“What was that about?” Quinn asks, and I snap out of it, setting my phone on the counter. I shift on my feet, debating what to tell her. I haven’t seen her much since that night we watchedThe Fellowship of the Ring, but she knows more about Wes than anyone else. It couldn’t hurt to loop her in, could it? Ask for a second opinion?
“Remember the guy I was texting?” I ask, deciding to go for it.
She straightens, her eyes lighting up at the potential for boy talk. “Mr. No-Name Senior? How could I forget?”
My cheeks grow warm at her suggestive tone, but I continue. “Well, his roommate just invited me to Mr. No-Name’s surprise party this weekend.”
“A secret invite? Are you going to go?”
“I’m not sure…”
“Well, what’s the hesitation?”
There are too many to speak aloud, so I list them off in my head.
I won’t know anyone. It’s an unfamiliar environment. I have nothing to wear. I don’t really drink. Plus, it’s probably all a mistake, anyway. I can’t imagine anything more embarrassingthan Wes wondering why I’m crashing his party like some kind of obsessive stalker or obnoxious fan girl.
“I don’t love parties,” is what I tell Quinn. “And what if he doesn’t want me there?”
“Well, they wouldn’t have invited you if they thought he didn’t want you there, right? So just look at it that way.”
“I guess,” I say, hearing the skepticism in my own voice. “They said he talks about me a lot, but I couldn’t tell if they were genuine.”
Her brows raise. “Why would they say that if they didn’t mean it? If the guy talks about you to his roommates, then youhaveto go. I’ll go with you, if you want.”
I stare at her. “Wait, seriously?”
She nods. “Of course! But you have to ask them first. I don’t want to show up and get turned away. Seniors can be very protective of their private parties.”
Having a friend there would be nice…if that’s even what Quinn and I are to each other. I’m so bad at judging these sorts of things, probably because I can’t recall the last time I actually made a friend. I’d known Farah and Lizzie and Alexis since elementary school, when finding a bestie relied on sharing the pink crayon in art class or playing princesses at recess.
I study Quinn’s face, searching for a sign that she’s only offering out of pity. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”
She smiles, and I deem it genuine. “Not in the slightest. Remy’s traveling with his band this weekend, so I was going to stay in and be boring anyway.”
“Okay,” I say, giving her a small smile back. “I’ll text him now.”
“Do it.”
Grabbing my phone, I type out a message to the most recent caller.
Me:Hi, it’s Ivy. Is it okay if I bring a friend?
Taking a deep breath, I press send. Kaden’s reply comes seconds later.
Kaden:Sure! Just one, though. We’re trying to keep numbers contained so things don’t get out of hand.
Me:Understood, thank you!
Kaden:Party starts at 9. Also, no gifts. Your presence will be gift enough. See you Saturday :)
He sends me a follow-up text with the address.
After that, I type, delete, and re-type four different messages to Wes, each one lamer than the last. After five minutes of this, I decide to be apologetic but straightforward.
Me:Hi. I’m sorry, but I can’t do Saturday after all.
He replies almost instantly.
