The song ends, and Warren looks at me, chewing on his lower lip like he’s deciding something. “Thanks for the dance, Su-Lin,” he says after a moment.
“You too,” I say, and I’m sad because I know he likes me and he has to know I’m not returning the feelings. But I can’t keep leading him on like this. It’s not fair.
As we turn to walk off the dance floor, I finally see Brendan and Jane.They’re sitting in one of those chairs shaped like a big egg. She’s pressed up tight against his side, all but on his lap, and they’re just sitting there, each holding a soda, but her breasts are just inches away from his face, and her long legs crossed over his, and I think I’m going to cry, right here and now.
He sees me see him; my heart thuds painfully.
I look away, blinking too much, willing the tears to stay put, even as I give a small smile to Warren, and we walk away from the crowd, his hands in his pockets.
They’re just talking, I tell myself.That’s all it is. Casual.
Casual. Like Brendan and me.
I think I’m going to be sick.
“Well,” Warren says, when we’re back near the doors. “I should probably . . .” He gestures vaguely behind him, like he wants to leave, and I just smile and nod and try to breathe.Try not to think about Brendan and Jane doinganyof the things Brendan and I have done.
“Okay,” I say. And I’m about to say I’m sorry, because I definitely owe him an apology, but then I see Emily charging toward me, looking as pissed as Jason was before, only she’s got mascara smudged down her cheeks, and I have a horrible feeling that’s not the makeup look she was going for.
“Emily!” I say, “What happened?”
“Yourcousinhappened!” she shrieks. “Your idiotic plan happened!”
“I—I . . .” I have no idea how to respond, but my insides are churning with dread. Warren backs away, his hands in his pockets. Clearly he doesn’t feel the need to defend me from Emily—an angry, crying girl in a sheer nightie—though honestly, a furious Emily is a bigger threat to my safety than Jason any day.
“I went up to my room—ourroom, because like an idiot I’ve been letting him stay with me so he didn’t have to drive all the way home—and he was sleeping with some other girl!”
I gape. “But . . . didn’t he ask you to be his girlfriend?”
This is clearly not the right thing to say, because Emily gives me a death glare, made scarier by the raccoon eyes.
“Yes, in fact, he did. And I agreed. But he clearly has a different definition of ‘girlfriend,’ because he’s screwing the very woman I introduced him to as a job contact!”
Oh my god. My mind is reeling. I’m trying to picture my cousin doing this. (Well, not, you know, doingthat, but being the type of guy who would.) He’s a bit full of himself, yeah. But he’s the kind of guy who made sure to dance with my grandma at the wedding. He’s the kind of guy who sends me and my sisters funny cards—in the actual mail!—on our birthdays.The kind of guy who got perfect grades and plays, like, four instruments and is—
Apparently a total dick when it comes to dating.
“Emily, I’m so sorry,” I say, reaching for her arm, which she pulls back. “I didn’t know. I would never have set you up with him if I’d—”
“Iknew!” She yells. “Deep down, I knew he was a snake, and that’s why he bailed the first time. But I didn’t trust myself. I trustedyouinstead, becauseI am an idiotand I believed in your stupid plans to meddle in my life. And I let myself get played, and I pushed away a guy I actually really like.”
“I’m so, so sorry,” I say, the tears I’d been holding back welling up, but she turns away, shaking her head at the ceiling like the strobe lights are the problem here.
Your stupid plans.
My stupid plans that just mess everything up.
“Emily,” I say again, pleading for her to hear me, but she swipes at her eyes and wobbles off on really high heels that normally she wouldn’t have any problem in. She doesn’t look back, even as I call after her.
I stand there for a few moments, my arms wrapped around myself, trying to hold myself together.
I hurt Jason. I hurt Emily. I probably hurt Warren, who has walked away toward the bar. I’ve messed everything up, and everyone hates me. And Brendan’s with Jane, on theirdate, and—
And I don’t care that he’s on a date. I need my best friend. I need Brendan to tell me everything’s going to be okay, and maybe I’ll believe him, if just for tonight.
I need my Brendan.
I push through the crowd, back toward that egg chair, and I can’t stop hearing the fury in Emily’s voice—my fault—or seeing the betrayed hurt on Jason’s angry face—also my fault—and my eyes are burning and I’m probably going to embarrass myself by crying in front of Jane, but if I can just feel Brendan’s arms around me—
