Love Songs & Other Lies(40)

Anders and I are as alone as you can be in a room full of people—and it’s nice to have a break from the cameras—to be so boring they don’t even bother coming around.

“Cheers to a kick-ass new song,” Anders says, holding up his glass. I do the same.

“To the girl in the purple shirt,” I say, keeping my eyes on Vee, who is swinging her hips from side to side, dipping up and down, in rhythm to the music.

Anders laughs. “The girl in the purple shirt.” He shakes his head, looking at me sympathetically. “Man, you’ve got it bad.” We’ve never talked about the meaning of the song. It’s a sort of unspoken agreement among us that we don’t pry when it comes to original songs. It started back when Vee wrote all their songs. If she’d had to talk through each of them, they wouldn’t have had a single original to play. Of course, the rule doesn’t apply to me.

I set my glass on the table. “Don’t start.”

“I don’t blame you, man, but Vee’s stubborn. You’ve got a long road ahead of you.”

“Noted.” I give him a look that I hope says, Shut the hell up and move on.

Anders has his phone out, absentmindedly typing as I grab a bottle of beer from the cooler Pax filled for us and hold another in front of Anders.

“Beer?” I ask, but Anders doesn’t seem to notice. “Anders?”

Anders nods idly and continues staring down at the screen.

I smack the phone in his hand. “Who is that?”

“Cort.”

“Scary ex-girlfriend Cort?”

He grins. “That’s the one.”

“She telling you what a dick you are?”

“Nah, she’s sexting me.”

I nearly spit out my beer. “Shit, seriously?” The last time I talked to Anders about Cort before we left LA, he said they hadn’t spoken since they broke up the summer after graduation. The fact that Cort is now sending him lewd messages gives me a twisted glimmer of hope that maybe Vee and I can get back even a fraction of what we used to have. Though I really don’t expect I’ll be getting a “touch me here” text from her any time soon.

My eyes drift over to where Bri and Pax are dancing, their faces interlocked. I spot Vee in a group of fans, talking and laughing, as she throws back the last of a beer. It’s hard to take my eyes off of her, even when she catches me staring, and things start getting uncomfortable.





VIRGINIA


If Cam wants to stare at me, I’m going to give him something to watch. Something to really think about. As much as I hate to admit it, when I put on this little sundress, this is the moment I’d had in mind. Him thinking about what he could have had, what he missed, what he wasted.

Tad is standing at the edge of a pulsing group of people, and it’s weird to see him without his camera. I put my hands up in front of my face like my own imaginary camera, and weave through the tangle of bodies toward Tad. He’s smiling at me.

“What was your favorite thing about today?” I say, still pointing my imaginary camera at him, doing my best impression of the confessional interviews we’re always doing.

He scrunches his lips up like he’s thinking really hard, and my eyes drift to his chest tattoo on full display in his V-neck shirt. “This moment is pretty high up there,” he says, and I can feel the heat creep up my neck.

“Wanna dance?”

His sexy grin says yes, so I pull him by his wrist to where there’s a crowd dancing. I love this feeling, like my head is half detached, like I’m watching myself being so bold, letting the stress float out of my fingers as I wave them above me. I feel a hand on my waist.

“Babe—” I turn to find Logan sheepishly holding a plastic cup. “You left your drink.”

“Did you just call me babe?” I shake my head. What is this life right now?

Tad looks embarrassed, and I don’t know why, because I’m sure he was flirting with me. He’s probably embarrassed for Logan—the way he’s shyly trying to wedge himself between us like he’s a middle school dance chaperone or something. I take the glass from his hand and take a long drink—the tangy liquid biting on its way down my throat.

I smile at Tad again, but he’s not looking at me the same.

Logan takes my elbow and wraps my arm around his waist. “Dance with me, Vee.” It’s weird to hear, the way his voice sounds like he wants this but doesn’t. I start to pull away and he pulls me closer, his mouth to my ear. “Dance with your boyfriend, Vee.”

I close my eyes. “I’m an idiot,” I mutter.

“You’re just a lightweight.” Logan pulls me into a hug. “Just lay off the crew, okay?” he jokes.

“Don’t leave me alone with Bri again,” I say, thinking about the shots she was so excited about when we were getting dressed. Of course Bri doesn’t have to worry about a fake boyfriend, or an ex-whatever, or anything, really.

“Deal,” Logan says.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THEN





VIRGINIA


I thought he was going to kiss me. There was that look—the moment of hesitation just before a guy kisses you, when they’re giving you a chance to run away. At least, I think that’s what that moment is for. Otherwise, why hesitate? Just go for it. But Cam isn’t a creep, and I just spilled my guts and cried. And … Oh, God, did I ugly-cry? My tears had felt delicate. Sure, there were a lot of them, but I’m not snotty or hyperventilating, or exhibiting any of the other telltale signs of the ugly-cry. Thanks to the ever-present lake breeze, my face is already dry.