The Best Laid Plans(80)

“Let me go,” I say, trying to get away from him. Water sloshes over the tub and onto the tile floor. He moves his knees, leaning back against his side of the tub and pulling his shorts back on the rest of the way. “This is all one of your moves, isn’t it?”

He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head, water spraying in all directions.

“What are you talking about?”

“How many girls have you taken a bath with?”

“Keely!” Hannah’s voice is still calling from the other side of the door, high and strained, and I can tell from the pitch of it that something’s wrong. I try to stand up, but the floor of the bathtub is slippery and I wobble, putting my hands out on either side for balance.

“I can’t believe after everything, you’re trying to get with me.”

“I’m not trying to get with you,” he says.

I know I’m as much to blame for this as he is, but it’s too hard to think about. It’s like what he said to me a few months ago, about how it’s easier to feel nothing than to get hurt. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t told Danielle the truth, why he’s using me as a distraction.

“I have to go,” I say, climbing out of the tub. I put my wet shirt back over my head and it’s freezing cold, clammy on my skin.

“Wait,” he says, and I stop for a second, my hand on the doorknob. But I can’t turn around. Hannah is still pounding on the door, so I open it. I’m surprised to see that she’s crying. Trails of mascara run down her cheeks and her breath is coming out in little gasps.

“What’s wrong?” I pull her into a hug, forgetting my clothes are soaking wet, that Andrew is standing behind me, still in the tub, shirtless. Hannah doesn’t seem to notice.

“He’s back for the summer,” she says, reaching a hand up to her eyes. “He’s here at the party.”

“Who?” I ask, though it should be obvious. There’s only one person who can make Hannah so fragile, so easy to rip apart, like a paper doll version of herself.

“It’s Charlie,” she says. “Charlie is here.”





TWENTY-EIGHT





“WHERE IS HE?” I pull out of Hannah’s hug to scan the room behind her. I was already upset before this, but now I’m feeling murderous. And Charlie is the perfect target.

“I don’t know.” She wipes at her cheeks. “I just saw him for a second and I ran. I didn’t want him to see me cry.” Her voice is coming out in little hiccups. “He can’t see me like this.”

I feel Andrew’s presence behind me and then his hand is on the wet fabric of my back.

“Are you guys okay?” he asks, and I shake away from his reach.

“We’re fine,” I say, moving closer to Hannah. I can’t be near him. Hannah looks back and forth between the two of us, her eyes widening, and I see her take in our wet hair for the first time, the fact that Andrew isn’t wearing a shirt.

“Wait, what’s going on?” she asks.

“Come on, we should get you home,” I say, “before Charlie comes over here.”

“Keely,” Andrew says, reaching out to stop us. “You were going to stay over, right? I can take you guys home tomorrow.”

“I can’t stay here.” I turn away from him. Suddenly I feel just as fragile as Hannah, like a paper doll myself. I don’t know whether it’s the tequila that’s still making me so dizzy, so unsteady, or whether I’m just reeling from the nearness of him. There are little droplets of water running down his chest and my eyes follow one as it trails down his skin and disappears beneath the waistband of his shorts. “And put on a shirt.” I grab Hannah and pull her down the hallway, leaving him behind us.

There’s no one sober enough to drive, so Hannah and I decide to walk. The air is warm enough, even at this time of night, and I’d rather walk a few miles in my wet clothes than spend any more time at this party, with Andrew and Danielle and Charlie, the Death Eater. Besides, it feels good to move, like with each step the tequila is leaving my body, clearing my head.

We’ve barely made it past the driveway when Hannah pounces.

“Okay, so what the hell was that back there? Why wasn’t Andrew wearing a shirt?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’m not sure why I can’t tell her. The Plan was her idea to begin with. Really, I should have told her the moment I asked him. It’s just that now it’s too late. And talking about Andrew out loud—about all the things that have happened and almost happened between us—makes me afraid of what I might say. I start walking faster, like there’s a chance I can outrun my problems. Hannah speeds up too.

“Come on, Keely. I’m not an idiot.” Her tears have stopped and she looks fierce, wild. If there’s one good thing that could come of tonight, of my mistake with Andrew, it’s that Charlie seems to be gone from Hannah’s mind. We’re the perfect distraction. “Were you guys hooking up?”

“No!” I say, the word rushing out of me. It just feels easier to deny everything than to have to think about it. But I can’t do that to Hannah. “I mean, I don’t know. Yeah, we were . . . kissing. We kissed, okay? It all happened so fast.” I throw my hands up in the air, wishing I could take back the past few hours. Or even better, the past few months. “But it doesn’t matter anyway. It was stupid. He’s in love with Danielle, and I know that, but I still fell for it. We always knew he was a player, right? I just never thought he would play me.” I’m practically running now, and Hannah is running right alongside me.