Chapter 28
LACHLAN
Rehearsal runs long, so by the time I get to Darin’s, it’s noisy and jammed, quite a contrast after the dark expanse of the theater. I glance around and see most of the football and baseball teams, some cheerleaders and tennis players, a few folks from student government, and some other randoms.
No one who looks like any of the theater kids. And yet the theater kids seem more real to me than any of these people I’ve spent my time with for years.
Everyone is thumping me on the back and asking why I’m late. Where I’ve been.
My response to all of them: “Around.”
I get funny looks. They aren’t used to me giving one-word answers, and the girls aren’t used to me not flirting with them.
I don’t feel like it. I’m still shooketh from kissing Isak and the conversation we had afterward.
And I don’t really want to muddy up my brain with thoughts about anything else right now.
I walk around, wishing Isak were here with me. He’d be quiet, though, and I’m usually the life of the party. Just not tonight.
Then I remind myself that I’m not supposed to talk with Isak. I promised.
What was he trying to tell me?
I think he revealed more to me than he wanted to.
He wants me, but he knows I’m not going to give myself to him.
I can’t. He was vulnerable with me, and now I need to treat him with more care.
I can’t hurt him. I have to do what he wants—leave him alone—no matter how much I liked kissing him.
How much I like him. How much I want him.
Because if Isak thinks that I was leading him on, then I have to change how I behave.
Except … is it leading him on if I really like him? Yeah, it is, if I have no intention of following through.
Could I ever follow through?
Fuck, my thoughts are a mess.
Finding a seat on a couch, I plop down and take in the party around me.
The music shifts between rap and country and dance, and the lights are low.
There’s a keg, and bottles of liquor for shots.
Some people are swimming in the pool, even though it’s cold out.
A couple is making out in the corner, and some girl I don’t know is grinding on Gabe, who looks very into her.
I … don’t want to be here.
I don’t want to be at home, either, of course. I don’t want to be anywhere.
My body aches, and I feel heavy.
I lean my head back on the cushions. I want to disappear, but where would I go?
Everywhere I go, I’m there.
I need the X-Acto knife. I need some kind of release.
Someone passes me a weed pen, and I take a hit. I don’t, usually, but we’re done with athletics for the season, and I need to check out. I send it back and listen to people talk around me for a while, but then I get passed it again. Repeatedly. And soon I realize, “Oh, fuck. I’m high.”
I start chattering at Vince. “Do you ever, like, think that you could be someone else?”
He laughs and shoves me. “You’re such a lightweight.”
“No, I’m not. I mean, I am. But I guess I’m wondering what it would be like to be myself, since so much of the time I feel like I’m someone else. It’s, like, an act.”
Vince looks at me cross-eyed, like I’m not making sense. Maybe I’m not.
“Acting is cool,” I mumble.
“You like being in the musical?” he asks.
“Totally.” Except … it’s making me a mess.
A girl—Angela, I think her name is—comes over and snuggles beside me. “Lach!”
“Hey,” I say, unable to keep the naturally flirty tone out of my voice. I give her a side hug. Vince scoots off and leaves me with her.
All I can think is that even though she’s wearing a black skirt and an Army green tank top, she looks nothing like him.
Angela, or is it Andrea? Angelina? Shit, I’m bad with names sometimes. At any rate, now she’s holding my hand and playing with my fingers.
I stare at her. She seems to think this is assent, because she starts licking and sucking on my fingertips.
Normally, that would make me hard.
But … I’m a fucking limp dick right now.
It’s the weed. I’m sure it’s the weed.
Adriana sucks deeper, then switches to my other hand. She shifts to straddle me, her skirt riding up so I can see the gusset of her tiny panties. With a devious smile, she moves my hand toward her pussy, and I yank back out of reflex.
“Shit, sorry,” I mumble, my eyes darting around the room.
“What’s wrong?” Anika asks.
Quick, come up with an excuse. “Not in front of other people,” I say. Which feels like a lie. I might very well like doing things in front of other people; I just don’t want to do them with her.
“Then let’s go find a bedroom,” she purrs. I think it’s supposed to sound seductive, but it … doesn’t.
Fuck. What’s wrong with me?
Isak. Isak Hammond is what’s wrong with me.
And I need to get out of this situation. Luckily, I remember the code word that means Clinger Stage Five. I cough and say, loud enough to be heard over the music, “I could really use a hoagie.”
Anitra gives me a weird look, but I get a rescue from Darin, who slides onto the couch next to me right away, even though he’s likely drunk as ass.
“Hey, Anjelica,” he says. “Benito said he wanted to talk to you.”
Her eyes flash. “He did?”
Darin nods. “He’s in the kitchen.”
Anjelica hops off me, giving me an apologetic look. I sigh in relief. “Thanks, man,” I mutter when she’s out of earshot.
“No problem. She want a date with you?”
I shake my head. “Just not into her. She’s not sandwich-worthy.”
Darin laughs. “Who’re you taking to prom?” he slurs.
“You?” I ask.
He laughs. “No, dude. I’m taking a girl. Go get your own date.”
I nod repeatedly. Prom. I’m student body president. Not only should I show up, I want to.
I should buy tickets and figure out my date later.
I get a ride home from some pink-haired rideshare driver, and no one in my house even notices when I stumble in.