“He’s fine, I think. Where… Where is he?”
A wave of nausea rises in my throat. “I don’t know. At home, I think. Why?”
“Oh God.” Cece looks sick to her stomach. “Ada, I can’t…”
“What? What is it? Just tell me.”
Shaking, she hands me her phone. It’s open on Jenny Wallis’ account, a multi-photo post, but this one isn’t about the reunion. The first photo shows Jake and Jenny with their arms around each other at what looks like a party. They’re in their late teens or early twenties, ridiculously attractive, and clearly about to kiss.
My mind bursts above my body. I watch myself swipe left and see a photo of Jake the way he is now, drinking coffee at a cafe. Another swipe reveals him and Jenny Wallis, smiling arm-in-arm, the beach behind them. He’s wearing the same T-shirt as he was in the photo before, and something in me knows it was taken today. I scroll down to the caption:
Childhood sweethearts reunited! Some people were always meant to find their way back to each other…#hometownheat #stillgotit
I rush for Cece’s bathroom and manage to get most of my puke in the toilet. After that, things come in flashes, me on my feet, swearing a blue streak. Davis pressing a cold towel into my face. Cece saying things. Aggie saying things. Heat bursting across my eyes like sunspots. Running away from all of them and barricading myself in the laundry, turning off the light and curling into a ball. Time drips and drops, thoughts circling on a Rolodex until I claw my way back.
“Hey girl,” I mumble to myself. “Time to sort this mess.”
I take a boiling hot shower. Get dressed. Do my makeup. Pull on the All Blacks jersey. Snap a few photos. Head downstairs.
I pass Cece and Davis, ignore what they say and walk out.
First stop: Vape shop. Two ice-mint ElfBars.
Second stop: Liquor store. The most expensive tequila they have. Eighteen-year-old Fuenteseca.
I drink as I walk, practically begging someone to say something about me swigging from an open bottle. No one does. Cowards. I reach the park near Stabbies and settle cross-legged on a bench. I hunt for the photo I took after Jake and I first slept together. Me, smiling like the cat that got the cream, his tattooed bicep clearly visible in the bed behind me.
I upload it to my stories and add text:
Some childhood sweethearts stay together. Some grow up.
When an amateur shoots to kill, their best chance is to aim for centre mass and spray. I post another picture. Me, tangled in my sheets, eyes closed, lips parted, naked except for Jake’s All Blacks jersey. The text box practically types itself:
Thanks for all the adult memories...
I delete all my social media apps, turn off my phone and down tequila like it’s tap water.
I might be the most naive bitch walking the earth, but three things are crystal clear:
Jake fucked Jenny Wallis.
We’re done. Forever.
My plans to get my shit together can wait, because I am getting completely,catastrophicallyfucked up tonight.
14
Cece
Iset Will’s flowers in the corner of the kitchen, far enough from the fryer to avoid oil splatter, close enough that I can see them whenever I want. The lush bundle of pink roses and lilies, delivered in their own glass vase, is the only thing keeping my mood afloat right now.
Of all the bar jobs that often fall to me, working in the kitchen is my least favourite. But this is only the second time Aggie’s asked for a Saturday night off since I took over Afterglow.
“Hot date,” she announced last Tuesday, waggling her pencilled eyebrows at me. “He’s a looker, too. Like an older John Stamos.”
I didn’t point out that John Stamosisan older John Stamos now. Just laughed and said “Have mercy!”
With only Mondays off, Aggie works as hard as I do. She deserves a little fun. And honestly? If you’re going to cut loose with anyone, a John Stamos lookalike is a solid choice. But even as I think it, I correct myself. Will Sharpe is theperfectman to cut loose with, something I’m hoping will happen very soon. Every time I look at the flowers, I imagine it. Me, in my gold dress. Will, in a suit. Our eyes meet acrossthe dancefloor at the reunion. Maybe we talk. Maybe we share a drink. Maybe we just kiss, then and there.
