Chapter 6
Everyone gathers in the cocktail area for more drinks and hors d’oeuvres. I make my way to the bar and get a whiskey sour, hoping steady alcohol consumption will miraculously cure my anxiety. Or at least numb me to it, even just a little.
This is going great.
I get stuck in conversation with Olivia, who is lovely but makes very intense eye contact. She tells me about her recent trip to Italy, sparing no detail. Turns out, everything is better in Italy. Who knew?
“You haven’t eaten pasta until you’ve eaten pasta in Italy,” she says.
“I’m actually gluten-free.” I don’t know why I say it, why I lie, why I’m being a dick. She’s not trying to be obnoxious.
“Me, too! I’m gluten-sensitive, but I’m telling you it doesn’t matter over there because of the quality of the food. It’s amazing.”
I have no idea how to politely exit this conversation.
My drink is gone, and I swear I’m thiiissss close to gnawing on the cherry stem in case it absorbed any liquor.
Olivia talks so fast she’s not leaving me any opportunity to kindly excuse myself to go get another.
I send ESP SOS signals to Evan and Cassie that go unanswered.
“I was standing in front of the Madonna della Pietà just crying. Weeping,” she says. “And I’m not even religious!”
“Those Catholics,” I say, staring into the bottom of my empty glass, considering prayer.
“Excuse me. Olivia. Sorry to interrupt.” It’s Danny. “Can I borrow Willa for a second?”
“Oh, of course,” she says.
“Nice chatting with you,” I say. “So glad you had fun on your trip.”
She’s already off looking for someone else to talk to about Vatican City.
“Thank you,” I say to Danny.
“Don’t thank me yet. I’m about to wax poetic about limoncello.”
The joke catches me off guard and I snort while laughing.
“Nerd,” he says, which makes me laugh even harder. “I was wrong. You’re not cool.”
People are looking at us. Now I have my friends’ attention, of course, now that I no longer need it. Evan furrows his brow. Cassie sucks on her vape. Ravi angles his face away, rests his hand on the small of Tanya’s back.
This subtle gesture turns me into a green-eyed monster, into something wild and intrepid.
I lean in closer to Danny. “Do you smoke cigarettes?”
“No. Yes. When offered.”
“I’m offering.”
“I’m accepting.”
“The thing is, I think I left my pack in my cabin.”
“Did you?”
“I’ll have to go get them.”
“I’ll walk you.”
“What a prince.”
“Qualsiasi cosa per te, amore mio.” He hangs his arm around my shoulders and guides me through the floral arches onto the path.
I’m curious if my friends are still watching.
If Ravi is watching. But I’m too proud to turn around.
I’m in the arms of someone new. Someone fun and attractive who is clearly into me.
I should be savoring this, not caring about who else cares.
I should let the world be empty except for the sound of my heels crunching into the dirt, the coos of nature, the musical duo at it again, Danny humming to himself.
Only I can’t escape my anxiousness. Is Danny humming because he’s bored? Am I boring him already?
I almost ask What did you think of the ceremony? but decide against small talk.
I almost tell him I just realized there’s a good chance my cigarettes might actually be in my car but my car keys are at the cabin so what does it matter?
I almost reach out and touch him because I’m pretty sure the cigarettes are just a ploy for us to get a moment alone together.
“What did you think of the ceremony?” he asks me, as we round the corner approaching the cabins.
He went for small talk. Interesting.
“It was sweet. What did you think?”
“Don’t ask me that. I told you I’m an asshole.”
“You asked me.”
“You’re not an asshole.”
“It’s this one,” I say, confidently walking up to what is probably the right cabin. I dig the key card out of my bag and press it to the sensor, hoping it opens, otherwise I’ll look stupid.
“Look,” Danny says.
I turn around to the sunset—the sky blazing orange, magenta, red. To the lake reflecting the vibrant hues. It’s staggeringly beautiful.
“Such an asshole,” I say. “Stopping to admire the sky.”
He does that thing again, like earlier in the woods. He looks at me without saying anything. The awkward laugh, the messing with his hair. The lip bite.
Then he reaches out and lifts my chin with two fingers. He brings his face to my face. I can smell the whiskey on his breath. He doesn’t kiss me. His one hand is still under my chin, his other on my hip. But they’re adventurous, his hands. They travel.
Our lips are almost touching, and it’s there, that electricity. That rare, supernatural chemistry.
I’ve been on a few bad dates since Ravi. I’ve kissed other people, but it’s all been so anticlimactic. Empty. No spark. No butterflies. But this is different. Because I’m feeling this. Feeling that spark. The butterflies.
“Willa?”
I’ve been stuck in this rut, in this post-breakup purgatory, and I just want out. A fresh start. For someone to save me. Maybe it’s him. “Do it, asshole.”
Danny takes my face in both hands and kisses me.
It’s surprising in its instant intensity, like getting knocked down by a wave in shallow water.
He’s aggressive but not rough. There’s a certain choreography to it, to us stepping over the threshold, to him pinning me against the wall, lifting me up, tangling his fingers in my hair and pulling my head back to kiss my neck.
To me pressing my hips into him, slipping my hands under his suit jacket to get a better feel of him—how he moves, whether his muscles tense when I touch him here, or here, or here. Here.
He inhales sharply. Pulls my hair a little harder. Reaches down, searching for the hem of my dress.
Do I want this? Because it’s happening, and it’s happening fast.
“Wait,” I say.
He takes a step back, covers his face with his hands. “Sorry. Got carried away.”
“No, no, no. Not at all. It’s just…” I wish I fucking knew. “We’ll be late for dinner. If we get into that now.”
“Ah,” he says, dropping his hands. “Right. Damn. The dinner where you can’t sit next to me.”
“Correct. Not because I don’t want to. There are rules.”
“You and these rules. Can’t be drunk, can’t be late.”
“We’ve already established I am not cool and a nerd.”
“Can I tell you something?” he asks, leaning in close again, putting my back to the wall again.
“You can tell me anything.”
“I think you lied about having cigarettes to get me alone.”
“You’re arrogant.”
“But am I wrong?” He gives me his big, crooked grin.
I slip away from the wall and walk into my room, flip the light on and search my big purse. There’s a smooshed pack tucked into a random pocket, along with a small red lighter. I’m grateful they’re not in my car, so I can disprove Danny’s presumptuous theory. And so I can smoke.
Danny stands in the doorway, leaning coolly against the frame.
“Found them,” I say, holding up the pack.
“You don’t strike me as a smoker.”
“I’m not, really. I go through phases. My friends hate it.”
“No judgment,” he says, taking out his flask. He offers it to me, and I trade him for the pack of cigarettes, then we swap back.
We step out onto the porch and sit on the swing. Danny lights my cigarette before he lights his own. The night is impatient, darkness bullying the light from the sky. I get my phone out to check the time. It’s 7:33. The reception just started. We’re late.
I’m surprised that Cass or Evan hasn’t texted me about disappearing with Danny but then realize it’s because I don’t have any service.
“What’s up?” Danny asks.
“We are officially three minutes late.”
“Damn. We might get the chair for this.”
“Firing squad, I think.”
He stands, offers me a hand up. “Sorry. You can blame me. I’m used to it. Getting in trouble.”
“You don’t say.” We step off the porch and I drop my cigarette onto the path, stomp it out. “Do you have any service?”
“Nah. This place is a dead zone.” He flicks his cigarette butt, kicks some dirt over it. He walks backward so he can look at me. “I am sorry that I made you late. I was going off a vibe. If I took things too far…”
“No. It’s not…It wasn’t…It was just the timing.”
“Okay, okay. Good, good,” he says, smiling, showing off his dimples. His hair is a mess. His tie is loose. He keeps stumbling but won’t turn around, won’t stop looking at me. Now I regret putting an end to our hookup. I want to tackle him to the ground.
“Can I tell you something?”
“Anything. Everything. Always.”
“I did want to get you alone. I just didn’t lie to do it.”
“You like me,” he says.
“Again, with the arrogance.”
“I—” He stops. Talking. Walking. Breathing. He’s not looking at me anymore; he’s looking past me.
“What is it?” I ask, swiveling on my heel. There’s the row of quaint white cabins. The lake. The woods. Mosquitoes. Birds. “What?”
“Uh. Nothing.” He squints. “I thought I saw…”
“Saw what?” I ask, with an urgency that seems to fluster him. His eyes go wide.
“We were kidding around about that satanic shit, right?”
“Yeah. Why? What’s wrong?”
He rubs his jaw. “Just…I want to check…”
He changes direction, heading back toward the cabins.
“Wait.” I follow him, my heart a battering ram.
All I can think about is the figure in black.
What if I was wrong to keep my mouth shut?
To dismiss the dread, suppress the panic?
It’s such a trap, isn’t it? I say something and suddenly, it’s a problem, I’ve got a problem.
I don’t say anything and just delay the inevitable. “Danny.”
Please, please, please let this not be a problem. Let it be nothing.
He approaches the first cabin. He stands at the back corner, hands on his head. “Okay…Whoa.”
I come up behind him, and I see it, and it’s not nothing.
My knees go weak.
There’s a vulgar smear of red sullying the white cabin.
It’s a very distinct shade. And it’s wet. Fresh.
“I’m being paranoid,” he says. “Yeah?”
“Danny. Danny. Danny…” I need to say something other than his fucking name. My mouth isn’t working. My brain isn’t working. I am nothing but fear.
He takes another step and the ground squelches under his weight. The noise tips our gazes down. By the dregs of daylight, it’s hard to determine what the ground is soaked with. The grass has been disturbed—there’s a chaotic pattern in the blades and some patches have been ripped out completely.
“Uh…” He leans over, peering behind the cabin.
How did it get so dark so fast? The sun has abandoned us.
“There’s nothing back there,” he says, turning toward me. “Hold on. What’s that?”
He points at the grass near my feet. I look.
It could easily be mistaken for a golf ball. But I know exactly what it is.
A problem.
He bends down. He picks it up. He grips it between his thumb and index finger. “Uh…what? Is this…”
A Halloween prop. A macabre sphere of plastic. A fake eyeball.
A big fucking problem.
“Danny. I saw something—someone—in the woods right before we met. I didn’t think it was real because, I don’t know. How could it be real? I didn’t think it could be real. I…I…”
“What are you saying? Who did you see?”
Before I can answer, there is a scream so sharp it severs any thread of denial, and the whole world comes apart at the seams.