He nods and follows me out. I return to Cinna and Aubrey. Dorien goes to Carter’s end of the table.
For a few minutes, everything is fine as I do my best to ignore everything except the present moment. The gold light through the maples is dimming to dusky purple and the lot is filling with other Friday groups. The noise of strangers laughing is comforting. And my friends are talking. I’m half-listening, half-decompressing, letting the ordinary sounds wash over me so I can feel normal again.
Then I hear Dorien’s voice from the far end of the table.
He and Cinna are talking about projects because she’s serious about turning in everything a day early. Dorien is more of a “turn it in a day late” type of person. His work is good, so he always has passing grades.
But Cinna doesn’t get good marks or art assignments, which confuses me. She’s so technically skilled, yet teachers say she’s not “showing emotion” or “saying anything meaningful” with her art. It’s a real sore spot for her.
“You’re probably just lazy, aren’t you?” Cinna says to Dorien with a smile. It’s her flirty smile, but I think I’m the only one at the table who recognizes that.
He knows she’s teasing since he smiles back. “Probably. But my work is awe-inspiring so I get forgiven. You should try it with your art some time.”
Cinna continues to smile, but I can tell she’s hurt. The edges of her eyes are too pinched, her cheeks too drawn in.
I don’t think Dorien was being deliberately mean, only careless with his words. He thought they were joking around and he was being playful, the way he is with Carter. But Carter has tougher skin. Cinna hides it well, but she’s a little… fragile. Besides, Dorien knows Cinna is touchy about her art, so it was a stupid thing to say.
“What an ass,” I say to Cinna. “Ignore him.”
“Why?” she says, turning her attention back to me and Aubrey. She’s still smiling, like it’s frozen on her face. “He’s right. I’d get better grades if my work was…” She shrugs and starts talking to Aubrey about going shopping this weekend.
Why is it so hard to make it more than ten minutes without being irritated with Dorien?
I pull out my phone under the table and text Cinna:You sure you’re okay? He shouldn’t have said that.
I watch her phone light up beside her cup. She glances at the screen. Her eyes move to me for a fraction of a second. She picks up the phone, shrugs, then types back:I’m fine. It was just a joke.
She puts the phone down and laughs at what Aubrey says next. It’s convincing, and anyone who didn’t know better would believe it entirely.
But I know better.
I look at Dorien at the far end of the table. He’s pulled his collar up against the cooling air, half-smiling at Carter, completely oblivious. The man who spent time researching a burner phone number to protect me can’t see the girl sitting six feet away, trying not to fall apart.
So typical.
I don’t look at him again for the rest of the night.
But I can’t stop myself from touching my cheek, because I can still feel his fingers there.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AERON
Carter’s car smells like gym bags and pine air freshener. The combination is so disgusting I have to roll down the window and stick my head out. I’m reminded why I avoid this car at all costs. I might puke, but I guess tonight it was worth it since I’m going to my first party.
No surprise, but I wasn’t popular in high school. I never had a girlfriend, never had any friends except the D&D group who let me eat lunch with them. I never lost my virginity, though I did kiss a girl once, but that was only because she wanted to make her ex jealous.
Obviously, I was never invited to parties that weren’t family related.
But I have friends now—Dorien and Carter—and I’ve smoked weed, which should classify me as having aura. It only makes sense I get to experience my first real party.
The streetlights along the county road strobe through the windshield in steady intervals, each one painting the dashboard bright and then letting it go dark, bright and dark. I’m watching the pattern, trying not to think about what Carter said five minutes ago.
“Cinna might be there tonight,” he’d said casually with his eyes on the road. The corner of his mouth pulled upward just a little bit, and I knew he was smirking at me.
He knows about my crush, somehow. He knows everything about everyone in our house. He’s never said it or asked me directly, but he knows.
I didn’t respond. I turned toward the passenger window, watching the farmland blur past. My nothing was so loud that Carter’s smirk got worse.
