Until We Meet Again(9)

your name.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Well, are you going to tell me or have I lost my chance to

know you?”

My breathing has calmed, but something about the way he

looks at me keeps my heart pounding.

“Cass,” I say. “Cassandra.”

He holds out a hand. For a handshake, I guess? Quaint. I give

his palm an awkward tug.

“And you are?”

He blinks. “Lawrence,” he says, looking mildly surprised I

asked.

“Sorry, I’m not from around here. I don’t know all the

cool kids.”

His brow furrows a little.

“You’re honestly shocked I don’t know your name,” I say,

with a scoff.

“No, but since this silly party sort of centers around me, I

thought

you’d—”

“Excuse me, what? The party centers around you?”

He shrugs, looking cornered. “Easy. It wasn’t my idea.”

“Oh, so you’re claiming that my mom and stepdad randomly

decided to make you the star of their party at their house? You’re either outrageously narcissistic or delusional. Right now, I’m

thinking probably both.”

He frowns. “We must be talking about two different parties.

I mean the one right there through those bushes.”

“Uh, yeah. That’s my mom and stepdad’s house.”

He stares at me, “You’re mistaken.”

My face burns. “I know we don’t exactly fit in, but they rent

the place fair and square, so it is, in fact, their house.”

He furrows his brow as if straining to understand my words.

“I don’t believe I know your parents.”

“Oh, of course not. They only invited you into their home

for a party, which is apparently in your honor. No, no reason

to bother knowing who they are.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever.”

“Are your parents related to my Uncle Ned somehow?”

“Uncle Ned?”

Again, he looks surprised that I don’t know the who’s who of

Crest Harbor. “Ned Foster.”

“I suppose he’s another big-name, fancy person in this area

who I need to know and worship? I’m not that girl, okay? I

couldn’t care less about Ned Foster.”

Lawrence looks at me like I’m crazy. Shame ripples across my

face. This is what I get for letting my imagination run away

with me. For thinking this guy was somehow different. I start

to march up the beach.

“I’d better get back.”

“Wait.” He runs up after me. “I didn’t mean to offend you.

I’m just…very confused.”

“Well, I’m not. I had you pegged the minute I saw you.”

Before he has a chance to reply, I run the rest of the way up

the sand and through the bushes. Once I’m on the lawn again,

I slow down. But there are no footsteps rustling behind me.

I come to a full stop, hating my weakness, and glance back

toward the beach.

But Lawrence isn’t following me.





Chapter 3





Lawrence


he runs off, back to the party. Angry? Embarrassed? I

S

wish I could understand what just happened. I rush

after her through the brush, but she’s somehow managed to

dissolve into the crowd on the lawn.

“There you are, Lon!”



Charles claps a hand on my back. His breath reeks of the

cheap hooch Uncle Ned had brought in from New York.

“There’s the birthday boy,” he slurs.

“Charles, did you see a girl come in from the beach?”

“You mean Fay?”

My words halt. It wouldn’t sound great that I’ve been out

on the beach alone with another girl. I cast my eyes around

the manic crowd. The jazz band jangles and crashes like some

crazy, delirious music box. Everywhere arms raise, glasses

glinting with frothy drinks in hand. A sea of bobbed hair,

dark and platinum alike, bounces and dances as if on its

own accord.

But I don’t see the strange girl from the beach anywhere.

Aware of Charles watching me, I nod vaguely. “Sure. Where

is Fay?”

“She’s over by the band. She was looking for you earlier. I

tried to get her to dance with me, but she wouldn’t have it. She

only has eyes for you, lover boy.”

I swat him away, grinning as I walk past, but the smile fades

the moment he’s out of view. A woman with a glittering headband and feather boa crashes into me, giggling, before she runs off to join her friend. To the left, several swells are laughing it

up and slapping their knees. I want to go back to the beach. To

the soft, cool sand. The breezy quiet of the surf.

At the top of the patio, I scan once more for the girl. For