One of the Guys (29 page)

I frown and turn away. I examine the pink glitter as it sticks to my fingertips.
McRib
. A clear sign he wants me as Friend Only. Great. I'll take it. Better than nothing. So if I tell him how I feel, everything will be ruined. No. I can't say anything. Ever.

A group of girls in fancy prom-like dresses rush into my house, giggling, and head straight for the bathroom. Boys in wrinkled suits carry silver trays of chips and cans of beer around the room like butlers. I've been too preoccupied with the shifting tides of my friendship with Micah to ask Emma about the details of the party. She planned the thing. In one day.
Who are these people?
I know maybe a handful of them. I grab a beer from a nearby tray, but I don't recognize the boy holding it. I shrug, pop open the can, and drink.

“It's a gentleman and ladies theme,” Emma says, sneaking up behind me. “You like?”

“Very classy.” I give a thumbs-up and watch some guy in a tuxedo chug a beer.

I adjust the bow tie around my neck and lean against the banister in the foyer. I search the crowd, but Micah is nowhere to be found.

“He's not here yet,” Emma says, tapping her nails along the railing. “The second I see him, I'll find you. Promise.”

She pats my back. I force a smile. When I do see Micah, I plan to bolt in the other direction. Emma goes off to mingle with the crowd, flawlessly entertaining the guests. I sip the cold beer in my hand. I stare at the front door, praying he doesn't walk through it.

The door opens. Cold air flows in.

My fingers tighten around the can. I take another sip, prepared to run, but Cowboy enters, dressed in a navy blue suit with a flannel shirt underneath. He's holding someone's hand.

The hand of Katie Morris.

Cowboy closes the door behind them, his cheeks red, of course. Despite his nerves, he's still here, with Katie Morris. Unbelievable. Katie grins and plays with the ends of her short red hair. She spots me.

“Hey, Toni!” she says.

I try not to sound too surprised. “Katie. Hey. Glad you came.”

She's wearing a beautiful strapless black gown, little makeup, and a simple silver necklace. The three of us stand there for a beat too long, slowly drifting into Awkward Town.

“Hey.” Cowboy looks at me. “Nice party.”

“Thanks for coming.” I slug his shoulder. At least Cowboy and I are still on pretty decent terms. We may be drifting apart a little, but that's okay. I've come to accept that drifting friendships happen. Nothing I can do about it. Despite my best efforts.

Cowboy clears his throat and turns to Katie. “Did I ever tell you about the time Toni mooned Principal Rogers?”

Katie laughs and shakes her head, fidgeting with her necklace. “I gotta hear this.”

“Oh, you'll love this story.” Cowboy smiles and leads Katie into the kitchen. Faintly, I hear him say, “So Toni had this idea last summer to prank Principal Rogers…” His voice fades into the party noise. Good for him. Moving forward. Living with no regrets.

Unlike me. I've got a ton of them.

I'll drive myself crazy staring at the door all night so I work through the crowd until I'm standing in the center of the living room-slash-dance floor. Bodies press against mine. I am the loneliest girl on the planet, even as Lemon wraps her arm around me, whiskey on her breath, and shouts, “Thank you, Toni Valentine!”

Jess appears behind her, glowing, her light hair streaked with hints of blue. Her flowing white blouse is covered in a dark stain. Whiskey, I'm guessing.

I shout, “Glad you two could make it!”

“I told them!” Lemon blurts out, slurring her words. “I told my parents that I love Jess, and if they don't like it, they can shove it!”

Lemon kisses Jess, gentle and sweet. Man, everyone's just so freaking happy tonight. It's kind of disgusting. Jess places her hand on Lemon's hip.

“We've been celebrating,” Jess says. “Perhaps one of us a bit too much. I need to get this one home before things get messier.”

Lemon curls into Jess and waves goodbye, totally sloshed. Another tray of beer floats by on another stranger's fingertips. I grab one and then try and mingle a bit, but I don't know most of these people and I'm just not in the mood to be super-friendly.

I want something familiar. I make my way to the staircase in search of Tom Brady, wondering where he's hiding.

Back in the foyer, I run into Lemon and Jess again. Lemon is resting her head on Jess's shoulder while she gently strokes Lemon's back. I approach, and Lemon looks up and suddenly barfs all over the banister. I stand there, shocked, as the puke drips from the wood and onto the carpet like sap. Huh. Looks like she ate nachos recently.

“Oh my God!” Jess shouts. “I am so sorry, Toni!” Lemon groans and sways. Jess leads her out the front door for some fresh air.

“STAY BACK! I WILL GET SOME PAPER TOWELS!” I announce to the grossed-out bystanders. “Please stay away from this spot, people. I don't need more…”

As if on cue, some girl throws up all over her dress. Several people scream. Without another word, I run upstairs in search of cleaning supplies before the Barf Epidemic really explodes. I pull three rolls of paper towels, two bottles of carpet cleaner, and two cans of air freshener from the linen closet at the end of the hall. Maybe it's my imagination, but I can smell the vomit from here.

Brian is going to be so pissed.

twenty-nine

D
OWNSTAIRS,
E
MMA IS GUARDING
the vomit. She has pulled her hair into a ponytail. She takes the supplies from me, spraying the air freshener about a million times. “This is under control,” she says, nodding toward the kitchen. “Micah's here.”

I stare at the hallway leading to the kitchen like it's a tunnel leading to a magical world. He's here. Just a few feet away. My heart pounds, my palms sweat. I want him to see me in my black dress and pink bow tie and Emma's black high heels. I want him to see that I'm not the girl next door anymore. I feel like a womanly force poised to take over the world with a snap of my black-painted fingernails.

The front door opens, and more strangers enter, talking, joking, dressed up and glamorous. Suddenly, a violent
meow
sounds, and a black furball shoots out the door before it closes.

“Tom Brady!” I shout. “Crap!”

Outside, the cold air shocks my system. I stand on the porch, cursing, as Tom Brady sits on the walkway, staring at me. His yellow eyes are like clumps of gold in the night.

“Tom.” I speak slowly, carefully. I'm afraid to move. “You're not supposed to be outside. You know that.”

His eyes narrow into slits, and he proceeds to lick his paw. I shiver, but if I go inside to get a coat, he'll run off. I take a deep breath and creep toward him, my heels scraping against the cement. Tom Brady looks up, glaring. I stop moving. After a second, he returns to his bath. I slip out of the heels and crouch down, steadily inching closer. I'm almost close enough to reach out and grab him when he looks up, meows, and scurries into the bushes lining the front of the house.

“Seriously?!” I yell.

“You looking for something?” a voice asks.

I turn around. Ollie is standing on the porch, dressed in a black tuxedo. A coat is draped over his right arm, and his curly hair is slicked back with shiny gel. A white bandage covers the gash in his eyebrow. His eye is still black, bruised. I feel awful just looking at him.

“Tom Brady.”

“The cat, I hope.” Ollie approaches, grinning. “I doubt you'll find the Patriots quarterback around here.”

“The stupid creature got out,” I say, sighing. “Brian will be heartbroken if I don't find him.”

“Which direction did he go?”

I point to the bushes. Ollie hands over the coat, which I see is actually mine. “Thanks for lending it to me,” he says.

“No problem.” I pull it on, yanking the sleeves over my hands. My teeth chatter, and my bare feet are freezing. Ollie shines the light from his cell phone across the bushes. We search in silence for several minutes.

“Listen,” Ollie says, pushing aside a branch for a better look. He avoids eye contact. “I'm sorry I sort of lost it with you. That wasn't cool.”

I'm not sure how to move forward here. Everything feels so fragile, like one wrong move could break what little is left of my former life. “Well, I'm sorry for getting you beat up,” I say.

“I chose to work for you.” He pulls at his ear. “Most of the time, I had fun doing it. You were right about Winston girls though. They aren't crazy. They're just people.” He pauses. “I'm not going to Colorado.”

My fault
. “The whole prank was a stupid idea—”

“It's okay,” he interrupts. “I'm fine staying here. I had enough for the tuition. It was my choice.”

“Emma have anything to do with this?” I tease.

He looks at me and smiles. I can tell that he's happy. Emma has that effect. Even though Ollie is planning to stay in Vermont now, I already know that this upcoming summer won't be like any of the others. The four of us could search the lake for Champ every day, every night, but it would be different. Because we're different.

The front door opens. Micah steps onto the porch, a black snow cap on his head. He's dressed in jeans and his GONE SQUATCHIN sweatshirt. He holds something behind his back as he hops down the steps, approaching us.

“Hey,” he says. “The party's inside, you know.”

“The cat's missing. You're good with animals.” Ollie slaps Micah on the shoulder. “He's somewhere in the bushes. We think. I better get back inside to help Emma with that vomit.”

“Such a gentleman,” I say.

Ollie skips up the walkway, disappearing inside, leaving Micah and I alone in the cold.

“Sooooooo,” I say, determined to fill every moment with some kind of noise. No awkward silence here. “Whatcha got there?” I try to peer around him to see whatever he's holding behind his back.

“An early birthday present.” He reveals the object. A teddy bear. Not just any teddy bear.

“You've got to be kidding me,” I say in awe as I examine the bear's demented mask, shredded T-shirt, and miniature chainsaw. Bits of blood sprinkle the tiny chainsaw. Adorable. “A Texas Chainsaw Massacre Teddy Bear?”

Micah laughs. “You said you wanted one.”

I grin, touched, and hold the bear close to my heart. “I'll cuddle with him tonight.”

Micah shoves his hands into the pouch of his hoodie. My heart sounds loud and insistent as I hold the bear close. A cold breeze blows through, rustling the bushes. I shiver. He moves forward and rubs my back to warm me. Man, his
touch
.

I lean into his chest and turn my chin upward. I just do it. I kiss him. He leans down and presses his hand firmly to my back. I fold into him. My head is a delicious fog. My knees shake, but no longer from the cold.

After a few moments, I pull away but keep close, searching his eyes. Time expands as I wait for him to say something. What does this mean? How many times can we kiss before one of us acknowledges out loud that this is more than a friendship? I mean, seriously?

“I gotta go,” he whispers, looking away. “Goodnight, Toni Valentine.”

“Um, goodnight.” I watch as he jogs across the lawn and enters his home. Minutes later, his bedroom light turns on. I stand in place for several minutes, perplexed, examining the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Teddy Bear in my hands. I turn and head back inside, confused and excited and terrified.

Tom Brady waits on the porch, flicking his tail back and forth. He glares. When I open the front door, he trots inside, purring, like his job is done.

thirty