"Earth to Grace," she called, waving a manicured hand in my face.
"Sorry, just thinking of the month ahead and all the exciting activities you have planned."
"First, you need to work on your poker face. You make a terrible liar. Second, I heard you mutter the words toThe Pina Colada Song, so if that's a hint at me to get the wine out, I'm way ahead of you, girl!"
She bounced away to the kitchen, reaching up to grab a couple of wine glasses from the cupboard above. I moved to the fridge to grab a bottle of Sav, uncorking it swiftly.
"So!" I started, "Tell me this news that will put a damper on my day. Good thing getting me liquored up," I joked.
Amelia settled down on the bar stool opposite and flicked me an uneasy smile beneath her long lashes. "Wellll..." she dragged out, twirling a French-tipped finger around the rim of her glass. "Our class is having a reunion in three weeks," she started.
I let out a loud, short bark of laughter. "Oh, my God," I snorted. "That's in three weeks?"
"So you did get the email?" Amelia enquired, her brow arched curiously.
"Got it and deleted it as soon as I read the subject line. I have no idea how they got my new email address," I frowned.
"Well!" Amelia interjected brightly, "That explains why I didn't see your name on the RSVP list."
I blinked, staring blankly at my friend.
"Um, you seriously don't think I wouldactuallygo to that?" I asked incredulously.
Amelia's shoulders drooped. "I know, Gracie. I was just hoping that maybe we could go? You know, since you're here and all."
"No," I firmly stated, taking a big gulp of my wine. "Now, can we talk about your bridal shower? Remember how much you adore Paris? I was thinking–"
"Grace!" Amelia slapped her hands on the kitchen island.
I startled. "What?"
Her brow pinched as her red-painted mouth turned down. "I'm on the reunion committee."
I was as still as a statue, stunned. Reunion committee? What the hell?
"But…you hated Ashburton High as much as I did," I slowly reminded her, my brow furrowed in bewilderment.
Amelia flinched, although she kept her eyes averted from mine. "I know, Gracie."
I knew Amelia like the back of my hand. I recognized when she was on her period, when she was in a fight with Liam, when she was sad, happy, or depressed.
And I knew when she was being deliberately evasive.
"You called it the Devil's Playground and even suggested that we defecate on the football field after we graduate." I was still sure that I had misheard her—that I had broken off into a brief daydream but was now wide awake.
"Ew, gosh, don't remind me!" Amelia groaned into her hands.
"I just don't understand." I shook my head slowly. "And who the hell has a high school reunion after seven years? At least give some of us a chance to get over our PTSD."
"I know it's a lot to ask–"
"No."
"–and I know you had a terrible time in high school. No one is disputing that -"
"No."
"–but I really, really want to go to this."
