Saturday, February 26th
Cat
Vada’s lips curl as though she just tasted something gross. “Okay, I have to admit that I had envisioned something different when you told me your parents agreed to let you have your car back.”
Her comment stings a little. “What do you mean?”
She turns her head in my direction and immediately fixes the expression on her face. “Oh, I mean, I just didn’t take you for a faded blue early 2000s Subaru Forester kinda girl. I pictured something a little sexier. You know, like you,” she says, her tone overtly chipper.
I frown at her. “Well, I happen to think it’s a great car,” I say, perhaps a little too loftily. “It hasn’t let me down yet.” I pat the hood.
“M’kay, let’s just hope it stays that way at least until your personal mechanic is back,” she mumbles under her breath, then plasters a bright smile onto her pouty lips. “But maybe still hitch a ride tonight. Or maybe take Ran’s car now that you know how to operate a stick shift. You know, just in case?”
“Oh come on,” I huff. “Do you seriously think that Ran’s car, which is like, fifty years old, is more likely to get me to Shane’s than mine?”
“Yeah,” she says with a decisive nod, shoving her hands deep into the pouch of her hoodie. “Ran’s car is a damn classic. Those things are pretty much indestructible. Plus, I know for a fact that he’s always tinkering and tuning and stuff.”
I’m a bit prickly at her less-than-enthusiastic reception of my car but only make a hmpf sound, electing not to continue the discussion.
I’m over the moon to have my own car again, to be able to go anywhere, any time without being required to take public transportation—which my parents had been adamantly against ever since they heard Adam was a “wanted fugitive”—or having to slum rides off my friends. It gives me a sense of independence, freedom even. Sure, the car’s nothing fancy—nothing like Shane’s decked-out Jeep or Steve’s souped-up Challenger, but it’s a car. It’s my car.
My dad and siblings are in town for a long weekend and I’m not exaggerating when I say I screeched like a banshee when my dad walked into the house and handed me the keys to my Subaru last night. I wanted to take it for a drive right then and there, but my dad nixed the idea, unhappy with the thought of me leaving the house unaccompanied when it’s dark out. I rolled my eyes at him but didn’t argue.
But I did take it first thing this morning, even just to drive to the small coffee shop a couple blocks from my house and then to Vada’s, laden with egg, cheddar, and sausage bagels and caramel macchiatos. I pulled her outside with me the split second she opened the door, to show off my vessel of liberty. Obviously she didn’t receive it quite as well as I did, but I decide not to let her indifference put a damper on my exceptionally chipper mood. Life has been so challenging lately that I intend to ride the high for as long as I can.
And I really am happy today. Not only do I have my car back, but I also received an unexpected but extremely welcome call from Ronan in the middle of the night.
My phone buzzed at just before two. Naturally I expected the call to come from Adam, but the second I recognized the Montana number my heart began galloping in my chest. Ronan and I talked for only three minutes, just long enough to “get a quick fix,” as Ronan described it.
“I just couldn’t wait until Sunday,” he said. “I needed to hear your voice really quick. I just… I needed to tell you how much I love you. And… I need to hear you say it in turn,” he said in a strained whisper.
It took exactly zero effort to tell him how deeply I loved him.
“Are you sure you don’t want to tag along tonight?” I ask Vada when we’re finally in her room, lounging on her bed and indulging in our breakfast.
She shakes her head. “I’m not ready. It still hurts too much to be around Stevie for longer than thirty seconds,” she says, a deep sadness strangling her voice.
I had really hoped Vada would be at Shane’s party tonight, that the seven of us would be able to hang out like we used to. It’s strange how the absence of one person can make the world feel empty. We’ve all noticed it with Ronan’s departure, and the void feels positively cavernous with Steve and Vada’s breakup.
They’ve made it a point to avoid spending time together, politely bowing out of get-togethers when they knew the other was spending time with our friend group.
Steve has been a rare sighting at Shane’s apartment, and when Vada got word from Zack that Steve was hoping to make it to Shane’s tonight, she decided to let him have this time with his friends while she stayed in for the night.
I wish they’d get to a place where it didn’t feel like their hearts were being ripped apart at the mere sight of each other, that things would return to normal already, that we could bask in the comfort of everyone’s presence again, but I know they’ll need time to get to that place. I know healing can’t be rushed. If it could, I’d have been back in Ronan’s arms months ago.
What I can say, though, is that Steve and Vada have handled their breakup maturely and admirably. Neither has spoken disparagingly of the other, they’ve given each other space and as much support as possible, and they even hugged briefly when Steve dropped by to pick up Zack while I was hanging out at Vada’s last weekend.
Vada sighs. “I hate the thought of seeing him with another girl.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon.”
“But it will happen eventually. Who knows, maybe someone catches his eye tonight.”
“I really doubt that. And maybe you’ll see some hot, ripped, sexy guy tonight and fall head over heels in love,” I say with a playful grin.
My attempt at lifting her spirits falls flat.
“I honestly can’t see myself with anyone but Steve. I can’t even imagine being intimate with anyone else.”
I get her point. I couldn’t picture myself being touched by anyone other than Ronan.
***
I do end up hitching a ride with Steve later that evening. Not so much because of Vada’s haughty advice, but because my dad insisted I be accompanied at all times. He grumbled when he found out my “chaperon” would be my boyfriend’s big brother but had to yield when my mom finally put her foot down. She admonished my dad to stop being so stiflingly protective and let me be “seventeen, for crying out loud!”
Steve picked me up in Ronan’s car, which made my heart ache for the millionth-gazillionth time since October 28th, and we made the drive to Shane’s beach house, chatting about Steve’s college progress while he attends his Boston University classes virtually.
Shane’s is packed, as always when he throws one of his infamous parties. The amount of people mingling inside the house, out on the deck, and down by the private stretch of beach makes me wonder if anyone went to the winter dance or if they all abandoned their plans once word got around that Shane was apparently back in the party business.
As always, the six of us occupy our usual spots on the outdoor sectional sofa. It’s so interesting to me that anybody who’s not a part of my close-knit group of friends doesn’t even attempt to sit on the sofa.
It’s as though this portion of the beach house is surrounded by an invisible force field, a barrier to anyone trying to break the bond between the six… seven… eight of us. And if anyone dares take a seat—and god forbid the spot that may as well have Ronan’s name branded on it, like some random drunk guy did at the New Year’s Eve party—Shane politely but firmly makes it clear that their presence in this particular area is not welcome. “Anywhere but here, man,” Shane chuckled as he helped the guy up from Ronan’s spot.
The guy just muttered incoherently, then stumbled away without putting up a fight.
It's crowded and lively tonight, music playing loudly, the alcohol flowing so freely that it takes hardly any time for Tori and Summer to get drunk. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I too am at least slightly tipsy—though certainly not wasted like my girlfriends sitting to my left—but I have a hard time reining in my giggles at Tori’s sloppy flirting with Shane. She’s on her knees, straddling Shane’s lap, moving her shoulders and hips like she’s trying to give him a lap dance. Judging by the amused look on Shane’s face, Tori’s sexual advances don’t have the effect she thinks they have.
“Jesus, okay guys, can you just slow down a little bit?” Shane grunts when Tori takes another draw straight from the bottle of tequila, then makes to get up off the sofa, only to stumble forward.
I gasp when she trips over her own feet and nearly falls into the rectangular fire pit, which is very much lit right now. Luckily, Shane’s hand snaps out and he grabs Tori’s arm, pulling her back just in time to prevent something bad from happening.
Tori just giggles. “I think maybe I should drink some water,” she says, completely oblivious to the fact that she nearly set herself ablaze.
Shane gives Steve and Zack an exasperated look. “Yeah, good call,” he grunts. “Okay, I’m going to go grab some water. Will you two keep an eye on them?” Shane says to Steve and Zack, motioning around to us girls.
“Yep,” Zack says. Summer crawls toward him seductively on all fours, only to lie down and rest her head in his lap.
“I want to go with you. You’re too fucking sexy to go in that house by yourself and be molested by all those girls in there,” Tori says to Shane, motioning her hands at no one in particular.
Shane chuckles and urges Tori back onto the sofa. “And what would you do about it?”
“Punch ’em,” Tori says, jabbing her fist at nothing. It makes her sway precariously in her seat.
“Babe, you wouldn’t be able to… Never mind,” Shane says. “Just stay here with Steve, okay?”
Tori huffs. “Fine. But don’t get any ideas, O’Connor. That cock of yours is mine,” she growls at Shane.
Shane leans down to plant a kiss on Tori’s forehead, causing her to close her eyes. “Yes, it is. Always and forever, babe.” He turns to Steve and Zack again. “Don’t let her out of your sight,” he says, then walks into the house.
I stand up from the couch, feeling unsteady myself.
Steve immediately gets up. “Whoa, where do you think you’re going?”
“The bathroom. I need to pee, Stevie. And no, you can’t come with me,” I say, willing my tongue to relay the words clearly, but I’m pretty sure I’m unsuccessful. God damn it, why do I have to be such a damn lightweight? I’ve had exactly three drinks since we got here a couple hours ago, yet it feels like my eyeballs are bouncing in their sockets.
I slowly make my way into the house, occasionally stumbling and holding my hands out. I’m decidedly off-balance as I make my way through the crowded living room, bumping into people, apologizing profusely each time I do, before I finally arrive in the small bathroom just down the wide hallway.
I take my time taking care of business, then splash some cold water on my face. It feels good, invigorating.
There’s a knock on the bathroom door.
I wipe my flushed cheeks, ensuring with a quick glance in the mirror that my mascara isn’t too smudged. I half expect either Steve or Shane to be checking on me and am surprised when I open the door to Drew, who has a smile on his face.
“Hey, are you alright?” he asks, taking a step toward me.
I tread backwards into the bathroom. “Yeah, I’m good. Just freshening up a bit.”
He studies me, his brow creasing. “Are you sure? You look—”
“Yeah, umm, I think I may have had a little too much to drink, but I’m okay. I probably look completely disheveled, though.” I take another glance in the mirror and run my index finger underneath my right eye to wipe away any unruly mascara.
“No, you look beautiful,” Drew says, his voice emanating from deep in his chest. He takes another step toward me. “You always do, though.”
“Thanks.” I tug at my shirt to get myself together. No more alcohol for me tonight!
“Cat, I… I wanted to talk to you.” Drew takes yet another step toward me, pushing further into the bathroom.
“Okay?” Where the heck is he trying to go? This bathroom isn’t large. I’m kind of running out of space here. “Do you want to talk outside?” I ask, looking over his shoulder.
“I really like you,” he says. “I’ve liked you for a long time. Like, since the day we met.”
“Oh,” I say with wide eyes. I try to think quickly, to formulate a way to let him down easy, but my brain cells are firing slower than usual. “I… I don’t…” I stammer with a shake of my head.
Before I can say or do anything else, Drew’s hands are on my hips, winding their way around to my backside. He urges himself closer to me, my breasts pressing against his chest as he moves his lips to mine and kisses me. His tongue darts out, seeking entrance to my mouth.
I shove my hands against his chest and stumble backward, hitting a gold decorative shelf with enough force that a small glass jar comes crashing down and shatters on the floor. I wipe my mouth to erase any traces of him. “Drew, I’m with Ran,” I say, my words muffled against the palm of my hand.
“But Cat, you don’t know Ran like I do. He’s been known to sleep around. He fucked a lot of girls before you, never giving a shit about a single one of them. He’s probably doing exactly that wherever he is right now. He honestly doesn’t deserve a girl like you,” Drew says, reaching his hand out to me.
Something deep inside me ignites, an angry flame burning in my chest. Who the hell does he think he is?
“I’d never do anything like that. I really think I could make you happy if you gave me a chance. Please, Cat, just give me a chance,” Drew says, stoking my anger.
He moves in for another kiss, propping his hands against the wall on either side of my head. For a moment, I’m back at Murphy’s, and it’s Adam blocking my path. He’s trying to take advantage of my vulnerability, of the fact that no one is around. But I won’t let this happen again. Fuck that. Fuck every guy who has ever felt he could take what he wanted without regard for anyone around him, not giving a shit how his words and actions affected the person he was taking advantage of.
At this exact moment, Drew might as well be Adam. They’re the same person for all I care.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” I yell, tears—whether of despair or anger, I can’t tell—bursting from my eyes. I instinctively jerk my knee up and into Drew’s groin just as both Steve and Shane appear in the door to the bathroom.
Drew hunches over with a loud groan, his hands between his legs, cupping his prized manhood.
I jerk my knee up and into Drew’s nose, then shove him back and away from me. “Don’t ever fucking touch me.”
Shane catches Drew before he falls on his ass. He yanks him up by the collar of his dark-red sweater while Steve takes hold of Drew’s left arm. Together, they drag Drew out of the bathroom.
“Get the fuck out my house, you fuck,” Shane growls.
“What the fuck, man? I didn’t do anything,” Drew bleats, spit and blood flying, his right hand pressed to his bleeding nose, his left flailing and swinging as he tries to get out of Shane and Steve’s hold on him.
Steve lets go of Drew. “Did you not just kiss Cat?” He looks livid, his expression, his posture almost as menacing as Ronan’s the night Adam stalked me to New York. God, how alike the brothers are, causing a deep yearning for Ronan to wash through me. I need him back. NOW.
“You know what, stay the fuck out of my business, Steve. This is between Cat and me,” Drew says and sucks the blood back up into his nose with a wet, disgusting snort. My face contorts at the sound.
“The fuck it is,” Steve says. “You put your grimy fucking hands on my little brother’s girl and I’ll—”
“Fuck you, Steve. And fuck you, too, Shane. And fuck Ronan,” Drew shouts, doing a weird twisting motion, successfully escaping Shane’s hold on him. “God, that motherfucker isn’t even here and still you’re all fucking beholden to him. Does he suck your cocks or what?”
A jolt of anger causes my feet to move forward, and before I know what I’m doing my fist comes flying into Drew’s face.
I’m not the only one surprised by my out-of-character response. Steve and Shane look at me stunned, their eyes wide, mouths agape. Drew scowls at me, his right hand cradling his cheek.
“Fuck, you know what, I don’t know what I ever saw in you, Cat. I was obviously wrong about you. You fit right in with these motherfuckers,” Drew sputters.
“You sound like a whiny little bitch, and you’re bleeding all over the damn floor,” Shane says disdainfully. “So, you can either walk out of here right now or I will fucking drag your ass outside. Your call, but option two won’t be pleasant.” His deep voice is a low rumble.
“Fuck all of you.” Drew presses his hand to his nose, breathing through his mouth.
Steve points straight at the front door. “Just leave, man.”
Drew considers the boys with a stony expression, then finally turns to leave.
“I swear to fucking god, if I ever see your fucking face again I won’t let you get away so easily,” Shane growls.
“Yeah? That a fucking threat?” Drew asks over his shoulder.
“You bet, asshole,” Shane says, unblinking.
Neither Steve nor Shane move, their eyes fixed to the back of Drew’s head until Drew slams the door shut behind him.
“Hey, are you okay?” Steve asks, looking me over with concern in his eyes.
“Totally fine.” I’m honestly kind of proud of myself. This is the first time I’ve truly stood up for myself, the first time I didn’t freeze when my safety was threatened, the first time I didn’t cower or comply.
Steve rubs his hand over his face. “God, we can’t let you out of our sight even for a minute.”
“Hey, I handled myself just fine,” I say. “It’s not my fault that Drew felt he needed to follow me into the bathroom.”
“God damn it,” Shane mutters, his face furious. “Ran’s going to be so fucking pissed.”
“No, I don’t want to burden him with this,” I say quickly. Shane’s brow furrows and I look at Steve.
He nods once, then addresses Shane. “Ran doesn’t need to know,” Steve says, his voice tight. “It’s done. There’s nothing to tell him. He’ll just worry for no reason.”
“Guys, we can’t keep all these damn things from him all the time,” Shane says.
“What do you think you’ll accomplish by telling Ran Drew made a move on Cat?” Steve asks.
I place one hand on Shane’s chest. “ I think telling him might do more harm than good.”
Shane pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, narrowing his eyes for a moment before he exhales deeply and nods. “’Kay,” he says, then looks at me with a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Fuck, Cat, you did a number on Drew.” He chuckles, a grin breaking through his tense expression. “His nose is definitely busted. You’re a beast!”
I smile widely at him. A beast? I like that.