Piper
On Friday, I spend the time I should be at work—or looking for work—shopping for something to wear to Hudson’s party.
I end up blowing way more money than Tati would approve of on a breezy dress with a deep sweetheart neckline and a hem that whispers well above my knees.
The retail therapy turns out to be just what I need.
After a quiet dinner with my sister, I slip into my new dress, pausing to admire my reflection in the mirror, then twist my hair into a topknot, brush a second coat of mascara onto my lashes, and swipe vanilla gloss over my lips.
Henry and I walk to Hudson’s. He lives about a mile from the Towers in a rambler that’s part of a planned community. Jayden’s and Gabi’s cars are in the driveway, plus Hudson’s dad’s Subaru. The family minivan is likely parked outside one of the Disney resorts.
“Did you go to a lot of parties in Spokane?” I ask Henry as we head up the drive.
“Is my neon LOSER sign not burning brightly enough for you?”
“You’re not a loser.” I link my arm through his. “And even if you were, I wouldn’t care because you’d be my loser.”
He laughs. “You really know how to stroke a guy’s ego.”
Hudson lets us into the house with a raucous hello. He thumps Henry on the shoulder like they’re old friends, then moves in to hug me, welcoming me back into the fold.
Gabi’s in the kitchen with about a dozen people from our class, including Jayden. Anna and Michaela are there too, and apparently wormed their way into Gabi’s good graces while I was on involuntary hiatus. As soon as Gabi sees me, though, she skips over, grinning.
“I’m so glad you came!” She glances over her shoulder at Anna and Michaela, then mock whispers, “You’re so much more fun than they are.”
I introduce her to Henry, hoping the two of them will hit it off. They’re my most valuable people, after all. Henry’s polite and gracious as usual. Gabi looks floored by the majesty that is this gorgeous boy who gently fixes the slipping strap of my dress before draping his arm around my shoulders.
We hang around the kitchen for a few minutes.
Gabi’s got a hard cider, and there are bottles of strawberry vodka, Captain Morgan, and J?ger on the countertop, along with a few two-liter bottles of soda and a lot of spills.
I don’t know if it would bother Henry if I decided to drink, but it seems insensitive, considering our recent conversation about his dad. And anyway, I’m not in the mood.
Hudson works on arranging Solo cups on the dining room table, then breaks volunteers into teams for Flip Cup. His mom would die a thousand deaths if she could see the way he’s slopping cheap beer all over her beloved reclaimed wood.
“Let’s go out back,” I say to Henry.
Hudson’s parents put in a really nice patio a couple of summers ago.
There’s a stone fire pit, a built-in grill, and a big table with six chairs under a pergola.
Henry and I head for a group of loungers away from the house.
He chooses one, dropping his wallet and phone onto the adjacent table.
I nestle between his knees, letting my back melt into his chest, tipping my head to rest on his shoulder.
He presses his cheek to the crown of my head, inhales, then releases a contented breath.
He’s in this as deep as I am, I realize, which makes me the very best kind of happy.
I lift my chin and meet him in a kiss.
His phone chimes once, interrupting us, then twice more in quick succession. I pull away, trying to sneak a subtle peek at who’s texting him, but it’s screen down on the table.
Another chime.
He tenses.
“Your dad?” I ask.
“No.”
He dips his head, ready to kiss me again.
“Don’t you want to see who it is?”
He sighs. “I know who it is.”
“Okay…?”
“It’s Whitney. Only Whitney texts compulsively until she gets a reply.”
“Who’s Whitney?”
His frown is deeply miserable. “The girl I broke up with back in March.”