Misfits Like Us (Like Us #11)(74)

I slip into the conversation. “You’re still going to the dance?”

“I didn’t want to.” He swishes the Sprite can. “It made me kind of anxious thinking of a school dance without Easton, but um, I just thought…I’d go for thirty minutes, then go to his house afterwards. Just to say I did it. And then, today, a girl asked me out. She’s really pretty—like the hottest girl in school kind of pretty—and I don’t know, I finally said yes to someone.” Nerves seem to steal his smile. “I told her we could meet at the school. She was okay with that, I think.”

“Who?” I wonder.

“Delilah Avalon.”

Delilah. I try not to rock backwards. I try to keep my face even. I’m praying she didn’t ask Xander to Homecoming to try to be closer to me. Don’t do that to him.

He shrugs. “I always thought her last name was cool, so…” His Adam’s apple bobs, and he wipes his sweaty palm on his slacks. “Maybe I should cancel—I’m gonna cancel.”

“Hey, it’s just a dance,” Lo says, his arm around his son in comfort. “If you’re having a bad time, you can leave. Don’t play the bad scenarios on loop, bub.”

“Too late.” He swigs the last of his Sprite but eases a little. “Alright, I’ll go. I’ll go.”

I could talk him out of it, but I don’t have the heart. I’m just hoping I’m wrong about Delilah.

“Xander!” Lily calls from the kitchen. “Pictures!”

I’m a shadow behind the Hales. Once we’re in the living room, Lily is already snapping photos near the staircase and foyer. “You look so handsome, Xander. Doesn’t he look handsome, Lo?”

Lo is smiling brighter, happier in this second than I’ve seen in months. “Like a young Cyclops.”

“So cute,” Lily beams.

Xander flushes. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, okay.” He peeks over at me like his parents have succeeded in embarrassing the shit out of him today.

I smile and nod to myself. This is what adolescence should be about, and though I didn’t get to experience this, it’s cool that I have a window into something youthful and happy a decade and some years later.

“Hey, let’s give Summers some room to breathe,” Maximoff says, coming down the stairs with Baby Ripley in his arms. Farrow is right behind them. “It’s a dance, not his wedding.”

“Thank you,” Xander says earnestly. “It’s just Homecoming.” He loosens the red silk tie.

Farrow notices me, but I try not to make complete eye contact. Need an easy out, and I shouldn’t get stuck here talking to him.

Plus, Salem has perked up near the fireplace, and Kinney’s puppy is trying to coax me into an unblinking stare-off. All while the Lonely Mountain prances around my legs, expecting belly rubs.

I pat her side, then I squeeze past everyone, and on my way out, I tell Xander, “Gonna wait in the car.”

He nods, more distracted by his family like he should be.

These people—they’re not mine.

They never will be.

I have a family. The rats in the sewers. I’m just one of those.

I’m halfway down the driveway when he calls out, “Donnelly!”

I just turn my head. “Farrow.”

He keeps walking towards me. “Come back inside.”

“I like it out here.” I nod to him. “You go back in.”

He rubs his lips, the bottom one pierced. I can tell that he’s still frustrated with how shit is turning out for me.

I think it’s still alright. Not worse than it could be. “I’ll be okay,” I remind him. “It was always gonna end like this at some point.”

“Like what?” Farrow asks, but he’s not dumb. He knows what I’m talking about.

“You over there. Me over here.”

He rolls his eyes. “Lo isn’t acetone—he can’t dissolve super glue.”

I smile. “You saying I’m superglued to you?”

Farrow lets out a rougher breath. “Man, this doesn’t have to be this complicated. If you’d just tell Lo, or let me tell him about what you did—”

“No,” I force out, my lungs constricting. “We’ve been over this, Farrow.”

“It’d make a difference. That’s his grandson that you helped bring into my life, into his oldest son’s life.”

“He already knows I’m the one who got Scottie to terminate his parental rights.”

“Lo doesn’t know you’ve been broke paying that fucker—”

“And he won’t know.” I speak under my breath to my friend. “What I did—it wasn’t to help myself later on. That’s not what that was about. I’m not using the one thing I’ve ever done for you as a means to get in Lo’s good graces.”

Farrow gives me a sharp look. “If you think that’s the only thing you’ve ever done for me, Donnelly, you’re wrong as fuck.”

“It’s the biggest thing,” I clarify.

He can’t argue that. Thing is, Farrow has always done shit for me ever since I met him. Gave me a bed to sleep on. A shower. Food. And never once did he act like the things he did were handouts or IOUs. They were just things you do for friends.