“I know.” She nodded gravely. “That’s why I think you should keep an open mind here.”
“I hate this. I fucking hate feelings.”
“I know, babe.” She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. “Anyway, let’s move on. I love you so much. Thank you for being here. And for letting me play dress up with you.”
“I love you, too. Thank you foralwaysbeing there for me. Even when I feel numb and impossible to be around.” I pulled away from her.
“You’re never impossible to be around,” she said, searching my eyes. “You’re my sister and you’re going through a lot of shit. I’ll always be there.”
I swallowed. “Please pour the shots before I cry in front of people.”
“Oh, God. We wouldn’t want that.” She grinned, poured the next shot, clinked my glass, and we downed hers. “Should we stop?”
“Stop?” Both of my eyebrows raised. “This is the only thing that’ll keep me here, laughing and being social and shit.”
Marissa laughed loudly. “Two more?”
“One more,” I said. “For now.”
“Good idea.” She poured another, we downed them, and she closed the bottle. “I’m going to hide this.”
She hid it in a cabinet and threw an arm over my shoulders. “God, I missed this, Lyla.”
Me too. Me freaking too. The Lyla she was referring to partied and had fun. She’d never been jealous, though. I took a breath and grabbed Marissa’s hand as we walked out of the kitchen. Making our way through the sea of people was challenging. We froze by the door when we stepped outside, taking in the yard. They’d set up balloons on the fence that read, “Happy Birthday, Mar.” There were two beer pong tables. I didn’t normally drink beer, but I freaking loved beer pong and had mastered the game. I was too competitive to do anything half-assed, so senior year of high school, I’d made Luke and Prescott practice with me until I felt like I got the angle and flick of my wrist just right. As Marissa walked around and said hi to people, I stood next to her, pretending to listen to her sorority sisters talk about a barbecue they were planning. Prescott, Mason, and some other guys were at one of the beer pong tables. The shots had seeped in while I’d been standing there, and I felt tipsy enough to join in on the fun.
I leaned into Marissa. “I’m gonna go play beer pong with Pres.”
“I’ll find you later.” She pulled me into another tight hug. “Seriously, love you.”
I kissed her cheek and smiled as I stepped away and walked to the beer pong area. When Prescott saw me, his jaw dropped. It was his reaction when he saw me anywhere these days, but I was sure that wearing this outfit like this to a crowded party was the main reason for his disbelief. He ran around the table and lifted me in the air, like we were in Dirty Dancing, before setting me back on my feet.
“Damn, Marissa really went all out this year.” He eyed me up and down, shaking his head. He pulled me into a side hug. “Are you abiding by the rules? Smiling, socializing?”
“If you keep going, I’ll have no choice but to sit in the corner sulking.”
“Shutting up now.” He pressed two fingers together and gestured like he was zipping his mouth.
“Can we play?” I nodded at the beer pong table.
“Fuck yeah! Let’s gooooo!” he shouted as we turned around. I waved at Mason and the other guy.
“Lyla’s on my team.” That was Mason, who was still checking me out.
He wore a gray hockey t-shirt that seemed to be sculpted over his muscles and black joggers. He grinned when our eyes met again. I returned it with a small, polite smile so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Just because Lachlan was doing whatever he was doing didn’t mean I’d do the same. My God, thinking of him pissed me off all over again. I needed to stop. He wasn’t mine. We shared some moments that probably meant more to me than they did to him. I probably only felt this way because I hadn’t even glanced at a guy in two years. Maybe if I hadn’t been closed off and at home sulking all the time, my moments with Lachlan would have meant nothing. I knew I was lying to myself. It wasn’t just that Lach was hot or that he paid attention to me. It was the way he made me feel that set him apart. I sighed heavily. Fuck him. I was over it. I looked at Mason again. He was cute in that laid-back, California surfer dude kind of way, with blond hair that reached his shoulders, glimmering blue eyes, and a sun-kissed complexion.
“Fuck no. She’s on my team,” Prescott said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
“Come on.” Mason rolled his eyes. “Dustin and Lyla never come out and party, so we need to even out the playing field.”
“Bro.” Prescott shot him a look. “Lyla’s the best player in this entire fucking party. I’d bet money on that.”
“Yeah, right.” Mason scoffed and shot me an apologetic look. “No offense, Lyla.”
“None taken.” I smothered a smirk. “I love being the underdog.”
“Whatever.” Prescott groaned. “Lyles, you can be on Mason’s team if you want.”
“I mean if he needs me to pull all the weight.” I shrugged and walked over to where he stood.
