Chapter 7 #2
I spin toward the front door, head down, my dark hair falling forward like armor. If I can make it out of here without being seen, I’ll count that as a win. I don’t even care anymore about talking to Hayes about my mother, or if he thinks I bailed on his party. I just want out.
My hand is already on the doorknob, twisting, and then—
“Hey, Alligator! Get your ass over here!”
Shit.
I freeze.
Maybe if I move fast enough, I can still make it to my car and pretend I never heard him calling after me.
But before I can take another step, I feel a pair of arms wrap around my waist, and I’m lifted clean off the ground like I weigh nothing.
“Where you going?” Hayes asks, grinning as he sets me back down. “Didn’t you hear me yelling your name?”
“Oh… hey,” I say, my voice too bright, too fake. “Didn’t realize that was you. How’s the party?” I plaster on a smile. “You having fun?”
“I am now that you’re here.”
He gives me that look—the one that sends a swarm of extremely unwelcome butterflies through my stomach.
“Now come on,” he says, taking my hand and tugging me back inside. “Let’s get you a drink.”
He drops a cold beer in my hand and then steers me over to the staircase—right into enemy territory.
Tiffany has now joined my sister and Brooke.
Amber’s friends glance at me with mild indifference, their polite nods just a step above lukewarm.
Though I’ve never been close with them, they’re cordial enough when we’re forced to be around one another.
It’s my sister I have to worry about.
“There you are, Ally!” Amber squeals in a saccharine-sweet voice that’s as fake as her glued-on eyelashes. “I’m so glad you made it. Hayes said you might show up.”
I muster up the phoniest smile I can manage. Two can play this game.
“Yep, here I am.”
I wish her outsides were as messed up as her insides, but even I have to admit she looks unfairly gorgeous.
Her makeup is flawless, her shiny golden waves perfectly styled, and her outfit—while not my style—fits like it was made for her.
The barely-there skirt and nude heels make her long, sun-kissed legs look incredible.
Huge, fake pearls she insists are real to anyone who will listen sit in her earlobes to complete the look.
“I was just telling everyone how much I hoped you’d come. I’ve barely seen you all week,” she says, all soft-eyed sincerity. She takes my hand in both of hers and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I’ve missed you.”
Right.
What a load of crap.
Amber has been avoiding me just as much as I’ve been avoiding her, and we both know it. If she really wanted to see me, it wouldn’t be hard. We share the same tiny apartment.
“I live right down the hall, Ambrosia.”
Hayes chokes on a laugh.
Amber’s expression darkens, just for a second, but she recovers quickly, brushing invisible lint off my shoulder like I’m the one who’s ruffled.
“You’re hilarious, Ally,” she says with an exaggerated smile.
“I just wanted to say, I really am sorry about Megara. You’re such a great singer, but I can’t help it if the director liked me better.
What was I supposed to do? Not take the role?
” She sighs softly, as if the whole thing has been so hard on her.
“And besides, it’s not like you told me how much you wanted it.
You never tell me anything anymore. I didn’t even know you were applying to NYU.
” She pauses, then adds one word sharp as a knife. “Again.”
I wince, the cut landing right where she wants it.
“Forget it,” I say, all casual, biting back the reaction I know she’s fishing for—a scream, a shove, something unhinged for her and her friends to laugh about. But I stay cool, giving her nothing. “I don’t have time for a silly play anyway.”
“You sure?” Hayes cuts in. “Because Ambs told me a role just opened up.”
“Wait, really?” I step back. “I thought they were fully cast.”
Amber nods eagerly, all glossy hair and confidence. “Someone dropped out last minute. It’s not public yet, but I can put in a good word for you if you want.”
I blink, genuinely surprised. “You’d really do that for me?”
“Of course I would. You’re my sister, Ally.”
For a second, I falter. She looks so genuine, I almost second-guess everything.
Maybe I’ve been too hard on her. Maybe she really didn’t steal Megara just to spite me. Maybe—for once—Amber actually wants to help.
“What do you think?” Hayes offers a small smile, one of those careful, noncommittal ones that says he’s watching this play out. “It’d look great on your NYU app. Could be the thing that gets you in.”
“That’s so sweet of you, Ambs,” Tiffany says. “You’re such a good sister.”
“So good,” Brooke echoes.
I know I should be grateful. Accept the offer.
Say thank you. But all I can focus on is the way Amber shifts closer to Hayes, fingers trailing along his arm like they’ve done it a thousand times.
She keeps glancing at me from the corner of her eye, like she’s watching a game she already knows she’s won. Measuring. Calculating.
And that’s when I get it.
This isn’t for me.
It never was.
This is all a well-timed gesture to polish her image, to look generous in front of Hayes and her friends. She’s performing, tossing me crumbs just so she can shine. It all makes my stomach turn.
Or maybe that’s just her nauseatingly sweet perfume.
“Thanks,” I say. “But I’m going to pass.”
Silence falls like a dropped glass.
“What?” Amber asks, blinking like I’ve just insulted her. “You don’t want it?”
I flash a bright, fake smile. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m really focused on my songwriting right now. I can’t afford any distractions.”
“Seriously?”
Hayes stares at me like I’ve just gone totally insane.
Maybe I have.
Maybe it is crazy to turn this opportunity down, but I’ve got my pride. I don’t need my little sister bailing me out with her backhanded charity. Or worse, using me as leverage in her relationship with Hayes.
“Good to see you guys, but I’m gonna head out,” I say, handing the beer—still unopened—back to Hayes. “Catch you around!”
I’m halfway down the front steps, nearly to the driveway, when I hear footsteps pounding behind me. A hand clamps down on my shoulder and whirls me around.
“What the hell was that?” Hayes demands, eyes blazing with twin violet-blue flames. “Why would you throw away your shot at NYU?”
The gas lamps lining the driveway cast a golden halo around him, making the white of his eyes seem impossibly bright. He looks almost unreal. Like something carved from myth and fury.
“I’m not throwing anything away. I just think the play’s a dumb idea.”
“Oh yeah?” His stare burns through me. “Since when?”
I cross my arms, jaw tight.
“Since now.”
“You’re a terrible liar. You know that, right?”
“I’m not—”
“Just tell me the truth, Al,” he cuts me off angrily. “What’s really going on.”
I look away, fixating on the scuffed studs lining my motorcycle boots, doing anything I can to avoid those all-knowing eyes.
He means well. I know he does.
He always does.
But Hayes will never understand my life. He’ll never know what it’s like to always feel invisible. To feel like you never matter and never will. To always come in second place, constantly watching your little sister shine while you fade away into nothing.
And that’s why he’ll never get why I’d rather burn it all down—the play, NYU, my dreams—than take a damn handout from Amber. Especially if that handout brings them closer somehow, if it means I’m partly responsible for them getting back together.
Of course, I can’t tell him any of this.
“She just… pisses me off, okay?”
I let out a long, frustrated sigh and yank open the car door, annoyed at myself for showing up tonight in the first place. I knew this was a mistake.
“I get it. I know you two aren’t on great terms right now,” he says carefully, “but can’t you just try? I really think this is your ticket back in.”
“Maybe I don’t want back in.”
“But Ambs is really trying to help. Can’t you give her a chance?”
“I didn’t ask for her help. Or yours,” I say sharply. “So just stay out of it.”
He groans, throwing his hands in the air.
“You’re impossible, you know that? You’ve been torn up over this for days. I was fixing it for you.”
“Well, maybe I don’t need fixing!”
My chest burns hot with anger and embarrassment.
“That’s not what I—”
“I’m not your pet project, Hayes!” I snap. “I am who I am, whether you like it or not. You don’t get to mold me into whoever you think I should be.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You get everything,” I cut in, the words tumbling out fast and ugly before I can stop them.
“The money. The charm. The perfect family. The golden boy life. You win just by existing. Me?” I laugh, bitter and hollow.
“I have nothing. No money. No dad. Probably no future. So forgive me, please, if I don’t want your charity. Or hers.”
The air between us goes still. His eyes flash with something raw—hurt, maybe frustration. Maybe both.
“That’s not fair. You know I love you just the way you are.” The anger drains from his face, replaced by something tender. Something more vulnerable. “I just…” He hesitates, eyes searching mine. “I want you to be happy, okay?”
“I am happy! So fucking drop it already!”
He jerks back, like I slapped him.
“Fine.” His voice goes flat. “Got it. Sorry I bothered you.”
He turns and walks away.
As I watch him retreat into the chaos of the party, regret and shame slam into me. Not slowly. Not gently. All at once. Sharp and immediate, like a punch to the ribs.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Hayes is the only one actually standing in my corner. The only one trying to help without wanting something in return. And I just treated him like he was the enemy.
Worse, I can already picture how this ends.
Hayes drifting back toward Amber because it’s easy. Familiar. Safe. And me all alone, having pushed away the one person who never asked me to be anything other than myself.
“Hayes, wait—”
I rush after him, weaving through the crowd, my pulse racing. I just need to find him. Apologize. It’s not his fault my sister makes me feel like I’m nothing, or that I might care about him in ways I shouldn’t.
But when I finally see him again, he’s already with Amber. Their fingers are laced together as they head up the stairs toward his bedroom. A door slams shut on the second floor, and my stomach hollows out painfully.
I stand there for a few moments, motionless, still watching the space where they disappeared. I know exactly what it means.
It’s time for me to go.
On the way out, I cut through the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and a piece of Greek baklava for stress-eating.
God bless Kora. She always makes sure her kitchen is stocked with everything I’m not allowed at home—sugar, gluten, all the good stuff.
And she insists Dimitra keep a fresh tray of baklava ready for me at all times, just in case I get a craving.
I sink my teeth into the sweet pastry, letting the honeyed walnuts melt on my tongue. The first bite is warm and safe. It doesn’t fix everything, but for a moment, it dulls the sting. Even from halfway across the world, Kora still manages to take care of me.
Pulling out my phone, I type a quick text to Hayes.
I suck. Forgive me?
I add a smiley face and a black heart, then stare at the screen while I chew, willing him to respond. But the message stays unread.
A sick feeling of dread crashes over me.
What if this was the last straw?
What if Hayes is finally done with me this time?
“Why so serious, Alysander?” Dylan slurs, stumbling up behind me. His hand brushes the back of my stool, just a little too close to my neck. He’s clearly shit-faced, but at least he got my name right this time.
“Oh... hey, Dylan.”
“Here,” he says, handing me a red Solo cup and then dropping into the stool beside me. “This’ll cheer you up.”
“I’m driving. I really shouldn’t—”
“Less talking. More drinking.”
He grins and lifts a half-empty bottle of Kora’s favorite wine, pouring generously into my cup, some of it sloshing onto the marble floor.
I stare at my drink for a moment, contemplating. The night has already gone to hell. Maybe a drink is exactly what I need. A little wine. A lot of water. Worst case, I’ll Uber home and come back for my car tomorrow.
“Okay, sure.” I shrug. “Why not?”
The mandarin and caramel notes flood my mouth as I take my first sip. Smooth. Dangerously sweet.
One cup turns into two. Two into three.
And then… I stop thinking altogether.
I forget Hayes is upstairs with Amber. I forget NYU. I forget the crazy letters to my father buried in the back of my mother’s closet. I forget everything except the sharp, sweet rush of distraction.
Soon, everything becomes lovely and amazing.
Even Dylan.
I never liked him much before, but maybe I misjudged him. He’s more charming than I remembered. Handsome, too. I feel weightless and light and happy as I laugh at all his jokes.
The rest of the night unspools in fragments.
Music.
Spinning lights.
Dylan’s hand on my back—
And then nothing.