The Carlyles by Cecily von Ziegesar

some “extra studying.” He couldn’t believe these guys were so desperate they were fantasizing about their teachers. She had about six coarse black hairs sticking out of a pear-shaped mole on her chin.
    Hot.
    As all five feet, five inches of Duke walked up to the large white screen at the front of the room, the bell rang, signaling the end of class.
    “Okay, gentlemen. Remember, in art, as in life, it’s all about desire!” Mrs. Kendall clapped her hands and blushed furiously.
    Rhys paused beside Owen’s desk as he was packing up. “How ’bout we get some grub?” he asked companionably.
    “Sure,” Owen answered as they walked out of the classroom together. The hallway was packed with guys in identical blue, gold-buttoned blazers.
    “Okay, I’m going to head down to my locker. Back in a sec.” Rhys turned right and headed toward his locker. Owen continued down the hall and glanced at the two short guys on either side of his own freshly painted gray locker. They looked like they were headed to meetings on Wall Street rather than calculus class. His cell beeped and he slid it out of his pocket, hoping that Kat could have somehow found his number.
    How about his name?
    WORST DAY OF MY LIFE, the text from Avery read. He grinned at his sister’s propensity to exaggerate. She’d probably found out there were no hair dryers in the locker room or something. He leaned against the cool metal of the locker and glanced down the hallway. His eyes landed on a pair of legs. Girl’s legs. He traced their familiar bend, up past a freckled thigh, over a plaid pleated knee-length skirt and white starched oxford shirt. And then he saw her.
    Kat.
    The illusion walked closer to him and Owen yelled out, despite himself, “Kat!”
    She looked over in confusion and then broke out into a sunny smile. Her caramel-streaked hair was effortlessly shiny, her blue eyes animated and bright. Even in the drab fluorescent lighting of the school hallway she looked radiant.
    “Rhys!” she squealed. Owen whirled around. Rhys was just turning the corner behind him.
    “Hey!” Rhys pulled Kat into a hug while Owen looked on, feeling like he was witnessing a car crash. “Owen, this is my girlfriend, Kelsey,” Rhys said, resting his arm on her slender shoulder. Owen stared at the girl. It was Kat. His Kat.
    Or, uh, Kelsey.
    Rhys looked back and forth between Owen and Kelsey. Kelsey looked like she’d seen a ghost.
    The ghost of summer’s past?
    “Do you guys know each other?” he asked.
    “I don’t know him.” Kelsey stepped away from Rhys as if she had been slapped. “I wanted to surprise you and he pointed me to your locker. What was your name again?” She looked at the linoleum in front of Owen.
    “Owen,” Owen choked out. He felt like he was trying to talk under water. What the fuck was going on?
    “It’s nice to meet you,” Kat said to his feet.
    Owen knew he couldn’t look at her. He didn’t want to see her silvery-blue eyes looking at Rhys the way she’d looked at him that night on the beach. Had she been lying when she said it was her first time?
    “So, I guess Kat and I are just going to hang out during lunch. Sorry to bail on you,” Rhys said, completely oblivious to the fact that both Owen and Kat were staring at the same spot on the ground. Rhys pulled Kelsey’s hand up to his lips and kissed it, as if he wanted everyone to see how in love he was. Owen had already gotten the picture.
    “Hey, can we get out of here?” Kelsey whispered urgently. Rhys could feel her hot breath in his ear. It reminded him of last night, and he found himself getting a little excited, even though it was only twelve thirty and they were in the austere, gray-lockered hallways of St. Jude’s.
    “Sure,” he replied eagerly, then noticed how pale her face was. “Are you okay?” He reached out and touched her forehead in concern. Maybe she was getting sick.
    “Yeah.” Kelsey shrugged her shoulders, and her heart-shaped mouth curved