by Siera Maley
I’d just started up the stairs and the sound of the music was finally fading away when I heard footsteps behind me. A hand caught my elbow and I turned to see Cole standing just below me. “Hey,” he greeted me.
“What?” I asked him shortly. I wanted to cool myself down with some water from the sink, and then to get a good look at Chelsea’s room before anyone missed me.
“You and Chelsea are a thing, right?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I answered reflexively, and then realized that was sort of true. I didn’t know what we were. She liked me, or wanted to hook up with me. Fake Zoey liked her. I knew that, at least.
“Well, you should reconsider it, you know. I mean, think about not doing it.” He was slurring his words a little, but not enough that I dismissed him as too drunk to know what he was saying.
I studied him, curious. “Why not?”
“She brings lots of girls around.”
“You don’t hang out with her,” I accused, and then wondered why I was even arguing with him.
“Yeah, but I used to. And I see her around and stuff. With different girls. Not at the same time or anything, but, you know…a lot of girls.”
“Marie said Leon’s worse,” I pointed out, and he laughed.
“Hell, maybe he is, ‘cause he’s pretty bad. Don’t know how he does it. But that’s also what Marie would say anyway, wouldn’t she?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Why would you tell me any of this?”
He shrugged. “I don’t really like Chelsea.”
“Why not?”
“She introduced Gina and Marie. And she’s a bitch to me.”
I stared at him. “Alright. Well, you should probably move on. Just some counter-advice.”
He scowled. “Fuck off.”
“Okay.” I turned and continued up the stairs, and he didn’t stop me. I found the bathroom and filled my cupped hands with water, then pressed them to my cheeks. The shock of the cold water sobered me up a little.
I dabbed at my face with a towel, made sure my makeup was un-smudged, and then peered outside to listen for anyone coming upstairs. When I didn’t hear anything, I made my way to Chelsea’s room.
Against the far wall was the bed I’d seen earlier, which was where I left my purse while I looked around. The bed had a yellow comforter that matched the walls; the whole room seemed brighter than I’d expected it to. This wasn’t the room of some mysterious, seductive, player. It just looked like a regular teenage girl’s room. That was surprising, for some reason; as though her room was supposed to scream “I use girls and then toss them aside like garbage because I’m evil.”
Across from her bed was a dresser that was wider than it was tall. On top of it were several framed pictures: one of her with her mom and dad, one with her and Gina, and then another with her, Gina, and Marie. I guessed from those that she’d been friends with Gina first. There was also a small jewelry box. I realized I’d forgotten to check her ears tonight, and just for curiosity’s sake opened the jewelry box to peer inside. No earrings.
I enjoyed that small triumph over Skylar for a moment before I moved elsewhere. She had a desk in one corner that had several textbooks and a laptop on it. I didn’t touch the laptop; it’d be password protected, and anyway, this wasn’t that kind of snooping. I wasn’t here to find anything she was trying to hide in the depths of her bedroom. I just wanted to know more about her.
The top textbook was a Calc II textbook. She was a year ahead of me in math somehow. Then there was a Psychology textbook, which made sense given her interest in the subject, and then an English textbook I recognized from Skylar’s AP Lit class. What her friends had said was right; Chelsea was very smart.
I steeled myself for a second, eyeing the desk drawers, and then finally gave in and opened just the top one, allowing myself this one quick invasion of privacy. And inside I found a thick book filled with sheets of rare coins. Elated, I flipped through the pages, wondering if my Singapore coin was already there, but I quickly realized that there were way too many for me to look through in such a short time.
And just as I thought about not having much time, I heard footsteps coming up the basement steps and knew that it was probably Chelsea. I heard her check the bathroom first, and after I’d replaced the book of coins and closed the drawer, I hastily called out, “In here!” so that she didn’t think I was trying to be secretive about being in her room.
Chelsea seemed a little surprised to see me in here when she arrived in the doorway. “Hey. I was wondering where you were.”
“Just needed a break from…all that,” I said, gesturing in the direction of the faint music.
She sighed and came closer. “Ugh, I know, right? Gina’s a little crazy when she’s been drinking. As you’ve heard. I think it rubs off on Marie. They’ve got it turned up even louder down there now.”
“Have they started making out on the couch, yet?” I joked, and realized my mistake when Chelsea shot me a bemused look.
“You saw that?”
“Hmm?” I asked, pretending to be confused to stall for time. My mind was racing to come up with an answer to the question I already knew I was going to be asked.
“At the party. You saw them? Why didn’t you mention it?”
“Oh. Well, I didn’t realize it was them until tonight, when I recognized them.”
“But you saw me come get them,” she said, looking even more confused.
“Yeah, but I didn’t recognize you.”
“So then once you knew who I was you didn’t connect the dots that they were ones on the couch? Or did you?” She was smiling now, like she didn’t really care. It wasn’t important, but I didn’t like that she’d caught me hiding something from her in a situation where one slip could ruin everything.
“I think I should probably drink less at parties,” I declared, and it worked. She laughed and came to stand beside me at her desk, then looked down at the textbooks in front of me.
“Find anything interesting?” she joked.
“You’re really smart,” I said, gesturing toward the books. “I’m surprised I didn’t know that.”
“I just work hard.”
“And go to parties on weekends?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
She smiled. “How else am I supposed to blow off steam?”
“I can think of other ways,” my mouth said before my brain could catch up, and Chelsea seemed to have to take a moment to process it, which gave me time to move away from her and grab at my purse. I changed the subject quickly, before she could address what I’d just said. “I got you a present. But I was hoping you could open it without anyone around. In case you hate it.”
She laughed and asked, “You got me something? You really didn’t have to.” Then she joined me by the bed and added, “I think it’s sweet that you did, though. I’m sure I’ll like it.”
Fumbling a little, I finally found the box and then pulled it out and faced her. She looked surprised when she saw it.
“I just had to put it in something,” I clarified. “It’s not, like, a ring or anything.” My face was hot, and I knew I was blushing, but Chelsea seemed to find it endearing. She opened the box like she expected something cute and small that I’d grabbed last minute.
When she saw what was actually inside, her face changed. She stared down at it, lips parted in surprise, and then glanced back up at me with wide eyes. “Oh my god,” she said, in a way that I knew instinctively was good. “No way!”
“It’s just from Singapore,” I prefaced hastily. “And I didn’t buy it. I actually just found it hidden away in my closet.” I wasn’t sure why I was downplaying it so much. “I just thought you’d appreciate it more than me, because I knew you used to collect stuff like this.”
“I can’t believe you remembered that about me,” she marveled. She closed the box and set it aside on her bed gently, and then turned back to me.
“Well, you told me,” I replied. I didn’t know what else to say
.
“Yeah, but I didn’t think you—” she began, and then paused before she started again, more quietly this time. “I’m just a little surprised.”
“I always liked you,” I told her honestly, sensing what she’d almost said. “I mean, you weren’t nobody. You were nice. I paid attention and cared…and didn’t forget you or anything.” The mood seemed heavier, somehow, so I fanned my face overdramatically and added, “Plus, there’s no way I could ever forget that kiss.”
She smiled and gave me a playful, knowing look. “Don’t lie; it was a great first kiss.”
“Yeah.” I didn’t know what else to say. I thought about how I’d clutched hard at her hips in that basement closet, my eyes squeezed shut as I’d struggled for breath. I remembered how she’d slid her hands through my hair and gently tugged me closer to kiss me again.
She pulled me back into the present. “Thank you for this. Really. It means a lot that you remembered.”
“Yeah, well…” I struggled for what to say next. “I’m just happy I got you something you liked. Thanks for inviting me.” I smiled at her. “I’m glad we’re becoming friends. It feels like this should’ve happened back in middle school and then I went and freaked out and ruined it.”
She shook her head. “You didn’t ruin anything. We’re here now, right?” I nodded shortly, aware that she was moving closer. She bit her lip, holding back a smile, and added, slowly, “But…I don’t want you to be my friend. I think you know that.”
I ignored how difficult to swallow it had suddenly become, determined not to lose my cool and ruin the plan for tonight. “Me either,” I told her.
She beamed at me, visibly relieved. “If you’d told me at my thirteenth birthday that we’d be here five years later…”
Relaxing, I grinned back and finished for her, “Thirteen-year-old you would totally be freaking out over a coin from Singapore?”
She moved closer and touched my wrist, not smiling anymore. I knew she was waiting to see if I’d move away, and when I didn’t—just dropped my own smile and stared back at her—she moved even closer, until we couldn’t have been an inch apart, and then the hand on my arm moved to my hip, and I could feel her putting the lightest pressure there, enough that I could resist it if I wanted to. I didn’t.
My heart quickened in my chest and my mind raced at breakneck speed. The plan had been to kiss her. My body wanted to kiss her. Fake Zoey would’ve been happy to do it. But Real Zoey was thinking of the conversation with Cole and wondering if all of this was really worth it. What if I really liked her? Or worse: What if she really liked me?
It was too late, anyway. She was so close that our noses were touching.
And then she paused, and I didn’t even remember what I’d said last until she murmured, “I think she’d freak out about this a little more.”
It took me out of my head, and I had a brief sort of twisted appreciation for the smoothness of the line. It sounded like something someone with confidence and experience would say to sound cool to someone who didn’t know what they were doing.
Then I remembered the game. I remembered how I’d spent most of the past couple weeks convincing myself she knew what she was doing. She had me nervous and blushing and dancing away from her when she got too close, acting like someone who’d never kissed anyone before when in actuality I was far from innocent. She was winning. And she was playing way too well to not know that a game existed between us.
She moved again and came so close our lips had to be millimeters from touching, and then I reached up and gently placed a hand on her cheek, stopping her in place with light pressure from my thumb. I knew she could hear the smile in my tone when I said, “Maybe when your breath doesn’t smell like beer.” Then I pulled back, out of her arms, and spared her a quick smirk as I reached around her to grab my purse.
She stared back a little, lips parted and eyebrows raised, but then she was smiling, too, like I’d both surprised and pleased her somehow.
“Fine,” she said. “I can wait.” It sounded like a playful warning.
“I’m sure you can,” I wanted to say, but instead I didn’t speak at all, and departed from her bedroom with a quick wink at her and a smile.
It wasn’t until I was descending the stairs to the basement that I let the smile drop, and clutched my purse tightly with a scowl, thinking of Skylar in that same bedroom with Chelsea’s lips just inches from hers, falling for whatever line Chelsea had fed her. I had no doubt anymore that my hunch had been right. Chelsea was evil.
You fucked with my best friend, I thought to myself. And you deserve everything that I’m gonna do to you.
6
When I turned my phone back on, I had six unread texts from Skylar. After three messages, she’d realized I wasn’t going to be replying, and then there were another two complaining about that. The last one said, “Fine. Just call me when you’re done.”
Once I got home and finished talking to my parents, I texted Skylar and told her I’d fill her in on everything later in person, after my parents went to bed. That took about another half-hour. Once I relayed that the party had been great, that we’d all just hung out in Chelsea’s basement and played video games, and that yes, there’d been cake, they seemed satisfied.
“I’m coming over,” I sent, and then snuck out as quietly as I could, my mind still spinning from the party itself. I’d spent the rest of my time at Chelsea’s house making small talk with her friends and hoping that no one could tell I was fuming inside. Then I hugged most of them goodbye, and Chelsea had privately seen me off from her front porch. I kissed her goodbye on the cheek and she liked that.
When I reached Skylar’s house, she opened the front door with a finger pressed to her lips, and I slipped inside and followed her to her room. As soon as we were safely inside and the door was closed, she rounded on me expectantly and said, “Okay. Tell me everything.”
And I did—apart from the swapped gifts.
I detailed everything from my arrival to meeting her group of friends, at which point she told me she’d only ever met Gina and Marie. I told her about my idea to play Paranoia, but I said that I’d come up with the idea to figure out if Chelsea’s friends knew what she was really like, because I didn’t want Skylar to know that my plan had diverged from hers. It didn’t matter anymore, anyway. We were back on the same page, and I had a way to improve Skylar’s plan.
Then I told her about Cole warning me away (“Fuck yes. I need to meet this guy and shake his hand,” she said), and about the time in her room.
“I found some of her school textbooks,” I said there. “Why didn’t you tell me how smart she was? She’s a year ahead of us in Calculus and she takes AP classes.”
Skylar shot me a strange look. “She never told me that.”
She was sitting on her bed while I paced back and forth in front of her, and now I paused, staring back at her. “What did she tell you?”
“The stuff on the study guide,” answered Skylar. She spoke slowly, like I was dumb for not knowing this.
“Wait. Everything you know about her can fit on three pages?” I asked her, appalled. “After two months?”
“I told you,” she sighed out. “She didn’t ask me that many questions, like about my friends or anything, so I tried not to pry too much with her. We just…I don’t know. Had fun. That’s part of why I liked her. She was fun.” She frowned. “Until she wasn’t.”
A quick memory played back in my mind, then, of me and Alex at our Prom, arguing. “It was just fun,” I’d said. I wondered if Chelsea could’ve said the same thing to Skylar and meant it.
I moved on. “Well, she liked the bracelet a lot. Enough to try to kiss me.”
“To try?” Skylar had raised both eyebrows now. “So you didn’t…?”
“I was going to.” I could feel myself getting worked up now at the memory of what’d happened next. “But then she got…it was like…” I paused, huffing, trying to put what’d happened into words. “I don
’t know. It felt rehearsed. I didn’t like it. So I stopped her.”
Skylar placed her face in her hands and groaned. “Zoey! We agreed you were supposed to kiss her if you could! She’s supposed to think she has you.”
“She does think that,” I insisted. “But I want her to know that crap doesn’t work on me.” Skylar still looked upset, so I sat next to her on the bed and spoke gently to her. “Look. I had this image in my head, of you and her, and her doing that same Casanova routine with you and it working and you totally falling head over heels for this girl because you don’t know any better. And I didn’t want to kiss her when she was like that. I didn’t want to reward it.”
Skylar sighed and leaned into me, placing her head on my shoulder. “I guess that makes sense.”
“You’re gonna get what you want, I promise,” I told her. “We’re just gonna do it my way. Organically.”
She sat up and looked at me with confusion. “What does that mean?”
And, at last, I proposed my new plan: “I want her to fall for the real me. No games. I’ll be totally honest with her about who I am. She’s going to realize that she has to open up to make me like her. That’s how we make this work, because if I play along like every other girl then I won’t be anything special.”
“You don’t know if that’ll work,” Skylar pointed out. “If you just stick with what we’re already doing, and let her chase you—”
“Then she’ll dump me when I try to get her to commit,” I finished for her. “Like she did with you. Look, it’s a better idea than just hoping that doing all the same things with a little more charm will miraculously do the trick. Let me do this. I already know things about her that you didn’t. I’ve already gotten her to open up a little. I can make this work.”
“We only have a few more weeks,” Skylar pointed out.
“I can do it,” I promised.