“What does it look like?” Provokingly, I take another sip, and this time it burns a little less.
“Can’t you behave for even one evening?” She moves to take my glass, but I’m faster and hold it out of her reach. I’m taller, even though she’s wearing killer heels.
“I always behave,” I say sardonically.
She rolls her eyes. “In which life?”
“What do you want from me, anyway? Go back to your Disney prince.”
She laughs in disbelief. “Jesus, what made you into such an asshole?”
Sam dying. Dad. Mom. You.
I shrug noncommittally. I hate being this way. I don’t feel like myself anymore. Not like the person I know I can be. Not when I’m around my fucking family.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have given you the money after all.”
I grimace. I had done my best to ignore the fact that Lia had, in fact, paid my tuition for this semester, even though I never agreed to her terms. Because if I had thought about it, I would have felt forced to talk to her. I would have had to go down on my knees and thank her for saving my dream, at least for the semester. But I couldn’t manage to do it. I couldn’t thank her. Even if that made me an even bigger asshole.
“You can take it back, just like Mom and Dad did. You’re copying everything they do anyway. So go ahead. Don’t feel obliged.”Shut up, you idiot.
“God, Jase, why are you like this?” Lia asks, frustrated.
“Did you also not bother to remember that today is five years since Sam died?”
Lia goes pale. So they really forgot. Or they didn’t care. I’m not sure which is worse.
“Jase—” Lia starts, but I push past her.
“Leave it, Ophelia.” She flinches. She hates her name. “You’re here to celebrate, so do it. Just leave me out of this shit.”
“Then why are you here?” she calls after me. But I don’t answer.
Yeah, why the hell am I here? I get another drink and chug it down at a standing table in the corner of the ballroom. I can’t remember the last time I was drunk, but today feels like a good day for it. I stare into the golden liquid in my glass and think of Zoe’s eyes. They’re the same color. Where the hell is she? It scares me a little how much I want her here. How much Ineedher.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and am just about to text her when I hear someone come up next to my table.
“Hi, Jase.” The annoying voice makes me look up, and I immediately wish I hadn’t.
“Charlotte,” I say in monotone.
“I want to introduce you to my parents,” she trills, pointing to a couple behind her, who are looking at me with distant smiles.
I know Charlotte’s parents. I never met them personally, but I know who the mayor of Boston is. And I also know that his wife gives her lovely daughters every damn thing they want.
“They want to talk to you about the scholarship,” Charlotte continues, giving me a meaningful look when I don’t answer.
The fucking scholarship. Charlotte’s offer. She hasn’t mentioned it in weeks, and I wonder why she’s doing it now, of all times. But actually, I don’t care.
“No need,” I say, stepping away from the table. Time to leave.
I walk purposefully toward the bar, ignoring Mom, who is hanging on Dad’s arm and wearing a white, figure-hugging dress with a bright smile on her face that’s so fake I could puke.
I signal to the bartender, and a few seconds later, he hands me a full glass. But before I can take it, someone grabs my hand. I don’t even have to look to know who it is. I know the touch intimately. I look up anyway, and Zoe is standing next to me, a worried expression on her face. Relief floods me, and I can’t help it. I have to hold her close, inhale her lavender scent, and feel my fingers on her skin.
She looks surprised and returns my embrace. She kisses my cheek. It’s crazy how much better I feel just because she’s here.
“Hi,” she says softly, taking a step back. She looks absolutely beautiful, wearing a calf-length dress in rust-colored silk that clings to her upper body like a second skin. The skirt falls softly and flows around her long legs, and I catch myself wondering if she’s wearing anything underneath it.
