“I brought it up once. She thought I was kidding. I was too embarrassed to correct her.” Sebastian traced the sectional stitching the same way he’d so often traced the top of the pickets. “She has this idea of who we are together. It’s a nice idea. It’s just hard to live up to sometimes. I don’t like disappointing her.” He shifted his attention from the furniture to the hem of his shorts, straightening the fabric where it cupped his knee. “When the subject of my writing came up again, it’d already become a joke so it was even harder to tell the truth.”
Edie nodded, pondering the notion of little white lies and their swiftness to snowball. Was her own already on its way downhill or was it still teetering at the summit, ready to roll in whatever direction she pushed it?
“And your parents?” she asked.
“I stopped trying to explain things to them years ago. They mean well. They just don’t understand why would anyone give up all this”—Sebastian spread his arms wide to take in the entire room—“for something most people think of as a hobby.”
“Most people?”
“Most people I know, anyway.”
Edie wanted to contradict him, but she remembered visiting her grandparents when she was little, and how critical they’d been about her mom’s music. Norah still hadn’t stopped rattling on about Frances’s lack of responsible choices: her love life, her finances, her career. Sebastian had probably faced something similar. Maybe Claire and Henry had, too, but they’d naturally gravitated to less artistic pursuits. Edie felt incredibly lucky. Sure, her mom had never earned enough money to buy a big house in the suburbs or a condo in New York City. Sometimes she had a hard time scraping together bus fare or rent, but she’d always followed her dreams, and encouraged Edie to do the same.
With a swell of sympathy, Edie walked over and sat down beside Sebastian. They were quite a pair, both pretending to be someone they weren’t, and to the people they were closest to. Sebastian might have some hidden career goals, but Edie was faking at least a dozen things that night. She had a date somewhere at the party. She was the sort of girl who felt comfortable in a string bikini. She’d be content to kiss a guy she barely knew rather than fall deeply in love with someone who took the time to know her and love her back, mistakes and all. She hadn’t taken a really close look at Sebastian’s knee while he was tugging at his shorts. She wasn’t desperate for a friend.
“My turn to apologize,” she said. “Sorry I ghosted you. Things have been . . . challenging lately. I took the coward’s way out and vanished. I’d like to do less of that. Maybe we can get together and chat about Villette sometime, like you suggested?”
Sebastian nodded as a smile dimpled his cheeks.
“I’d like that,” he said. “I’d like it a lot.”
Edie returned his smile, proud of herself for taking one step toward him instead of ten steps away. With a little practice, she could get used to this friendship idea. She could still talk with Sebastian about books, music, family, and school. The conversations just needed to end with a quick hug instead of a steamy make-out session.
“Friends?” Edie asked.
“Always.” Sebastian’s smile widened.
She nudged him with her elbow.
He returned her gesture, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
“I used to like this game,” he said. “Especially since I always won.”
“Yeah, because you cheated and used your hands.”
“Cheat? Me? Impossible!”
Before Edie knew what was happening, he scooched toward her and used his shoulder to knock her backwards onto the sectional. They toppled together into a tangle of arms and legs. Edie laughed as she wriggled out from under him, only to find him rolling over her again. It was all silly and chaotic, like they were kids again, shouting taunts and trying to overpower each other without using their hands, but when Edie felt her stomach rub against his, then her knees, her thighs, her chest, her everything, the game started to feel a lot less like two kids wrestling and a lot more like one of her dreams.
Her laughter trickled off. Her movement slowed. Her breath caught.
Oh, god. This wasn’t good. This was so not a kids’ game, not for her, anyway.
“So when do I get to meet your date?” Sebastian threw a leg over hers, rolling her onto her back with a swift shove of his hip.
Edie shimmied backwards, holding up her briefs with both hands.
“He, um, couldn’t make it. He had to”—work, study, fly to Paris, save the whales, fend off zombie hordes, exist—“he just couldn’t make it.”
“Let me guess.” Sebastian leaned over her, his hands locked behind his back, a knee between her thighs. “There was a thing in the thing?”
Edie went dead still. Did he know? Could he tell? Had he seen through all of her painfully thin evasions? Did he sense that every stuttered lie was just a clumsy way of saying kiss me, want me, love me back? In that moment, none of it seemed out of reach. He definitely wanted something. She definitely wanted something. Energy pulsed between them, almost electric, and the look in his eyes mirrored the way she felt: like she was standing on a precipice, staring out at a beautiful but dangerous chasm, dying to leap off and freefall into the unknown. Was she imagining that look? Did it matter? Did anything matter but the easily erasable space between them?
As his expression lost its mirth and his face inched closer, maybe by accident, maybe by intent, Edie flashed to a memory of James, leaning toward her in a car, his lips parted, his eyes closing. Another image followed: an almost-held hand that slipped its way into another’s. A third image came right on its heels: a napkin with the words Move on. She quickly blinked herself out of her spell. She was not doing this again, sitting by—or in this case lying by—craving the affection of someone who hadn’t chosen her.
Edie grabbed Sebastian by both arms and swung him off her.
“Hey, you cheated.” He rolled over on the sectional.
“Actually, this time I didn’t.” She shuffled her way to standing and adjusted her bikini, yanking her hair free where it’d tangled with the ties on the bra.
Sebastian clambered up and drew his rumpled shirt onto his shoulders.
Claire stood in the doorway, looking thoroughly pissed.
Chapter Seventeen
* * *
Drunk
adjective
A doctor of
A sound made when
The inability to finish a thought after you
Edie blinked at her phone, trying to make the little letters line up before she hit Post. The pool party was dwindling to an end. Only about two dozen people remained. Sebastian had smoothed things over with Claire, emphatically assuring her that he and Edie were just friends, a phrase that bit into Edie’s skin a little deeper each time he said it. If it was so true, he shouldn’t have to say it so often, even if Claire had a right to be suspicious. Edie’d supported Sebastian’s claims. What else could she do? There was no point making a muddle of things, not if he still preferred his girlfriend.
Now Edie was curled up in a chaise, cataloging the night’s failures and wondering why the Vernons’ house seemed so far away. As she tried to picture a zip line appearing and carrying her to her bedroom, Sebastian walked by with an armload of empty bottles. He dropped them into a recycle bin while Tom shut down the barbecue a few yards to Edie’s left.
“Our parents are going to kill us.” Sebastian assessed the damage from the party: garbage everywhere, towels and random pieces of clothing strewn about, toppled furniture, a busted patio umbrella, an inner tube in the trees, another on the roof.
“Lighten up, little brother.” Tom gave him a hearty clap on the back. “We’ll deal with it in the morning. Go have some fun.” He handed Sebastian what looked like either a condom packet or an unusually shiny piece of ravioli.
Sebastian tucked it into his shirt pocket while looking over at Edie, his expression apologetic. She tried to meet his gaze but she couldn’t focus, or maybe she didn’t wa
nt to. She closed her eyes, willing the world to steady itself. When she finally thought she could manage it, she swung her legs off the chaise and planted her feet on what appeared to be the ground. She wobbled as she stood, which was a strangely familiar sensation even though she was wearing her sneakers. Cinderella probably never drank. She also didn’t lie, lust after Prince Charming’s knee, wrestle half naked in front of his girlfriend, or do anything else that was bad. God, she was boring, except for that whole singing-to-mice thing. That was kinda cool.
Edie took a step forward. The action turned into something like a backbend. As she surrendered to gravity, a firm hand appeared out of nowhere and steadied her, spread flat against her back. Edie turned to see Henry standing next to her. His hair was wet, making it even blacker than usual. His damp, half-buttoned dress shirt clung to his sculpted chest and arms while his muscular legs extended from his little red shorts. He looked like a high-end cologne model, if Lucifer endorsed cologne.
“Where did you come from?” Edie slurred as he helped her sit down.
“Over there.” He nodded toward the cabana where the pretty girl he’d been flirting with earlier was yanking her sundress down and glaring at Edie.
Edie squinted at the girl, and then at Henry.
“Didn’t she have her legs wrapped around you a second ago?” she asked.
“You were watching?”
“You weren’t?”
He shrugged as his trademark smirk appeared.
“I had better things to look at.”
Edie tried to make sense of his implication but in her muddled state, his words slipped away almost instantly, leaving her blinking brainlessly in his general direction. Damn, he was pretty. Did she know that already or was it new information? Why did she hate him again? Something about her cousins?
“How many girls did you kiss tonight?” she asked.
Henry considered for a moment.
“Only two. Three if you count the woman who delivered the pizza, but we have a regular thing going.” His smile tipped higher. “Delivery in ten minutes or the next one’s on us.”
“Unbelievable.” Edie shook her head, a gesture she swiftly regretted. She wedged a cheek against her palm and clumsily propped her elbow on the arm of the chaise. “Know how many guys I kissed?” She rolled her fingers against her thumb to make an 0.
“I’d offer to change that but I’m not as much of a jackass as you think.”
“Are you just the jack or just the ass?”
Henry busted into a laugh.
“That’s not bad for someone in your condition.”
“My cognition?”
“Close enough.” He held out a hand. “C’mon. Let’s get you home.”
Ignoring his hand, Edie hauled herself off the chaise. She stood up too quickly. The yard spun. Her vision blurred. She swayed, stumbled, and fell backwards into the chaise, banging her head on the metal frame. As she righted herself, her stomach lurched.
“I think I’m going to . . .” She put a hand over her mouth and bent forward.
With lightning-fast reflexes, Henry grabbed a nearby chip bowl and held it under her chin. The bowl arrived not a moment too soon. Up came a burning surge of warm beer and contraband hot dogs. While Edie sputtered and hacked away, Henry knelt beside her, gently rubbing her back until she finally went still.
“That it?” he asked.
Edie waited a minute before nodding. Then she dropped her head onto her knees, closed her eyes, and prodded the sore spot on the back of her head, cursing her lack of restraint for turning an embarrassing night into an epic humiliation. If she was going to puke her guts out she could’ve at least hidden behind a shrub. Why did she drink so much, anyway? She was supposed to be kissing someone by now, not pining for a breath mint while the only kissable guy around collected her barf. God, this sucked.
“Stay there a minute,” Henry instructed her. “I’m going to go take care of this.”
He left with the evidence of her shame but he soon returned and sat patiently by Edie’s side without speaking or touching her. This surprised her, having previously assumed Henry wasn’t capable of sitting next to a girl for ten whole seconds without trying to get into her pants. Maybe she’d underestimated him. Or maybe she was totally wasted and this wasn’t the best time to make judgment calls.
“I got the strings,” she admitted.
“I know,” he replied simply.
Edie rolled her cheek onto her knee so she could see him, leaving the rest of her body bent double with her arms dangling, ape-like, on either side of her hollow legs. Henry watched her with a hint of amusement in his eyes. She considered declaring she wasn’t going to fall for him or insisting she could’ve bought her own strings. Instead, she just said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
When the worst of Edie’s dizziness dissipated, she sat upright and got her bearings. Tom and Linh were tangled together in the pool, chatting, laughing, and giving each other sweet little caresses. Maria and Rupert were side by side on the diving board, hands linked and heads tipped together. Julia was nestled against W.B.’s shoulder, swaying to the music with a smile on her face, despite the tattooed dagger on his neck that was aimed at her forehead. Claire and Sebastian were heading inside to do who knew what, or, okay, everyone knew what. A few other couples were cuddling by the pool or out past the trees on the lawn. Everyone was in someone else’s arms.
A wave of loneliness washed over Edie, a profound emptiness she couldn’t shake off despite her mom’s warnings about steering clear of romance. Here she was, still just a me, wishing she were part of an us. The us didn’t have to be complicated or permanent, but for a moment, for that moment, she simply wanted to be held.
“Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll walk you home,” Henry offered.
Edie squinted at him sideways.
“You know I only live next door, right?”
“I’m still going to make sure you get there.”
Edie inched away. Yes, she wanted to be held, but not badly enough to fall into Henry’s arms, strings or no strings.
“Don’t worry.” He held up his hands, laughing. “I’m only going to linger nearby in case I need to grab an elbow. Or a bucket.”
Henry did that thing Edie’d seen him do once before. He dropped the smugness and smiled, not like slime on rice but like a guy who actually gave a shit. In that moment, woozy, wobbly, and surrounded by people who’d found a connection that night, Edie decided that sharing a walk down the driveway wasn’t such a bad idea after all, even if it was with a demon/vampire.
“Okay.” She prodded his chest with a rubbery index finger. “But there’s a crucifix in the hall and I’m not inviting you over the threshold.”
Chapter Eighteen
* * *
Sunday morning Edie awoke with her sheets twisted, her skin on fire, and everything between her knees and elbows throbbing. For a few luxurious seconds, her mind swam with images of wet skin and long fingers that lingered as they traced the inside of her thighs and peeled away her bikini bottoms. Then she blinked herself into alertness, guiltily scanning her bedroom for witnesses. Finding none, she curled up in a ball, buried her aching head in her hands, and waited to die. She wasn’t sure which felt worse: her increasing sexual frustration or her raging hangover.
She was going to blush the color of Red Hots the next time she saw either Sebastian (thank you, pornographic dream) or Henry (thank you, regurgitated pork products). At least Edie didn’t dream about Henry. The instant she woke up from that dream, she was starting an intensive course of NoDoz. Admittedly, she did wonder what kissing him would be like when he’d dropped her off last night, a fleeting thought she ascribed to excessive alcohol, a profound state of rejection, and Maria’s emphatic speech about how amazing he was. He was also pretty great about all that barf. Even Shonda had never held Edie’s hair up.
Edie groped around for her phone so she could check the time. She was startled to noti
ce she had a text message from a local tutoring center she’d contacted earlier in the week. They were interviewing Monday afternoon if she was still interested in a job. As she replied to confirm a time, someone knocked on the door, making her jump. Maria peeked into the room a second later, uninvited.
“Oh, good. You’re up.” She marched in with Julia in tow. She carried a mug of black coffee and a bottle of aspirin. She plunked them down on Edie’s bedside table and settled herself next to Julia on the edge of the bed.
Edie gratefully threw back a pair of painkillers. Then she wedged herself against a mountain of pillows with the bitter but bolstering coffee nestled between both hands. She waited for someone to say something, but her cousins simply stared at her.
“What?” Edie asked when she couldn’t stand the scrutiny any longer.
“Hello?” Maria let out an indignant little huff. “Spill, please.”
“Spill what?”
“You didn’t”—Julia bit her lip—“you know, I mean, did you? With Henry?”
“No!” Edie sputtered with laughter. “God, no!”
Julia melted against the footboard, exhaling with relief.
“I told you she wasn’t that drunk.”
“You mean he wasn’t that drunk,” Maria corrected.
Edie gripped her mug more tightly while imagining the army of bed pillows coming to life and pummeling Maria from all sides.
Julia picked at the lace on her PJs, giving the duvet a rest for once.
“I thought you might be giving Sebastian a taste of his own medicine,” she said.
“I wasn’t giving anyone a taste of anything.” Edie took another sip of coffee, blinking away the shock of bitterness.
Maria examined the items on the nightstand: a stack of paperbacks, a few guitar picks, the photo of Edie’s mom.
“It wouldn’t be the worst plan.” She popped open a cocktail umbrella set it on the books. “Not for real, of course, but Henry would probably be up for a few well-timed embraces, for the right price.”
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