A Midsummer's Nightmare(56)

I ran to the door, still holding my Pop-Tart, and peeked out through the screen. Dad was sitting in one of the lawn chairs, wearing his swim trunks, as Sylvia twirled and danced her way over to the table. She sat down across from him and opened the bottle of wine she’d just taken from the liquor cabinet, sipping straight from the top before passing it to Dad.

He lifted the bottle to his mouth, but his lips were already moving, forming the lyrics of the song.

He was singing.

And Sylvia was laughing.

And they were drinking.

It was like a scene from a movie I’d watched over and over and over again. That was Summer Dad sitting out there. The Dad I’d missed. The Dad I’d assumed was gone. But he was here. With Sylvia.

I stepped away from the door, fists clenched.

All summer I’d looked for him. My laid-back, laughing, best friend of a dad. But he’d been here all along. Two months, and I hadn’t seen him. Now, he sat just outside with his new fiancée, living his new life.

I swung my fist into the side of the fridge. Then again. I left my Pop-Tart on the table and ran back upstairs, slamming every door between there and the guest room.

I’d missed him. I’d missed him so much, and he’d been there all along. Just not with me.





25


“Please.”

“No.”

“Come on, Whit. Please?”

“Leave me alone, Nathan.”

It was the beginning of August, about a week after the bad shopping day with Dad, and Nathan had decided to spend that Friday afternoon harassing me.

The fact was that I hadn’t been in a good mood since Saturday. Seeing Dad being his old self again—without me—had hurt almost as much as Dad’s admission about not wanting me to live with him four years ago. Since that night, I hadn’t left the guest room much, going downstairs only for meals, and I hadn’t spoken a word to Dad.

Nathan wasn’t making things much better. He’d been banging on the guest-room door for the past ten minutes, bugging the shit out of me. I knew what he wanted. He’d been trying to convince me to go to the Nest with him for days. He claimed it would cheer me up. Get me out of this funk I had fallen into.

At first, I’d politely—well, kind of politely—told him I wasn’t interested. I just didn’t feel like it. Not tonight. Maybe another time. Try again later.

He asked every single goddamn night, always showing up with a new argument. I knew he was doing it because he cared. Because we were friends… or something. But it still got annoying fast.

And he was back again, knock, knock, knocking away at the door.

Finally sick of yelling through the door at him, I yanked it open, positioning myself carefully in front of it so he couldn’t get in. “No,” I said. “I’m not going, so leave me alone.”

“Come on, Whit,” he whined, wedging himself against the doorframe to prevent me from locking him out of the guest room, putting us in close proximity. Close enough that I could see just how long his eyelashes were, see that his brown eyes had tiny flecks of gold in them. “It’ll be good for you.”

“I’ve told you a million times to stop calling me Whit.”

“It’s just the Nest,” he teased. “Clean, wholesome fun. Even a prude like you couldn’t object.”

“Ha ha. You’re so funny.”

“Seriously. Why won’t you come?”

“I don’t feel like being on everyone’s Facebook News Feed tomorrow, thanks,” I said, trying to push the door shut.

He blocked it, squeezing himself all the way into the room and brushing past me without an invitation.

“Christ, do you realize how rude that is?”

“So you’re telling me,” he said, plopping down on the bed, “that you’re going to stay home and be a hermit for the rest of the summer because you’re scared that some bored moron might write a comment about you on Facebook?” He rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

“It’s more than just that group,” I said, ignoring him. “It’s the people who’ve read those stories. Everyone in this goddamn town knows my name, and they all think I’m some filthy slut.”

“Then prove them wrong.”

“I’m not going, Nathan. Drop it.”

“Please, Whit. Don’t make me bring Bailey in here.”

“What does she have to do with this?” I asked.

“She’s the one who wants to go,” he said. “She’s been dying to go all week, but she didn’t want to pressure you, since you’d been so down. I told her I’d talk you into it. This is all her idea.”

I was surprised. Bailey had spent the last couple of months avoiding the social scene, backing out whenever I invited her to go to the Nest with Harrison and me. It made sense—for her to be scared, I mean. I figured it would be a long time before she got back on the horse.

I underestimated her.

“I’ll bring Bailey in here,” Nathan threatened. “We both know you can’t say no to her.”

“Yes, I can.”

“No, you really can’t.”

I rolled my eyes and slumped against the wall. “Why do I have to go? Why can’t you take her and leave me here?”