My back is stiff, and my heart has started pounding in warning.
I’m not looking at him. It may have been hard a few minutes ago, but now there’s less than zero desire to look his way. I’m facing away from the table, wishing my ears would stop working. I don’t hear him deny it. I don’t hear him protest. What I think I hear is some hand slapping, the resulting laughter.
“Damn, Drea’s hot,” Nate says. “Is this the year you hook up with both of them at the same time?”
Finally, Jamie puts an end to it. “Shut up.”
He sounds irritated. But it’s not enough. It’s not enough to make any of it untrue.
“Yeah right,” Matty agrees. “Abrams has already worked his way through the Dawsons. Maybe he’ll leave them for the rest of us this year.”
“Damn, you’re all interested in my sloppy seconds,” Jamie says. “Why don’t you worry less about my life and more about your own?”
As she leans closer, the horrified sneer on Jasmine’s face suddenly clues me in that she’s been listening to them, too. “He is so gross,” she mutters under her breath. “Seriously, who would hook up with him at this point? It just sounds dirty.”
I can practically feel my cheeks turning pink, a very clear image of me lying on my back in the dugout popping into my head. I feel like it’s being projected onto a screen, like Jasmine can see right through me, like it’s obvious I’m one more idiot girl who’s been seduced by Jamie.
It’s torture standing there, the only relief being that no one knows about us, that I’m not the punch line, one more joke of a girl who’s involved herself with him, that no one’s publicly dissecting me or what I may have done with him.
And without meaning to, I’m turning, glancing over my shoulder, glaring at him.
He’s already looking at me. He stares for a beat, then starts to stand. I whirl back around toward Jasmine, already tugging on her hand and marching toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”
“But what about Marcella?”
Shit. What about Marcella?
I pause, and just like that, Jamie’s heading toward us.
“Eve,” he calls. “Wait up a sec.”
I’m tempted to turn around. But I’m even more tempted to get the hell out of there. I just need to grab Marcella.
Unfortunately, before I can actually do so, something heavy and wet knocks into me from behind. It’s Scott, wrapping me up in a damp bear hug, eyes hazy, grinning like he won the lottery.
“She said she’d go to prom with me!” he announces.
Not bothering to smile, I glance toward Jamie again. “That’s great, but can we discuss it inside?”
The door is only a few feet away. I’m going to make it.
At least that’s what I think. But before I can push the door, it opens from the other side, and she comes strolling through, blindsiding me. In that moment I’m about to escape, I have no idea I’m about to be pushed further down into the depths of hell.
It’s Naomi, with two of her friends in tow. She’s got a bikini top on and a mermaid-print towel is wrapped around her hips. She scans the room, eyes landing on Jamie, who’s almost caught up with me.
“I’ve been looking for you all night,” she says. “Have you been dodging me or something?”
Just for a nanosecond, I allow my eyes to flick to his face. It’s evident he wants to disappear.
Naomi taps a finger against her Apple watch. “Tick-tock, tick-tock,” she says in a singsong. “Jules and Erika are going dress shopping tomorrow. I would like to go with them. Prom is, like, two weeks away. Are we going or what?”
I turn my back entirely.
Just say yes, I mentally urge him. Do what you do. Make this go away.
“This” being the really shitty feeling of being a girl who’s foolishly involved herself with you. Who’s started to see you as something different than you really are.
When he finally responds to her, Jamie’s voice is cool and steady. “Come on, Naomi. Did you come tonight to party or just to call me out in front of everybody?”
In my peripheral vision, I see her fold her arms. “You’re stalling. Yes or no? If you don’t want to say yes, then say no. But if it’s no, then you at least owe me a reason why you’ve taken so long to say so, because I thought this was pretty much a given, us going together.”
There’s a moment of silence, and no one moves, even though this particular drama has nothing to do with any of us. Well, any of them at least. The scene is disrupted when Marcella comes tearing out of the trees, head held high, face proud, but she slows down at once, confused at what she’s stumbled into, the tension on the pool deck suddenly feeling thicker than the humid air.
“What’s going on?” she whispers.
“Shit’s about to go down…,” Scott mumbles back.
I look around. They’ve definitely gathered a crowd. Naomi has her friends with her, and a couple of others have gathered behind her. All the guys from the team have abandoned their game to watch. There’s me, Jasmine, Scott, and Marcella. Brian’s wandered out from the trees. And a few other people inside the pool room have stopped talking so they can eavesdrop.
At last, I hear Jamie speak up, his voice cracking the silence if not the tension in the room.
“It’s no. And no, I don’t owe you a reason.”
“Really? Are you kidding me? Just like that, after letting me think all spring that we were going together? Just no, like I asked you if you wanted a stick of gum.” Naomi’s glaring at him. “This is prom.”
Jamie’s gone silent again. He’s glaring right back at her, giving her nothing.
But Nathan, ever so helpful, chooses that moment to speak up. For someone I’ve written off as moronic in the time that I’ve known him, he chooses this particular instance to turn astute.
“You really need to ask?” Nathan grins, jerking his thumb in my direction. “Umm, the reason is pretty frickin’ obvious. Jamie’s got a thing for Marshall. I mean, has no one else been paying attention?”
My heart turns to a motionless rock inside my chest, and I become aware of an icy sensation inside me, like even my internal organs are breaking out in a cold sweat.
There is a deep hole. Right beneath me. There must be. And any second now, it will open, swallow me up, and take me away from this moment.
But no matter how hard I wish for it to be true, it’s not, and instead I stand there, paralyzed and silent as the eyes of the group turn on me.
Scott cracks up. He slaps Nathan’s shoulder. “Good one.”
Naomi turns and stares at me over her shoulder. She looks back at Jamie. “I don’t know if he’s joking, actually.”
“You kidding me? Eve can’t stand him,” Pat chimes in. “That’s the only thing that’s been obvious around here. Where did this come from?”
“Yeah, I mean … what the hell?” Scott turns and looks at me, shock and disbelief all over his face. “Eve?”
I stand there, feeling naked, exposed, and miserable under their scrutiny.
Marcella’s eyes are about to pop out of her head, her mouth in a surprised little O.
“Sure. Maybe if there’s some other idiot named Eve Marshall out there,” Jasmine murmurs, nudging me.
It’s an awful feeling, because I’m used to looking people in the eye, staring people down at the plate, fearing nothing and no one, despite the various ways people have tried to intimidate me over the years. And I could do what I’ve always done. I could lift my chin and look them all in the eye. I could tell the truth and let them make whatever the hell they want to out of it.
I could admit that I like him, that I sort of really like him, the Jamie I’ve gotten to know. I could admit that I hate hearing about him with other girls, that it’s rude and offensive talking about anyone like that. I could admit that I secretly cheered when he told Naomi he didn’t want to go to prom with her, when I secretly believed I might be the reason why.
God.
I could finally admi
t all of this, not only to myself, but to everyone, publicly.
I could put it out there before he does, because they’re asking me the question. They’re asking me to acknowledge something that Jamie himself has never really said out loud.
Sure.
I could do all of this, and I could set myself up to lose. Big-time.
I shake my head. I let it fall and stare at the ground. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I murmur.
But seconds later, the group hasn’t broken up, the focus hasn’t shifted back to Naomi.
No one looks convinced. They’re all still staring at me, so unused to me cowering, and my eyes go to Marcella. She’s looking me straight in the eye, and I blush, because lying to Marcella is a whole other thing entirely, and it’s hard to pull off when she’s looking at me.
I turn my back on her. I stare at Nate instead. “You’re out of your mind.” My voice is firm now. “Clearly, there’s nothing going on between me and Jamie and there never will be.”
I lift my chin and square my shoulders. Finally I sound like myself again, and this is the person they’ll listen to. Believe. I push past the girls, determined to get out of this room, this party, once and for all.
The only problem is … Nathan is standing right next to Jamie, so Jamie’s face is the last I see before I go. And as I turn away from all of them, attempting to remove myself from the group with some kind of dignity, it’s impossible to miss his expression.
And my motivation changes in an instant. When I leave the pool room, it’s not to escape them anymore, it’s to get away from him—his face, the flash of disappointment … hurt, even … that I saw that first instant.
Before it immediately converted itself, turning back into a face I still remember—the cold, angry mask he used to wear when I first met him.
Jamie
Her words are swift and brutal. The shock of her betrayal reminds me of the time I cut the palm of my hand with a serrated knife at the Burger Barn and didn’t realize what had happened for several seconds after the blood poured from the wound.
Fuck, it hurt. It hurt in a sneaky way, because I hadn’t even felt the knife slicing my skin.
Her words have the same damn effect as that knife. And the resulting hurt is so overpowering in the same way, too—confusing because I didn’t see it coming.
Confusing because I’d never have expected her words to have that kind of damaging power in the first place. Confusing and paralyzing.
She gets to walk away. And I’m left standing there, at the receiving end of Naomi’s fury, Eve’s friends’ contempt, and my teammates’ amusement. I feel all these things pouring over me, rushing into the open wound she created.
And it only takes seconds for the sensations to transform into one cohesive emotion—fury. It expands within my chest, produces spots of red behind my eyelids. Suddenly I feel hot all over, and my brain feels like it’s pounding against my skull.
No way in hell she gets to walk out of here. No way in hell she gets to walk away unscathed.
I push away from the table, shoving Scott out of my way as I go. Don’t even bother looking at Naomi as I storm past her and her crew, intent on getting out of there and away from all of them.
Not that escape, or isolation, is my mission. Hell no.
I push my way past a couple of drunken pirates, their stupid eye patches irritating me, amping up my agitation. Screw this party, and screw Naomi. Screw her for thinking this was all some kind of game, for needing to be the center of attention for everything, at all costs.
A thought interjects itself into my consciousness, causing the hurt to flare up. It’s an unwelcome intrusion, but even after she denied everything, I can’t deny it to myself.
I was actually going to ask Eve to prom.
Before everything even started going to shit, I was going to. I’d been thinking about it. And I’d made up my mind.
I was going to … put it out there. Make it clear to her—beyond stupid text messages, and a few kisses, and some random sports competitions—that I was into her.
That I was into the idea of being with someone in maybe a way I hadn’t ever been into such a thing before.
If she wouldn’t start the conversation, then I would.
I was gonna ask her after the game, hopeful for a win, thinking she’d be in a good mood, joking and approachable. But then we lost, and I thought I’d better wait, assuming a prom invite wouldn’t cheer Eve up like it might some girls.
I waited till today, trying to find the nerve a few times during the day, trying to figure out why I was struggling in the first damn place. I waited, and I waited too long, until this stupid party, until she overheard all that bullshit from the guys, until Naomi showed up.
Until …
Until she killed the idea before it ever had a chance to make its way out of my mouth.
I feel my face heat up all over again, and my teeth grind together. I punch the wall as I continue down the hallway.
She shut me down so quickly and succinctly, it knocked down anything we’d built together in two seconds flat. I stared at her, and she had that face on again, that tough, hard mask she seemed to depend on so much. I stood there watching her, reminded of someone who wasn’t on my side, someone who was rooting against me, against us.
So fuck that, and fuck any good intentions I had about the whole thing.
And the unbelievable nerve of her, thinking she gets to turn and walk away, thinking she gets to leave unscathed, getting to say her piece, getting to end things her way, without giving me any chance to do so.
Maybe she’s forgotten who she’s been kissing. Maybe she’s forgotten the person I was before she screwed with my head.
I tear through a few rooms before it hits me—Eve’s not going to hide; Eve’s going to leave. So I immediately double back through the kitchen and rush through the foyer, throwing the door open and jogging down the steps and the long, winding driveway.
I can make out a lone figure in the distance, rushing down the dim path, and I take off in her direction, grabbing her elbow the second before she reaches her car.
She startles, throat convulsing as she swallows suddenly, glancing left and right for someone, anyone, like she’s actually scared that I’ve found her. If I wasn’t so pissed, her reaction might actually make me sad.
I get myself together, letting go of her arm. But still I position myself between her and her door, because she may be trying to drive away, but I’m not going to lie down and let her run me over on her way.
I look her in the eye. I stare for a long time, trying to see the girl who sat beside me on the bench at Mitch’s, the girl who’d been in tears the first night I kissed her, the girl who liked the smell of the rain from inside a dugout.
But I can’t. She won’t let me. Her eyes are cold and hard.
I shake my head and curse toward the ground. “Shit.” I look up at her again. “Did you really think I was going to let you walk out of here like that?”
“Oh, give me a break. Don’t stand there acting so wronged, Jamie.” She waves her hand in the direction of the house. “Like you’ve always treated girls with the utmost respect. We’ve all heard the stories. Apparently they’re endless. You’re a hypocrite, acting so appalled about all this.”
My hands go to either side of my head for a second, trying to focus, because all this nonsense she’s spewing … it’s just confusing everything. That’s not what this is about.
I’m trying to focus, to find the words, but Eve won’t stop talking. She inserts herself between me and her car, shifting her weight to wedge in there and open the door. “Look,” she says coldly. “What did either one of us think was honestly going to happen here? The truth of the matter is we don’t get along. That’s been blatantly obvious since day one.” She shrugs one shoulder. “I probably just saved both of us from it being any worse in the long run.”
Eve turns her back on me, fiddling with her keys.
“Tha
t’s what’s been blatantly obvious?”
She nods.
“Yeah, well, I think there’s something else that’s blatantly obvious, and it’s not that, Marshall.”
I wait for her to turn around, because it’s my turn, and I deserve this much respect at least.
“The truth of the matter is, party or no party, Naomi or no Naomi, stories or no stories … you never gave me a chance.” The anger starts rising in my chest again. “Never!”
She opens her mouth, like she wants to argue, but I’m on a tear now. I move my face closer to hers, because she will hear this—I’ll make her, even if she refuses to show it.
“When it came time to actually put yourself out there, put the tough girl act down and actually show you could have some trust in someone else”—I shake my head bitterly—“you couldn’t even do it.
“You act so hard.” I glance away, laugh once, although there’s nothing funny about any of this. “I used to like that you were tough; that you had more of a backbone than any girl I’ve ever known. But in reality, you’re scared. You’re not tough at all. And it’s actually easier for you to think badly about other people than put yourself out there and take a chance on them.”
Something flashes to life in her eyes, like my words have finally hit something human beneath the cold, heartless exterior she’s giving me.
So I drop some more truth bombs, hoping they hit their mark, too.
“Tell me a single time, since the night of the spaghetti dinner, shit, since before that, that I’ve hurt you. That I’ve treated you badly. That I’ve made it seem like I didn’t care.”
She’s quiet, her eyes going to the ground.
“You can’t, can you? All you can do is dredge up stories from before we even met, because facing the reality of what’s happening here is too hard for you. Because … as I’ve always said, you’re just too stubborn for your own good, too stubborn to admit that maybe you’re wrong.”
I study her face, thinking some more. “Captain. Standout. All-star.” I can’t help but huff. “When the truth is, you know nothing about being a team player. Putting yourself on the line for someone else. Not when it actually matters. Not when it means there’s even the smallest possibility you might lose.”