52. August
I sit on the dock with my cup of lemonade perched beside me. My back is to the tents of socializing guests, and for the first time ever I wish this party were over. Tiny has been so busy these past twenty-four hours helping her family that I couldn’t find the right moment to tell her that not only did I almost screw everything up and kiss Ella, but I’m certain her father witnessed it. I had every intention of going straight home to confess. But Tiny was gone when I got there and didn’t return until late evening, by which point I’d convinced myself that maybe Ella’s father didn’t see us because he hadn’t called to chew me out. And then this morning, I just didn’t know how to say it, how to admit something out loud that I haven’t come to terms with myself—that I’d burn this case to the ground for the chance to kiss her. But if I told Tiny that, I’d also have to tell her that my savings are gone and that without this job, I have no idea how I’m going to pay for Berkeley. So I decided it was better to wait until after the party, giving myself time to figure out a workable solution.
“You’re missing the fun,” Tiny says, her heels clicking on the dock behind me and yanking me out of my thoughts.
“Just getting some air,” I say, pushing myself into a standing position.
She tilts her head. “The party’s outside. Lack of air isn’t a problem.” Tiny gives me a knowing look. “You’re brooding.”
I lighten my expression, hoping to move past this with humor. “I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘philosophizing.’”
She smirks. “As in intellectual brooding? Nice try. It was average brooding—furrowed-brow-boy-with-gorgeous-hair-stares-at-placid-water-with-a-sigh.”
I smile. “Don’t knock my brand.”
But her focused gaze suggests she’s not going to let it go. “You know,” Tiny starts, “maybe we should talk this Ella thing through? There are a lot of potential fallouts with—” Only before she can continue, Bentley joins us, wearing a khaki linen blazer and an equally stupid smile.
But I’ve heard enough to know Tiny’s not okay with telling Ella the truth. And I get it. It’d mean the destruction of our business, gossip running wild. I break eye contact, my stomach knotting with worry.
“This party is straight-up amazing,” Bentley says. “Have you tried these?” He holds up a mini filo dough cup filled with goat cheese and caramelized onions.
“They’re Tiny’s mom’s favorite,” I say, and while I mean it to simply be an answer, it comes out as dismissive and territorial, my bad mood making it hard to cover the way I feel about him.
“She serves them every holiday,” Tiny adds in a chipper tone. “August and I accidentally used all her goat cheese one Christmas to concoct a magic potion, and I think we might have ruined the holiday for her. She’s bought eight extra logs every year since in fear of a repeat.”
Bentley puts his arm around Tiny’s waist and pulls her close. “Is it too soon to invite myself to Christmas?”
“Yes,” I say reflexively.
Tiny jumps in again, giving me a look that suggests we need to talk, but I look away. She smiles at Bentley. “Nope. You’re officially on the list.”
He leans down and gives her a kiss. If there were a path forward that didn’t involve knocking them off the dock, I’d take it, not that I’d mind sending Bentley into the water.
Bentley looks up with an “if you want to be a jerk, I can just keep kissing her like this all night” expression. He leaves his hand around her waist and I clench my jaw. He doesn’t deserve to be in the same universe as her, much less date her.
“I’m gonna—” I start, looking for an escape route that’ll allow me to remain civil, but Tiny cuts me off.
“August, did you know Bentley is actually a really good cook?” she says, and I wish I could tell her not to do this, to just let us dislike each other for what is bound to be a short relationship.
“Yeah, actually, I did,” I say, and they both look at me.
She tilts her head.
“He talks about it in the locker room,” I say as explanation.
She laughs. “You brag about your cooking in the locker room?”
Don’t say it, August. Leave it alone.
Bentley looks unsure. “Maybe a little?”
Just walk away. Walk. A-way.“Apparently it works every time. Right, Bentley?”
Damn.
Bentley’s hesitation morphs into a warning glare directed at me.
Tiny stares at him, embarrassment seeping pink into her cheeks. “Oh my god, that’s your thing? You used your signature move on me?” But her embarrassment has turned to something worse—she looks genuinely hurt. “And here I am bragging about it like an idiot?”
For a moment I feel terrible. In no way did I want to hurt Tiny, but isn’t it better for her to know the truth now, before she gets attached? I lift my empty cup as an explanation for my exit, even though neither of them is paying attention, and walk off.
“You know what he’s doing, right?” Bentley says behind me. “You know he’s just trying to make us fight.”
“I’ll admit that August is a little overprotective. But he’s basically my brother, and it doesn’t get you out of answering the question. Honesty pact,” she says, and I wonder how she could ever believe he’d be honest with her.
“Okay,” Bentley says. “So sometimes I cook meals for girls.”
“Before you bang them?”
I slow my pace.
“You’re way oversimplifying it.”
“Okay, well, what would Cassie say if I asked her?” she says, referencing his last girlfriend.
“Cassie’s not you,” he replies, and the music drowns out Tiny’s response.
I weave my way into the party, which is now in full swing. A-list musicians are in attendance, and everyone is drinking champagne. I head for a table, taking a seat in the chair next to the one that holds Tiny’s shawl, and continue to feel crappy about upsetting her. I just wanted to let Bentley know that I know—that even though we don’t talk, I still hear things and that those things lead me to one conclusion only: he’s a dick.
I pull out my phone and scroll through my text messages with Ella. I clock Tiny’s frown from across the lawn, and their fight only reinforces the idea that I need to tell Ella the truth, that when people hide parts of themselves from each other, nothing good comes of it. I push my hair back and lean my elbows on my knees. I just need to make it a few more hours until this party is over so that I can hopefully convince Tiny and devise a plan to cause the least amount of harm.
I look at my phone, my fingers typing out a message to Ella.
Me
Busy?
The response bubble pops up right away, and I smile.
Ella
Kinda. I have a thing. Text you when I get home?
Me
For sure.
I sigh, hoping that thing isn’t a Justin thing, but judging by her vagueness I’m guessing it is. Later, I tell myself. I put my phone on the table and roll up the sleeves of my button-down, eyeing the water and wondering if Tiny would kill me if I bailed to go swimming. I really need to think.
But then I hear my name. And for a second, I’m positive I’ve imagined it, that my desire to see Ella made me hallucinate. Only it’s not my name—it’s Holden.
I swipe my phone off the table and stand up so fast that I’m lucky I don’t take the chair with me. And there she is, wavy hair down her back, a blue strapless dress that hugs her body, and a huge smile—one thousand percent stunning.
“Ella?” I stammer. There is no way she could be here, no way Tiny wouldn’t know if she were invited. The guest list has been set for months. This makes no sense.
Shock.
Dry throat.
White-hot terror.
“You’re here?” I continue, finding it hard to form even the simplest of words. Which is when I discover the reason for her sudden appearance—Ella’s parents are also here, standing at the edge of the crowd, grabbing two glasses of champagne from a tray.
I look from them to Ella, feeling like a train headed for a collision.
“You jerk,” Ella says, her big smile unwavering, and she pushes my arm, her simple gesture sending my stomach into a somersault. “You totally saw me come in when you texted me.”
Who am I? What’s happening right now? Is this real? Get your effing shit together before your world falls apart.
I put on a smile. “Maybe.”
She scrunches up her face in a way that’d be adorable if I weren’t in meltdown. “I can’t believe you’re here!” She scans the crowd. “I mean, wow. It’s awesome, isn’t it? Amber was pissed my parents wouldn’t let me add her as a plus-one. Kind of satisfying.”
I hammer at my phone keys in my pocket, trying to text Tiny, but the stupid thing won’t unlock. “Yeah, I mean, I come to it every year,” I say, not actually trying to impress her, just not being able to think past the truth.
“You’re kidding, right? I tried everything I could to get in last year. Lame that I had to come with my parents, but whatever,” she says with a laugh, and the mention of her dad creates a fresh surge of vision-blurring anxiety.
I’m about to tell her Mia is down by the water, hopeful I can buy myself a few minutes to reason out a plan, when she says, “About earlier...”
My whole being snags on her words, my curiosity keeping me from moving.
She gives me a confident nod. “I’m going to talk to Justin. Tell him the truth.”
“The truth?” I breathe, not knowing exactly what that is but desperate to find out.
She tucks a loose wave behind her ear and looks up at me. “I’m going to tell him what we talked about today. Because how can I make big life decisions based on a guy that I’m not sure about? I never thought I was that girl. I mean, I’m not that girl. And I’m not convinced Justin is what I want anymore.”
My breath no longer flows easily, my heart trying to leap out of my body and click its heels together in glee. She’s breaking up with Justin. SHE’S brEAKING UP WITH JUSTIN. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to run through the party hollering it at the top of my lungs. And suddenly I know things will be okay. She’ll tell him the truth, and then I’ll tell her the truth. No more hesitation. No more lies.
“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” she continues, and every part of me pays full attention to her. “And when you touched my cheek, I felt—”
But she doesn’t finish her sentence because her gaze drifts over my shoulder. And when I turn, I nearly collide with Tiny, who looks like someone just lit her dress on fire. Bentley is a hundred feet back but headed this way, which means she must have sprinted.
“Ella? No way!” Tiny says, and her voice is too happy, like she ate a bag of sugar and chased it with an energy drink.
Ella smiles. “And to think my astrology reading sucked today. I don’t usually get things like full moons wrong.”
Which is when my anxiety comes back threefold. This situation is delicate. Nothing can go wrong before she talks to Justin. Not one single thing, or it might crumble. Which means we need to get Ella the heck out of Tiny’s backyard.
“Holden tells me you guys come every year?” Ella continues. “Lucky. I’ve been reading about this party since I was like thirteen in gossip blogs.”
“Uh, yeah,” Tiny says. “But don’t let Holden convince you that he gets in on his cool points. The people who throw it are our aunt and uncle.”
Which is the perfect explanation for the framed pictures Ella might see of the two of us in the house. Tiny, you’re a genius.
“They don’t have any kids,” Tiny continues. “So Holden and I reap all the good invites.”
Ella tilts her head like she has a follow-up question or seven, but before she can reply, Bentley joins us.
“V—” Bentley starts.
“Ella, this is Bentley,” I say, cutting him off before Bentley can get Valentine’s name out of his stupid mouth. “He’s Mia’s date.”
Bentley looks from me (and my newfound friendly tone) to Tiny, who smiles at him like nothing is amiss.
I, however, give him a demanding glare. I will drown you in the ocean, Bentley, if you blow this.
“Nice to meet you,” Bentley says, and I release my breath.
“Bentley, would you mind grabbing me a snack?” Tiny asks. “I’m starved.”
“Sure, Mia,” he replies, a little unsure, and he looks at each of us before he leaves.
Ella mouths “he’s hot” to Tiny as Bentley walks away, and I hope that he trips over a chair and falls off the face of the planet.
“I know!” Tiny mouths back and links her arm through Ella’s. “How about I show you around? Introduce you to a few people?”
“Um, that’s a yes,” Ella says, and Tiny shoots me a look that clearly translates to If you don’t find Ella’s parents and fix this, Bentley isn’t the only one who’ll be drowned in the ocean.
Except I don’t need to look for Ella’s parents, because they’re here. Right here, walking up to us with the worst possible escorts—Tiny’s parents. Turn around, I yell at Ella’s parents in my head. Get out of here before it’s too late! But it’s already too late. If I were a fainter, this would be my moment.
“Our daughter... Ella,” Ella’s mom says by way of introduction to Tiny’s parents, sweeping her hand forward. But her voice and smile fade as she recognizes me and Tiny.
Ella’s parents look like a camera flash momentarily blinded them.
Tiny’s dad doesn’t miss a beat, though. “Ella, was it?” he says. “Welcome to our home. I’m Prem, and this is my wife, Piper.”
“Pleased to meet you both,” Ella replies politely.
Judging by Ella’s parents’ tight expressions, we’re all experiencing the same lack of air.
“We were just about to show Ella around,” I chime in, attempting to control the uncontrollable.
Tiny takes a step toward the dock to show her eagerness, hoping that Ella follows. But no such luck.
Tiny’s dad continues. “I see you’ve already met—”
“Totally met me. We’re all good here,” Tiny says, cutting them off before they can say her name or specify that she’s their daughter.
Tiny’s mom frowns, like she knows something’s up but isn’t sure what.
I shoot Ella’s parents a “help” look.
And thankfully, Ella’s dad starts speaking. “Prem, I was hoping you could make a few introductions for me while I’m here.” He turns his back toward us like we’ve all agreed the conversation is over.
“Come on,” Tiny says, and when Ella decides to follow her, I audibly exhale.
I don’t walk with them toward the dock, though. I grab my phone off the table and follow Ella’s and Tiny’s parents at a safe distance.
I’ll explain and they’ll get her out of here, I tell myself. It’ll be okay. It has to be.