Chapter 20
Twenty
CHLOE
“Relax, Chloe.” Anita finishes my two plaits and pats me on the shoulders. “You’re going to be fine.”
I assess myself in Charlotte’s full-length mirror and tug on the hem of my costume. “This is way shorter than I remember it being.”
Charlotte steps out of her walk-in closet, decked out in her glittery golden leotard. “That’s because you lent it to me last year for that festival you missed for some ridiculous reason.”
“It was a legit reason, actually. I had soccer. You shortened it?”
“You’re taller than I am. And it cut me weird. I didn’t think you’d want to wear it again.” She shrugs. “I don’t know why you’re complaining. Your legs look a mile long.”
I frown at my reflection. The dress hits me mid-thigh. I never wear anything this short. Even my soccer shorts nearly graze my knees. “I wish you would have told me. I could have picked a different costume. Like the Wicked Witch of the West.”
She flashes a saucy smile. “What fun would that have been?” Charlotte nudges me with her hip and takes her place in front of the mirror. She dips a wand into a bottle of liquid liner and draws winged tips at the corners of her eyes. “Own it. You’ve got a hot athlete vying for your attention.”
“Not the point of tonight, even if it were true.”
Anita tugs on the red cowboy boots and tucks her skinny jeans into them. “Well, at least flirt with him. You two definitely get an A-plus in banter.”
“Hey, what are you so worried about?” Charlotte turns her attention to me.
I don’t want to admit what’s really got me rattled. But these are my best friends, so of course, I cave. “You think Graham will be there?”
Anita’s fists clench. “If he says anything to you, I will render his masculine anatomy inoperable.”
“Don’t tell me you’re trying to get back together with him?” Charlotte asks.
“No, no. Nothing like that.” I’ve already told them about Graham showing up at the car wash and Rhoads’s house, of all places. They think he’s shady. I think we just live in a small town.
“Ohhhhh,” Anita says. “I understand.”
“You do?” I say. “Then please, explain it to me so I can comprehend my own romantic life.”
“It makes sense. You’re worried Rhoads will get the wrong idea if Graham is around, that he’ll think you and Graham are reconnecting, and he’s lost his chance.”
Huh. “Well, I wasn’t worried about that before. But now I am. Maybe.” I shake my head. What am I even saying? “No, never mind. That doesn’t matter. Because Rhoads is who he is, a charming flirt. And I’m, well, me. Graham doesn’t change any of that.”
“You know,” Charlotte says, swiping gloss onto her lips. “I actually haven’t seen Rhoads flirt with anyone else since you two started hanging out—I mean, training together.”
Instinct wants me to rebuttal, but now that I think about it, I haven’t either. Hmm.
“If everything we’ve said doesn’t matter, why do you care if Graham’s at the party?” Anita asks.
“I don’t know. It’s just weird seeing him again, I guess.” I’m not even at Dionne’s yet, and I’m already exhausted.
Charlotte turns around. “Just chill out, okay. Have fun. Be your lovely, charming self and everything will work out. Stop worrying so much.”
“Easy for you to say.” I slip my feet into the ruby slippers, glad I’d ignored Charlotte’s advice and opted for flats instead of heels. This night is going to be tough enough. I don’t need to make things more difficult on myself.
An hour later, Anita leads Charlotte and me into Dionne’s foyer.
She knows Dionne through some club or another, which is how we secured an invitation to the exclusive party.
The privilege of hosting is passed down through the ranks of Cardinal Ridge High’s wealthier kids, the host or hostess selected by the Seniors.
It’s never held on actual Halloween weekend, because that’s too on-the-nose or something.
Plus, Dionne’s single dad is out of town on business.
Her mom lives out of state, so here we are.
“This place is massive,” I say. Had the foyer been empty, my words would echo off the vaulted ceiling. But already the house is packed with students dressed in costume, some disguised so well I don’t recognize them. The sweet smell of fruity cocktails perfumes the air.
“Let’s do a lap,” Charlotte says. “See if we spot anyone interesting.”
“I’m going to find the bathroom,” Anita says. “My hair is doing something weird. I’ll catch up with you.” She disappears into the crowd, greeting various people as she passes. After a few seconds, I lose sight of her red bandanna and plaid shirt.
Charlotte drags me into the kitchen. Her face lights up. “Let’s get a drink.”
“I don’t really—” I protest, but I stop as Charlotte’s strong grip pulls me toward a group of guys standing near a large cooler. “Okay.”
“Me-ow,” says one of the guys, a senior whose face I recognize but whose name I can’t remember. Tim? Tom?
“Can we get two of those?” Charlotte purrs, fluttering her lengthy lashes at the second guy. That third layer of mascara really does make a difference.
A mask obscures the other guy’s face, so I can’t tell who he is. He fishes out two bottles of sparkling water, removes the caps, and hands one to each of us. The feeling of the bottle in my hand takes me back to last year’s parties with Graham. I push it away. Nope. Not thinking about him tonight.
“Thanks.” I tip the bottle toward the guy. “Let’s find Anita,” I say to Charlotte.
Two crowded rooms later, Charlotte isn’t with me anymore. Great. I’m lost in a sea of masked faces. I stand on my tiptoes to scan above the crowd. No sign of my friends. Maybe my best option is to wait it out. They’ll find me, eventually.
I squeeze my way into the front room and find an empty seat in the bay window. Despite the distance from the dance floor, the glass pane vibrates from the strength of the speakers’ bass, and the beat thrums against my eardrums.
Watching the crowd of costumed people talk and dance and flirt feels all too familiar. I haven’t been to a party like this since Graham and I broke up. It was always his scene, not mine. Sitting there, I realize just how out of place I felt in this world.
Graham catches my eye from across the room. He waves. And smiles. What the heck?
Now he’s coming over to me, and there’s nowhere to run.
“Hey, Chloe,” he says.
“Umm, hi.”
“How are you?”
Okay, seriously? Am I the only one who remembers how badly our relationship ended? “Fine. You?”
“I’m good. Yeah. Umm. Can we maybe go outside and talk?”
Under normal circumstances, I’d probably laugh. But people are pushing against me, and it’s getting hard to breathe in the cloud of sharp-scented liquor from Dionne’s fancy-pants signature drink. “Fine.”
He leads the way to the back porch. It’s empty, thank goodness. Everyone’s inside doing some popular line dance that’s taken over the Internet. When I get outside, I gulp the cold air like I’ve never taken a breath before.
“So, what are you supposed to be?” I gesture to his white tank top and jeans, an empty leather tool belt slung low across his hips.
“Construction worker. But someone stole my hardhat, so now I just look like an idiot.”
“Which is different from a normal day how?”
“Ouch.” He mimes being stabbed through the chest. “You wound me.”
“Ha. As if you could be hurt. Please. You’re Graham Carmack. Invincible.”
His face falls, apparently not expecting my sass. I don’t expect it either. Not that it doesn’t feel kind of good. “Is this how it’s going to be between us, Chloe?”
“How, exactly, do you expect it to be?” I fold my arms and stare straight into his bright blue eyes. They used to hypnotize me, but now they just look like, well, organs for seeing.
He sighs. “I don’t know. I thought maybe after some time apart—”
“That I’d develop amnesia and forget what happened? That I’d give you a second chance?” My face burns with rage.
“No.” He blows out a heavy breath. “I just thought maybe we’d…moved past it. That maybe we could be friends.”
“You cheated on me, Graham. You kissed whatever her name is at Spring Formal. In front of everyone. When we were there as a very exclusive couple. And now you want to be friends? What is wrong with you?” The words slip out before my brain can filter them.
I’ve imagined saying this to him so many times, and now that they’re out, I feel like a deflating balloon.
Don’t think, just do.
Graham blinks at me. “I’m sorry. What I did was messed up.”
“Yes. It was. Extremely.”
He flashes The Graham Look, the one that charms parents, teachers, and dumb girls like me. But it doesn’t work on me anymore. “Does that one mistake really take away from all the good times we had together? I’m not a villain.”
“You certainly don’t get to stand here and play the victim.” I poke my index finger into his chest and use my mocking tone when I say, “Oh, Chloe’s such a jerk. I apologized, and she won’t forgive me. Poor Graham can’t stand someone to be upset with him.”
“I don’t think you’re a jerk.” He shakes his head and speaks slowly. “I just hate this tension between us. We used to be so close.”
I stare at him. “Yeah. And you blew that right up the first chance you got, didn’t you?” My body aches, suddenly tired.
“No. Not the first chance.” He says it quietly, but it still cuts me.
“I’m sorry, what?”
He sighs heavily. “There were lots of times girls threw themselves at me while we were together, but I never acted on it.”
“Until Spring Formal.”
He’s silent.
The anger seeps out of my body as I finally unload on him.
I didn’t realize how much this baggage weighed until now, when I’m finally setting it down.
“Unfortunately, you don’t get Good Boy points for remaining faithful.
That came with the territory when we decided, together and very explicitly, to be exclusive.
But humiliating me in front of the whole school?
Not a quality I want in a boyfriend. Or a friend. ”
He rumples his blond hair and exhales through his nose. “Finally.”
“Excuse me?”
“I have been waiting for you to yell at me since that night. The anticipation almost killed me.”
“Good.” I fold my arms again. Why are arms so awkward? What am I supposed to do with them? I don’t usually yell at people. My limbs don’t know how to act. “I mean, not that I’d literally want it to kill you.”
“Gee, thanks.” He lets out a breathy laugh. “I deserve it.”
“Did you even know her name, that girl? Did you call her afterward, take her on a real date? Make promises you knew you wouldn’t keep?”
“No. I didn’t want to be with her—Cynthia, that was her name.” He shakes his head and stares at his scuffed work boots. “I just…couldn’t handle it.” His eyes slowly meet mine.
“What?”
“Any of it.” His voice cracks during this last part, as if it pains him to say it out loud. Graham doesn’t often admit fault. At least the version of him I knew before didn’t.
His parents had been fighting a lot. The football team was struggling. Still not a good reason to do what he did. Plenty of people are having a hard time, and they don’t hurt people they allegedly love.
“We were supposed to help each other. And instead, you pushed me away. Like, so far away we ended up strangers.” I take a deep breath.
That part hurt even worse than seeing him kiss the girl. Worse than everyone knowing. Instead of pulling me closer during his hurt, he shut me out.
“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. Do you want to yell at me some more?” He’s got that wounded, remorseful look now, like a puppy who got caught peeing on the carpet.
But unlike a potty-training pooch, Graham knew better and chose to hurt me anyway.
I open my mouth, then close it and shake my head.
“You know what? It seems I’m fresh out of feelings for you.
” Everything I’d bottled up inside for the last five months had come spilling out like water from a broken dam.
And now that it was out, I felt different.
Tired, sure. But lighter, too. The apology doesn’t erase everything that happened, even though he wants it to.
I said my piece, and now I can go back to forgetting he exists. “I’m going to go find my friends now.”
He sighs. “See you around.”
I walk through the landscaped side-yard to avoid the slew of people pouring out onto the back patio. Guess they finished their line dancing.
I pause on the front porch, leaning against the banister and digesting everything that just happened. Did I really just yell at him? And did he really apologize?
Someone comes into my space. Before I look up, I smell the citrus, feel the Big Moment tingle on my neck. “You okay?” Rhoads asks.
I gaze out into the night. “Honest answer?”
He joins me, leaving barely an inch of space between us. “Always.”
“I don’t know.”
Silence falls as he waits, not pressing but giving me a chance to share more if I want to.
“I hate parties,” I say finally, tugging on one of my braids.
“Me too.” He follows my gaze out into the night.
“Why do we even come, then?” The smoky smell of bonfire wafts into my nose.
In the corner of my vision, Rhoads shrugs. “Obligation, I guess. Or expectation.”
“That’s a stupid reason.”
“Agreed. Can you click those heels and get us out of here?” He points at my shoes.
I laugh. “If only.”
“Well, what’s stopping you from leaving?”
“Anita is my ride, and I promised Charlotte…” I trail off, shrugging again.
Goosebumps prickle my arms and legs. I should have ignored Charlotte’s advice and brought a jacket.
A short sleeve minidress in mid-October is a dumb idea if you live in the Midwest. Though maybe not the dumbest one I’ve had tonight.
Rhoads takes off his leather jacket and drapes it around my shoulders before I can protest. It smells like car wash soap and feels like a warm hug.
I sink into the comfort. “I could drive you,” he says.
“I’m stone-cold sober, bored out of my mind, and I would love an excuse to get out of here.
What do you say? You’d really be doing me a favor. ”
“You really haven’t been drinking?”
His expression hardens, not with anger but a focused gravity. “Not a single drop. I would never drive after drinking. The risk isn’t worth it.”
I weigh my options. What did my friends say to me before we got here?
At least flirt with him.
Stop worrying so much.
Don’t think, just do.
Trust your gut.
“Alright, Simpson. I’m in.”