Chapter Nineteen
I SHOULD BE FOCUSING ON MY MASCARA, NOT THE TEXT THREAD I’ve re-opened for the third time today. But it’s still there on my screen, glowing back at me, highlighting my indecision.
Noah: Are you free tonight?
A week ago, this text would have sent a spark right through me. Now, it just makes me tired. Jack’s face keeps looping in my head, tugging at everything I thought I’d put away.
Still, standing in the middle of the beach cleanup, my thumbs type back.
Me: There’s a party out at The Narrows
Noah: Is that an invitation?
Me: If you want it to be
Noah: I’ll pick you up?
Me: That’d be nice
I regretted responding immediately.
Now my room looks like it’s been hit by a small storm. There’s a pile of dresses on the floor that didn’t make the cut, too sweet, too serious, too not enough.
What I land on looks simple. Technically.
But it’s the kind of simple that takes twenty minutes and three outfit changes.
The dress is a double layer of semi sheer mesh in a shade of aqua that catches the light like sea glass.
It skims under my collarbone, dips low between my shoulder blades, and clings just enough to feel intentional without trying too hard.
Tonight my clothes are my armor, readying me for whatever comes next.
My makeup is bolder than usual, clean lines sharp enough to hold their own against the dress.
I’ve pinned my hair up, leaving my neck and collarbone bare, framed only by my favorite gold hoops.
A dusting of shimmer on my shoulders catches the light, because if there was ever a night for a little extra, it’s this one.
I smooth my dress one last time, and head for the door just as headlights sweep across the wall. Right on time.
When I open the door, Noah’s already stepping onto the porch, hands in his pockets. And when he sees me, he doesn’t speak right away. Just looks, clocking every detail like he’s filing it away somewhere.
He gives a tiny shake of his head and smiles. “Damn.”
I should say something cool back. He offers his hand like we’re walking into a ballroom, not the kind of party where someone will definitely end up in the pool.
“Ready?”
I nod, but I don’t take his hand. I loop my arm through his instead.
When we pull up to the party, the estate is lit up, lanterns strung between palm trees lighting the path to the main house, the sound of laughter spilling down the front steps.
Noah shifts behind me, placing his hand lightly on the small of my back.
His palm stays there as we step inside, just enough pressure to say I’m here without needing to say anything else.
It’s the kind of crowd that makes you stand up straighter without realizing it, old money mixed with young chaos. The band is tucked into the corner of the veranda, playing a cover of “Come On Eileen.” Champagne flutes catch light on silver trays.
Someone brushes past us, and Noah leans in slightly, his lips near my ear. “Every guy here’s trying not to stare at you.”
I self-consciously glance down.
“I’m the one who gets to,” he winks, voice gravely. I feel the vibration of his voice in my stomach and laugh nervously.
We snake our way through the party, stopping for quick hellos. People know him now. Dinah pulls him into a joke before I can get to her. Sloane gives him a once over, then mouths hot to me behind his back.
I’m not sure what unsettles me more, how easily he can fit in, or how weird that feels. Noah shifts beside me, fingers brushing my lower back again.
“I like your friends,” he says quietly, watching Dinah argue with a man twenty years her senior over a tray of oysters.
His fingers travel up my arm, just enough to make me aware of him all over again. He hasn’t stopped touching me since we got here, light and constant, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. I’m no longer sure how it makes me feel.
“I’ve been in a lot of rooms where everyone was polished and perfect, and you leave not knowing a single real thing about anyone.”
“And this feels different?” I ask.
“This island’s different,” he says. “People don’t bother hiding what they want. It can be messy, but it feels real. Not performative.”
I tilt my head. “Maybe. To me, the island’s about calm. Mornings on the porch, the ocean smoothing everything down. That’s the part that feels real. Not the parties.”
He studies me, eyes deepening. “The parties are performance for you?”
“Sometimes.”
He leans in. “So, tell me, Lucy, who are you performing for tonight?”
My pulse stutters. Because I know exactly who’s attention I want.
I laugh lightly, trying to ease the tension of the moment. “You think you can read me now?”
His gaze flickers, just once, toward the other side of the room, where Jack is talking to a woman I don’t recognize.
“I pay attention to the people I like,” he says quietly. “Even if it’s not in my best interest.”
Before I can respond, a hand taps Noah’s shoulder. It’s a slightly older guy in a white terrycloth blazer, holding two drinks and grinning like they’ve known each other forever. “Noah, hey man, can I steal you for a sec?”
Noah gives me a glance. A silent okay if I go?
I nod. “I’ll be right here.”
He squeezes my arm lightly as he turns to follow, and I stay planted, sipping my wine, trying to work out that last line.
Even if it’s not in my best interest. What does that mean exactly?
That I’ve become a risky distraction? Because of Jack?
I exhale and scan the terrace, pretending I’m not looking for anyone in particular.
“Okay, don’t panic,” Sloane says, moving next to me.
My stomach plummets. “Why would I panic?”
Dinah and Dawn both turn to us.
Sloane tips her chin toward the bar. “There’s a mystery woman over there with Jack.”
My eyes travel across the room to Jack in a chambray button-down rolled to the elbows. He’s laughing, animated, the center of a group of four. I recognize one of them, but my eyes skip past him and land on her.
She’s tall. Magnetic. Her hair tumbles over her bare shoulders in shiny, unbothered waves, like she walked straight out of a beauty ad.
And she’s close. Too close. I watch as she leans in and touches Jack’s arm like it’s second nature.
Jack smiles at her politely. He says something, and the woman leans in further, touching his shoulder.
The wine is suddenly sharp in my mouth. My skin feels too warm, like I’m overdressed, like there’s a spotlight directly on me. The image is already burned in my brain, her hand on his arm, the way he leaned in, relaxed.
I glance to my right. Noah’s still talking with his friends, back turned now, gesturing with his glass. I force myself to smile at a server offering a tray of mini fried chicken biscuits and take another sip of wine. I’m fine. It’s fine.
“Good for him. I don’t care if he talks to other women,” I lie instantly.
Dinah’s hand lands warm at my elbow. “Oh please, she’s probably a friend of a friend. Work. Logistics. Something boring.”
I force a breath. “Seriously. It’s fine.”
Sloane studies my face for half a second too long, then pivots like a good friend should. “Okay, well just say the word and I’ll go be terribly friendly.”
“Okay,” I say, half-laughing. I shouldn’t be bothered by this. But all I can think is that I should be the one by Jack’s side.
The band cuts into a version of the Chainsmokers’ “Closer,” and the crowd erupts as the vocals come in, bodies surging toward the lawn.
Noah appears at my side, warm and grinning. “Dance?”
I glance once more toward Jack. This time when I look, Jack catches me. His face is hard to read. Pensive. For a beat, we just…stare. And then he smiles, but it’s the smile he reserves only for me, whether he realizes it or not.
“Sure,” I breathe. “We can dance.”
Noah isn’t a showy dancer, just comfortable and loose. He makes it easy to fall into a rhythm. I let myself laugh as the wine buzz carries me through a couple of songs, but my eyes never stop tracking Jack’s movements.
Now he’s with Thomas near the edge of the veranda, talking animatedly. The mystery woman is nowhere in sight. Undeserved relief pools in my chest.
We turn with the crowd just as the band launches into “Young, Wild & Free.” I catch sight of Jack again. He’s angled toward Thomas still, nodding along to whatever he’s saying, but the woman is now just behind him, close enough to be in the same conversation.
Jack doesn’t seem to see her. But I do. Noah catches my hands and spins me under his arm, our movements easy. He smells like clean laundry and salt air. He looks at me, and there’s a moment where the noise drops out.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah. I…yeah.” My voice is thinner than I want.
“You sure?” His eyes are careful, searching.
I nod. But there’s a flicker I can’t shake. Dancing like this with Noah makes me feel kind of dirty. I like Noah, but I’m using him to make Jack jealous. In the middle of a party for everyone to see.
He takes my hand and pulls me back into the dance, and I let him.
For a while, it’s fun again. We move, drink, laugh.
Eventually, the crowd starts to thin, becoming a younger party now.
Shoes come off, a group of twenty-year-olds eventually jump in the pool, and the music shifts to a more frantic, last-call kind of vibe.
I try to stay in it, smiling, sipping what’s left of my drink, but my momentum’s fading. My feet hurt. I’m tired.
And every time my gaze wanders, it drifts back to where I last saw them. Jack’s gone. She’s gone.
Noah leans behind me, his hand light at my waist. “Wanna call it?”
I swallow. “Yeah. I’m ready.”
The drive back is quiet, comfortable for him, claustrophobic for me. When we pull up to Lazy Daisy, Noah parks but doesn’t move to get out. He turns toward me.
“Want me to walk you in?”
For a beat, the easier option is to say yes. To keep pretending I can feel one thing to quiet another. But I can’t.
“That’s okay,” I say softly. “Thanks for the ride, and for coming with me.”
He nods once. “I had fun. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I hop out of the golf cart, feet hitting the coral stone. “Goodnight, Noah.”
“Goodnight, Lucy.”
He waits until I’m inside before driving off. When the lock clicks, the house falls achingly quiet. Which means all I can hear is the noise in my head.