Chapter 52 Nellie
Nellie
As soon as I turn away from Jackson, get out of his sight, tears start rushing again, soaking my cheeks.
Dammit. I hate crying more than anything. It’s pathetic. I’ve never been a crybaby.
But I feel lost, spun around, like someone sucker punched me.
I can’t believe I just saw what I saw.
Dad. What the fuck.
I can’t believe he’d do that. Mom and Dad are always so gross—they kiss in front of me, they’re always holding hands, they’re embarrassing in public with this shit—so I never thought I’d have to worry about this kind of thing. It makes me sick.
That was actually nice of Jackson to try and find out what was wrong with me, but bless his little heart, the only person I want to talk to right now is Luke.
As I head toward the woods, my mind spins. Do I tell him what I just saw? Will he be able to keep his mouth shut? I can’t believe she smiled at me like that.
Part of me wants to keep it a secret for now, see how I can use it. I mean, she knows I know, so I could, like, bring their whole goddamn family down with this. Jane included. Ruin her daddy’s little business. Her mama’s, too.
But that might mean hurting Luke. Which is the last thing I wanna do.
I know he got thrown in juvie, hasn’t graduated high school yet, and that studying with Mr. Swift could give him a real shot at a trade. So I’m kinda squeamish about blaring this out just yet.
I don’t know what the fuck to do.
All I want to think about right now is seeing him, getting obliterated with him, getting down with him on the blanket I stashed, and making out. Hopefully more.
I dry my face, readjust my bra, breathe.
Bullfrogs croak all around me—we have a little creek that trickles through the back of the woods where they live—and my heartbeat bangs in my ears.
But on top of these sounds, as I get closer to the spot, I hear laughter.
Specifically fucking Blair’s giggles.
What the actual fuck?
“No, you stop it—” I hear her saying playfully, all flirty. Followed by more of her hideous squeals of laughter. “Hey! That tickles!”
“Luke!” I holler before I can stop myself. My voice sounds like a needy screech in my ears, but I can’t help it. I’m desperate to see him, not her. And what the fuck are they doing in our meeting place together?
“Oh, God!” Blair howls. “It’s Nellie. Good God. Is she, like, your stalker or something?”
New tears threaten to spring, but my rage overtakes the urge to cry. My fists are balled as I continue marching toward them, my breath jagged.
When I’m just about there, Blair stumbles out from behind the clump of trees, her hair sticking up and her T-shirt now turned inside out.
I feel sick all over again.
Luke walks out slowly, stands next to her. Waves at me with a clove cigarette in his hand. “Hey. We were just hangin’ out. But there’s still some beer left—”
“Ha—” I huff. It rushes out before I can stop it. God damn it, I sound so ridiculous; I hate it. “I’m good. You two enjoy—”
“Hey, sorry, it’s not like—” Luke is walking toward me now, but my eyes are dripping again, my nose starting to leak.
I’m a mess, and I don’t want him to see, so I put my hands out, wave him off. “Later.”
“She’s such a drama queen.” Blair’s voice whips my backside.
“I think we should go back to the party now,” I hear Luke say in a serious voice before I pound down the hill toward the champagne fountain, which I intend to drink buckets from.