"I'll remember that," Julia said. "Now sit here and don't move your feet." She drifted to the mirror, continuing with her own primping routine. "Do you ever miss this?" she asked as she pulled a brush through her hair.
"Never," I said. "My way is low maintenance."
"I just wondered, 'cause when it's not braided, your hair looks like a movie star's."
I tugged at one braid. "Which movie star?"
"No, I mean, you've got that whole blue-eyed, all-American, long, blond Gossip Girl hair thing happening."
"Who's Gossip Girl?" I asked. "Was she on Grey's Anatomy?"
Julia tossed a hand towel at me. "Never mind. I forgot you claim to only watch CNN."
I bent forward to blow on my toes. My fingernails were the same dark shade. I usually wouldn't take such pains as to match the color on my fingers and toes, but I promised my friends I would join them tonight at the first big party of the school year. I also promised that I would check my cynical attitude at the door.
There was a slight chance one of those things might happen.
I really shouldn't have been going out at all. Professor Masen was expecting an update on my new project Monday morning, and so far, I didn't have even a glimmer of a plan.
"As I recall," I said, going back to a less traumatic subject, "you didn't even like Tommy. Wasn't he the one who made you go Dutch when he took you to dinner?"
"That's him." Julia tsked. "A gentleman should treat a lady like a lady. That's what my grandmother always says."
Julia was as old-fashioned as they came. In that respect, she and I were about as opposite as you could get. Even so, I loved her-from her perfectly blown-out hair to the delicate Celtic knot pinkie ring she wore every day.
"Hello? Anybody home? Springer?"
"Up here!" I called out to my best friend, Melanie, as she slammed the front door below.
She'd texted an hour ago. Already pissed off at her dorm-mate for parking in her spot, Mel was walking over to tonight's street party with us. By the time she made it up the stairs, she was wheezing, face flushed, brown eyes wild. I thought she might be sick, but she was all smiles. Her curlicues of coffee-colored hair were bouncier than usual.
"So, tell me everything." Mel beamed, catching her breath. She was dressed in a black lacy top, black low-rise pants, and black sling-back open-toed heels, Stanford crimson red splashed across her nails. While hanging on to the door jam with one hand, she bent back like a contortionist and reached behind her to adjust the strap of one shoe.
"About what?" I asked, hobbling to my feet, careful not to smudge my shiny polish.
Mel's smile practically split her face. "About the new guys across the street."
Oh. I said nothing, but continued to gaze at her blankly. She didn't need to know I'd already been caught semi-spying on one of them.
"New guys?" Julia froze, her eyeliner hovering in front of her face. She was going for the whole nonchalance thing, even though she knew-as we all did-that Mel was the eyes, ears, nose, and throat of "Cardinal Society" at Stanford. She'd worked in the admin's office freshman year and still had major internal connections. Nothing went on at our university that she didn't catch wind of first.
A grin of satisfaction spread across Mel's face. "They're moving in as we speak. Today. Right now." She paused, taking in my blank expression. "Seriously, where have you been?"
"I've got a research project I'm trying to wrap my brain around, so I've been … " I trailed off, noticing that Mel was gazing at me while pointing in the direction of Julia's bedroom window across the hall, the one facing the street.
Following the point, Julia made her way to the window, Mel right behind her. I stayed put in the bathroom.
"Know anything about them?" I heard Julia say.
As if she had to ask.
"Well, the blond one's name is Dart," Mel said. "Transferred from Duke. He's a grad student in Kinesiology. He's had three serious girlfriends and his father won a Nobel Prize."
Melanie was a fountain of information.
I bit my lip and pushed off the wall, caving to curiosity, keeping up with current events, so to speak. I should know about my new neighbors, right? More than the fact that one of them drives a Viper, has the face of a movie star but is kind of a jackass.
Mel grinned when I entered the room.
"Not a word," I warned her as I came up beside Julia, who was staring out the window. While Mel talked on about Dart, I lifted up on the balls of my feet and peered through the window. From what I could make out, there were two guys milling about their front yard. I spotted the dark-haired one first. The light-haired one I didn't find nearly as eye-catching.
When Julia unleashed a wistful sigh, I glanced at her. One side of her mouth curled up.
"Dart." She said the name, then repeated it twice. Methodically, her long fingers tucked a wisp of hair behind an ear. "That's an interesting name, don't you think? I wonder what it means. Sounds familiar, right? Like it's short for something." She moved her lips, muttering the name over and over like a tick.
"So, Mel," I said. "What-"
"D'Artagnan!" Julia exclaimed, making me jump. "I'll bet anything his real name is D'Artagnan. It's from The Three Musketeers. He's a royal knight."
Her use of the present tense did not escape me. She pressed her fingertips against the glass and leaned in. "Dart. He's very handsome, isn't he? Almost dashing."
"Oh," Mel interjected in a cautionary tone. "He's Lilah's brother."
Julia whipped around, mouth gaping open, frozen in silent horror.
"Lilah?" I said the word like it was the name of a poison I'd just swallowed, and then half expected to hear the "dun-dun-dun" music that accompanies a tragic twist in a movie plot. I gazed through the glass at our neighbors, a sickly familiar feeling sweeping over me. "Fantastic." I moaned. "The alpha she-snob of this university has a brother. If this Dart dude is anything like Lilah, we'll be lucky if he ignores us completely."
Mel offered me one somber nod in agreement.
Dart knelt in the driveway, digging through an open box. I'll give Julia credit, he was pretty cute, but not my type.
Our dark-haired neighbor faced us, sunglasses hanging from the collar of his shirt. He made a deliberate one-eighty turn, stared toward his front door and planted his hands on his hips. His butt-I mean his back-was to us.
Oh, my.
Directly on the heels of fascination, my pride flicked at the back of my neck, reminding me that I was not someone who reduced herself to slobbering over a man, at least not publicly. Therefore, I let exactly five seconds lapse before my questions began.
"So, um, the other one?" I rubbed my nose, forcing my voice to sound blasé. "What's his story?"
When Mel turned to me, she displayed a toothy grin, like she'd been waiting for me to ask. "Yeah, Springer. I thought you might like him. Yummy, no?"
I rolled my eyes, not willing to join in on the drool fest just yet. "I take it the poor guy is your target of prey for the upcoming year?"
"Oh, no. I've decided to save that little morsel"-she tilted her head toward the window-"for you, babe. And you'll never believe it when I tell you about him. Go ahead, guess who he is. Ask me his name."
Mel was not about to make this easy for me. She knew how I was about guys. If I showed the slightest interest, she wanted it to be written on the side of the Goodyear Blimp.
I turned my attention to my nails, picking at a spot of polish on a cuticle. If she wanted to share her gossip about the secret identity of our dark-haired neighbor, I wasn't about to beg for it. Nice butt or no nice butt, the thrill was gone.
"He's Henry Knightly!" she exclaimed, perching herself on the windowsill.
I turned to Julia for a clue, but she was staring down at their garage where Dart had disappeared a minute earlier.
"You know." Mel twisted an earring. "Knightly?"
Still no clue.
"Knightly Hall? The new building behind Stone Plaza?" Her mouth twitched, giving me a smirky grin. "That building you and your little environmentalist group protested against being built last year. I helped you paint all those stupid picket signs. Totally wrecked my French manicure."
Hmm. That did ring a bell, but the demonstrations I'd attended were starting to blend together.
"Did he build Knightly Hall?" I asked.