“Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the party.
It was already packed. The familiar faces of all my former classmates filled the cookie-cutter house. Most of them turned to greet Cherry first, and then their eyebrows arched in confusion when they saw me. I knew exactly what they were thinking. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Cherry led me to the kitchen. The pounding bass of the music bled into my thoughts, so loud I felt it in my ribs. I wondered how long it would take before someone called the cops. The neighbors were probably already regretting their life choices.
“So,” Cherry said once we reached the kitchen counter. “Pick your poison. Oh wait,” she teased, “it’s you.” Her hands skimmed past the alcohol bottles and landed instead on a bottle of soda. She poured it into a red plastic cup and handed it to me without missing a beat. I gave her a sarcastic smile, just for show. She already knew how much I appreciated that she never tried to convince me to drink. “And for me…” she trailed off, turning back to examine the bottles like she was considering a potion. I tuned her out. Booze talk didn’t interest me.
Instead, I looked around the room. I’d gone to Hawking for four years. I knew most of these people like a bad habit. And yet,tonight they seemed… different. Looser. Lighter. Smiling with their whole faces like nothing could touch them. It wasn’t real. I knew that. It was the alcohol and the pills talking, whispering sweet lies to their brains. I was caught in that observation, studying the faces I thought I understood, when someone stepped up beside me. I saw the blonde hair first. Then the tattoo on his neck. And finally, the smirk tugging at his lips, like he’d caught me mid-lie.
“I thought you said you didn’t drink?”
I pursed my lips, running my eyes over his face instead of answering his stupid question. He was handsome. There was no way around it. He had a sharp jaw, his lips full. His eyes were blue, but not the kind that invited attention. They weren’t light or striking in an obvious way. They were dark, heavy with depth, the kind of blue that swallowed light instead of reflecting it. The color reminded me of deep water, the kind you couldn’t see the bottom of, the kind that looked calm until you imagined what lived beneath it. His face carried evidence of impact. Faint scars cut through his skin, uneven and pale against the rest of him, as if they’d been earned over time rather than all at once. Nothing about them felt dramatic or intentional. They were simply there, markers of fights that had already happened and were no longer being explained.
And at that moment, all of it annoyed me. I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me. He belonged to a different world, the one that claimed Holden. He didn’t have a right to be here, at a party with my friends from my high school. And he definitely didn’t have a right to look hot while doing it.
“She doesn’t,” Cherry’s voice snapped me back to reality. I felt her elbow land on my shoulder as she leaned into me. I looked over. She was eyeing tattoo-boy like he was a snack. “But I do.” Iwas amused by her bluntness, and the new purr she’d suddenly adopted in her voice.
“She doesn’t? Looks like she does,” he said, tilting his cup until it tapped against mine.
“Soda,” I muttered, rolling my eyes, taking another sip.
“Who the hell are you?” Cherry asked, swiping a strand of hair from her face. “You don’t go to Hawking.”
“And considering graduation was last week, you don’t anymore either,” he said. His words were aimed at Cherry, but his eyes hadn’t left my face. “West Bridge.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” she pushed, “who are you?”
“Austin,” he said. The same name he gave me last weekend. The one I’d forgotten.
“Austin,” Cherry repeated. “I’m Cherry.”
“Cherry?” Austin raised his eyebrows, finally flicking his gaze toward her. “Like the fruit.”
“Like the fruit,” she echoed, holding her hand out. He reached for it, but right before their hands touched, she pulled hers back. “Should we really shake hands or just make out?”
I laughed, turning aside. Austin’s mouth curved into a smile that didn’t rush. His eyes met mine, steady and unreadable, and then he spoke, like it was always his move.
“I think I already had my full serving of fruits and vegetables today.”
“Oh?” Cherry lifted an eyebrow, unfazed. “Let me guess. You’re looking for a serving of something else? Maybe… something that starts withBand ends withlair.”
“Oh my god, Cherry. Shut up,” I said, because there was no version of this conversation where she stopped on her own.
“What?” she shrugged, grinning like an idiot. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“He doesn’t even know me,” I protested, flicking my eyes between the two of them. Austin was watching us like we were his favorite show.
“You don’t know her?” Cherry asked Austin. “You’re a stranger?”
“We just met,” Austin said. “Actually—”
“Hey, Blair.” He was cut off by an approaching guy. It took me a second to place him. He graduated last year. Brandon, I think. “Haven’t seen you at these parties before.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess. This one dragged me out,” I said, jerking my thumb toward Cherry.
“Well, it’s nice to see you,” Brandon continued, offering one of the two cups he was holding. “I thought you might be thirsty.”
“Oh, actually I don’t—” I shook my head, keeping my arms at my sides.
“Drink,” Cherry said at the exact same time I did. Like lightning, she grabbed the cup and tilted it back into her mouth. “But I do. Thanks!” I looked up at the ceiling. Wondering, once again, why God insisted on testing my patience by giving me a best friend like Cherry. “Oh,” she added, completely unfazed, “I spy someone whose clothes I want to rip off. And sorry, Austin, it’s not you this time.”
