Chapter 10 #2
I huff out a laugh because what else is there to do? She doesn’t mean it like that. I squeeze her a little tighter anyway.
“Yeah, yeah. Love you too, Di.”
“I can’t believe you dragged me here.”
That’s the first thing out of my mouth when we arrive at the party, the sound of music and conversation filling the wooded area. Diana smiles like she’s excited, like this is supposed to be fun. “Dragged you? You’re the one who said we should come.”
“That was before you fucked my brains out. Now, all I want is to be in your stupidly comfortable bed sleeping.”
“You’ll live,” she says, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “It shouldn’t take too long. We’ll get the signatures and then go back to bed.”
I let her pull me along the path toward the lake house with that encouragement.
Cars are parked all over the grass, and people are scattered everywhere, laughing, dancing, shouting over the noise. I recognize some faces from school or around town, but most of them probably wouldn’t remember me.
They remember Diana, though.
At the sound of her name, she perks up, waving toward the porch steps, and before I can even say please don’t leave me alone, she’s already dropping my hand and weaving her way through the crowd.
I hesitate, clutching the clipboard tighter to my chest. “Right,” I mutter to myself. “It shouldn’t take too long.”
When I catch up, old friends from high school surround her, all fancy clothes and perfect smiles, their voices excitedly talking over each other. They light up in her presence, of course, she has that effect on everyone.
“Diana!”
“Oh my God, it’s been forever!”
“Where have you been? Did you hear!”
They don’t spare a glance in my direction.
Diana’s smiling, hugging them, slipping right back into their rhythm like she hasn’t changed at all.
Has she really changed? I thought she had, earlier, when she blew off Scott. Now I’m not so sure.
Because with the call of her name by girls prettier than me, dressed better than I ever could afford, I’m the outsider again. Standing here like a friendless idiot with my stupid clipboard, wondering why I thought this was a good idea in the first place.
Right when I think things can’t get any worse, I hear that stupid voice, smooth and loud and always too pleased with itself, cutting through the noise like it’s been waiting for the perfect moment.
“Diana!”
Scott Whitmore steps out of the crowd like he owns it, golden boy glow intact, all tan skin and white teeth with the kind of confidence you can only inherit.
He shoves past me and gets his hands on her waist, right where my hands were not even an hour ago, and pulls her in.
And then he kisses her.
It’s not a chaste kiss either. It’s real, long, like he never thought she’d say no.
And she doesn’t.
Her hands hover for a second before they find his chest to steady herself against him. And when she pulls back, she smiles, like this is normal, like it’s nothing but a couple kissing, nothing to see here,
Like she didn’t rip out my heart and fucking stomp on it.
The air goes out of my lungs all at once. The chatter around us fades until all I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears. My vision swims with tears I’m fighting for my life to hold back.
She’s laughing now, saying something I can’t make out, the porch light catching her hair and her arms still draped around his neck.
She doesn’t look at me.
Not once.
Not when she turns back to her group of friends. Not when one of them says something about them being so perfect for each other. Not when he kisses her cheek, and she giggles like a girl on her first date.
It’s exactly like before.
Like I never existed.
Like I don’t matter at all.
It physically hurts, the kind of pain that starts in your stomach and climbs its way up your throat, choking you.
I turn before I can make a bigger fool of myself, pushing past the tightly packed bodies in front of me. I barely notice the music or the smell of beer or the sound of someone calling my name.
Inside, the house is thick with smoke and smaller groups of friends stand around like they have no care in the world.
I shove through them until I find the kitchen and grab the phone off the wall.
I dial quickly, the numbers spinning under my fingers, steady only because I’ve done it countless times before.
One ring.
Two.
“Hello?” he finally answers, confusion clear in his voice.
“Pat.” My voice breaks on his name.
“Lily? What’s wrong?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My throat burns. I press a hand against my chest like I can hold the hurt in, but it spills out anyway, catching in my voice. “I—” I choke on my sob. “Diana—”
He doesn’t make me finish. “Jesus, Lily. Where are you?”
“A lake house,” I manage. “Scott’s friend—” The rest dissolves into a sound I can’t stop. I bite my lip so hard I taste blood.
There’s a muffled female voice in the background. “Not now,” Pat says, quick, dismissive.
“Pat,” I whisper, hating how small I sound, how pathetic.
“I’m coming to get you.” The sound of clothes being pulled on and keys scraping across a table fills the receiver. “Don’t move, okay? I’ll be there in ten.”
“But—” I start, with no idea what I would even say.
“No ‘but.’ You sound like you’re about to fall apart.” His voice softens, familiar in a way that makes my heart ache worse. “You’re not staying at that goddamn place alone, you hear me? Don’t move.”
I nod even though he can’t see me, tears spilling hot down my cheeks, finally breaking through the wall I’d been trying my hardest to keep up. “Okay.”
There’s silence for a moment, then real quiet, like he’s afraid of my reaction, “She’s not worth this, Lil.”
I close my eyes against the tears, leaning my forehead against the fridge.
“I know.”