Saratoga Falls: The Complete Love Story Series

by Pogue, Lindsey

  “Sure it is,” Reilly grumbles behind me, but I just smile at his typical Reilly response, Mr. All-American Good Boy, who doesn’t like living anywhere near the edge. I don’t give him any grief, though. Knowing what he has to go home to every day, I don’t blame him for being less rebellious than the rest of us.

  “You only live once, Rye. Try to have some fun. You’re staying at my house tonight, anyway, so you don’t have to worry about anything. My parents will be in bed by nine.” I pop a potato chip into my mouth. “Want a beer yet?”

  With reluctance, Reilly nods, his eyes scanning the room like he’s looking for someone.

  “Sam’s not here,” I tell him. “She and Mac don’t come to parties.” My words register, and I frown. “At least, I don’t think they do.” Now that they’re freshmen, I really don’t know what to expect. The pseudo big brother in me hopes they won’t come to the party, anyway. I shrug, grab Reilly a plastic cup, and pump the keg.

  “Why would I be looking for Sam?” Reilly asks, but he’s an idiot if he thinks I don’t know there’s some sort of attraction between them lately. Either he’s trying to keep it from me for some reason or he’s in denial about it himself, so I leave it alone. “Go say hi to a girl and make her swoon or something. You don’t look like you’re having any fun.”

  Reilly just rolls his eyes.

  “Fine, be that way, but you’re the DD,” I tell him and shove his cup at his chest with a grin. The slow-as-molasses rate in which he pounds beer is embarrassing anyway. “I’m happy to be the delinquent for the night,” I say and pour one for myself.

  Finally, Reilly gives up a smile, and despite my jokes and gibes, I allow myself to relax a little bit for the first time tonight. I just wish Reilly would have some fun, too. I want him to forget his life for just a little bit and be a teenager with me.

  “So,” Reilly says above the surrounding conversation. “What’s up with you tonight?” He takes a sip from his cup and raises his eyebrow. I hate the eyebrow raise. It means he sees too much.

  “What do you mean?” A guy bumps into me and I try not to spill my beer.

  “You seem really into this party tonight. It’s weird.”

  I laugh because it’s what I do. I laugh and play the role of the happy one. The jokester and tension-breaker who tries to keep the peace all the time. It gets exhausting, which is why I love nights like this. “It’s my parents,” I grumble. “And Sam.”

  Reilly takes a step closer. Ever the serious one, he leans in so I can hear him clearly above the music. “What do you mean?”

  Shrugging, I take a drink of my beer, forcing myself not to grumble at the shift of the mood. It’s too much to get into with all the noise and the nasally, teeny-bopper voice emanating from the speakers, but Reilly won’t leave it alone if I don’t give him something. So, I hedge. “Sam and Aunt Alison are at it again,” I tell him. Although Reilly has been friends with Mac and Sam since elementary school, like I have, he’s missed a lot, on account of his dad being such a dick. So, over the years I’ve become the girls’ sounding board and confidante, especially now that my aunt and Sam’s dad are together.

  “And your parents?” Reilly prompts, and all I can do is laugh.

  “Nothing new there. My dad’s pressuring me about college. About my future at the firm.”

  “No baseball scholarship then?”

  I shrug his question away. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Opening my arms, I peer around the room. “We’re teenagers! Partying is an excuse to act our age.” My smile widens. “You should try it sometime.”

  “Yeah, and go home to my drunk dad,” he mutters and takes a step back. I pretend I don’t hear him over the laughter and music, and I take another gulp of my beer.

  I hate Reilly’s piece of shit dad, and I hate that Reilly is too proud to ditch his misery and live at my house. I hate that I have to accept it and that there’s nothing I can do to make his life even a little bit better. So, I chug the rest of my beer down, then pour myself another one.

  “Hey, Reilly! Turner!” Rod Slinsky shouts from across the room. I nod as he bumps his way through the crowd toward us.

  “Don’t indulge him tonight,” Reilly warns. “Slinsky’s a dirt bag.”

  “Yeah, but he’s on the team. I can’t ignore him. Besides, he’s probably a lot more fun than you are tonight,” I say with an elbow to his side.

  “Whatever. Come find me when you’re ready to leave,” Reilly says and makes his way through the crowd. He lifts his cup to Slinsky as they pass each other, but they don’t exchange more than a what’s up.

  “I was wondering if you’d show up tonight,” Slinsky says with a shit-eating grin on his pockmarked face. He moves in for our team handshake and a clap on the back. “Praise Jesus for short skirts, huh? This place is poppin’ with hotties.” As he peers around the kitchen, I can’t help noticing that for all his talk about chicks and the high life, I’ve never actually seen him with one. He appraises everything, eyes wide and indulgent. “Whose place is this, anyway?” He grins at a group of girls on the other side of the kitchen, like a hungry wolf.

  “Uh, I think her name is Anna Marie something-or-other, but I don’t even know what she looks like. Just that she’s a freshman.”

  “That’s what I love about being a jock. You get invited to all the parties. Even silly little freshmen want the dick.”

  “Yeah, well, keep it in your pants, Casanova. That’s a horror for another night.” I laugh at myself and pop another chip into my mouth.

  “You’re hilarious,” Slinsky says, and he pours himself a beer. “Where are your girls tonight, huh? Shouldn’t they be here, making the rounds, getting to know the school and the jocks?” When his eyebrows dance at the thought of Mac and Sam, I resist the urge to punch him in the throat.

  I glare at him warningly instead. “They’re off limits, Rod. Don’t even think about it.” I wouldn’t let Slinsky anywhere near them, even if my life depended on it.

  He studies me for a minute, looking me up and down like he’s trying to figure out how serious I am. I’m more than serious, and he seems to get the idea. His palms fly up. “Hey, I hear ya, Turner. Loud and clear. You can’t blame a guy for lookin’ though. The blonde is so sweet and—”

  When I notice another familiar blonde with long hair hanging over her shoulders, standing in the mouth of the kitchen, my breath hitches unexpectedly, and it’s easy enough to ignore whatever bullshit Slinsky’s spewing.

  Bethany’s here. I’ve seen her around campus a few times since school started, but I haven’t talked to her since that day in Mr. Silverman’s class a few years ago.

  She’s grown up . . . a lot. I know people change, but her tight jeans and tank top make it clear just how much. I swallow thickly. She’s come a long way from the sad mystery girl she was when we were younger. She’s tall and beautiful and stands out in a crowd, and she clearly doesn’t even know it. I’ve wanted to talk to her so many times over the years, especially after I’d heard about social services. I’d wanted to apologize about what happened, but too much time had passed before I saw her again, like she’d been avoiding me. It felt weird to bring it up after so long. But now, she’s here.

  She probably hates me. I tell myself I should look away, that I don’t want to be a creep in a room full of horny dudes, but when her eyes meet mine and her gaze lingers, there’s nothing I can do. My body’s on autopilot, and I make a decision.

  Ignoring Slinsky, I shuffle through the crowd, my feet moving faster than my mind can process what I’m going to say when I get to her.

  When I’m only a few feet away, she half-smiles. “Hey,” she says and crosses her arms over her chest. It’s a casual hello, an awkward one, even, and so soft I barely hear her over the music. But she’s talking to me, which means she doesn’t hate me, not completely.

  “It’s been a while,” is all I can think to say.

  Pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, she glances around the room. “Yeah, i
t has.”

  I’ve never struggled to come up with a witty remark or something to say, but my mind draws a blank. “What are you doing here?” It’s a stupid question, one that earns me a confused expression.

  “Well,” she says, eyebrows raised a little. “It’s a party, so . . .”

  Laughing nervously, I shake my head. “Right. Of course.” My game is officially off tonight.

  Her pink, glossy lips part and her expression softens, like she’s decided to throw me a bone and help me out a little. “My best friend is throwing the party,” she explains and drops her hands at her side, welcoming our conversation. “So, here I am.”

  “Oh, that’s Anna Marie—your friend. Yeah, I’ve seen you around school with her.”

  Bethany nods and peers around the room. “She’s really embracing the high school experience, as you can tell. Her parents are out of town, so of course she has to throw a party.”

  “Of course she does.”

  Her eyes shift away from mine nervously, and I’m glad it’s not just me that’s awkward, though I’m confused why it’s so impossible for me to act normal. I’m not sure if it’s the beer or all the time that’s passed since I’ve talked to Bethany last, but this is important to me. Seeing her, talking to her. This is my chance to apologize after all this time and maybe even get to know her a little better.

  I lean closer. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.” If I’m not mistaken, her cheeks redden. I appreciate the way she licks her lips and that I have some sort of an affect on her. The cool, calm, collected Nick starts settling back into place.

  “Do you want a beer?” I ask, holding up my cup.

  She nods eagerly, and with a chuckle, I take her hand and lead her over to the keg. Someone bumps into us, quickly apologizing, but I barely notice. Her hand is soft and warm in mine, and as much as I try to understand why I’m so attracted to her, I’m just glad she’s here and that she’s talking to me.

  Quickly, I pour a cup of beer and hand it to her.

  “Thanks.”

  We bump our beers together. “You’re welcome.”

  “So,” she says. “You come to all the parties?”

  I shake my head. “No, not all of them. Tonight just seemed like a good idea.”

  “You didn’t want to be the only player on the team not here?”

  I wink at her. “Something like that.” We talk for a few minutes about things that don’t really matter, and I try to hear her, but it’s hard to stay focused with the increasing noise within the room.

  There are a few drawn-out moments of people laughing around us and bumping into us—of us pretending to look around the house and appraise the party—before I force myself to say something else.

  I lean closer again, inhaling the sugary scent that clings to her. “Do you want to find somewhere to chill? It’s kinda distracting with all these people.”

  Bethany nods, more quickly than I expect. “Follow me.” She turns and leads me through the crowd. I have no idea where she’s taking us, but I follow her willingly.

  I’m not much of a drinker, and since I’m three beers deep, my mind starts running away from me a little, and I get inexplicably giddy. I wanted to have fun tonight, so I don’t think too much about it. I just let it be what it is.

  As she leads me through the living room, I spot Reilly across the room, talking to a couple guys from the team, and a cheerleader hangs on his arm, though I can’t tell if Reilly even notices. When his eyes meet mine and he sees Bethany, he frowns a little. He knows how bad I felt after I got her in trouble in middle school and that she’s proceeded to dodge me ever since.

  I flash Reilly a big, pleading smile, willing him not to kill my buzz, and he doesn’t. He smirks instead, and then I’m accosted with a scent of something potent and expensive.

  “Oooh, what did you find?” Anna Marie purrs, her shoulder-length, brown hair curled and bouncing as she shimmies in place.

  Bethany rolls her eyes and glances back at me. “As if you don’t already know. This is Nick.”

  Anna’s cheeks lift with a simpering smile. “Hi, Nick.” She reaches out her hand. “I’m Anna Marie, your generous hostess this evening.”

  Smiling, I shake her hand. She’s wearing a lot of makeup and looks good in her tight black dress. She looks older than she probably is, too, which is likely the point. “Nice to meet you.” I glance at the crowd. “And thanks for the invite.”

  She winks at me and looks to Bethany. “By all means, carry on.”

  Bethany smiles and rolls her eyes again as she continues toward the hallway. A few people stop us to talk to me, and Bethany patiently waits, but I brush them off, trying not to be a complete asshole, and continue into the den.

  I stop in the doorway and notice the books that line the walls, and the couch situated under a window with three girls sitting on it, happily gossiping. Bethany walks toward a love seat against the far wall, black and white landscape photos hanging in clusters around it. The music is noticeably quieter in this room, so I understand why Bethany chose it.

  “Romantic,” I tease and step down into the room. “Is this where you and Anna have sleepovers and gossip into the late hours of the night?”

  Bethany plops down on the couch, careful not to slosh her half-full cup of beer. “Well, while we do giggly, girl things and have half-naked pillow fights until all hours of the night,” she says with a hint of a smile, “we don’t do it in here, where her father works. We do that in her bedroom.” She winks at me, and I like this frisky side of her. I wonder if the beer is starting to get to her or if this is just the Bethany I don’t know.

  “Now there’s a spectacular image,” I say playfully. “You shouldn’t have told me that. I won’t get any sleep tonight.” I sit down beside her on the love seat, not too close, even though I wouldn’t mind it. Despite barely knowing each other, it feels like Fate has once again thrown us together, and it feels right this time. Like I’m getting a second chance.

  “In case you couldn’t tell,” I say before taking a quick gulp of my beer, “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  Her lips draw up in a cocky grin. “Really? Well, seeing how Anna is my friend and a freshman, I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “Yeah, well, what can I say? I’m a sucker for free beer.” I waggle my eyebrows and take the final swig from my cup.

  “Well, if that’s all it takes . . .” She hands me her cup with a smirk, but I shake my head.

  “Nah, I’m good . . . now that you’re here.”

  She nearly bursts out laughing. “Wow. That’s so cheesy. Of all the guys at this party, you are the last person I thought would try to smirk his way into my pants.”

  She’s right, and I sober a little. She’s not just some chick I want to make out with. She’s different, fragile, even if that was who she was a long time ago. It’s how I know her.

  Bethany Fairchild isn’t just some girl, she’s the girl—the first girl I ever looked at differently and wanted to get to know. Even if it was because she was so sad at the time.

  “I was just kidding,” she says, bumping her shoulder against mine, but I shake my head.

  “No, you’re right.” I straighten. “That was stupid.”

  “And flattering,” she adds, coming to my rescue. She smiles again and it’s sort of hypnotizing, like I’ve never noticed it until tonight. Or maybe I’ve never seen her smile before.

  “So,” I start, unable to continue without addressing the elephant in the room. “You don’t hate me anymore?”

  She frowns and leans back into the couch cushion, putting distance between us that feels almost cold. “Hate you?”

  “You know,” I say, wishing she wouldn’t make me actually say it. “For what happened. I know my mom told someone, she’s a psychologist, she has to do certain things when—”

  “No, I don’t hate you,” she says quickly. “I shouldn’t have said anything to you that day. It was my fault.”

  “Your fault? Because
your parents traumatized you? Who sends their kid to school that freaked out? I don’t blame you for being upset. I don’t even have a brother and I would’ve been a mess too.”

  Her eyes shimmer, and right when I’m about to apologize for bringing it up, her lips part. “And you were the only person to ask me what was wrong,” she says, like she’s dumbfounded.

  That comes as a surprise, and her eyes fill with the sadness I’ve seen in them before.

  Shit.

  Bethany blinks and clears her throat. “I don’t want to talk about it, though, okay?”

  I nod. “Yeah, sure.” It’s silent for a few seconds, and I scratch the back of my head, wondering why I had to open my stupid mouth. Now the silence isn’t just awkward, it’s charged with everything I want her to forget. “So, what have you been up to,” I finally ask. “I mean, I feel like it’s been a really long time since I’ve seen you around. You avoid me at school and this is the first time I’ve seen you off campus . . . ever.”

  “I don’t avoid you,” she starts, then rubs her hand over her jeans. “I’ve been busy with life . . . and school. What about you?” She smiles. “You’re a big baseball star, I hear. MVP last year, even.”

  Flattered, I tilt my head. “How’d you know that?”

  “I’m on your turf now. I hear a lot of things.”

  “Too much, probably,” I say, and I think of how crazy the past couple years have been, how different high school is than I’d expected. The games, the hangouts, the parties. I like to have fun, but high school is the rumor mill, and the stuff I hear, even about myself, is mystifying sometimes.

  “Maybe, but it sounds like you’re pretty popular.”