hadn’t guessed.

Isaac grabbed a couple bottles of wine and headed for the stairs, and Brett reluctantly followed. Why was he in such a rush
to hang out with his sister? Didn’t he see her all the time? Shouldn’t Isaac be the one guy at Waverly who
didn’t
think Isla was all that?

Upstairs, Brett paused in the kitchen doorway. Sebastian was leaning against the counter, an indulgent smile on his face as
he gazed down at Isla. She was perched on the tall bar stool next to him, looking entirely too sexy in a Juicy Couture vest
with a faux-fur hood, a tight turtleneck that showed off her curves, and a tight pair of dark Rock & Republic jeans.
Brett involuntarily balled her hands into fists and cleared her throat.

“Oh,” Sebastian said, when he realized they were no longer alone. He smiled at Brett but didn’t move away from the counter.
“Hey. I didn’t know you were here.”

“I told you I was coming over to Isaac’s before the Three-Legged Race,” Brett said stiffly. Why hadn’t he mentioned that he
would be there with Isla? He’d had ample time to do so at lunch before Brett had run off to her calculus class, but he hadn’t
said a word.

“We’re prepping for the race,” Isla said, waving a half-full Svedka vodka bottle at Brett. “Are you seriously going for wine?”
Her pale green eyes latched on to the bottles in Isaac’s hands. She sounded scandalized, but Isaac shrugged.

“Clearly we’re more civilized than you are,” he teased.

Isla wrinkled her pert, ski-jump nose at him. “Are you headed over there?”

“Soon,” Isaac said, holding up the wine bottles in his hands.

There was a brief, very tense silence as Isla doctored two take-out coffee cups and handed one to Sebastian, who kept his
eyes trained on the drinks. He didn’t feel Brett’s glare on the side of his face or see the way her jaw was clenched with
fury. Of course he didn’t. He was far too entranced by Isla.

“Let’s do this,” Isla said. He took a sip and shuddered theatrically. Isla giggled, and Brett resisted the urge to throw one
of the wine bottles at her. Isla could tell Brett was jealous, she was sure of it. Ironic how the girl Brett hated the most
was more aware of her feelings than her own boyfriend.

“It’s like paint thinner,” Sebastian said. He grinned at Isla. “It’s perfect.”

Finally he crossed over to Brett but only to give her a measly peck on the forehead, like he might give to his eighty-five-year-old
grandmother.

“See you,” he murmured, and then he and Isla swept off into the afternoon.

Together.

Brett blinked into the sudden emptiness of the kitchen, not sure how she was supposed to react.

“We need to conceal this somehow.” Isaac frowned at the wine bottles he held, oblivious. He set the bottles down on the counter
and tossed his phone and keys beside them. “I think I have a Nalgene bottle upstairs. I’ll be right back.”

He ran up the stairs, and Brett tried to talk herself down from her fury. Sebastian and Isla were just doing the Perfect Match
thing. There was no need to freak. How many times was she going to get upset about this kind of incident? So far, every time
she’d freaked out about something, she’d been wrong. When was she going to learn to trust him?

A little buzz emitted from Isaac’s BlackBerry. Brett had the overwhelming urge to check his messages, just to see. It wasn’t
for her, she told herself, it was for Jenny. She wanted to give her friend a full and accurate account of all of her boyfriend’s
adorable traits—and who knew? Maybe this was a text message from the Rhinecliff florist, announcing some huge delivery to
Jenny. She glanced toward the ceiling, as if she could see through the walls and track Isaac’s movements.

Brett moved across the room and picked up Isaac’s phone, clicking open the chat bubble. It was the latest in an ongoing conversation.

MollyWagner:
Hey sweetie. What’s the V-Day deal? Are you still coming to visit?

IsaacDresden:
I don’t know yet. I’m trying to work it out…

MollyWagner:
Don’t tell me those Waverly girls have eaten you alive. ;)

IsaacDresden:
Nothing like that. I just have a lot going on.

MollyWagner:
What’s more important than your girlfriend and Valentine’s Day???

IsaacDresden:
I know, I know. I’m a terrible boyfriend.

MollyWagner:
That hasn’t been determined yet. But good thing U R cute!

Brett dropped the phone like it was on fire and stared at it as it clattered against the granite countertop.
Isaac was a liar. And a cheater.
She heard a noise behind her and whirled around to see Isaac standing there with a Nalgene in each hand, smiling and looking
triumphant.

Isaac, who until three seconds ago, Brett had thought was the perfect boyfriend.

She couldn’t help glancing over at his phone instead of meeting his gaze. He looked, too, and then color swept over his cheeks
and stained his neck as he looked back at Brett, realizing what she’d seen.

“I’m going to break up with her,” Isaac said after a long, tense moment. His voice sounded thick. Brett couldn’t quite meet
his eyes. Any buzz she might have had from the wine was gone. She felt faintly ill instead.

“Just… please don’t tell Jenny,” Isaac said, his voice pleading. “I just—I need to tell her about this myself, okay? It’s
complicated.”

Brett crossed her arms over her chest and nodded stiffly. It wasn’t her place to tell Jenny, and she certainly didn’t want
to be in the middle of this mess. She knew about cheating, after all. She’d cheated on her old boyfriend Jeremiah. She hadn’t
wanted him to find out the things he’d found out—and certainly not in the way he’d found out about them. An “I Never” game
was the worst possible way to learn your girlfriend had cheated.

She knew it was complicated. It was always complicated. She just wished she’d kept out of it. This was nothing she wanted
to know.