Chapter Twelve
The Party
Quinn
If someone had asked me this morning how my night was going to end, I probably would have said something simple. Dinner, maybe a movie. A normal evening with my boyfriend.
Instead, I’m standing in the middle of a crowded house party wondering if my entire relationship has been one giant lie. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
It started the way most bad ideas do, with a text message. I’m sitting on the couch in my living room flipping through a baking magazine when my phone buzzes.
Emette: Party at Mason’s tonight. You should come.
I stare at the message for a moment. Emette isn’t exactly what I’d call a party person these days.
Back in high school? Sure. He was practically the king of that scene but lately he usually prefers quieter nights.
Which is why this text surprises me. But maybe it’s a good sign.
Maybe things are getting back to normal.
Maybe the weird tension that’s been hanging between us lately will finally disappear.
I type a reply.
Me: What time?
The answer comes almost immediately.
Emette: Nine.
I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s 8:15 right now, so I guess I better get moving.
****
Thirty minutes later I’m standing in front of my bedroom mirror trying to convince myself that tonight is going to be fun. The outfit is simple. Black jeans with a soft white top and my favorite boots.
Nothing too fancy. Nothing too casual. Just enough effort to look nice without looking like I tried too hard. Which, apparently, is a delicate balance in my relationship lately.
I run a brush through my hair one last time and grab my keys. Tonight will be good. It has to be.
I grab my car keys and get in my car. I breathe deeply and start the engine. Mason’s house sits just outside town where the roads get a little darker and the houses a little farther apart.
Even before I pull into the driveway, I can hear the music. Bass thumping through the night air, voices, laughter, and the unmistakable chaos of a house party.
I park along the side of the road and step out of the car. The warm summer air smells faintly like beer, weed, and bonfires. Inside the house the music is loud enough to rattle the windows.
I push the door open and step into the crowd and immediately the noise wraps around me. People are dancing. People are shouting over the music. People are holding red plastic cups like they’re part of the dress code.
It’s been a while since I’ve been to a party like this and for a moment I feel slightly out of place. But then I spot him.
Emette stands near the kitchen talking to a group of guys and relief washes through me. I start moving toward him but before I get halfway across the room someone grabs my arm.
“Quinn!”
I turn and see Jessica, an old friend from high school. She pulls me into a quick hug.
“Girl, I haven’t seen you in forever!”
“Hi,” I laugh. “How are you?”
“Good.” She is loud and happy, and I can see her sway.
“You look amazing.”
“So do you.”
We talk for a minute, catch up on small things like work and life. The usual. But I keep glancing over her shoulder toward the kitchen, trying to find Emette again. Finally, Jessica notices.
“Are you looking for someone?”
“Emette.”
“Oh.” The way she says that single word makes something in my stomach twist.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“That didn’t sound like nothing.”
She hesitates then quickly changes the subject. “Do you want a drink?”
“I’ll grab one in a minute.”
“Okay.” She gives me another quick hug before disappearing into the crowd.
That was weird, but I shake the feeling off and head toward the kitchen. But when I get there, Emette isn’t there anymore. I scan the room, but I don’t see anyone I know. The back porch door is open so I step outside only to find more people and more music.
But still no Emette.
Okay. That’s fine. It’s a party. He’s probably just talking to someone else. I head back inside and toward the hallway. Along the way, someone bumps into me.
“Sorry!” they say drunkenly.
“It’s okay,” I reply and keep moving past them.
The hallway leads toward the back of the house where the bedrooms are. Not exactly where I expected to find him, but something pulls me in that direction anyway. Maybe instinct. Maybe curiosity. Maybe the weird tension that’s been building all night.
I reach the end of the hallway and that’s when I see them. At first my brain doesn’t process what I’m looking at.
Two people are standing close together. Too close. The girl turns slightly and I recognize her. Amanda.
The realization hits like a punch to the chest because Emette’s hands are on her waist and his mouth is on hers.
For a second the world goes completely silent. The music. The voices. The party. All of it fades into the background. Because all I can see is my boyfriend kissing another girl.
My heart drops somewhere near my stomach and I take a step backward. Then another. Neither of them notices me because they’re too busy.
My throat tightens painfully. How long has this been happening? How many people here knew? Because judging by the looks I’m getting from the few people standing nearby, more than a few is the answer.
Humiliation burns through my chest. I turn and run. The hallway blurs. The music crashes back into my ears. Someone calls my name, but I don’t stop.
I push through the front door and stumble onto the porch. Cool night air hits my face and my vision swims. I make it halfway down the driveway before the first tear slips free. Then another. And another.
My chest feels like it’s being crushed from the inside.
How could he do this? How could I be so stupid?
I hear footsteps behind me. “Quinn!”
The voice stops me cold because I know that voice.
I turn slowly and there he is. Damien. Standing at the edge of the driveway looking at me like he already knows exactly what happened.
“Hey,” he says softly.
That’s all it takes. The tears come harder now.
“I...” My voice breaks and he closes the distance between us in three quick steps.
“Hey,” he repeats gently. His hand lifts like he’s going to touch my face, then stops halfway. Like he’s remembering he doesn’t get to do that.
“I’m fine.” It’s the worst lie I’ve ever told.
His expression softens. “No, you’re not.”
I try to wipe my face but it’s pointless. Everything hurts. My chest. My pride. My heart.
“I saw him,” I whisper.
Damien’s jaw tightens. “Yeah.”
“You knew?” I accuse, knowing it would crush me if he did.
“No.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I followed you.”
That surprises me. “Why?”
“Because you ran out of the house like someone just punched you in the stomach.”
Fair point.
“I’m sorry,” I say weakly.
“For what?” he frowns as he asks the question.
“For ruining your night,” I reply around a sniffle.
“My night wasn’t ruined.”
I laugh bitterly. “Mine was.”
Silence settles between us for a moment before Damien sighs quietly. “Was he inside with someone else?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
His hands curl slightly at his sides. “Who?”
“Amanda.”
Something dark flashes across his face. “Of course it was.”
“You know her?” I ask.
“Small town.”
Right. Everyone knows everyone. I wrap my arms around myself. The night suddenly feels colder.
“I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”
“What?”
“That he was cheating.”
Damien doesn’t answer immediately. Then he says something that makes my chest tighten again. “Sometimes people see what they want to see.”
I stare at the ground. “I feel stupid.”
“You’re not.”
“I stayed with him for five damn years.”
“That doesn’t make you stupid.”
“It feels like it does.”
He steps closer. Close enough that I can feel the warmth of his presence beside me. “Quinn.”
“Yeah?”
“You trusted someone who didn’t deserve it.”
I look up and his eyes are steady. Calm. Angry on my behalf.
“That’s not stupidity,” he says quietly. “That’s loyalty.”
And suddenly, standing there in the dark driveway with mascara probably running down my face, I realize something. For the first time tonight, I don’t feel alone.