I want to point out that she did look in his phone and maybe she is being a little crazy, but obviously that wouldn’t be helpful.
Colin returns then and sets our drinks down in front of us. “There you go,” he says. “Two drinks for two beautiful ladies.”
“Thanks,” Izzy says distractedly, like she’s used to getting called beautiful.
“Thanks,” I say, sliding my drink closer to me.
“So listen,” he says, “what are you guys doing tomorrow night?” He says “you guys,” but he’s looking at me.
“I have plans,” Izzy says quickly. “But Aven’s free.”
I am? She does?
“Cool,” Colin says. “Well, if you want, a bunch of us are going on this sunset cruise.” He picks my phone up from where I’ve set it on the bar and calls himself so I’ll have his number in my call history. “Text me, and I’ll give you the info.”
He winks at me again, and then disappears to the other side of the bar, where the twentysomething couple starts asking him something about their drinks.
“Oh my God,” Izzy says. “He wants to take you on a date.”
“No, he doesn’t,” I say. But maybe he does. I mean, what’s so weird about that? I’m kind of cute and very charming, and people have told me I’m really good at witty banter.
“Yeah, he does. And you should go. You need to have some fun in your life.” She sighs. “Not like me. I have problems.” She grabs my arm again, like she did earlier when we were in the bathroom at the airport. “You need to find out about this Annabelle for me, Aven. Liam will tell you. He tells you everything.”
“Obviously not,” I say. “Since he hasn’t told me about her yet.”
“Yeah, but he will. You just have to ask him.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll just be like, ‘Hey, Liam, do you know anyone named Annabelle? Just you know, out of curiosity.’”
“You could tell him you looked in his phone,” Izzy says slowly.
“Izzy!” I say, shocked that she would even suggest such a thing. “But I didn’t.”
“No, I know,” she says, waving her hand like it was a joke, even though I think she was half hoping I’d go for it. “I was just kidding.” She takes in a deep breath, and then she starts crying again. “I just can’t believe he might be cheating on me,” she says. “I mean, I knew things were a little weird between us, but I never—I didn’t—I didn’t think he WOULD DO THAT!”
“Okay, okay,” I say, putting my arm around her. “I’ll try to figure out a way to ask him.”
“You will?” she asks, sniffling.
I pick another napkin up off the bar and hand it to her. She blows her nose loudly. “Yes,” I say. “I’ll try to figure out a way.”
“Thanks, Aven,” Izzy says. “You’re a really good friend.”
Yeah.
A really good friend.
A really good friend who’s in love with your boyfriend.
SIX
OKAY.
This doesn’t have to be that hard.
Izzy was right when she said that Liam tells me everything. Or at least, he usually does. So all I have to do is ask him some leading questions about what’s happening in his life, and hope that maybe he’ll bring up this whole Annabelle thing on his own. I mean, I don’t have to come straight out and ask if he’s cheating. I’m sure there are a million different ways to get it out of him. I’ll just use my witty banter.
Of course, first I have to get him alone.
And Liam has other ideas.
He calls me later that afternoon, just as I’m finishing a long shower in which I was attempting to wash the salt water out of my hair and the sand off my body. I never knew how much sand could end up all over you after some time at the beach. It’s really a miracle that any of it even stays on the beach, what with the way it just clings to people. Unless I’m some kind of sand magnet. Or sand trap. (Get it? Witty banter, ha-ha.)
“Where have you been?” Liam asks when I answer. “I’ve been texting you.”
“Sorry, I was in the shower,” I say. I’ve wrapped myself in a towel, but my hair is still soaking wet, and it’s dripping all over the bathroom floor. Something tells me Lyla and Quinn aren’t going to be too happy about me messing up the common areas. I grab another towel off the rack that’s hanging on the wall and drop it on the floor. I push it around with my foot, trying to mop up the water.
Hmm. The towel is getting kind of soaked. And dirty. I wonder what Quinn and Lyla would be madder about—the floor being wet, or me using up all the towels. We can probably get more from housekeeping, but still. Hopefully I won’t be here when they come back and realize what I’ve done to the bathroom.
“Oh,” Liam says. “Nice mental picture.”
“Whatever,” I say automatically, the way I do whenever Liam says something that could be construed as flirting.
“Anyway, what are you doing tonight?” he asks. “Juliana Peters is having a party in her room.”
“Juliana?” I say warily. I don’t know much about her, except that she talks in the third person and is always screaming in the halls at school, like moving between rooms is something to get worked up about.
“Yeah, I know,” Liam says. “But there’s going to be beer. And then afterward we can meet up with Izzy and her dance team. They’re going to walk the beach at midnight.”
“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “I mean, isn’t that something you and Izzy might want to do alone?” Talk about being a third wheel.
“No,” he says. “Her whole team is going to be there, looking for constellations. Ten giggling girls looking at stars sounds like a particularly horrible kind of torture, but Izzy really wants me there.” He pauses, and I don’t say anything.
Obviously the only reason Izzy wants Liam there is so she can make sure he’s not with someone else. But then why doesn’t Izzy just cancel her stupid midnight walk with her dance team and spend time with Liam? And why is Liam inviting me anyway? Is he trying to use me so that whenever he’s around Izzy, he can tell Annabelle I was there, too, like some kind of insurance policy?
It’s annoying the way they both might be using me for personal gain. Or relationship gain. Whatever you want to call it, it’s irritating. Why should I have to be a part of their secrets and lies?
“I’ll go to the party,” I say. “But I don’t feel like doing the beach walk.”
“Why not?”
“I dunno,” I say. “It just doesn’t sound that fun.”
“Are you kidding? It’s going to be so fun. We can take pictures and then later I can force you to read some stupid book about astronomy. Or even better, a novel with a main character who’s an astronomer from the nineteenth century or something.”
“You just said it was going to be torture.”
“No, I said if you left me alone with ten girls it was going to be torture.”
“Sorry,” I say. “But I actually have plans with, ah, Gabby Ronson. You know, from the Student Action Committee?”
“At midnight?”
“Yeah,” I say. “At midnight.”
There’s a pause, like maybe Liam wants to say something else. But he must change his mind, because a second later, he says, “Okay. So I’ll just see you at the party then?”
“Sure,” I say. “Just text me the room number and time.”
“Done.”
The thing about high school parties is that if you’ve been to one, you’ve pretty much been to them all. There’s always a bunch of guys doing something ridiculous, like getting crazy drunk and peeing in someone’s refrigerator, or stealing someone’s parents’ checkbook, or going outside and throwing people’s lawn chairs into the pool.
Everyone’s drinking cheap beer, because we usually have to pay someone to buy it for us. It’s either that or steal it from our parents, and if we do that, we can’t take anything good because then they’ll end up noticing it’s gone.
When I say “we,” I really mean “they,” because e
ven though I’ve been to more parties than I can count, I don’t really drink. I don’t get the point of it, really. You drink a lot and then you just end up feeling sick and like you want to throw up? I get the idea of wanting to have a good buzz, get stuck right in that place where you feel woozy and happy and relaxed. But no one at these parties ever stops there. They can’t, because you never know when a party is going to get broken up.
It’s actually pretty pathetic, really, when you think about it.
The sad thing is, I’m not sure college is going to be any better. At least from what I’ve seen in the movies.
When I get to Juliana’s room, it takes my eyes a second to adjust to the darkness. The sun has gone down, and apparently no one’s thought to turn on any lights.
Juliana is twirling around in the middle of the room, a beer in her hand. She doesn’t look like she’s at all worried about getting caught partying in her room. In fact, she looks happy and relaxed. She’s probably going to be sick later. Oh, well. I’ve never been friends with Juliana, so not my problem.
I spot Liam over in the corner, by the little kitchenette, talking with Jeff Hearne. I hesitate, not sure exactly what to do. I don’t really know Jeff that well, and so it feels weird to just walk up and intrude on their conversation.
But I don’t have to worry about it for long, because Liam meets my eye across the room and motions me over. When I get to him, Jeff wanders off, muttering something about how there are no hot girls at this party. I’m not sure if I should be insulted or not, since he hardly even looked at me, but whatever.
“Hey,” Liam says, his face lighting up into a smile. He’s wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a red long-sleeved shirt. His hair is damp, like he just got out of the shower. He smells like soap and a touch of cologne and his face is tan from the beach and I can see a tiny place on the side of his neck where he nicked himself shaving and he looks so hot I can hardly take it.
“Hi,” I say.
“You want something to drink?”
“Is there soda?”
He picks one up from the table next to him and hands it to me. “I snagged it for you.”
“Thanks,” I say, popping the top and taking a sip.
“This party is lame,” Liam says, looking around.
“Well, it’s stupid to have a party in a hotel room,” I say. “We’re at the beach. We should be partying outside.”
“Yeah, but you can’t drink outside,” Liam points out.
“Which is why this whole party is a joke. I can’t believe people would rather stay inside just to get drunk instead of being outside in the fresh air.”
“Yeah.” Liam takes a sip of his drink, and I realize he’s drinking Sprite. Not that Liam’s a huge drinker, but he’ll usually have a beer or two, especially since he knows I’m always willing to drive him home.
“You’re not drinking?” I ask.
“Nah.” He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. He doesn’t offer any other information, which is weird.
“How come?” I ask.
“Jus