“What do you propose?” she asked. It was such an innocuous question that it caught me off guard.
I hadn’t thought about the how. I had no plan. Nothing. I swept the room with my eyes, hoping something would leap out at me, that I’d have a sudden moment of inspiration. DJ Leo was still spinning; people were still dancing, drinking. And then I saw Eli Fucking Horowitz in the courtyard, watching us. If I didn’t come up with something quickly, it would only be a matter of time before he swooped in and did what I was unable to.
“Beer pong,” I said.
“Beer pong?” Cassie looked confused. “Are you trying to get me drunker?”
“That’s just the added bonus. We’ll play for answers. Sort of like truth or dare without the dares. Plus, there’s beer. And Ping-Pong.” I gave Cassie a chance to absorb my proposal and then said, “Unless you’re chicken.”
Cassie grinned with the same manic energy she’d greeted me at the door with. “I hope you don’t play beer pong like you play mini-golf.” Before it registered that she’d accepted my challenge, she was off.
“I do,” I said, and ran to catch up.
Reality Bites
Of course Eli and Cassie were back together. I should have known that he was going to show up and sweep Cassie off her feet and that I didn’t have a chance in hell. I never had a chance, not really. Especially with Eli in the picture. I was a wholly straight guy, 100 percent attracted to girls with their perfect, God-given girl parts, but if Eli had shown up at the party and asked me to take him back, I’d probably have said yes. He was that good-looking. And that smart. And that nice.
And I was just Simon Cross. A delusional dweeb who didn’t deserve a girl like Cassie.
When I realized that I’d been spying on Cassie and Eli for long enough that any rational person would consider it creepy, I trudged back to the kitchen and grabbed the first drink I found, not caring who it belonged to or what it was. I tipped back the bottle; empty. All Cassie and Eli were doing was talking, but I knew what came after that. He’d apologize for whatever he’d done, she’d make him beg, he’d beg, she’d take him back, and before the stroke of midnight they’d be up in her room—the rest of the thought was simply too much for me to bear. I could not, would not, think about what came next. I wanted to drink, to be drunk. I wanted to wake up in a puddle of my own puke, the entire night nothing more than a bad, blurry memory.
“Trade you a beer for a smile,” Aja Bourne said, sliding into view, holding out a full red cup. Aja’s smile I got for free. Her teeth gleamed against the backdrop of her lush lips and black hair. She was the last person I wanted to see, and yet I was glad she was there.
“Aja.” I reached out to take the beer but she pulled it back.
“Smile first.”
“I’m not in the mood for games,” I said. “Give me the beer or leave me the fuck alone.” Most girls would have told me off for speaking to them like that, but Aja had grown up with four brothers and was more man than Ben, Coop, and me combined.
Aja seemed to consider it and then handed me the cup. “Who pissed in your cornflakes, Smoochie?”
I took a cautious first sip—a little because it was warm and a little because I didn’t trust Aja not to roofie me—but then gulped the rest. At that point in the night, even roofies would have been an improvement. “Don’t call me Smoochie.”
“Princess Teeny Bladder?”
“Thanks for the beer.” I turned to leave but Aja sighed through her nose, a thoroughly irritating sound that made me hate having ears.
“Simon, wait.”
“Don’t waste your breath, Aja. I’m not drunk or desperate enough to hook up with you right now.” I forced a wry smile and held up my empty cup. “Try me again after a couple more of these.”
Aja was not amused. I’d spent enough time with her to be able to interpret the subtle gestures that indicated her mercurial moods, but even if I hadn’t, I’d have been able to comprehend the meaning of the one-finger salute she shoved in my face. “For your information, I’m here with someone.”
If she was trying to make me jealous, it had worked. Not that I was jealous in the sense that I wanted to be with Aja. Listen, somewhere out there was someone who was absolutely perfect for Aja Bourne. I wasn’t him. She knew it, I knew it, everyone knew it. But the idea that Aja could find someone and I couldn’t was too much for my pickled brain to absorb.
“Good for you,” I said. “I hope he isn’t charging you by the hour.”
Aja laughed mockingly. “She isn’t a prostitute. Not all of us have to resort to paying a girl to get her to take off her clothes.”
“Am I supposed to be shocked?” I asked. For the record, I wasn’t. Intrigued, maybe. Curious if the girl was someone I knew. But definitely not shocked.
“Not everything is about you,” Aja said. The lines around her mouth deepened, and her eyes got paradoxically narrower and wider. But then her anger faded, replaced by a softness that I could only describe as pity. It wasn’t a natural expression for her. “You may be the hero in the story of your life, Simon Cross, but in everyone else’s you’re just a pathetic secondary character who never achieves enough depth for the reader to care about.”
I stood momentarily stunned into silence. Getting another beer forgotten, the party forgotten, Eli and Cassie forgotten. Partly because Aja’s astute observation had cut me to the bone, and partly because it had come from Aja, a girl I’d never describe as having an abundance of insight. Aja was a lot of things—tough, brave, sarcastic, a great kisser—but this was a side of her I’d never seen. Maybe if I had, things would have been different.
“Who are you and what have you done with Aja Bourne?”
I was serious but it made Aja laugh. She had a laugh similar to a pig squeal, and it thawed the deep freeze that had formed between us. I even managed to squeeze out a genuine smile of my own.
“So, who’s the girl?” I asked. I was still jealous of the fact that both Stella and Aja had managed to find someone while my night was little more than a collection of disasters strung together by a weak thread of hope that Cassie could actually have feelings for me. But everyone deserved happiness, even the girl who had called my house after I’d broken up with her and told my parents that I’d given her crabs, which wasn’t true by the way.
Aja craned her neck to look over the crowd. She pointed across the family room to the patio, where I’d seen some kids from the drama club earlier. “Sia Marcus.”
“Sia? The type A with the diva complex who believes that the entire world is a cast of extras in an epic play starring her?”
Aja nodded sheepishly. “I know, I know.”
“Wow. And how is that working out for you?”
She shrugged. “We’ve only hung out a couple of times. We’re not actually dating or anything. I don’t know. But she’s not as uptight as people think.” A genuine note crept into her voice as she talked about Sia. The hard edges were blunted.
“You really dig her,” I said. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a guess. It was a plain statement of fact that was practically written in the air around her like an aura.
Aja glanced toward the patio again. “Maybe. It’s complicated. I’ve never been with a girl before.” She smirked. “But then again, neither have you, so you’re my least likely candidate for advice.”
I clapped my hand to my chest. “Ouch. You wound me with your sad-but-true words.”
“Dork.”
Our conversation had reached a crossroads and I wasn’t sure which path to take. It was the first time in months that we’d talked for more than ten minutes without ending up fighting or making out. It was refreshing, actually. Also weird.
“So, I heard a rumor you got beat up by Natalie Grayson,” Aja said, taking the lead as usual.
“From who?”
“Everyone. I heard that you tried to cop a feel from her at Gobbler’s and she clobbered you.”
I wasn’t surprised. Once a story gets out into the o
pen, it has a way of mutating, taking on a life of its own that can’t be stopped. Sort of like a hydra. Cut off the head and it grows three new ones.
“It didn’t happen like that,” I said. I told Aja the fast version, aware that not even facts could stymie the spread of a juicy rumor.
“That’s almost worse,” Aja said when I’d finished. “You kind of deserved it.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“But I’m glad you’re trying to move on. I figured that with Cassie and Eli on the outs you’d go public with your twisted obsession.”
I dropped my chin and looked at the ground. The kitchen was starting to feel claustrophobic. The whole house was. The heat from so many bodies was taxing the AC and turning la casa de Castillo into a sauna.
“You’re not moving on, are you?” she said. I shook my head. “Oh, Simon.”
“Can we not talk about this?” I asked. Cassie had always been a point of contention between Aja and me, and I wanted to get out of this conversation without it turning into a brawl.
Aja nodded. “I should go. Sia’s plotting something on the patio. She won’t tell me what it is, but she says it’s going to blow our minds.”
I pointed down the hall. “I have to pee anyway. They don’t call me Princess Teeny Bladder for nothing.”
“Later, Simon.” Aja moved first, heading in the direction of the patio. She got as far as the family room before pushing her way back to me. Quickly, so quickly that after, I wasn’t sure it had actually happened, Aja kissed my cheek and whispered, “You’re better than Cassie.”
I’d been lying when I told Aja I needed to use the bathroom, but less than a minute after she left, I had to go so badly that only my pride was keeping me from doing the potty dance. There was a bathroom off the hallway, and the line was ten deep. I took my place at the end, behind a couple of girls who looked at me before whispering to each other and laughing, not bothering to hide the fact that I was the butt of their joke. Obviously, that Natalie rumor was spreading like mono. Whatever. It was not the first or worst rumor that had ever made the rounds about yours truly. I got my phone out and was surprised to see I’d missed a text. I didn’t recognize the number but it read: “I’d call heaven and tell them they lost an angel, but I’m kind of hoping you’re a slut.”
I laughed and typed a reply.
ME: STELLA?
STELLA: WHERE ARE YOU?
ME: HOW’D YOU GET MY NUMBER?
STELLA: I STOLE YOUR PHONE IN THE KITCHEN.
ME: WEIRDO. HOW’S EWAN?
STELLA: CHATTY. HOW’S CASSIE?
ME: I’M IN LINE FOR THE BATHROOM.
I avoided her question because if she was having fun with Ewan, I didn’t want to be Debbie Downer. But within ten seconds of my last text, Stella was standing beside me, wearing a slick grin.
“Where’s Falcor?”
Stella looked around and then motioned toward the front of the house. “I loaned him to one of Ewan’s tragically unhip friends to help him pick up girls. He’s the worst. That pickup line I texted you? His second best.”
“What’s his first?”
“Hold on.” Stella shook out her limbs and then leaned against the wall doing what I assumed was her best impression of the sleazy guy. “I may not be the hottest guy at this party, but I’m the only one talking to you.”
“Wow,” I said. “Do you think that ever works?”
“Only on girls of the inflatable variety.”
“I need to find me one of those girls.” The line was moving slowly and my bladder was on fire. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to hold it.
Stella rolled her eyes. “I haven’t forgotten about our barter.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I said. “Forget it.”
“No way,” Stella said. “Nashes don’t welsh.”
“It’s not welshing if I release you from the terms of our arrangement.” I waved my hands in the air dramatically and said, “You are released.” Since I already knew there was no way I was going to get Cassie now that Eli was back in the game, I tried to change the subject by asking about Ewan.
Stella made some faces as she formulated her answer. “He’s funny,” she said. “But he knows he’s funny so he’s not actually that funny. Know what I mean?”
I shook my head. “Not really. Did you kiss him?”
“No, but I let him kiss Falcor. Anyone who wants these lips has got to pass the Falcor test first.”
The thought of Ewan swapping spit with Stella’s dog made me laugh. But I was sobered by the image that followed, the one of Ewan kissing Stella. I felt like some kind of overprotective older brother. Which was stupid since I’d practically forced Stella and Ewan together. I just had to accept the fact that Stella and Ewan were going to get lip-locked while the only tongue action I was likely to be involved in was with a box of Double Stuf Oreos.
“I have an idea about Cassie,” Stella said. She was looking impatient with me because I’d zoned out.
“I told you to forget it.” But Stella made it clear without saying a single word that she wasn’t the kind of girl who forgot things. So I said, “Her ex-boyfriend is here.” I pointed to the window overlooking the courtyard. I couldn’t see if Eli and Cassie were still there or not, and I didn’t care. In my mind, he’d already won.
Stella didn’t know Eli, though, so she didn’t know enough to let his presence deter her from her goal. “So?”
“So, he’s Eli Fucking Horowitz. I haven’t got a chance against him.”
Stella jumped from the line and peeked out the window. She actually had the nerve to wave at them. I bowed my head in shame while simultaneously wondering what Cassie’s reaction had been. When Stella returned, she said, “I see your dilemma. He’s hot. I’d kiss him any day.”
“I’m out,” I said. Not only did I not want to stand in line and listen to Stella wax poetic about Eli’s hotness, but I honestly thought I’d piss my pants if I didn’t get into the bathroom soon, and there were still six people in front of me. I pushed through the party, ignoring Stella’s appeals to come back, making my way out to the patio and around the side of the house where I found a quiet row of bushes in which to relieve myself.
When I’d finished and zipped up, feeling a million times better, I turned around and nearly bowled Stella over.
“Jesus Christ! I’m a little busy here.”
“Which is why I didn’t disturb you.” Stella didn’t look the least bit embarrassed, which was fine since I was embarrassed enough for the both of us.
I was angry and annoyed. Not at Stella but at everything that had happened. At myself for not being able to get over one stupid girl.
“Listen, I’m just going to leave.”
Stella met my irritation with a bright smile. She was exactly like Falcor; nothing fazed her. “I’ll drive you.”
“No,” I said. “Go hang out with Ewan. He really is a cool guy.” I tried to push past her but Stella wouldn’t budge. “Move.”
“Make me, tough guy.” Stella was so tiny that I could have pushed her aside and retreated to my house to spend the rest of the night replaying every mistake I’d made. But she had been nothing but nice to me all night, and she deserved better.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “What?”
Stella stood there for a full beat before she said, “Are we done having our hissy fit now?”
“You don’t understand,” I said. “I was going to tell her. I was going to walk up to Cassie and tell her that I love her. No games, no gimmicks, definitely no singing. Maybe it would have even worked. But now that Eli’s got his hooks in her, I haven’t got a chance.”
“If you always quit when something gets in your way, it’s no wonder you’ve never kissed her.”
If Ben or Coop or even Aja had said something like that to me, I would have flipped out on them. But with Stella, there were no judgments. She was simply stating what she saw. The truth. Which was that I did give up. I always gave up.
“I do
n’t know what to do.”
Stella made a square with the pointer and thumbs of both hands, and looked at me through it the same way a photographer looks through the lens of a camera. I didn’t know what she saw but she did that for almost a whole minute, which felt like an hour.
“I think I have a plan,” she said. “But you have to trust me, and you have to do everything I tell you.”
It could have been the night or the beer I’d had. Or maybe it was the stars weaving fate around me and laying it across my shoulders like a quilt on a cold night. Honestly, though, it was probably Stella. How she was like no girl I’d ever met. How she didn’t seem to recognize limitations or acknowledge that hopelessness in the face of overwhelming odds even existed. I did trust her even though I barely knew her. Because sometimes when you meet someone, someone special, you recognize them. Like some part of you knows them from another time or another place.
That’s why I agreed to Stella’s plan before she’d even laid out a single detail. With Stella at the lead, I would have agreed to anything.
Especially if there was even the smallest chance that her plan might succeed and that I might finally kiss Cassie.
Living the Dream
Challenging Cassie to a game of beer pong was probably the stupidest thing I’d done in a night littered with the corpses of stupid things I’d done. And not a simple game of beer pong, either—a beer pong hybrid involving questions and answers. Cassie outlined the rules while some friends of hers got the table ready, but I wasn’t paying attention because I was too busy trying not to spontaneously combust from fear.
For a brief moment after I’d laid down the challenge, it had, in fact, seemed like a good idea. Cassie believed I didn’t know the real her. Ben believed the same thing. And despite the fact that collecting information about Cassie had been my unofficial hobby through most of high school, I’d also begun to believe that I didn’t actually know the girl I was madly, deeply, dangerously in love with. The real Cassie. The one who’d chucked Eli out on his ass and jumped on a bed with me and thrown what might go down as the best party anyone in our class had ever thrown—though to be honest, the bar was pretty low.
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