Don't Kiss the Messenger (Edgelake High School, #1)(52)

“It doesn’t matter,” I lied.

My mom sighed through the phone. Another second of silence crawled by.

“If you want the surgery, we can talk about it. But it isn’t something you just rush into.”

I pulled at a weed growing between the building and the cement. “I know.”

“CeCe, has it ever occurred to you that you have this scar for a reason?”

I blew out a sigh.

“Of course it has.” My scar had shaped my entire life. My personality. My relationships. Even my goals.

“You were not designed for an ordinary life. You’ve been a daredevil, a thrill-seeker since you could crawl. You’re a warrior. Your scar shows that. Honestly, I can’t imagine you any other way. There are so many plastic, perfect faces out there. But they’re unoriginal. You’re meant to stand out. That’s all the scar means to me. That’s all it means to your friends and everyone who knows you. And whoever this man is, if he doesn’t get that, if he can’t see you, he doesn’t deserve you.”

I inhaled a long, shaky breath. I knew she was right. I still felt humiliated, but I tried to focus on what I had gained out of all of this. Emmett was still a friend. A good friend. I hadn’t lost him. He cared about me. I just had to accept it would never be more.





Chapter Twenty


CeCe


Saturday night I caught Bryn up on my conversation with Emmett. Skipping some of the details.

“It’s so great that he’s still talking about me!” Bryn exclaimed. I rolled my eyes. Leave it to Bryn to see the bright side of any conversation. I tend to reminisce in the subtleties. In the words that are hinted in silence.

Doesn’t she understand the problem here?

“He suspects something’s up.”

“He really said that?”

“In so many words,” I said.

“Tell me the entire conversation again. Word for word.”

I shook my head. I really didn’t want to relive it for a second humiliating time. I wanted to forget it ever happened. I wanted to forget Emmett, entirely.

We headed down the street to the annual fall crew party. The high school rowing season had ended, which made Tucker, Prentice, and the rest of the crew team celebrate in unabashed drunkenness at a college house downtown. It was one of the few parties I went to—there was always good music and the UW college rowers were notorious for two things—drinking to excess and taking their clothes off. It always made for an entertaining night.

When Bryn and I opened the door, Tucker welcomed us with arms that opened to an enormously long wing span.

“Hey-ah!” he bellowed out to us, in what sounded more like a mating call than a greeting. “My ladies.” He stepped aside and waved us in. He greeted Bryn with a long look-over. He even bent down and threw his arm around me, pinning me into his chest. It was like trying to snuggle against a brick. I winced in response.

“You give intense hugs,” I said as he squeezed me into his sternum before he let go.

“Make yourselves at home,” he yelled over the music. “What is mine is yours,” he said and his eyes settled on mine. “I mean that figuratively and physically,” he said with a grin. His pink face was flushed.

“Charming, Tuck,” I said and gently nudged him away. “Where did you learn that line? Frat camp?”

He smiled and handed me a cup for the keg, a gentlemanly offer, but I declined. I told him I couldn’t stay very long. He twirled me around before he turned back to greet someone at the door.

Prentice bounded up to us and handed Bryn a cup.

“Ten kegs,” he boasted. “Prepare for your mind to be blown.”

“Or your liver,” I suggested.

Bryn shriveled her nose in an adorable frown. “I don’t like beer. It tastes disgusting.”

Prentice looked at me and raised his eyebrows like I had escorted the city mutant to the party.

I shrugged. “She’s not from Wisconsin,” I stated.

He smiled. He had been smiling since we’d walked through the door. He jabbed his thumb playfully in her direction. “She must like those drinks with pink umbrellas in them? Mike’s? Smirnoff?”

I shook my head. “There was an unfortunate eye-poking incident with the pink umbrella. Bryn’s been sober ever since.”

Bryn laughed easily and Prentice pointed to VanBree and Shmitty, standing across the room.

“Last year VanBree brought a breathalyzer,” he told Bryn. “We had bets to see who could blow the highest number.” Prentice proudly pumped his chest. “Point two six, baby!”

“I remember,” I said. “It’s the same night that your pants went missing, eleven garden gnomes mysteriously appeared on your apartment lawn at Edgelake, and then there was the unexplained whereabouts of all the locker room toilet plungers.”

“They ended up in Tuck’s bed,” he said proudly.

Bryn laughed and looked up at Prentice as if this list of pranks qualified him for a Prince Charming nomination. I watched their interaction with interest. Bryn was so relaxed around Prentice. She was herself—sweet and doting. Why couldn’t she act like this around Emmett?

Prentice draped an arm around Bryn’s shoulder like he was staking his claim on her for the night. Bryn didn’t seem to mind. He leaned down, throwing her a flirty smile. I had to admit, Prentice had a good smile. And the drinking was bringing out his East Coast accent, making his sexiness factor climb up a few pegs. Not that I would ever give him the satisfaction of telling him this—I don’t think Prentice had room in his testosterone-clogged body for any more confidence.