Chapter 33 Lane
Pulling up outside the mansion the guys rented for their birthday, my nerves are fizzing. Adam and Lewis fling open the front door before I even have a chance to ring, and I slap a smile on my face.
“Happy birthday, assholes!”
Just a few more hours until the party kicks off.
I’m not in the mood for fun, but these are my best friends—there’s no way I’m ruining their big night.
I’ve messed up enough lately, and I’m doing a shit job of making things right.
My screenplay didn’t work—there’s been no word from Lois.
And considering what my movie is about, that tells me everything I need to know.
“Thank you, Laney!” Lewis shrieks.
The pair of them step aside, and as I walk into the house, I see Adam looking at me expectantly. I shake my head in response.
“I tried calling Lois to see if she plans on coming, but it went straight to voicemail,” he tells me.
“It’s okay, dude.”
It’s not okay, but I’m an optimist—still clinging on to the faint hope she might just turn up and forgive me.
Adam beckons me over. “Before you drink yourself stupid, I need you over here.”
I help Don hang up his fugly birthday banner. I fold napkins. I blow up balloons, like if we were getting ready for a kid’s party. Be nice, Lane.
The dining room is huge. I stand there tapping my foot, staring out the bay window, craning for a better view as the guests start trickling in, hoping to catch sight of her. The crowds are pouring in thick and fast—looks like Lewis invited the entire basketball team and half the campus, at least.
I do my best to be useful, ferrying stuff around, laying dishes out on tables. When everything is done, I turn back to where my friends are standing in a huddle, whispering.
“What’s up?”
Don nods toward the entrance hall. “Lois just got here.”
I breathe out, rubbing my palms together. Okay, so she came. That’s got to be a good sign, right?
Before I turn around, I take a moment to gather my thoughts and plan how I’m going to do this.
Just when I’ve taken a deep breath in and am readying myself to go find her, Carter puts a hand on my chest, frowning.
“She’s with Kirk.”
The sentence cuts me to the quick. I follow my friend’s gaze, and there’s a knife twisting in my heart. I want to grab the table and flip it over, but I bite down on my anger. This is all my own fault—losing my shit won’t change that.
I had no idea this would hurt so bad, and I suddenly understand how Lois must have felt, back when I found her on the stairs, nursing a broken heart.
I stroll over to the bar and pour myself a beer from the keg.
I almost feel like crouching down and drinking straight from the tap, but out the corner of my eye I see movement to my left, and my fingers tighten around my cup.
I know it’s Lois without looking. I can feel her presence like the sun.
My pulse quickens. I need a little more liquid courage before I can go speak to her.
I drift over to a group of basketball players, listening to Lewis and Don debate their chances of winning the championship, batting back niceties, fending off a gaggle of wasted girls.
Time ticks by, and I still can’t find the exact right moment to go and talk to the only person I can think about.
I swirl my beer around my cup, until somebody staggers into me, and half my drink goes spilling over my feet.
I look up. When I see who just trashed my best sneakers, anger hits me square in the third eye.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
Kirk glares at me without so much as a “sorry.”
“Not my fault you’re always in my way, man.”
“Asshole,” I growl, all my pent-up rage rushing out of me in two easy syllables.
The more I stare at him, the more I want to smash his face in—and he knows exactly how I feel, because he takes a few steps back. Before I know it, I’m striding toward him.
“Easy, Laney.” Don muscles his way between us. “Beating up Lois’s boyfriend is definitely not the game plan.”
My friend has a point. I know that. But now that I’ve got Kirk right here in front of me, I know exactly how I feel. There’s no way I can stand by and be secretly in love with Lois. I’ve already lost her. From where I’m sitting, I have nothing left to lose.
“I’ll be gentle with him!” I protest.
“He’s on the team.” Don frowns, weighing up his options. “And I’m the captain.” He glances over at Lewis. “It’s your birthday, man—what do you say?”
Lewis pretends to think. “Go easy on him. We need him fresh for the games.” He winks at me. “Just make sure he can still run.”
Placing his hands on my shoulders, Don leans into me and gives the performance of a lifetime.
“Lane! Don’t do this!”
I smile.
And a second later, my fist lands square in Kirk’s face.
His hands shoot to his nose. “Are you outta your fucking mind?”
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” I say calmly. “It’s almost as good as I imagined.”
He clenches a fist, ready to swipe back.
“Come on, Kirky-Poo,” I taunt, bouncing from foot to foot. “Just do it already.”
“Lane O-Fucking-Neill!”
I whip around to find Lois standing there, quivering with rage. Kirk seizes his chance to land a blow to my cheek, and I rip off my sweater and lunge for him, my whole body powered by pure, unbridled anger. Before I can make contact, I feel arms snaking around me.
“We said one shot, dude.”
Don and Lewis drag me over to the bay window and lock me outside, and while the fresh air does nothing to cool my temper, at least it’s helping to settle my mind.
I may have gone a little too far. There’s a commotion stirring inside the house, and so I make a beeline for the garden couch, sitting myself down to listen to the trickling fountain, when suddenly there’s another sound.
Clap, clap, clap.
I glance up and my stomach flip-flops. Lois is striding toward me, slowly clapping as she goes.
“You’re quite the showman, aren’t you? Knowing Adam and Lewis, I was expecting a stripper.”
“Did I break his nose?” I ask.
“No idea. Kirk’s nose was always kind of weird.”
Didn’t stop you from loving him, though.
She stops in her tracks, and stands there staring at me.
“Nice T-shirt, by the way.” She smirks.
I glance down at the supersize “S.” That afternoon, when I realized I had pulled on the Superman top she gave me for Christmas, it felt right to keep it on. Now that she’s seen it, I’m hoping to get some kind of reaction, but instead she just blinks, her eyes drifting back to mine.
“Did it feel good?” She arches an eyebrow. “Hitting him, I mean.”
“Yeah.” I smile. “I needed that.”
Her eyes are boring into mine, and I would pay good money to know what’s going through her head right now. I just punched her boyfriend, after all.
“You’re so…”
She shuts her eyes and wraps her arms around herself. Her lips part, then close again. Is this the right time to tell her I’m dying to kiss her?
I’m doing my best to keep it on the down-low, but the truth is I’m drinking her in. She looks incredible in that dress—the same one she wore for Thanksgiving. Even back then, I thought she looked amazing that night. It’s a shame it took me so long to figure out what it all meant.
I pat the cushion next to me. “Want to join me?”
“I’m considering it. I don’t know whether I want to slap you or ghost you.”
“Surprise me.”
She rolls her eyes, a flicker of a smile playing on her lips, and it suddenly feels like we’re back on my couch, eating pizza and passing the time.
“Why did you punch him?”
I rub my fist. “He makes my skin crawl.”
“And?”
I feel like she’s reaching out—throwing me a lifeline. The problem is I don’t know what she wants from me.
“I don’t like the guy.”
“And?” she says again, taking a step toward me.
“When did you guys get back together, anyway?”
“Who said we’re together?” she asks, her eyes widening.
“I saw you kiss at the mall.”
“Okay, Detective…”
“So when did you hook up?”
“As soon as I realized I’m still crazy about him.”
Wow. That hurt. It’s a slap in the face, but I don’t flinch.
“Which never happened, you total moron!” She glares at me.
“Talking to him helped me get my head straight. When he tried to kiss me—outside a mall, of all places—I turned him down. It was the best day of my life. I know bitterness is never a good look, but it just felt so good. I felt iconic,” she adds.
I get to my feet, my thoughts churning.
“But I saw you guys.”
“He tried to kiss me. I pushed him away.”
“You came to the party together tonight,” I snap back.
“We came through the door at the same time, yeah. But we didn’t actually come together.”
“But—”
“I got here the same time as three other guys, too. FYI, Lane, I don’t do poly.” She appraises me. “This is a classic you move, isn’t it? You whirled yourself up without even talking to me first.”
“I thought you said you never wanted to talk to me again?”
“Put yourself in my shoes, Lane! You acted just like Kirk. You saw how bad he hurt me, and then you went and did the exact same thing. You treated me like shit for no good reason—”
“You were okay with bending over backward to get him back,” I frown. “But you won’t do the same for me.”
“That’s because back then, I was a total pushover.
It was time for me to grow up and start living my life for myself, instead of clinging to people.
In a weird way, everything that happened these past few months was actually good for me.
I’ve learned so much.” She shrugs. “I’m never going to make the same mistakes again.
I’m never going to bend myself out of shape to fit around some guy.
I’m never going to be ‘just a girlfriend’—ever again. ”