Love Songs & Other Lies(45)

She scrambles up into the window frame as I hold onto her. Both of her legs are over the edge and I wrap my arms around her waist as she ducks her head down, swinging her upper body under and out the window. Her body goes rigid and I know what she’s thinking.

It’s a long fucking drop.

I’m trying not to think about what hitting the stone from twenty-five feet up will feel like. We don’t have another choice. Aside from the Andersons’, the nearest house is a half mile away because my parents always dreamed of living in the country.

Some dream.

“Don’t think about it. You got this.” Sienna’s a cheerleader—she was a gymnast when she was a kid. She’s small and cat-like. The girl the other cheerleaders all toss in the air and catch with their arms. But there’s no group of perky, ponytailed girls in red to catch her now, and we both know it. “Push off with your feet. Roll when you land. On three I’ll let go.” My head is wedged out the window by her shoulder, and I kiss her sticky skin. It’s not something I would normally do, but God, this isn’t how our nights normally go.

“Camer—”

“On three.” I know I can’t give her too much time to think about this. I can’t think about this. “One. Two. Three.” I release her waist as she pushes off the side of the house. She’s on the ground in seconds and I hear a piercing shriek as she makes contact, rolling on the stone in a rigid, unnatural way. She screams again, a shrill sound among the pops and cracks and steady whooshing of the fire.

I hoist myself over the windowsill, gripping the frame as I twist my upper body under and out. Sienna is slightly off to the right, and as I jump I think “roll left, roll left, roll left.” The flames have lit up the river, reflecting oranges and yellows, and the Andersons’ house is bathed in light. All of the lights are on now and I see a single figure running down the dock, pulling the ropes free from the small speedboat.

Pushing off with my feet, I propel myself away from the house as another shriek of pain cuts through the air. Roll left, roll left, roll left. I think it like a prayer. As my body twists against the hard rock I hear the snap of bones, and in the distance, the soft wail of sirens.





VIRGINIA


Just like I promised Cam I would, I remember everything about last night. Cort’s squealing, the drinks, the feel of Cam’s hands on my waist. The cool wash of the water against my hot skin. My drunken rambling. Walking a jagged line in the sand, his lips on mine. His hands all over me. Even though it feels like someone is shoving a drumstick in one ear and out the other, every moment of last night—good and bad—is seared into my brain. The only detail that’s escaping me is how I ended up in Cam’s bed.

I smell him before I see him, because I’m wrapped in a cocoon of Cam. I bring the blue comforter tangled around my waist up to my nose, trying to identify the clean, minty, musk smell. I’d like it to take up permanent residence in my nose.

“Did you just sniff my sheets?”

I want to pretend like it didn’t happen, but I’ll never get away with it. Using my best sleepy voice I say, “Shh, I’m sleeping.”

“Mmhmm.”

I roll over slowly, keeping the covers pulled up to my chin. Cam is lying on the bed on top of the comforter facing me.

“I like your bed.” I don’t know what else to say. What do you say when waking up in the bed of the guy you’re dating (but not dating) after crying and then kissing him?

“Mmhmm.”

“Is that the only thing you can say in the morning?”

He nods, smiling at me. “Mmhmm.”

“Whatever.”

At that word, his whole body shakes with laughter. Realizing what he thinks is so funny, I grab my pillow. Launching myself at his face, I attempt to smother him.

“You have anger management issues. You know that, right?” he says, holding me back with one arm.

I laugh. “You have boundary issues.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining about my boundary issues last night.”

“Har har,” I say, flopping onto my back and pulling the pillow across my face. The bed dips and the pillow is jerked away.

“Whatever.” He smiles and kisses me softly, slowly on the lips, before rolling away from me and hopping to his feet.

I’ve never seen him this chipper in the morning. When he picks me up for school he’s basically a zombie, until he’s gone through his coffee and mine.

“I’m going to wake up Anders and Cort.” Cam closes the door behind him and I stand up, feeling like a baby deer as I make my way to the bathroom. It’s a Jack and Jill bathroom, shared by the two bedrooms, and the door is always closed, so I’ve assumed Cam doesn’t use it, but the door is cracked open. I don’t feel like wandering out to the hallway bathroom in the blue boxer shorts I’m wearing. My T-shirt is slung across the shower rod, still damp, but my pants—and more importantly, my bra—are nowhere to be found. I had to have left the party with those two very important pieces. Right? I remember leaving the party. I don’t specifically remember having my pants on, but I have a feeling not having them would be memorable.

I turn on the tap, filling my hands with cool water and splashing it onto my face, before wiping down my neck, chest, shoulders, and arms. I just can’t bring myself to get naked in Cam’s shower. After drying myself off with the only towel I can find—a tiny white hand towel—I head back into Cam’s room. The light is off, and I fumble next to the door, trying to find the switch. When the light clicks on, the room is empty, except for a stack of boxes along one wall. The room is baby blue—an identical twin to Cam’s—but it isn’t his. This isn’t what I had in mind when he said his parents weren’t here, and we could stay over. Are they moving? Why would—