Tease(39)

“Huh,” Brielle says, tapping a long fingernail on the glass. “Aren’t you mostly just applying to Lincoln, though? Not exactly, like, an enormous change of scenery.”

I can’t tell if she’s trying to hurt my feelings, but this stings. It’s not like I have any idea how many options are going to come through with any financial aid or whatever. I have to apply somewhere local, somewhere cheap. Plus it doesn’t seem like such a terrible option to be close to my brothers—without actually living at home. And anyway, I want to point out, Brielle isn’t exactly on the road to being valedictorian either—Marquette would probably work, but neither of us is going off to, like, MIT—when behind us the guys suddenly let out a yell.

“Whoa, whoa, watch out!” Tyler shouts—the loudest, as usual. He, Dylan, and Marcus are all holding Solo cups under the keg’s faucet thing, trying to catch a fountain of foam that’s spilling out of it.

“Amateurs!” Brielle yells, running over to the counter and grabbing a cup. She elbows her way between Tyler and Marcus and goes, “I told you guys you should get a professional in here!”

I use the distraction to sneak off to the master bedroom part of the suite, where I guess I’m staying with Dylan later. My mom wasn’t happy about me “sleeping over at Brielle’s after the dance”—a lie so close to being true, if we were just in a very nearby alternate universe—because she has, not surprisingly, stuff for us to do around the house this weekend. But I got all dressed up for the “dance” and let her take pictures of me and Dylan when he came to pick me up, and by the time I left she seemed kind of happy that I was having a normal teenager night out or whatever.

I don’t think she’d be so happy to know where I really am, of course. And I can’t get her out of my head as I throw my coat on the chair next to the endless king-size bed. Maybe because I suddenly feel like a kid again, here in this room that is so obviously made for adults. My mom expects me to act like her second-in-command, to do all the stuff she doesn’t have time to do. But I’m supposed to be enjoying my high school experience, right? I have an awesome boyfriend. I have a whole fun group of friends. I have other stuff to do—I can’t be worrying about Mom and her stupid home-improvement projects all the time.

I hear Brielle and the boys shouting from the living room and realize I can just go in there and drink too much beer with them, forget about everything. I kick off my heels, knowing that Brielle and I will end up jumping on the suite’s couch and playing loud music. It’ll be fun. It’ll be great.

As soon as I shake this feeling that I’m a little kid, but a thousand years old, all at the same time.

I’m fully drunk by the time the party goes off the rails. Brielle has been doing keg stands with Tyler and Marcus holding her, even though Tyler keeps letting the skirt of her strapless red minidress ride up. My plain black number with a little lace overlay seems kind of sad and boring compared to her outfit, but at least I’m wearing my new black bra and underwear set from Victoria’s Secret underneath it. Not that anyone knows that yet. Dylan and I are dancing around (well, I’m dancing around him), laughing at nothing, having a great time. Or at least we are when he’s not checking texts on his phone.

“Who was that?” I ask. I’m too drunk to care that I sound needy or suspicious or lame or annoying. Or all of the above.

“Kyle’s coming. And maybe a couple other guys from the team.”

Across the room, Brielle lets out a loud “Woo-hoo!” but I don’t know why. She didn’t hear what Dylan just said, though I’m sure she’ll be excited that the party’s getting bigger soon. I’m finally starting to feel relaxed, and the thought of more people just makes me nervous again.

And then, maybe ten minutes later, the door opens and a million people come in. Jacob walks in with Noelle Reese—I heard they were back together, and I guess it’s true—and Rob’s there with a senior girl I don’t know very well, Eliana Greene. A couple of guys from the baseball team, like Dylan promised, are followed by more senior girls, and then I see Kyle.

I know I’ve had way too much beer then, because the next part totally happens in slow motion. Like I’m in a movie.

A horror movie.

Emma Putnam is with Kyle. She’s coming, she’s here, she’s in this suddenly tiny hotel suite, she’s like a burst of blinding color in a black-and-white world. A flame of red hair and shiny blue silk and my white-hot fury.

Brielle is still over near the keg, talking loudly with Noelle. Dylan is fist-bumping all the guys, moving away from me toward the door where more people are spilling inside. I have a bubble around me, an invisible buffer. No one approaches, no one looks—the slow-motion nightmare fades but I’m alone, completely alone.

Finally, when I see Tyler and Dylan walk over to Kyle and Emma, and the four of them talking and laughing, I have to move. I force myself over to where Noelle and Alison Stipe are doing shots with Brielle. They seem like they’re just fine without me, and I have to kind of shove my way between Alison and the kitchenette counter to join them.

“Hey, did you see Emma’s here?” My voice is too loud and I actually hadn’t meant to say anything about Emma, but all three girls snap to attention.

“Wow, that ho cannot take a hint,” Brielle says, but her tone is way more mild than I would’ve expected.