“He was my boyfriend for a couple of days,” she would say. “Just a really great guy from New Jersey who I met in Florence.” Though that was the truth, it didn’t do justice to how she was feeling.
As the train hurtled forward in space and time, away from Jesse, toward Charlene and the airport and Philadelphia, toward her parents and Forsythe University and her future, Lucy gave herself a pep talk.
I’ve just had the most perfect vacation ever. As soon as I start college, I’ll meet all sorts of new people, but this will always be the best, most romantic time of my life. Even if it hurts, I’ll always remember Jesse.
PART TWO
Philadelphia
XII
You’re wearing that?” Lucy’s new suitemate Glory looked her up and down, clearly not approving of the black jeans and gauzy blouse Lucy had changed into for her very first college party.
Lucy felt herself flush. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” But the answer was standing right in front of her. Glory had changed into platform heels, a tight black cocktail dress, and dangling earrings that sparkled against her dark skin. Though Lucy had known Glory for only a week, she already knew her suitemate had some very definite ideas about life. Since Glory’s boyfriend, Armand, was a sophomore, she’d been to plenty of college parties. Tonight’s bash was at Armand’s off-campus apartment, and Glory had wrangled her suitemates a special invitation that, to hear her talk about it, was kind of a big deal.
“I think what Lucy’s wearing is fine.” Still in her terrycloth bathrobe, her honey-blond hair damp from the shower, Lucy’s roommate, Brittany, spoke up. “I’m going to wear jeans, too.”
“I don’t even own a cocktail dress,” Lucy added. Even with all the back-to-school shopping she’d done since getting home from Europe, she hadn’t foreseen the need to buy anything quite so dressy.
But Glory chewed on her lower lip, assessing Lucy. “You could borrow one of mine.” She led Lucy to her closet. “You don’t want to stick out like a sore thumb.”
“What does it matter?” Brittany asked from the doorway. “Why can’t we just be ourselves?”
“Because.” Glory emerged with several hangers’ worth of skimpy dresses. “You’re my guests, and I want you to look right.”
“Who decides what right is?” Britt grumbled. “I’d rather be comfortable, thanks.”
“Armand’s whole team is going to be there,” Glory said. “Have you seen how hot rugby players are? Don’t you want to look your best?”
“I have a boyfriend,” Brittany reminded her. “Maybe I should just stay home and watch a movie.” She shook her head, scattering water droplets.
Glory turned her attention back to Lucy. “You want the full college experience, right?”
Lucy thought for a moment. She didn’t want to desert Brittany, who was turning out to be the best roommate she could possibly have imagined. And though she knew she should be meeting people—meeting guys—it had been just a few weeks since she had kissed Jesse good-bye on the train platform.
Glory read her hesitation. “This isn’t about that Italian guitar player you’ve been obsessing over, is it?”
“He’s from New Jersey.” Lucy felt her cheeks grow hot. Apart from the nights they’d stayed up late swapping their romantic histories, Lucy had hardly mentioned Jesse to her suitemates at all, or so she thought. “I haven’t been obsessing. Have I?” she turned to Brittany.
“Just a little,” Britt said.
“Oh, come on, Lucy,” Glory said. “The photo? We’ve all seen you staring at it.”
Of course Glory meant the snapshot Lucy had printed out, framed, and hung above her desk—the one of her and Jesse on the Spanish Steps, posing as Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck.
“I don’t stare,” Lucy mumbled. She hated to think she’d been obsessing about Jesse, especially since there was very little evidence that he was thinking of her. Since she’d gotten back to the States, she’d had only three e-mails from him, and none of them had been particularly romantic. Of course he’d warned her that he hardly ever checked his e-mail, so maybe that didn’t mean he wasn’t missing her. But it was hard to tell for sure.
Lucy hesitated, then reached for a pretty plum-colored strapless dress. “Of course I want the full college experience,” she said, holding it up against her body and casting an apologetic smile in Britt’s direction. “You could think of it as a costume party.”
Britt made a face, then relented. “Don’t you have any that aren’t strapless?”
Back in their room, the girls changed into their borrowed dresses. The plum one was a bit long, but otherwise fit fine. Lucy, who loved playing dress-up, smiled at herself in the full-length mirror, then fished in the closet for her favorite heels.
Britt tugged at the skirt of her dress, as though she could magically make it longer, despite the fact that—with her long legs and runner’s body—she looked stunning.
“Don’t tell Glory I said so, but I’ll bet you look better in that than she does,” Lucy said.
“Stop buttering me up.” Britt scowled. “I feel foolish.” She dropped to her bed. “Do you think I should tell Rich about this?” Every night that week she’d slept with her cell phone, texting back and forth with her boyfriend, who was at a school four hours away.
“Why wouldn’t you?” Lucy wriggled her feet into black wedge heels. “It’s just a party. Don’t they have parties at Penn State?” She examined her hair in the mirror. Luckily, for once, she was having a reasonably good hair day.
“You’ll look after me, right?” Britt said. “If somebody slips me a roofie, you’ll drag me home?” She bent to rummage under her bed. “I’m wearing flats,” she declared, emerging with a mismatched pair. “Glory had better not give me crap about it, either.”
“I’d wear the black satin ones,” Lucy said, spreading her earrings out on top of her bureau, looking for her favorite dangly crystal ones.
“I think I’ll carry pepper spray in my purse,” Britt said. “Just in case.”
Lucy laughed. Next to Britt, who came from rural Pennsylvania and had never even been to Philly before she left home for Forsythe, Lucy sometimes felt downright worldly. “Maybe you should wear a superhero costume under that dress,” she said.
Britt sighed. “I hate the thought of Rich at a party, flirting with some girl.”
Lucy sat down beside her on the bed. “I know.” She rested her head on her roommate’s shoulder.
“No, really,” Britt said. “I really hate it. Really.”
Lucy shut her eyes and heaved a sigh of her own. “I really, really know,” she said.
At the front door of Armand’s row house, Lucy, Britt, Glory, and their fourth suitemate, Sarah, paid five dollars apiece and were each given a red Solo cup. They squeezed their way through the hallway and into a living room that was already packed. “Come and meet Armand,” Glory shouted to be heard over the house music pounding through the stereo, then disappeared into the crowd surrounding the keg. Sarah followed, but Lucy and Britt hung back.
“I can tell I’m going to hate this night,” Britt shouted. “Are you planning to drink?”
“Maybe just one,” Lucy screamed back. “I don’t actually like beer much. Too bad they don’t put strawberry daiquiris in kegs.” They got in line. “Looks like there’s dancing.” Lucy pointed toward the next room over. “Let’s go, after this.”
A panicked look crossed Britt’s face.
“You don’t have to dance with anyone,” Lucy said. “We can dance together. It will be okay.”
The dancing room was less congested than the keg room had been, its only furnishings a couch pushed up against a wall and Christmas lights strung from the ceiling. Just as Lucy and Britt arrived, the DJ swapped out the house music for a Rolling Stones song. Lucy gave a little whoop, grabbed Britt’s hand, and pulled her into the middle of the dance floor, looking for a clearing.
“See! This isn’t so bad,” Lucy said, always glad for a chance to
dance.
Britt tipped her head in the direction of a sweaty guy doing the Running Man. “Dude just splashed beer all over my new shoes,” she said.
“We’ll clean them later.” Lucy took another sip from her drink.
Just then a hand grabbed Lucy’s arm. It was Sarah, in a bright turquoise dress, her wispy yellow hair piled high. “I’m so glad I found you,” she said. “Glory’s in the basement watching Armand play beer pong. Not my scene.”
“Hang with us,” Britt said.
Sarah nodded gratefully and fell in step, bouncing along to the music. “Have you seen all the hot guys here?”
Britt shrugged, taking another sip from her cup.
“Look at that one, in the Eagles jersey. And that red-haired one in the corner.” Sarah pointed discreetly.
“It’s like you’ve got radar,” Lucy said, impressed.
“And then there’s Dream Boy over there on the stairs, talking with his friend.” Britt and Lucy followed Sarah’s gaze to a tall blond leaning against the wall. “He’s scrumptious, no?”
Even Britt had to agree: With his chiseled profile and broad shoulders, Dream Boy was easily the best-looking guy they’d seen that night.
“He’s in my sociology class, but I can’t get up the nerve to say hi,” Sarah said.
“Maybe you could accidentally spill beer on him,” Britt said.
“Or trip over something and land in his lap,” Lucy said.
“Shit!” Sarah grabbed their arms and jerked them in the other direction. “He caught us staring.”
“He’s probably used to it.” Lucy peeked over her shoulder and saw Dream Boy smiling and shaking his head.
“Now he thinks I’m an idiot,” Sarah said.
“Just keep dancing,” Britt advised. “Ignore him.”
So they did. The Rolling Stones gave way to the Doors, then to more electronic house music. Soon some guys Lucy didn’t know had broken into their little dance circle. Before long, Sarah was making out with one of them in a corner.
“I guess she decided not to hold out for one of the hot ones,” Britt said. “I’m getting back in the beer line. You want another?”
Lucy shook her head.
“I’ll find you.” And before Lucy could offer to tag along and keep Britt company, she whirled and disappeared into the crowd.
With Britt gone, Lucy stood around for a moment or two, feeling too awkward to dance. Her borrowed dress was sticking to her skin, and her shoes were starting to pinch. She edged her way off the dance floor, into the kitchen, in search of Glory and the beer-pong tournament. As she was thinking about descending into the basement, a cool breeze passed over her arms, and she decided to find out where it was coming from.
Just past the kitchen, a door was propped open. Lucy stepped through it onto a deck. A handful of people sprawled across it, all of them deep in conversation. When Lucy passed, nobody even looked up. She draped herself over the rail, gathered her heavy curls away from her neck, and wondered when Britt and Sarah would be ready to leave. So far, her first college party was turning out to be something of a bust.
Just then, another breeze kicked up, caressing her bare shoulders. Something in the air—maybe it was the scent from the trees next door—reminded her of Fiesole, of standing at the edge of the park overlooking the red roofs of Florence. Will I ever stop missing Jesse? Lucy wondered.
“So this is where the beautiful people hang out,” a voice said from behind her, startlingly close.
Lucy jumped. Of all the people it might have been, it was Sarah’s Dream Boy, grinning down at her. Had he followed her out onto the deck? “You scared me,” she said.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said. “I just felt like talking to someone. Not screaming at them over the music or crushing their feet on the dance floor or pouring beer on them.”
Lucy tucked a stray curl behind her ear, relieved to have someone to talk to. “I was just thinking how this doesn’t seem to be my scene.”
“Mine, either,” he said. “But I let my friends drag me here.”
“Are you on the rugby team with Armand?”
He shook his head. “I tried out for rugby freshman year. But then I decided I liked my teeth too much.” He flashed them at her.
“I can see why,” Lucy said without thinking, then blushed.
Dream Boy took mercy on her and changed the subject. “This is your first off-campus party?”
“My first college party,” Lucy said. “If you don’t count popcorn parties with my suitemates. Are they all like this?”
Dream Boy shrugged. Up close he was even better-looking than he’d been from across the room, with steely silver-gray eyes and carefully tousled ash-blond hair—so good-looking that being close to him made Lucy feel the tiniest bit dizzy. “I’ve been to better. But this one’s pretty typical.” He took a step closer. “Let me be your guide through the underworld.”
“Um, okay.” Lucy smiled up at him, hardly able to believe her luck.
“First, whatever you do, stay away from the jungle juice. The red stuff in the punch bowl. It’s always lethal.”
“Steer clear of the jungle juice,” Lucy said. “Check.”
“Also, it helps to be familiar with the kinds of characters you’ll meet at one of these things. First there’s Sloppy Drunk. He’s basically harmless. Unless he’s big—and then you don’t want to let him stand too close. If he falls over he could crush you flat.”
“Sloppy Drunk,” Lucy said, wishing she could summon the wits to do more than repeat everything Dream Boy said.
“Closely related to Sloppy Drunk is ‘I Love You, Man’ Drunk.”
“Sounds pretty harmless,” Lucy said.
“Until he gets you in a death-grip hug. ‘I Love You, Man’ Drunk won’t release you until he’s sure you truly understand how much he loves you.”
“Yikes,” Lucy said. “What other stock characters are there?”
“Well, you’ll want to steer clear of Violent Drunk, and also Scary Drunk. And Talkative Drunk can be a terrible time suck.” Dream Boy took his chin between his thumb and index finger, miming deep thought, as he looked Lucy over. “For a nice girl like you, I think the safest conversational bet is the IUDD—the ‘Increasingly Uncomfortable Designated Driver.’”
“Is that you?” Lucy asked.
Dream Boy grinned. “Very perceptive.”
“You don’t look uncomfortable, though,” Lucy said.
“Not now that I’m here with you,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Shane, by the way.”
“Lucy,” she replied, slipping her hand into his.
A half hour later, Lucy was deep in conversation with Shane. They’d been sharing stories about their hometowns, which, it turned out, were right next to each other, and celebrated football rivals. “How have I never bumped into you before?” Shane was asking. “At the Pancake Shack? Or Starbucks?”
“Maybe we’ve passed each other a hundred times on Lancaster Avenue,” Lucy said.
They’d talked about Europe, too. Lucy had mentioned her summer trip, and Shane had asked her lots of questions about backpacking and hostels—and especially Italy. “I’ve been there with my folks,” he said. “But I’m saving up so I can go on my own next summer. I’m sick of hotels and guided tours. I want to have a real adventure, the way you did.”
Encouraged, Lucy told him about singing onstage at the underground club in Florence, referring to Jesse only as “the friend I was with.”
“Whoa! You’re my new hero,” Shane said. “A rock star and an adventurer.”
Lucy couldn’t help grinning. She liked this version of herself.
“And pretty, too,” he added, in a conspiratorial voice.
Just then, Britt and Sarah appeared at Lucy’s side. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Britt said. “I was beginning to worry you’d been kidnapped.”
Shane threw both arms around Lucy’s shoulders. “I hope you’re prepared to pay a hefty ransom,” he sai
d. “I’d say she’s worth ten thousand at least.”
From inside the circle of Shane’s arms, Lucy introduced him to Britt and a very wide-eyed Sarah. Oh my God, Sarah mouthed in Lucy’s direction when she thought Shane wasn’t looking. And again, Oh my God!
Lucy gave a little apologetic shrug, meant to communicate, I wouldn’t be flirting with Dream Boy, except you were, um, occupied. And Sarah shrugged back, seemingly happy for her.
“What happened to your new friend?” Lucy asked. “From back on the dance floor?”
Sarah rolled her eyes.
“We were thinking about walking home before it gets too late,” Britt said. “Glory says this neighborhood’s pretty sketchy at night.”
“Why don’t I give you a lift?” Shane released Lucy. “My car’s right down the street.”
“What about your friends?” Lucy asked.
“I’ll come back for them. They won’t even notice I’m missing.”
Lucy’s friends took the backseat of Shane’s sporty silver car, leaving the shotgun position for Lucy. The girls directed him to their dorm, and when he pulled up to the curb, Britt and Sarah jumped out, leaving Lucy and Shane alone together.
“Your friends are speedy,” he observed.
“They are,” she said, wondering if she should get out of the car, too. Was Shane in a hurry to get back to the party?
But he shifted in his seat, leaning a bit closer to her. “So I was wondering,” he said. “Will I ever see you again?”
Lucy tried to look nonchalant. “We might bump into each other,” she said. “Forsythe isn’t that big.”
“Or we could up the odds.” Shane dug in his pocket, pulled out his phone, and handed it to her. “In case you need my party-going expertise.”
Lucy found Sarah and Britt waiting in the dorm lobby. “Oh my God!” Sarah shrieked, giving Lucy’s arm a little punch. “You have all the freaking luck.”
“Do you want to see him again?” Britt asked.
Sarah snorted. “Of course she does. The question is does he want to see her again.”