“Not nearly enough. Oh, hey! It’s your little freshman,” says Rich, singling me out. This time I do shrink a bit, desperate to make myself smaller. “You find your voice yet, Ariel?” He gives Dani an amused look. “She’s shy.”
My face flames with embarrassment, and I wish I could extract myself from this conversation—from thisparty—but pulling off a smooth exit isn’t one of my strengths.
“Don’t just call someone shy, Rich,” Dani scolds. “That’s fucked up.” She looks at me. “You can tell him he’s an asshole.” She waits, and when I don’t call him an asshole, she pushes. “Go on. Tell him.”
“Dani,” warns Wes. “Stop.”
“What? I’m telling her it’s okay to call him out on his bullshit. What’s wrong with that?”
“Maybe she doesn’t think I said anything wrong,” Rich interjects. “Maybe she finds my candidness attractive.”
Dani snorts. “Yeah. Right. Why don’t you let her speak for herself, Rich?”
They both stare at me, waiting expectantly. Words crawl further down my throat.
“Guys, leave her alone,” Wes says, and I don’t miss the way he shifts his body to partially shield me with his shoulder. Dani doesn’t miss it either, her face puckering like she’s tasted something sour. “It’s hard being surrounded by a bunch of people you don’t know.”
Dani wiggles her cup. “That’s what the drinking’s for. Do you drink, sweetie? No? Maybe you should try it.”
Movement in my peripheral catches my attention, and I turn to see Quinn standing behind me. I have no idea how long she’s been listening, but the cold look on her face says a while. She muscles her way into the group and takes the spot beside me.
“Another freshman? Does this one talk?” jokes Rich.
“Yeah. She says fuck off, idiot,” snaps Quinn, grabbing my wrist. “Time to go. Happy Birthday, Wes. You should keep your friends in check next time.”
I can barely process what was said before she’s dragging me through the crowd, the extraction I needed, though a less tactful one than I’d hoped for.
“Ivy, leaving already?” Ben calls as we breeze past him. “I made chocolate cake!”
I have just enough time to mouthsorryover my shoulder before Quinn’s pulling me through the front door, over the lawn, and down the sidewalk. It’s only once we hit the street corner that she halts and turns to me.
“What the hell happened back there?” she asks. “You looked like a kicked puppy.”
“I think that girl was his ex,” I tell her, the words leaving a rotten taste on my tongue.
Quinn’s mouth pops open. “Are you serious?”
“I think so.”
Quinn looks outraged on my behalf. “What the hell? They invited her?”
I rub at my temple, feeling a headache coming on. “It didn’t sound like it. I’m not sure.”
She frowns. “Damn. I’m sorry, Ivy.”
I shrug, trying to play it off even though a huge part of me wants to cry. My skin is still overheated, and I tip my face up to the sky, relying on the windchill to cool me down. “It’s fine,” I mutter. “Let’s just go.”
She gives a sympathetic nod, and we head down the path to my car. We’ve almost made it the two blocks when I hear a familiar voice.
“Ivy! Ivy, wait up!”
“No way,” Quinn mutters as we turn around. I’m frozen in place, shocked that he chased after us, and Quinn lightly shoves me forward.
I meet Wes halfway up the block, my arms crossed and my eyes trained on his shoes. Embarrassment is a weight on my chest, crushing.
“Ivy, I am so sorry about them,” Wes blurts, slightly out of breath. “I’m fucking mortified.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him, still staring at his feet. It’s nothisfault. He can’t control people running their mouths, and he has nothing to do with my inability to hold a conversation. I have no one to blame but myself for that, and my shoulders droop at the realization. I hug my arms tighter around my body.
