12. Declan
DECLAN
Eight days until OA Con
The street leading up to Stasia’s house is lined with cars as Hiro and I arrive, and upbeat music greets us loud and fast when Hiro opens the door and strolls through the entry hall like he owns the place.
He peers into the darkened living room with its plush furniture pushed against the walls and mass of teens dancing beneath swirling colored lights.
Then he smooths the lapels of his Hawaiian shirt with a satisfied nod. “Let’s do this.”
Yeah, this was a bad idea. I don’t recognize half of these people, and I’ve never even spoken to the half I do. Not that I have a beef with them or anything, no traumatic bullying history to unpack, we just don’t have anything in common.
“I don’t know, man,” I mutter, glancing back at the door.
“It’s not too late to go home and play Valheim all night instead.
” Or add the finishing touches to that staff I’m making for Jenni Messenger.
It still needs to be weathered, and the convention is next weekend.
What am I even doing here? I don’t have time for parties right now, I should be home working.
“As tempting as that sounds, I’m gonna pass. We came all the way here. We might as well check it out.”
“I’m checking it out right now,” I grumble. “It’s loud. And sweaty. Like, convention day three level sweaty.”
“Ah, but these people understand the finer details of deodorant use and basic grooming. Something I can appreciate.” His eyes widen, and he tips his chin toward the far corner of the room with a low whistle. “Speaking of appreciating…”
My heart lodges in my throat, pulse pumping louder than the speakers.
Sweet Cthulhu.
She’s… she’s…
“Dude.” Hiro elbows me in the side. “Ava is looking hot tonight.”
My mouth opens to agree with him, but nothing comes out.
All I can do is stare across the room like an idiot while Ava laughs at something a faceless redhead says, her hair cascading over her shoulders like a golden waterfall.
Her usual sweaters and hoodies have been swapped out for a silky black halter that falls low on her back, and the jeans she’s wearing could have been painted on, they’re so tight.
A fact that is only accentuated by the black heels strapped to her feet.
Yeah.
This was a bad idea.
“I think I’m gonna head back,” I rasp over the rush of hormones wreaking havoc on my senses.
“Do some, uh, warping. I mean, weathering.” That is one hundred percent what I should be focusing on right now, not long legs and swishing hair.
I’ll see Ava tomorrow when she comes over, safe in the familiar confines of my garage.
Crafting Ava I can talk to. Share corny puns with. This Ava…
My stomach sinks to my toes, the distance between us stretching before my eyes.
This Ava is utterly unapproachable.
I turn, ready to make my escape despite Hiro’s protests, but then I hear it—my name, called across the crowd like it’s the greatest thing ever.
Ava elbows her way through the throng of gyrating people, gaze locked on mine.
A welcoming grin on her lips. And then she’s there, standing right in front of me.
Looking almost… shy? Is that even possible?
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You made it.”
Hiro jabs me surreptitiously in the back when I fail to answer, and I croak out a, “Yeah.”
Hiro lifts his hand in a wave. “Hey, Ava. Been awhile.”
Her face softens. “It has, hasn’t it? It’s good to see you, Hiro.”
“Same.” He makes a show of glancing around the room. “Now if you could just point me in the direction of the snacks…?”
Ava laughs, placing her hands on his shoulders and turning him toward an arched opening leading into the next room. “Kitchen’s that way. I recommend the mini-donuts. They’re amazing.”
“Sold.”
Hiro takes off, leaving me to mentally plot my revenge. Abandoning me in my time of need—some friend he is. I scrape my brain for something witty to say, or even passably un-moronic. “This is, um, different than what I expected.”
Ava glances around the room in surprise. “How so?”
I gesture toward the blackberry seltzer in her hand. “There’s a distinct lack of red, plastic cups. I thought cheap, stale beer was a high school party staple.”
Ava wrinkles her nose. “Gross. Why, were you looking for a drink? We didn’t get any, but there’s usually someone skulking about with a flask or two.”
“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant.” Panic sweat beads my forehead and slides down my back.
Gah, she’s going to think I’m some kind of alcoholic or something.
“I just thought that’s, like, what popular kids did at parties.
You know, keg stands and sloppy rounds of flip cup, puking off the back porch. That kind of thing.”
“Ha!” Ava snorts. “You clearly aren’t familiar with our school’s athletic code.
It is rigid when it comes to underage drinking.
One strike, and you’re out for the season.
Most of the people here aren’t dumb enough to risk it.
Now, once school lets out for the summer…
that’s another story, from what I’ve heard. ”
“What? Boozy bonfires not your thing?” I’m joking, but the way Ava’s body tenses makes me wish I’d kept my mouth shut.
She picks at the tab of her can. “I’ve seen enough alcohol consumption. Not really looking to add to it.”
Well, that’s not a response I would have expected from the bright and eternally cheery Ava.
I take a step closer, hand stretching out toward hers.
It’s not a conscious movement on my part, so much as an instinctual need to hold her hand.
To offer some modicum of comfort for whatever stole the shine from her eyes.
My arm falls back to my side, however, when Tyler emerges from the crowd, his appreciative gaze set on Ava.
Although he does pull it away long enough to give me an assessing once over. Sizing up the competition. Ha! As if you could call me that. Just looking at him makes me feel like some goofy court jester. He, of course, being the handsome knight destined to win the fair maiden’s hand.
It shouldn’t sting quite so much, but it does.
“Hey, man.” He gives me a friendly chin up, and I hate that he’s not like the stereotypical jocks who would say something rude about me being here or just outright ignore my existence. His niceness only makes me feel smaller. “What’s up?”
I shrug, mumbling, “Nothing much.”
“Right on.” Tyler throws a casual arm around Ava’s shoulders, his smile positively blinding. “Mind if I steal Aimes away? I need to show her what she’s in for at prom with these sweet moves of mine.” His hip bumps hers, and I low-key want to punch him in the balls.
“Actually…” Ava slips out from under Tyler’s wing, and wraps her fingers around my forearm.
Pinpricks of heat flare to life where her palm presses against the sleeve of my hoodie, and I can’t help but wish I’d worn a T-shirt instead.
“I was just going to show Declan around. He’s never been here before.
” Her smile turns my way, warm but with an underlying waver of uncertainty. Like she isn’t sure how I’ll react.
Almost as if I make her as nervous as she makes me.
“Stasia’s parents have a Ping-Pong table downstairs in the rec room,” she adds. “I know how much you liked playing it at summer camp.”
My heart does a funny little flip. She remembers that?
But it was years ago. I haven’t even gone to Camp Wildwood since the summer before fourth grade, much to Hiro’s chagrin.
He still spends every summer there, but I learned early on that I preferred making epic crafts with Ava over hiking through mosquito-infested woods and jumping into ice-cold lakes.
Or, you know, making epic crafts by myself. That’s cool too.
Not this summer, though. This summer you’re making something so epic, it’s bound to put every other project to shame. A collab with Grady Wells. Assuming you don’t let your stupid hormones and a little nostalgia distract you from what really matters.
That’s right. I need to stay focused.
Rekindling my friendship with Ava? Sure.
I can live with that, especially given the fact she’s helping me out at OA Con.
But I cannot, will not, let my feelings go any farther.
I have pined after and mourned the loss of this girl enough to last a lifetime.
I won’t risk losing sight of my goals simply because of a pair of tight jeans and a handful of shared memories.
I draw my arm back, breaking the light hold she has on it, and stuff my hands firmly into the pouch of my hoodie. “Sounds good.” Voice casually unaffected. “Lead the way.”
“I’ll join you.” Tyler shifts his massive build between us. “I’ve been dying for a game all night.”
“Tyler is the reigning Ping-Pong champion,” Ava says, and a twinge of bitter envy pricks my chest at the thought of them playing together. Okay, so maybe I’m not as over Ava ditching me as I thought. All the more reason to keep my walls up high.
Just as soon as I put Tyler in his place.
Then it’s nothing but focus, focus, focus.
“The champ, huh?” I cut him a sideways look as we head down the stairs. “I’ll take that challenge.”
Tyler’s ever-present grin brightens. “Heck yeah. It is on!” This is followed by him whipping out his cell and rapidly firing off a text. “Just told the guys to meet us downstairs. A proper showdown needs an audience, am I right?”
Um, no?