The Best Laid Plans(90)

“I’m not with Reed,” I say, running a frustrated hand through my hair. “You know he’s with Danielle. And like five million other girls.” My voice comes out in a hiss and I hate how jealous I sound. It was never supposed to be like this.

Chase just shakes his head. “Nah, I mean, I know you guys aren’t dating, but you go together. You’re a pair. Nobody wanted to get in the way of that. Besides, he’s territorial as shit.”

“What?” I set my cup of punch down on the table and a bit of it splashes over the edge of the plastic rim, leaving a little red stain on the cheap white tablecloth.

“This one time in sixth grade, Ryder said something about how you were ‘growing up nicely.’” He motions his hands in front of his chest to indicate Ryder’s real meaning. “Andrew punched him.”

I remember that, remember Andrew getting suspended for three days. He told me Ryder had pushed him first, an easy story to believe.

“That’s why Ryder always made a show of treating you like one of the guys,” Chase continues. “That’s why we all did, I guess. We all like Reed, so you were off-limits.” He downs the rest of his punch in one gulp and tosses the empty cup into the trash can beside us.

I can’t help the pressure that starts building in my chest, like I’m slowly expanding from the inside out, filling up with air. Chase’s words are repeating in my head. You go together. You’re a pair. You were off-limits. It has to mean something, doesn’t it? Why would Andrew warn other guys away from me if he didn’t have feelings, if some small part of him didn’t want me for himself?

I scan the crowd behind Chase’s head, looking for Andrew, but he’s not there. I turn around to look at the tables behind us, scanning all the seats quickly for a sandy-colored head, but he’s nowhere.

Could Andrew actually like me back?

“Looks like you found a date anyway though,” Chase says. “It just took a dude who doesn’t go to Prescott to scoop you up, someone who doesn’t know the rules.”

I pick my cup of punch back off the table and notice that my hand is shaking. “And what are the rules?”

Chase grins. “It’s the guy code.” He leans toward me and lowers his voice like he’s letting me in on a secret. “Never ditch your bros for a ho . . . sorry,” he says when I wince at the word. “Never let a guy get in a fight alone, and never go after another guy’s sister. You might not be his real sister, but in terms of the code, you definitely count.”

And there it is. Sister. The word crashes down on me; the balloon in my chest pops and deflates. Of course that’s what Chase meant. He’s still grinning at me, like he’s proud that he’s let me in on the code, like I should feel special and not like my entire world has shattered into a million different pieces, my hope exploding like the Death Star.

I crush the empty plastic cup in my hand and throw it into the trash can.

“I have to go,” I say, suddenly filled with anger, like my veins are crackling with electricity. It all makes sense. I might have met a guy earlier, might not have stayed a virgin for so long if Andrew hadn’t gotten in the way. And it’s not because he’s been jealous, because he loves me back. It’s just because I’m like his sister.

“I would have hit on you, you know,” Chase says. “Just for the record. You’re totally cute.” And then he smiles and heads over to Danielle and Ava, throwing his arms around both of them.

My hands are shaking. I need to find Andrew. I move to the edge of the room, pushing through crowds of people. The whole world is whirling color, shapes moving together in and out of focus, and it feels like I’m drunk. But it’s just the energy spreading through me like fire, blurring the edges of my vision. I can’t remember ever being so alert.

And then I see him coming out of the men’s bathroom and I’m struck by how much I want to hit him or kiss him or both, anything to just be touching him, to release some of this energy into him so that he can feel just as alive as I do.

I charge in his direction. When he notices me, his face breaks into an easy smile, but it soon disappears when I fly at him.

“You told guys not to hit on me?”

“What?” His forehead wrinkles and his hand immediately goes up into his hair like I knew it would, like it always does.

“What gives you the right, Drew? All this time I thought nobody liked me because of me, and all along it was because of you. All these parties you’ve been getting with girls and I’ve had to go sleep on the couch by myself, and I was so lonely and left out because everyone else was hooking up and getting boyfriends and having sex and I thought something was wrong with me, when it was all your fault!”

“Collins, what are you talking about?” he asks, leaning into me with his voice lowered. I’m vaguely aware we’re still in the ballroom, surrounded by people. Abby Feliciano is standing a few feet to our left, texting something on her phone, and when I look at her, she giggles and looks away. But I don’t care.

“You’re such a hypocrite!” I hit him on the shoulder. “You’re allowed to sleep with every girl on the planet and I’m not allowed to get with anyone? Is it because I’m a girl, Drew? I’m just a delicate freaking flower you have to look after? I don’t need you to protect me. I never stopped girls from getting with you. I was the best wingman!”