She couldn’t believe he was even implying that. “Drake, no!” She felt her temper rising and had to bite it back. She needed to calm down. She needed to get out her planner and make a color-coded list of pros and cons of the situation. She needed to fix this. I messed up monumentally. I’ve messed up this relationship so badly.
“Drake,” she began, “I’m sorry. He’s my best friend and he needed me. I was trying to do what’s right. Chance needed me.”
Drake rolled his gray eyes at that. “Of course he did.”
Jenny bristled at his tone. “He did, Drake.”
“You could’ve told me, Jenny. I’m your damn boyfriend. You could’ve come to me and I could’ve given him a place to stay. But you didn’t—you invited him into your bed instead.”
“I told you it’s not like that! Once again, he’s my best friend! Besides, I can invite whomever I want over to my house! I don’t have to justify having him over to you!”
“I would’ve done anything you asked me to. But, no, you didn’t ask me for help. Did you even think of me? You’re always with him, Jenny. It’s always him.” Drake ran a hand through his hair, tugging on it out of frustration. “I mean, he sleeps over here. You’re always together. I get here and he’s leaving. Is it wrong of me to think there’s something going on?”
His accusation brought Jenny up short. She knew that Drake was a bit jealous of her best friend, but she had no idea that he suspected something was going on between her and Chance. Did he honestly believe that? Did Drake think she’d do that to him?
“How could you think that?” she asked, unsure whether she was more angry or stunned. She reached out, grabbing the sides of his face and twisting him to look at her. “It’s you I want. You’re the one that I’m with. Like you said, you’re my damn boyfriend. I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t want to be, Drake.”
He looked at her in disbelief. “You sure as hell don’t show it half the time.”
That really stung. She felt like she’d been struck—how could he think she didn’t show it? She was always trying her hardest to show how much he meant to her.
“How could you say that?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“You give me nothing, Jenny,” he said. He reached up, pulling her hands away from his face.
Does not compute. She acted like a girlfriend was supposed to act. Every emotion she could feel she poured into him. Relationships weren’t supposed to be this hard, right? Unless—unless he didn’t mean emotionally. On every teen drama Jenny had devoured over the years, all the major arguments had been solved physically. The main couple would have a falling out—one consumed with jealousy and the other with guilt—and they’d push their relationship to the next level to prove themselves. Maybe sometimes words weren’t enough. But actions? Actions speak louder than words every time.
“That’s not true,” she said. Then she rose to her tiptoes and kissed him.
He was surprised at first, leaning away from the kiss, but after a moment he gave into it, backing her up until the backs of her knees hit the bed, then he slowly lowered her down. His hands slithered up her body, tangling in her hair. He deepened the kiss, slowly reclining her back onto the bed until half of his body covered hers.
His lips moved to her neck, allowing her a moment to breathe. Her skin tingled everywhere his lips touched. She pulled his mouth back up to hers.
They had never gotten past second base before. They had always run out of time, or stopped because she wasn’t ready yet. Well, she was ready now. If he was ready (and, oh yes, she knew he was ready), then so was she.
It wasn’t like she was saving her virginity for a special occasion. She wasn’t Cher in Clueless, saving herself for Luke Perry. Like with kissing, the thought of sex had never really interested her much. It was something some people did and others didn’t. It meant something to some people, and it meant very little to others. Jenny liked to think she fell somewhere in between. It was just something she was deciding to do.
She pulled Drake’s shirt over his head, laughing at the way the static caused his hair to stand up. She leaned up to meet his kiss, smiling against his lips. She couldn’t feel an ounce of his previous anger, but she could feel his heart beating against her chest.
Drake reached down, hooking a finger into the waistband of her jeans. “Do you want to?” he whispered huskily in her ear.
“I want to,” she sighed as Drake lowered his head to kiss her neck once more.
CHAPTER 18
Chance
Chance wanted a freaking drink. He wanted to be world-spinning drunk. His father had left, his mother was barely talking to him, his best friend had been so busy with her boyfriend that he hadn’t seen her since Christmas, and the cup in his hand was almost empty.
He hadn’t even wanted to come to Leslie’s stupid New Year’s Eve party, but he knew it wasn’t healthy to hang around his house anymore. He wanted out and he wanted free booze, so there he was.
People in Happy New Year hats and giant plastic glasses chatted away happily, but Chance couldn’t muster up any excitement. He had a sinking feeling that the new year was going to be even worse than the current one.
That feeling was basically confirmed when he spotted Drake setting aside his guitar and making his way through Leslie’s living room. Chance tried to slip into the hall unnoticed, but no such luck. Drake was making a beeline straight for him.
Chance chugged what was left of his mixed drink, putting on a fake smile. “Sellers,” he said by way of greeting. “You guys sound good tonight.”
“Have you seen Jenny?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“That’s right, I haven’t seen you around lately, Masters.” Drake smirked, taking a drink from his own cup. “I’ve been hanging at Jenny’s every day, but I haven’t run into you.”
Chance wanted to punch that self-satisfied smirk right off Drake’s smug little face. But he was determined not to let Drake get to him.
“Didn’t want to cut into her boyfriend time,” he muttered.
“I appreciate that,” Drake went on, “because things are going great for us. Really great, actually. Spectacularly great. However great you’re thinking right now, it’s going even better.”
There was something about Drake’s tone that made Chance pause, unconsciously crushing the Solo cup still gripped in his hand.
“So, you’re going to have to keep hanging back, got it, Masters?”
Chance’s eyes narrowed as he turned to face Drake directly. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say here, Drake, but we’re both important to Jenny. As long as she needs me, I’m not going anywhere. You got a problem?”
Drake laughed. “Oh no, I’m so scared of you right now. I already told you that things are going great. Super great, Masters. In fact, I don’t see that she needs you at all.”
Chance’s hand balled into a fist at his side, his fingernails leaving half-moon imprints in his palm. He was going to punch something—the wall, Drake, that stupid band kid walking past talking way too loudly about Supernatural, whatever got in his way first.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chance said through clenched teeth. Jenny would hate me for punching her boyfriend, he reminded himself. She loves Drake and she hates violence.
Drake laughed again, an annoying throaty sound, before walking off.
He thought about what Drake had told him and his stomach churned. If Jenny had decided to—to—I can’t even think it—then that was her decision and definitely wasn’t something Drake should be brandishing like a weapon, as if to prove that he’d “won” her. But that was the Drake he had always known—the one he wished Jenny could see.
The music started up again, Drake back at the microphone. Chance saw Jenny in front of him, staring dreamily up at her boyfriend. If she had heard him just now, he thought bitterly.
Chance went to the kitchen in search of another drink. He felt out of place, like he didn’t belong anywhere. He felt
off.
The crowd was too thick in the kitchen. Leslie sat on the counter, weighed down by her usual dozen necklaces.
“Hey,” she said when he approached. “Weren’t you just in here getting a drink?”
“I finished it.” He reached past her, going for one of the cheaper-looking bottles.
“That’s, what, your third drink since you got here?”
“Are you the drink monitor?” he asked, pulling a two-liter of soda toward him.
“Actually, yes,” she said. “I procured the liquor, so I monitor the liquor.”
“I’ll chip in next time.” He poured the soda in a cup before adding booze.
“Regardless, you should slow down. I don’t need you running around sloppy drunk.”
“Well, Leslie, it’s not really your job to take care of me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Just, please, do not puke on my carpet.”
“I’ll aim for the tile, Scout’s Honor.”
He weaved through the crowd and out the door, heading toward the stairs. Everyone looked so carefree, running through Leslie’s house, laughing and drinking. It was like he was five years old, sitting in the tree in his front yard, spying on his neighbors like he used to. Would anyone realize how alone he felt and ask him to join them?
“What are you doing on the sidelines, Masters?” came a voice from a step above him.
Chance turned around to find Kelsey standing above him. “What’s it look like I’m doing, Molar? I’m enjoying the party.”
Kelsey snorted in disbelief. “If you’re enjoying the party, then so am I.” She stepped down, sitting on the step next to him. “So what’s your damage?”
Chance glanced toward the living room, catching a glimpse of Drake and Jenny.
Kelsey followed his gaze. “Ah,” she said knowingly.
“What about you?” he asked her.
She shrugged. “I didn’t want to be the only one without plans for the night, so I figured why not go to a party. Then I got here and remembered why I hate parties.”
Chance took another sip, eyes still on Jenny dancing in the crowd. “You’ve known Jenny a long time, right?”
Kelsey looked at him curiously. “Not as long as you have, though.”
Of course, the fake past. “Do you think she’s happy with Drake?”
Kelsey looked away, watching the people around them. “I honestly don’t know. I thought I knew her, but lately that’s been up for debate.”
He tore his gaze away from his best friend to look at Kelsey. “What?”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Tell me, do you guys laugh at me? This whole time, all these years that Jenny and I have known each other, was I a joke to the two of you?”
“Where is this coming from?” Chance asked.
Kelsey took a sip of her own drink. “I’ve considered Jenny my best friend since middle school. I don’t have many friends, but I always had Jenny. She was shy and distant, but she was my best friend. I told her everything. I thought she told me everything, too, but she didn’t tell me about you. All these years and she never mentioned you. So I can’t help but wonder if I even knew her at all, or if I was some kind of joke.”
Chance had never once considered Kelsey or her previous role in Jenny’s life. It had never occurred to him that by claiming the spot of Jenny’s best friend he was taking it away from someone else.
“We’ve never laughed at you, Kelsey.” Then he added, “Why don’t you try to talk to Jenny about this?”
She shook her head. “She’s been doing so well, opening up to people and stuff. I mean, look at her, dancing at a party. I don’t want to be the petty one on the sidelines of her personal growth, going, ‘What about me?’ She has been hanging out with me more, which should be enough, but I can’t help freaking about the fact she didn’t tell me about you.”
He wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted her to know that there wasn’t anything wrong with her, that he and Jenny were just liars playing a lying game that Kelsey had gotten caught up in, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t his secret to tell.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he told Kelsey. “You need to talk to Jenny about this. I promise she can explain everything.”
She downed the rest of her drink before pointing a finger at him threateningly.
“You can’t tell anyone I got all soft with you. I can’t intimidate people into doing what I want if they know I got all mushy with you.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Chance laughed. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Good.” She smiled then, and it lit up her whole face. “I guess I should offer you some advice for your Jenny predicament, too?”
“My Jenny predicament?”
She looked at him knowingly. “You know.”
There was no use in denying it. “I’m working on it,” he told her.
“I know. I heard all about Leslie in the hallway. Your situation might suck, but it doesn’t have to. I mean, why are you sitting here on the steps? It’s New Year’s Eve, so make the best of it. See Glenda Hargrove over there?” She pointed to a tall dancing girl with long blond hair cascading down her back. “Go dance with her. Have fun.”
Have fun? He looked to the living room, searching for Jenny once more.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Kelsey scoffed, “Are you or are you not Chance fucking Masters?”
“I am,” he said confidently, rising to his feet.
“Then go!” Kelsey nudged him forward, laughing.
Chance made his way down the remaining steps, past the living room and the brunette dancing in there. Glenda was getting closer, the body heat from the dense crowd already making Chance sweat.
“Hey,” he said to Glenda once he was close enough to be heard over the roaring music. She was tall enough that he didn’t have to look down to talk to her.
She smiled at him, bringing his attention to the adorable smattering of freckles across her nose.
“Hey.”
“Do you want to dance?” He was already reaching for her hand.
Her arms snaked up his chest to wrap around his neck. “I’d love to.”
Chance kept dancing and he kept flirting. After Glenda, he danced with a girl named Miranda. Then he spent some time in the kitchen, helping a girl named Kate operate the keg. He felt looser and less stressed with every dance and with every girl. He didn’t catch himself looking for Jenny or waiting for his phone to ring. He lost himself in the music and laughter around him, not even pausing when he caught Drake shooting him a glare from behind his microphone.
Chance only smiled back, pulling the girl he was with closer still.
CHAPTER 19
Jenny
Parties are better in theory than in reality, Jenny thought as she stood in the foyer of Leslie’s house for the second time, craning her neck to look past another group of her classmates. She realized that TV had been very wrong about high school parties—in reality, if you’ve been to one, then you’ve been to them all. This was her second and she was already thinking it was one too many.
People were dancing in the living room to the left, grinding against each other. Drake’s band was set up by the doors that led to the backyard. He was already wailing away at his latest song. The kitchen, where the drinks were, was to the right.
She hated the stench of weed, cigarette smoke, and vomit that hung in the air, clinging to her like a second skin as she forced her way into the crowd. She eyed the red Solo cups that littered every available surface. She hated everything about parties when she didn’t have someone to use as a buffer.
This wasn’t like Halloween. At Halloween she’d had Drake, but he had decided that his band had to play this time and, of course, she had to come support him. She wanted to go find Chance, but she knew that wasn’t a good idea. Drake had finally calmed down about the two of them, and she didn’t want to cause any more animosity.
She spent a few songs in the living room, pretending l
ike she wasn’t freaking out about the mass of people dancing too close to her. She smiled at Drake every time he looked out at the audience. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she escaped, slipping from the mass of gyrating bodies and out into the hall.
She made her way to the kitchen, spotting a lot of familiar faces. She even passed Emelia and associates hiding out in an alcove under the stairs. There were more people in the kitchen, and Leslie was sitting next to a plethora of drinks on the counter.
“Hey,” she said to Leslie as she approached, her mind flashing to what Leslie and Chance had been caught doing a few weeks earlier. “What’s up?”
“I’m the booze monitor,” Leslie told her, taking a sip from her cup. She gestured to the bottles next to her. “Take whatever you want.”
Jenny stood at the counter, staring at her choices. She grabbed the Hawaiian Punch and then looked for something that might go well with that. Is Heaven Hill a good vodka? She reached for the bottle.
Leslie’s hand shot out, taking the bottle from her. “You’re going to poison yourself,” she said, hopping down from the counter. “Let me make you something.”
“Is that not good?” she asked.
Leslie shook her head. “It’s cheap, but it’s trash. Don’t touch McCormick, either; it’s like drinking rubbing alcohol.”
She watched as Leslie picked up a bottle and looked at it. “Doesn’t it all taste like rubbing alcohol?”
Leslie shrugged. “Basically. I don’t mess with mixed drinks; they only prolong the pain. I find shots are a better and quicker alternative. Do you wanna do shots?”
Jenny wanted to say no, to take a nasty mixed drink and slink back into the living room, but where was the fun in that? Always take the road less traveled, she reminded herself.
“Let’s do it,” she said.
“I’ll do a few with you.” Leslie smiled and pulled over the coconut rum, pouring them both shots.
On the count of three, they downed them. The liquid was even worse in its pure form. It burned the whole way down. Jenny had to keep from gagging.
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