by S. Massery
“Is…”
“Eli?” Amelie finishes. She smirks. “Probably.”
Oh god. I’d been hoping to avoid him this summer like I’d successfully done all year. It’s amazing how little you see someone when you’re only in school for a few days out of the whole year.
“Maybe he won’t remember you,” Skylar suggests.
“I don’t think he would’ve forgotten,” Ian says under his breath.
I rub my mouth, thankful that I hadn’t gotten around to putting on that lipstick yet. “I’d prefer to not…”
“He’ll leave you alone,” Jake says. “Rumor has it, he has a girlfriend or something.”
My heart gives a painful thump.
A knee-jerk reaction. We literally had one moment together last summer, and here I am… thinking about him again. Isn’t that always the way of it? The assholes are the ones who have a way of worming inside us and staying there.
I settle back in my seat and listen to their chatter the rest of the ride. Things I missed, things I honestly couldn’t give a shit about. It strikes me that I should feel like I missed out on a bunch of things, but the most important thing was staying by Mom’s side. Because what if she did die? How would I have borne that?
So, no. I don’t regret missing so-and-so’s party and the fight and the awesome lacrosse games.
But I can’t exactly say that.
No one knows about the cancer. I gave half-hearted excuses when I was asked why I wasn’t in school, answers ranging from a sick relative to just flat out being unable to come in.
They wouldn’t understand.
“We’re here,” Ian announces.
We’ve been driving along a tree-lined road for a few miles, and he turns onto a gravel driveway. It goes through another grove of trees, and then the lake house appears. It’s surrounded by tall grass, set on a hill. Lights pour out of the windows, and music floats toward us. There are already a bunch of people spilled across the lawn. We park and hop out, and I take a second to swipe on the lipstick.
Skylar watches me, wearing a slight smile. “Take your hair down.”
“What?”
“Trust me, it’ll help. And…” She undoes the top button of my shirt, then pulls my hair tie out for me. She loops it around my wrist and fluffs my hair, flipping it forward over my shoulders. “Shake it out?”
I do, mimicking her movements, then raise my eyebrow.
“Perfect. They won’t be able to resist.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not trying to seduce anyone.”
“Well, speak for yourself. I just wanted you looking hot so guys would approach us. Then I’ll sucker them in with my personality.” She links her arm in mine and laughs.
“You want that?” I ignore the part where she called me hot, or else my face will get hotter than it already is.
She shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind a summer fling. Or even a boyfriend, you know?”
Amelie, Jake, and Ian have disappeared.
I draw Skylar to a stop. “Eli… is he really dating someone?”
“What happened between you two?”
I scowl. “Literally nothing. Well, just that seven minutes in heaven…”
“Ah.” She grins. “Got it.”
“No—”
“It’s fine. I got you.” She tows me to the house.
There’s no sign of Eli, and I release a slow breath. The tension fades the deeper in we get. It’s a beautiful inside, decorated like a true beach home—although it’s sort of hard to tell, packed with people.
Skylar gets us both cups of the jungle juice Jake mentioned, and I take a hesitant sip. The flavor of the vodka is still on my tongue, but this is surprisingly sweet.
And maybe a little dangerous.
“Cheers,” she murmurs, clanking her drink against mine.
There are shouts outside, and we follow the noise down a path through the dunes. It leads to the beach, where there are a lot more people. Shirtless boys and girls in bikini tops and tiny shorts. Some kick the water at each other. A few are already kissing in the shadows.
And the fire…
Pallets have been stacked in a ring of stones, and someone is crouched beside it, striking matches. Smoke trails up into the sky.
“They’re actually starting it the right way,” Skylar murmurs. “I’ve heard horror stories of bonfire parties where they go crazy squirting accelerant into the flames. Just don’t get too close if you see that stuff happening.”
I bite my lip. “The last thing I want to happen is catch on fire.”
“Exactly.”
The more I drink, the more I relax. And the next thing I know, Skylar and I are dancing in the sand next to the fire, our drinks held high above our heads.
Someone catches my waist and pulls me close, and I tumble into him. My head falls back, and my gaze finds Eli’s face.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“To dance with you.” His eyes are dark. Half his face is in shadows from the flames. “I’ve been watching you.”
I raise my arms. “Is that why I have goosebumps?”
He smirks.
“You said I was repulsive.” I have the urge to punch him. “I don’t understand you. After…”
“After the best kiss of my life?” He chuckles hoarsely. “It was just something to say. To stop focusing on you for a minute.”
I regard him carefully. “Did it work?”
“No.” He crosses his arms.
“Eli,” someone calls. “What are you doing?”
“Consorting with the enemy,” he yells back.
I scowl. “You have a mean streak.”
His nose almost brushes mine. It’d be easy to kiss him right now, because our lips are inches apart. But the way we’re glaring at each other, any kiss would dissolve fast.
“So do you,” he replies. “Lean into it.”
I straighten. It’s like he sees straight through me—and my desire to lash out. I’ve been controlling it for a while, but anger always seems to bubble under the surface. I think it stems from Mom’s cancer and an unshakable helplessness. “Yeah?”
He winks and steps back, into the shadows.
I go back to Skylar, grabbing her arm. Amelie and Jackie have joined her.
“Anyone need a refresher?” I ask.
Amelie squeals, locking her arms around my neck. “Let’s go!”
She drags me back toward the house. I take Skylar with me. My interactions with Amelie have been limited to a few parties and sleepovers, but I haven’t seen her this drunk. She can barely walk—thus hanging on to me—and her speech slurs.
We pass Ian in the living room. He’s swaying, too, his lips locked on some girl’s neck. They’re doing a bad impression of a slow dance.
I don’t think we’ll be making it back to Amelie’s house tonight.
Eli and his friends are in the kitchen, and I groan. “Do they just hang out in the kitchen at parties? What gives?”
Skylar forces a laugh. “No clue. Let’s just get in and out.”
That’s the plan—until Eli stops me.
Déjà vu.
“If you want to drink, you have to pay the toll.”
I raise my eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that.”
He smirks and takes the cup from me. “A kiss.”
Amelie claps. She does love a show.
I narrow my eyes at him. “No.”
Maybe I’m imagining the hush that falls over the room. Seriously, has anyone told this boy no before? Yes, he’s a fantastic kisser—I remember it vividly from last year—but I can’t say I want to do it in public.
He tries to hold me close, and all I can think of is what he told me to do: lean into my anger.
I slap him.
It’s quite a bit louder than I would’ve thought, and his head whips to the side. There’s a quick flash of amusement in his eyes, and then the deviousness takes over. He swipes Skylar’s cup from her hand and winks, then slowly dumps it over my head.
The cold liquid
pours over my hair and down my body, and I force myself not to make a noise. I glare daggers at him. On the inside, though, I feel…
That’s it. I feel.
A veil I didn’t know was there sweeps away, leaving me with all my emotions as raw as an exposed nerve.
His smirk is going to be the death of me.
And I’m going to be the death of him.
“You’re just asking to get slapped again,” I manage. My voice trembles—but not with fear, like it sounds. Anger. I carefully brush my wet hair out of my face. My shirt sticks to my skin. The liquid seeps down into my jeans.
“I gave you that one shot,” he says.
I lunge for him again, but he grabs my wrists and twists us, slamming my back into the wall. Someone else in the kitchen yells.
“Eli,” someone calls. “Jesus, man, let her go.”
I raise my eyebrows. Will he? Won’t he?
His grip isn’t even tight. He’s barely holding me, but he’s standing close enough to feel the heat pour off him. Chills sweep up and down my body. I wonder if there’s something else there: a promise yet fulfilled.
In the end, he does release me. One finger at a time unpeels from my skin, leaving me colder than I was before.
Amelie locks onto my wrist and drags me behind her. She shoves through the crowd, for the stairs. I barely register Skylar following behind us.
“He’s an asshole,” Amelie mutters, more to herself than us. “I knew he would try and do this. How selfish can he be?”
I glance at Skylar, who shrugs.
“Why?” I ask Amelie.
“Something fundamentally wrong with his brain, I imagine.
“Jackie won’t mind,” Amelie says to me once we’re in a bedroom. She crosses to the closet and tosses out clothes. “You’re a similar size.”
“Um…” Jackie is three inches taller than me. She’s thinner than I am, too. I imagine I’ll look like a stuffed sausage in her clothes.
Amelie tosses me something. A black crew neck sweatshirt with Emery-Rose Elite and the logo in silver on the breast. I almost laugh, because it’s something I would’ve liked to wear at the beginning of the night.
“Jeans,” Amelie says, digging into Jackie’s bottom drawer. “Aha. These might fit weird, but I think we can roll the hem up. Your shoes are okay?”
“They avoided the splash.” I take the pants from her. “Thank you.”
I rinse out my hair and change, rolling the bottom of the pants and pushing up the sleeves of the sweatshirt. It’s tight across my chest and baggy everywhere else.
Figures.
I need to get back in shape for running. Over the last year, my body began to change, and my exercise regime didn’t keep up.
My hair still smells sweet, but it isn’t sticky anymore.
Some people pat my back when we get downstairs. They whoop and cheer. I force a smile while simultaneously scanning the rooms for Eli and his friends. There’s no sign of them, and someone mentions Jackie asked them to leave.
My body doesn’t get the memo, and my muscles stay tight.
Two drinks later, I’m still wound up.
The party, though, is slipping away into the night.
We all sit on the couches in the front living room, playing a drinking game involving cards and doing ridiculous things. Amelie sits beside me, a fact that registers dimly with warm satisfaction.
My head buzzes like it’s full of bees.
A few more people leave, and then it’s just six of us: Jackie, Amelie, Ian and Jake, Skylar… and me.
Jake passed out a while ago, curled in an armchair facing away from us. Ian and Jackie disappear upstairs, and Amelie murmurs something about the spare bedroom and follows them up.
Skylar and I look at each other.
“Good thing there are two couches,” she slurs. “We don’t have to fight for it.”
I giggle. “Or share. There’s nothing worse than someone’s feet in your face when you’re trying to sleep.”
She nods. “I think there are blankets around here somewhere.”
I’m boneless, but I tip my head back and watch her go to the closet in the hallway, rummage through it, and return with three blankets. She tosses one to me, keeps one, and then goes to Jake. He doesn’t stir as she lays it over him.
“That was nice,” I say.
Her gaze stays on him. “I have my moments.”
She flips off the light and flops onto the couch parallel to mine.
“A good way to start the summer,” I murmur.
“Even if you got jungle juice dumped over your head?”
He didn’t mean it.
I almost let those words leave my mouth. Instead, I roll onto my back. The moonlight comes in through the back windows and sliding glass door, so it’s easy to see the shadows in the room.
“Inconsequential,” I find myself saying.
She hums. “Well, you have all summer to avoid him.”
“True.”
She lets out a sigh, and I close my eyes. Immediately, I feel like I’m moving. I throw my arm over my face. Being drunk is new—not that I think I’m that far gone that I’d puke or anything, but the sensation is… interesting.
Not in the best way.
I concentrate on Jake’s steady breathing and Skylar’s rustling, and drift asleep.
A hand over my mouth brings me back to consciousness.
I jerk back, but the pressure is constant. It takes me too long to register the face inches from mine.
Eli.
I could ask what he’s doing here, but I think that would give in to him in some way.
I’m not about that. I narrow my gaze, watching his eyes.
He isn’t scowling like my last image of him in the kitchen. His eyes are… pleading. Unexpected, but not unwanted. He’s searching for something in my eyes, and I can’t tell if he’s able to find it or not.
Instead, he slowly loosens his grip, and his hand slides down my jaw, around to the back of my neck.
There’s something forbidden about this whole thing.
I push myself up onto my elbow, bringing myself closer to him.
“Do it,” I whisper.
He kisses me softly. His lips barely touch mine at first, just the barest of brushes. It’s familiar, but this hesitancy is new.
And why should I want to kiss him, anyway? He was mean.
I was mean back.
His teeth nip my lower lip, tugging and releasing, and I gasp at the shock of it. I bring my own arm up, winding around his neck to pull him closer.
There’s a hesitancy between us, too. I naïvely think it’ll go away, but the feeling lingers the longer my lips are on his. We’re figuring out too much without speaking—our emotions, this little fragile thing between us.
I withdraw first, meeting his gaze.
“A bully in public and my friend in private?” I ask in a low voice.
He raises his eyebrow. “Friend? Would you kiss a friend like this?”
I shudder. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Let’s make a pact,” he suggests. “Any length we go to make each other feel something in public… it doesn’t matter when we’re alone. That can all just fuck off, and we can be… us.”
On some level, I understand that he needs this as much as I do. That sometimes we get so encased in fog, only sharp anger can pierce through it.
Eli is the knife that will cut me free.
I nod once, then lean forward and seal it with a kiss. I’ll figure out what he needs freeing from eventually. I’ll discover his deep, dark secrets. But right now, there’s one thing I focus on: the meaning behind his words.
A promise to ruin each other.
And a threat to put each other back together.
14
Eli
Riley doesn’t talk much on the drive. She stares straight ahead, and her fingers pick at the hem of her shirt. I could say something to comfort her, but I’m enjoying the building awkwardness between us.
It never existed before.
Before, we fit like two freaking perfect puzzle pieces. When do you ever find someone that you’d rather not change a single damn thing about?
Never, that’s when.
But now, she has new edges that I’m still getting accustomed to, and I don’t know if we align.
It’s funny; I once caught Caleb muttering about Margo and him fitting. I didn’t really understand it until I examined my relationship with Riley.
The farther from Rose Hill we get, the tenser my companion grows. I’m just waiting until there’s enough pressure in the car to make her explode—and to tell me what the hell was going on.
And to especially tell me who kissed her hand.
It’s better that she doesn’t. How would my father react if I chopped some asshole’s lips off?
Probably negatively.
I take an abrupt turn onto an exit, surprising her. It’s impossible to miss her tiny gasp, the way she sucks her lower lip between her teeth. Now she leans forward, squinting.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
Even though she knows.
I keep silent.
“Eli.” She twists toward me. “Eli.”
I glance at her. She’s pretty when she’s pissed. Her eyes catch on fire, I swear. It’s part of the reason our little act worked so well in public. While we tormented each other, I always made it up to her.
The twenty-four-seven diner glows from the back of a huge parking lot. It’s barely bigger than a trailer, but it boasts the best chocolate chip banana pancakes. We came here a few too many times…
“Stop,” she says, gripping the handle on the door. “We can’t go in there.”
“Are you chicken?”
She tilts her head. “Maybe I just don’t want to relive everything.”
Maybe I do.
I park and hop out, taking the keys with me. “You can sit there in the cold or come in and have something to eat. Your choice.”
I slam the door and start toward the entrance. My breath catches in my throat when I don’t hear anything behind me, but then her door creaks open.
My chest loosens.
Every move around her has to be strategic, or else I’ll end up in the same position I was in a year ago. I’ll be a sad sap following his girl, unaware of the shitstorm she’s bringing.