“You bet I am!” I call after her. Yeah, right. Crazy for acting like someone I’m not, more like. I can’t remember when I first started doing it, but it’s starting to feel comfortable. I’m starting to like this Tyler better, but yet, as soon as Rachael is out of sight, I am back to being myself.
Sitting on the floor, my back against the wall, the bruise on my shoulder aching, my mind in overdrive.
8
Present Day
As I make my way back down the stairs and as the music becomes louder and louder, I find myself off-balance. My legs aren’t working the way I want them to, so I take each step one at a time, grabbing pathetically at the wall to stabilize myself. I know I look high, but I’m not yet. I just can’t see in the dark, so it takes me two minutes of drunken navigation and staring intensely at the floor before I finally get back to the living room.
The house appears fuller now, though maybe I’m imagining it. The vodka I’ve consumed too fast is taking control of me. I feel lighter in a way, more at ease, but I know that I need to avoid Naomi, and I know that I need to find Kaleb. If I find Declan, then that’s even better.
Glancing up, I make a beeline through the crowd straight to the kitchen, but I immediately bump into someone before I get very far. I stand on their feet, only to be tutted at and shoved back again. I hold my hands up in surrender, trying to seem apologetic even though I don’t care, and then I focus my gaze to realize that actually, it’s Rachael.
“God, Tyler,” she mutters, glaring at me in disdain and tuckinga strand of her curled blond hair behind her ear. “Wasted before midnight. No surprise there.”
“Nice to see you too,” I fire back, my voice flat. I’m supposed to like Rachael. She’s supposed to like me. We call ourselves friends, but we’re not, really. I’ve known her since middle school, but she’s hated me ever since freshman year.Apparentlyshe doesn’t want to put up with my bullshit like everyone else does. Her words, not mine. I’m cool with her disdain though.
Rachael takes a sip of her drink via a straw so as not to smudge her red lipstick. She continues to glare at me through her heavily lined eyes. “So,” she says, leaning in closer to me, “what was up with you earlier?”
I raise an eyebrow and step back from her again. I don’t know what the hell she’s taking about. She wasn’t even at Tiffani’s place earlier. “Huh?”
“At the barbecue,” Rachael clarifies, cocking her head to one side. The music is so loud I can hardly even hear her. Most of the time I don’t want to anyway. “When you stormed in like that?”
Huh. So that’s what she’s talking about. The barbecue. I’m surprised that she even went. It’s not exactly her scene. “You were there?”
“Yeah. Your mom invited me over to meet Eden.”
I squint at her. There’s that name again, that girl. I try to picture her again in my head, but right now, I can’t quite remember what she looks like all that well. I do, however, remember those lips and that voice. There’s no chance in hell I’m forgetting that. I wish I could form a clearer picture, but my thoughts are blurring. “Eden?”
“Your stepsister?” Rachael says, rolling her eyes at me. Almost in pity, she purses her lips and looks me up and down. Then shakes her head like she feels sorry for me. I hate when people do that. “She thinksyou’re a jackass, by the way, so she has pretty good judgment. But whatever, enjoy your night, Tyler. Looks like you’re already enjoying it a little too much.” She seems so far away from me, disconnected, but I know it’s just the alcohol that’s putting her out of focus.
“Rachael.” I reach for her arm as she turns to walk away. “Is Tiffani here?”
“Kitchen,” Rachael says, then shrugs my hand off her before she disappears.
I stand in the middle of the living room for a few more seconds. Or maybe a minute. I can’t concentrate on anything but Tiffani. I need to find her, and I need to resolve the argument we had earlier. We never fight for long. Neither of us have the confidence for that. We’re not cut out for being on our own. She needs me by her side almost as much as I need her by mine, and we usually get back to putting on a show less than twenty-four hours after whatever fight we’ve had. At least that’s usually how it goes.
I rub at my temple and take a deep breath. I’m good at this. I’m good at acting. Now I gotta be sweet and charming, apologetic and convincing, even when I’m not.
I weave my way across the living room, through the distant faces of everyone around me, and then I hover by the edge of the kitchen, searching for her blue eyes. They meet mine from across the room, and she comes into focus, her mouth a dazzling smile as she laughs at whatever joke Dean has just made. Her gaze sharpens, and she presses her lips together, glancing away from me again. She is pouring herself a glass from the bottle of wine she’s brought over, slowly and with a certain degree of deliberation to her movements, her chin held high.
I start toward her, nudging Meghan gently to one side as I squeeze past her, and as I approach, Tiffani raises the glass of wine to her lipsand takes a sip, watching me closely over the rim, trying not to screw up her face as she forces it down. She hates wine. “Tiff…” I say, reaching for her free wrist.
“Tyler!” she exclaims. Immediately, she plasters a wide grin across her face. It’s so forced and so fake that it’s enough to make me feel sick.Does anyone else see it? Does anyone else see that this is all just bullshit? All just a fucking act? She throws her arm around the back of my neck and pulls me toward her, pressing her lips to mine.
Her mouth tastes like mint and the cheap wine she’s drinking. She intertwines her fingers through my hair at the nape of my neck, pulling too hard, and she bites my lower lip in an effort to convey her anger at me. I kiss her back though, because we have an audience. Even grasp her waist like I know she wants me to.
Finally, she tears away first and fixes me with a forced smile, but I can still see the aggravation in her eyes. My hands still on her waist, I bury my face into the crook of her neck and against her warm skin, I mumble, “We need to talk.”
Her blue eyes meet mine again and she gives me a tiny fraction of a nod, then slips her hand into mine. Around us, I can see Kaleb watching me intensely with an impressed, teasing smirk, and it’s clear that even Dean is fighting the urge to roll his eyes as Tiffani flicks her hair over her shoulder and begins to pull me toward the door. I follow in silence, my hand still in hers, mostly because I’m just glad to have some support to keep me balanced. My head feels too heavy.
“We’ll be back in a minute,” Tiffani says over her shoulder, as though every single person in this damn kitchen actually gives a shit about what we’re up to, and then she pulls open the door, allowing the fresh air to hit me smack in the face.
Shit, I think.I really am drunk. I grab Tiffani’s shoulder with onehand and press the other to my forehead, wondering if I’ve felt this dizzy the entire night. I really can’t tell, but what I do know is that the backyard is spinning around me, and Tiffani has pushed my hand off her body. I grab fistfuls of the air instead until I finally settle against the wall of the house, breathing deeply while I try to meet Tiffani’s gaze again.
Now that we are no longer putting on a show, her smile is gone. Her arms are folded across her chest, her eyes are narrowing. I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s still pissed at me from earlier, but I’m thinking that maybe now isn’t the right time to attempt to fix this. Not when I’m like this, but what choice do I have? I’m still mad at her for bringing up my dad earlier, but she’s like a crutch to me. She’s a part of the picture-perfect life I’m trying to pull off, and I don’t want to lose that. Besides, the sex is on tap, and it’s worth apologizing for that alone.
“I’m sorry for storming out earlier,” I start. I’m not sorry at all, really, but I know that it’s what she wants to hear. She wants me to beg for her forgiveness. That’ll satisfy her ego. So, although I am wasted and she is blurry, I fake the apologetic frown on my face and the guilt in my eyes.
