Chapter 12. In Which the World Becomes So Blurry That I Must Have CataractsPerhaps Even Ocular Melanoma at Age Seven
IN WHICH THE WORLD BECOMES SO BLURRY THAT I MUST HAVE CATARACTS OR PERHAPS EVEN OCULAR MELANOMA AT AGE SEVENTEEN
One minute, I’m in the cabin.
The next, I’m on the porch.
A hazy version of Luca grips my arm. His rings are cold against my bare skin. A brisk nighttime breeze from the lake blows against me, clearing up my sight enough that I can process how he’s leaned into my personal space.
His eyebrows furrow with concern. They look like caterpillars. “Hello?”
“Hello?” I say back, just as confused. “When did we get here?”
“You’re drunk.”
“You’re not,” I say with a sigh. Mission failed. Whenever Luca is involved, I always fail. “Of course you aren’t.”
Luca chuckles, but it comes off perplexed. The waning gibbous moon highlights the assortment of soft and chiseled edges that make up his face. His dark hair glistens while the rest of him falls to shadow. Villains do love shadows. “What does that mean?”
The door flings open. A whir of black clothing—Jade—storms onto the porch.
Christiana follows as we shuffle out of their way. She calls Jade’s name as they head deeper into the trees. I don’t catch much else.
Weren’t they just mashing mouths?
“It means you’re Long Beach’s most perfect, popular hockey player of all time,” I say to Luca.
The anger in my chest grows hotter the more I talk, like the injustice of this situation is piling onto the injustices of my life.
“And I bet you have so much experience with distractions like alcohol and parties and cold, hard drugs like marijuana—”
“What—”
“—that it should go on your even perfect-er resume.”
“Marijuana isn’t a hard drug. And I’m not perfect.”
“Right. You aren’t.” Just looking at Luca’s warm, open expression sets me off. He has no idea the ways he’s hurt me, and he probably wouldn’t care even if he did. “You’re oblivious.”
“I’m sorry?”
I never thought I’d confront Luca about this, but that feels like a distant memory. Everything does. Even the present. “You don’t believe me? You cut off my presentation at JSHS. That’s what sealed my loss.”
“You were presenting when I came in?”
“No, I was asking the head judge if his toupee straight out of Party City was fooling anyone.” I toss a hand in frustration. “Of course I was presenting.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.” Luca’s voice is faraway now, like he’s focused on replaying that day in his mind to double-check. “I only saw Head Judge Hiller.”
“That’s the problem. You don’t see.”
You don’t see me.
“I did once you threw the smoothie at me,” Luca counters. A hint of something like irritation or hurt flickers across his face. Finally, something not perfectly charming. Something that feels real in our relationship.
It makes me want to push back harder.
“Because you—” I step toward him, only to trip over a hole in the floorboard.
Luca holds out his hands to catch me, but I grab the porch railing just in time.
“You good?” Luca asks, his curls scattering messily over his forehead.
You good? Like I can’t possibly be good because I’m Rory, who always fails, unlike him, who always wins and who’s always good.
“I’m fan-stastic,” I say. “What’s it to you?”
He stares at me with those big brown eyes. Those stupid, gorgeous eyes. “I’m taking it you’ve never drunk before.”
“I’m taking it you’re a pro at knowing how to drink,” I manage to say confidently, but on the inside, my hopelessness is spiraling. All my constant attempts to come out on top—never enough.
Luca is impenetrable. There is nothing I can do to stop him from winning.
I shove a finger against his chest—which is also solid, even with the soft shirt fabric under his letterman jacket. The gall. “And I’m taking it you don’t realize how much everyone likes you! You don’t even have to try, and they’re obsessed with you.”
Luca doesn’t respond. But his eyes are widening, and his cheeks are flushing. It’s not cold enough outside for it to be due to the weather.
Is that a blush?
Luca is blushing. Because I brought up that people like him?
My thoughts whir. From what I’ve deduced, Luca isn’t only unattainable but a heartbreaker. He turns down every person who shows interest, shattering their hearts over and over, because hockey practice and workouts take precedence. So, why would he care?
Unless.
The way Luca lied about being a bad texter to dodge Ophelia—I would’ve handled that the same way. And the story Jade told about him dodging a lunch date with Esmeralda because he’s “too busy”—I use that excuse all the time.
Somewhere along the way, did Luca learn that dating is a distraction, too?
Maybe he learned the hard way due to a relationship—or a breakup.
Because that’s what truly makes dating a distraction. The fact that Mom and Dad fell in love was how Prince List was created. A win-win. What became the problem was their divorce. Heartbreak. That’s how these things always end.
This could even be Luca’s weak spot.
The weak spot that I’ve been looking for.
I stand up a little straighter. The hopelessness sheds away.
Out of the Seven Deadly Distractions, this might be the one I need.
Since the start of camp, Luca has turned down dozens of people.
But if anyone has enough drive to break down Luca’s walls, it’s me.
I’ve spent my life molding and faking who I am, alongside Mom and Dad, to please the world. I can mold myself more to please Luca.
If I do this, I can win the brAIN Wars. If I do this, I can save everything.
I need to start the sabotage now.
Right now.
“I like you!” I shout before I can think it through and psych myself out. My loud voice cuts through the quiet woods like a falling, crackling tree trunk. Apparently, vodka makes it tough to control volume. Duly noted.
A corner of Luca’s lip hitches high. Which is cute, of course, and has probably made everyone else on this island melt.
Then he laughs. Hard. My focus goes in and out as he grips his stomach for support. “Is this your way of finally apologizing for throwing a smoothie at my face?”
Here I thought my mortification couldn’t grow larger.
I bite the inside of my cheek. Maybe I can start molding myself to become Luca’s perfect person right now, but that doesn’t erase the past—and how I was definitely not back then.
“No. But also, yes. I am sorry. For that day.” As the words leave my lips, I realize I mean it. “It wasn’t about you. It was because of that old man—the stupid judge. He treated me like I didn’t matter.”
Luca watches me, a sparkle catching his gaze. Not playfully, the way he does when he jokes around or pokes fun at me. It’s sincere. Soft. Like my apology means something to him.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I know you like me.”
My heart rate spikes. “What? What do you mean? What?”
“I would hope that you like me. You invited me to this party. We’re friends.”
Friends.
After Luca has done nothing but tease me and imply that I’m mentally incompetent since we got here. Is this more sarcasm?
It doesn’t feel like it.
Was that his polite way of already turning me down?
I look at my knit collared shirt and carpenter pants, both approved by my stylist. I’ve overheard people in Stuy’s hallways complimenting this outfit and my face along with it.
But on an island full of put-together, well-connected students our age?
Even as the Prince Kid, am I average? Jade thinks that I must be some people’s CCs, but no one has approached me.
Luca points toward the cabin. His hands are big. Strong. Big, strong hockey hands. “I’m glad you think everyone else here likes me, too. It’s always nerve-racking, being thrown into a new place.”
My confusion doubles. Partially because of his statement, partially because of the smeary halo around him now, making the trees behind him undulate like waves.
It’s like I’m on the East River ferry that connects Manhattan and Brooklyn, which my body has never been a fan of.
“Most people here have asked for your tumber nonight—number. Tonight.”
“Isn’t it nice? I really wasn’t sure if people would want to be friends with me here.”
“Friends,” I repeat slowly, the word once again throwing me.
“Yep,” Luca says plainly. Cluelessly.
Like he has no clue that people are hitting on him.
Like he just thinks they’re being nice.
My hypothesis before was wrong. Luca hasn’t learned that dating is a distraction. Despite being made up of 99 percent perfection, he does have one flaw, time and time again.
He’s oblivious.
The door behind us whips open once more.
Luca and I jump.
“Luca,” someone calls from inside. “Come back here!”
A hand pats me twice on the back. Probably Luca’s. Everything is a haze now, and my body is suddenly burning up. Even my stomach feels strange. “Holler if you’re still feeling rough, okay?”
He’s already leaving. Being swallowed by the rest of the cabin.
I can’t stop now. Not after finally figuring out a way to sabotage him. Maybe Luca hasn’t learned that dating—breakups and heartbreak—is the ultimate distraction like I’d hypothesized, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be the one to teach him that.
I can cause that weak spot. I’ll make him fall for me. The most fall of all time. I’ll make Luca Melendez fall in love with me.
Then I’ll break his heart.
Just like he broke mine for three long years.
“Rory?” Luca says. “You look off. Are you cold?”
There’s the shifting of fabric somewhere, and then something is put into my hands. It’s cool and flexible. Luca’s jacket.
“Rory?”
That’s the last thing I hear before I use Luca’s jacket as a bucket.