Chapter 34
Ellie
God, this takes me back.
Between the crackle of the fire, the buzz of the crowd, and the smell of hot dogs and s’mores, it’s like I’ve been catapulted back in time. In a town as small as Larkspur, there’s not much to get excited about–but boy do these people love high school football.
The homecoming bonfire is this town’s most anticipated event of the year, since the homecoming game is basically our Super Bowl.
Two weeks ago I would have rolled my eyes at the mention of it.
But after a fortnight of planning and combing meticulously through memories of homecomings past, I’m buzzing right alongside the rest of the town.
The only thing that’s different now is I’m actually allowed to be drinking the beer in my hand, as opposed to sneaking it in.
“Kinda takes the fun out of it, don’t you think?
” Abby mutters, clinking the necks of our bottles together in cheers.
“Drinking was way more fun when it wasn’t allowed.
And when I wasn’t an old maid who wakes up with raging hangovers. ”
“You’re twenty eight, stop acting like you’re one foot in the grave,” I say, rolling my eyes.
Apparently it hasn’t gone unnoticed that I’ve stayed away for years–everyone and their mamas have been grilling me about where I’ve been, what I’m doing, and why I don’t come visit more.
The townsfolk of Larkspur don’t need to know the intricacies and nuances of my complicated relationship with my hometown, so I simply smile politely and say that work keeps me busy.
A loud burst of laughter catches my attention while I’m mid-conversation with Patsy, the owner of the local salon.
We both turn our heads toward the noise, and my heart leaps into my throat when I see Jack, David, and Griffin across the fire from us.
Griffin grips David’s shoulder with his head thrown back in laughter, and Jack is doubled over, hands on his knees, shaking his head.
In a strange vision, all I can see are the fifteen year old boys laughing and stumbling into Spanish class, and there’s a burning sensation in my waterline.
What I wouldn’t give to go back to a time where life was that simple.
Almost as if he can sense my presence, Griffin’s laughter cuts off abruptly as his gaze fixes on me.
I smile at him with a small wave, and he takes a step toward me before tan, lithe arms loop through the crook of his arm, pulling his attention away from me.
My heart drops from my throat to the pit of my stomach, smile fading into a grimace as I quickly avert my gaze.
The last thing I want to see is Griffin looking lovingly at Madison, knowing he’s never going to look at me like that again.
“I always thought the two of you would end up together,” Patsy says. I startle, having forgotten that she was there. “I think everyone did. Whatever happened with y’all?”
“Nothing dramatic. Distance, timing, growing up,” I say with a shrug.
“That’s a shame.” Her tone indicates clearly that she doesn’t believe me.
“Well, it was really good to see you Patsy, but I’ve got to find Abby,” I say quickly, desperate to get out of this conversation.
I weave through the crowd, pretending not to hear my name called over and over by people I haven’t been cornered by yet. I heave a sigh of relief when I spot Abby, who’s in animated conversation with my dad.
“Mr. Turner, you know good and well that Aaron is dead set on opening a café. There’s no way in hell he’d willingly work in an office, even with you.”
“Foiled again,” he says, snapping his fingers. “You can’t blame a man for trying. Hey there, Ellie Bellie!”
“Hi Dad,” I say with a kiss to his cheek. “Abby, can we go? The smoke is giving me a headache.”
Abby’s eyes narrow suspiciously, then lock on something over my shoulder.
Following her line of sight, I see the boys ten feet away from us, Griffin’s arm slung over Madison’s shoulder, but looking sullen.
Her face is tight, arms crossed over her chest. They’re both silently watching Jack and David argue, and when Griffin’s eyes flicker over to mine briefly, I spin around to face Abby again.
Her expression softens, and she moves to my side, arm looping through mine. “Of course we can, my love. I’ll tell Aaron you’re still trying to poach him, Mr. Turner!”
Shouting a goodbye to my dad, Abby drags me by the arm toward the parking lot. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I know that can’t be easy.”
“It’s okay, my sweet ginger angel,” I say, laying my head on her shoulder as we cross the lot and find her car. “It’s inevitable.”
“For what it’s worth, he looked fucking miserable,” she says gleefully. “They might be in the running for unhappiest couple in Larkspur, and that’s saying something when Principal Burnett and Wife Number Three are right there.”
I laugh, squeezing her arm tighter before letting go and climbing into the passenger seat. “I’m sure they’re perfectly happy, Abs.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says sarcastically. “You know what we need?” The wicked grin on her face tells me whatever it is, we absolutely do not need it.
“We need some Denim, and perhaps even some Diamonds.”
Twenty minutes later, cocktails in hand, we slide into the last open booth at the biggest country bar in the county.
Denim & Diamonds opened our sophomore year of high school, and we counted down the agonizingly long days until we turned eighteen and were allowed to come two-stepping, black X’s on the back of our hands barely fading before we’d come right back and get fresh marks.
“When’s the last time you went two-stepping, east coast girl?” she shouts over the cover band in the corner.
“Your wedding,” I yell back, watching the couples spinning deftly around the dancefloor.
“You need a refresher then!”
Without warning, she grabs the arm of the cowboy in conversation with his friends next to our booth. “My friend here is a little rusty, think you can help her out?”
“Oh I’d be honored,” he says, tipping his hat with a grin. I glare at Abby as I take his outstretched hand and let him lead me to the dance floor.
“It’s been a long time,” I shout. “I don’t know if I’ll remember the steps.”
“Don’t you worry about that darlin’, just follow my lead!”
I fight to keep the look of disgust off my face–hearing anyone but Griffin call me darlin’ feels wrong, and from someone else’s mouth, it’s honestly a little condescending.
The feeling quickly fades as the moves come back as easily as riding a bike and I lose myself in the joy of twirling, feet moving in sync with the beat of the music.
The song ends before I’m ready to stop, so when he asks me to dance with him again, I let him take the lead.
Flashes of dancing in fields of wildflowers and empty parking lots hit me like an unexpected hail storm, but I squeeze my eyes tight, shutting them out of my brain as I let this unfamiliar cowboy spin me around.
By the time the second song ends, I’m desperate to get back to the booth, and to my drink.
I need something a lot stronger if Griffin is going to haunt my every waking moment here.
I slam a tequila shot at the bar before ordering two more and heading back over to Abby. She lets out a triumphant whoop when I set the glasses down in front of her, and I barely give her time to cheers me before throwing the second shot back.
I’ve lost count of the number of drinks I’ve had when Abby mutters, “Oh shit.” Twisting in the booth to see who just walked through the door, I yell a little too loudly, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
Jack, David, and Griffin are moving through the crowd to the bar, and it’s too late to hide before David spots me and shouts, “ELLIE! MY GIRL!”
Half-running over to us, he shoves himself into the too-small booth, wrapping his arms around me and kisses the top of my head with an exaggerated mmmmwah.
“I missed you! I thought I’d never run into you, why the hell haven’t we gotten the band back together yet?” I avoid looking at Griffin, instead making eye contact with Jack. He mouths a silent sorry, and yanks David out of the booth.
“Don’t suffocate her, bozo,” he scolds him. “She has better things to do with her time than hang around a bunch of dorks.”
“I’m not the one wearing khakis to a country bar, dweeb,” he yells, punching him in the shoulder.
“C’mon guys, let's go grab drinks,” Griffin says. “Can I get you ladies anything?”
I bark out an emphatic no at the same time as Abby says, “Two tequila shots please! And bring salt and lime!”
With a tip of his hat, he drags David with him over to the bar and Jack pulls up a chair next to us.
“Hi Jack Robbit,” Abby says sweetly, dramatically batting her eyes at him. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles as she cackles loudly. “You know this shit wasn’t my idea.”
“And yet, here you are, khakis and all.”
“Why is everyone so damn obsessed with my khakis?”
“Ta daaaa,” David says with a flourish, setting five shots down on the table. “Cheers to being old enough for a reunion, but young enough to still get shitfaced!”
“Speak for yourself,” Jack grumbles as we all throw our shots back, slamming the glasses back down on the table, shuddering at the burn of the alcohol.
“Ellie, tell me about your life,” David shouts, turning his attention back to me. “Any men I need to intimidate?”
“Alright, dork,” Abby yells, sliding out of the booth and shoving him toward the dancefloor. “Let’s see if you grew out of your two left feet.”
“Okay, but you have to actually let me lead, control freak.”
Jack, Griffin, and I sit in awkward silence, and now I wish I had a beer just so I could have something to do with my hands. I consider going to the bar, but my head is swimming with all the tequila, and standing up right now is definitely a bad idea.
“So, did you guys enjoy the bonfire?” I ask, all my energy focused on not slurring my words.