Chapter Twelve Eden
Twelve
Eden
Truly, thank god and modern technology for indoor plumbing, because I feel like I’m going to explode suspense-induced diarrhea.
Okay, well, it might be Diet Coke–induced, I’m not sure. But the rumbling in my stomach is fierce, and it’s all because of
Georgia and this stupid party.
I mean, it’s not a stupid party, it’s actually a very pretty, well-decorated backyard soiree with swaying fairy lights and flickering reflections
of the lake through the trees. But everything feels off. Georgia’s been in a mood ever since Rhys said he was staying in the city. I’m happy Georgia has someone she’s so into, I guess, but the guy really
rules her emotions. And if you ask me, it is a little selfish of him.
But no one asked me.
Aunt Elena and Dave are having their own grown-up party on the porch, drinking chilled red wine with a handful of adults I recognize vaguely from around Laurel.
The sound of their laughing voices trails out into the yard and then fades into the sounds of a killer playlist on the speaker, thanks to yours truly.
We’ve used the strings of lights to section off the part of the yard that runs through the trees to the edge of the lake.
We have the firepit going, dusk is fading into night, and the stars are breaking through the clouds.
We actually have a pretty good crowd out here already, given we’ve only been in town a week. But Leo, I can’t help but notice,
hasn’t arrived.
One of the first people to show up was a boy named Benny. He’s apparently the hottie Georgia wants Daisy to meet . . . but
Daisy has pretty much had blinders on ever since Mateo got here, along with a lanky blond guy named Sam from his tennis clinic.
They’ve been hoarding the cornhole set. So, Georgia commandeered Benny to help her finish hanging the lights and get the firepit
started.
Daisy also invited a guy named Tre from the club’s snack kiosk, and Tre brought his impressively pierced partner, Jaclyn.
The two of them are my favorites so far. Tre sauntered up and the first thing out of his mouth was a compliment to my playlist,
so that obviously won me over.
Georgia invited the other lifeguards (or “LGs”) from the beach, an assortment of extremely fit guys and girls who all arrived together and, for reasons I can’t quite discern, all refer to Georgia as “Finn.” I finally ask one of them, a kid named Zac, why the nickname.
“Finn as in Phinny as in dolphin! Because of how she squees when she comes in first on a race,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, then jogs off to fist-bump someone.
These LGs are a bit rowdy, celebrating the first day of the beach being open to the public.
The party has barely gotten into full swing when they start daring each other to do dumb shit like climb a tree or steal a bottle of wine from the porch.
Leave it to the lifeguards to be the least responsible people here.
At least that’s better than the eight or so total randos I invited. Because yes, I invited the entire Boundless Horizons group. What choice did I have? There was no way I was going
to only invite Leo—the last thing I need is him thinking I actually want him to come tonight. The best way I could think to get him to show up was to activate his competitive side, or his pride.
He clearly fancies himself a leader of the group, which meant that if I invited everyone, he’d feel like he had to be here.
And I figure it’s nice for me to try to make some actual friends while I’m up here. Kiera and Jorge, who is usually Leo’s
partner in crime at BH, are already off wandering the woods at the edge of the yard. I have no doubt she’s got him helping
her forage for edible mushrooms.
I start to relax. Leo clearly isn’t coming, which means I can just enjoy myself and be normal. Even the adults are letting
loose—at one point Dave drags Aunt Elena out onto the lawn and I see them dancing together before they retreat to the porch
to refill their glasses. I dance with Tre and Jaclyn and a couple of the BHers and another tennis clinic guy I didn’t even
know had shown up. Georgia and Benny join us, but then Georgia pulls me away.
“Where are we going?” I ask as she drags me by the elbow.
“I need a selfie of me, you, and Daisy. Let’s go get her,” Georgia says, a determined look on her face. She pulls me over
to the cornhole board, where Daisy is still hanging out with Mateo and his friend.
“Who’s gonna be our fourth?” the friend protests as Georgia grabs Daisy with her free arm.
“I’ll play!” says an LG named Francesca, though everyone’s calling her “HP.” (“You know, HP for printer for prints for princess
because she’s a total princess about not getting sand on the lifeguard tower,” someone explained not very helpfully.)
Georgia marches me and Daisy over to a vacant corner of the yard and pulls out her phone.
“Get our outfits,” I instruct, forcing Georgia to hold the camera up high. We do look cute. I’m wearing a pair of lilac barrel
jeans and a lacy white tie-front tank top that shows my belly button and would also show cleavage if I had any. Georgia’s
wearing an impractical but very flirty white linen minidress with puffy sleeves that shows off her sun-kissed shoulders, freckled
collarbones, and tan legs. Even Daisy has pulled it together—she’s for once not wearing her ugly tennis club T-shirt and cutoffs,
trading them in for a denim skirt I loaned her and a mint-green vintage ’90s camisole that makes the hint of strawberry red
in her hair really pop.
After we take the photos, Daisy starts to walk away.
“Wait,” Georgia says. “Hang on.” Daisy pauses. “Will you guys help me replenish the snacks?”
“Of course!” I say, and we follow her into the house.
As soon as the screen door shuts behind us, Georgia turns. “Do you guys feel like this party is a success so far?”
Daisy shrugs. “Yeah! A lot more people came than I expected this early in the summer. I’m guessing they had nothing else to do.” She heads into the kitchen to grab a fresh bag of chips.
I follow her and start loading up on the sodas for the cooler.
Georgia nods to herself. “The timing was good. This is the week people arrive at the lake and have no other plans except to
prepare for July fourth next weekend.” But her face looks distant.
“Georgia, is everything okay? Are you happy with the party?”
Georgia blinks and nods. “I guess so. I mean, it’s not exactly what I’d envisioned. . . .”
“Because Rhys isn’t here,” I fill in.
She sighs. “It’s totally fine. I get why he has to network. It’s not that, really.”
“Then what?”
Georgia looks between me and Daisy. “Are you seeing how Mom and Dave are all over each other?”
I glance at Daisy. “On the porch? I hadn’t noticed. Can’t say I’ve been paying much attention to Old People Corner.”
Daisy laughs. “Georgia, they’re drunk on red wine. Who cares?”
“But it’s kind of embarrassing, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think so,” I tell her. “If I had a nickel for every time my parents got drunk in public, I’d be the planet’s richest
person under twenty.”
“It’s not the wine; I don’t care about that,” Georgia says, tearing open a package of napkins and, for no apparent reason,
counting them. “It’s just, doesn’t she have any decency? Everyone up here knows about what happened.”
Daisy looks astonished. “You mean about Dad?”
Georgia puts down the napkins. “What else would I be talking about? Of course I mean Dad.”
“G, he died three years ago. She’s allowed to move on.”
“Of course she is! But there’s a line.”
“A line?”
“You can date, that’s fine. But I never liked the idea of her parading him around up here. This place was, like, Dad’s sacred
happy place.”
I see the pain written on Georgia’s face and realize this really has nothing to do with Dave, or Elena, or wine, or Rhys not
being here.
There are some things bigger than all that.
I wrap an arm around Georgia. “I wouldn’t take this too seriously. Just let them have fun tonight.” I pause. “And you know
what? Let yourself have fun.”
“I am having fun,” she insists. But she looks like she’s going to cry.
Daisy and I look at each other again. “Okay . . .” Daisy says, “well, in that case, can we go back to this fun party we’re
throwing?”
“Daze!” I say. Sometimes the girl is so caught up in her own world it’s ridiculous. Or maybe it’s a little sister thing.
“What?”
“Group hug first,” I command, wrapping my arms fully around Georgia and waving Daisy over.
She joins the hug, and I breathe in the smell of all three of us together, a mix of floral and peachy perfumes and body sprays and leftover sunscreen.
For a moment, it’s just like it’s always been, the three Holliday girls all together, a unit. Sweet and cozy and indestructible.
I hear Georgia sniffle a little. Then she gently pushes us both away. “All right, all right, you guys are messing up my hair.”
She laughs. “But I love you both.”
I fix her smudged mascara with my thumb, and we grab all the stuff we came in here for.
By the time we’re outside again, someone has spilled a stolen bottle of wine all over Francesca; Sam and Mateo are arguing
over a game of beer pong (with lemonade, not beer) because those two seriously can’t not compete. A couple of the LGs are filming a YouTube video, and Jorge and Kiera are legit making out in the woods against a
tree. It’s starting to feel like mayhem out here, and that’s when I hear my name.
“Eden.”
I turn.
It’s Leo.
Oh lord. I really need to lay off the Diet Coke, because instantly, the artificial sugar and caffeine elixir spikes in my
veins and I can literally feel it manifest into anxiety in my gut.
It’s not just Leo, it’s Leo looking really good. (And oh, how his ego would bask in the knowledge of that thought passing through my head.)