“Aidan,” I prompted, tapping the tabletop. “Focus. What happened at the party?”
“Right, sorry.” He shook his head. “Obviously, Cameron and Noah hooked up, and someone…no one knows exactly who because the girl who owns the account swears she was hacked and out of town, but that’s a whole other mess…posted a video of them making out in a story on Snapchat. A lot of people saw it, the rest heard about it or watched a recording of it later, and by the end of the night, so had Stone.”
My heart physically hurt. I wanted to storm out of the library and find Stone, then hug him and apologize on behalf of all womankind for Cameron and anyone else who’d ever cheated. Cheating was just another face for dishonesty, and that was one thing I’d always said I couldn’t forgive. Life was too short to hurt or betray the people you loved.
“Stone acts like he’s tough,” Aidan said, “but that shit messes with your head. He laid low all summer and then came back saying he’s out. He’s given up on girls and the drama that comes with them. Chase calls it his ‘monk philosophy.’” His fingers made air quotes as sympathy filled his eyes. “Lily, Stone said he’s not looking to date anyone right now, and you’re a sweetheart. I just don’t want to see you get hurt thinking this is more than it really is.”
Ouch. That stung, having my own fears spit back by a guy who, claim of friendship or not, barely knew me. Clearly, I was so out of my league that he naturally assumed I’d get my heart broken from spending time with Stone. Because it wasn’t possible I could simply have friendly feelings for the guy—or that Stone could ever have real feelings for me.
What made it sadder was he was pretty much right on the money.
Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I fought to keep my emotions in check and grabbed my notebook. “Listen, I appreciate you looking out for me, but it’s not necessary. I’m allergic to drama, which is probably why Stone likes hanging out with me.”
Honestly, it seemed as likely as any other reason, which left a bitter taste in my mouth.
Pasting on a smile, however, I yanked my bag closed with a sharp zziiippp and threw the straps around my shoulders as I declared, “I’m the anti-Cameron.”
That sounded as sexy and appealing as a worn-out pair of pajamas. Accurate, but sad.
As luck would have it, the bell rang for fifth period, and I shot to my feet. Aidan lumbered to his, too, looking concerned, and I waved it away with a reminder about his introduction, then booked it down the hall.
Gratitude chased the hurt tightening my chest. Now that I’d had a second to process, I was glad Aidan had butted in. Yesterday my heart and hormones had formed an unholy alliance, and in the hours since, they’d run away with themselves. Playing out silly fantasies, linking my name with Stone’s in pink neon. Imagining heat where there’d just been pathetic unrequited yearning. So dumb.
Friends and dance partners, that’s what we were, and that’s what we’d stay. In the long run, that was better than hooking up and kissing anyway. Less mess and more innocent fun.
My inner romantic snorted in my head. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, lover-girl.
My inner romantic was an unhelpful witch.
Chapter Fifteen
Stone
“Go, fight, win!” The clichéd cheer rang through Cameron’s megaphone, and the crowd in the stands echoed their excitement. The rustle of pom-poms mixed with the scent of damp grass, and a tangible pulse of energy electrified the entire stadium.
It was game night.
Unfortunately, my head wasn’t in it with everyone else currently going crazy under the bright lights. The team we were playing, Fairfield Academy, was known for its killer baseball team, but they had a craptacular football program. The freaking Hokies. They were an insult to anyone who’d ever played at Virginia Tech, and maybe that was the problem. Knowing we could hand these guys a beatdown in our sleep, a fact the radio announcers were so quick to point out the other day, made it hard to care, especially when Ma was hosting a practice party at Ilusiòn tonight. Probably scared it could be one of her last.
“All right, you know what to do,” Cameron called, signaling the elongated ending to the chant that wouldn’t quit. Kickoff was moments away. Even though the Hokies had elected to receive, I grabbed my helmet, figuring our defense would shut them down quick.
“Go!” the crowd screamed, and my shoulder bumped against Chase while I jumped up and down, trying to psych myself up. I could already hear the announcer’s reaction if I didn’t: “Well, Kasey, we’d thought this matchup would be a breeze, but turns out, number five totally choked.”
A hard shove knocked me out of my head, and I glanced over to see Chase staring back with a big, stupid grin. Not wanting to mess with his game, too, I feigned a replica in reply.
“Fight!”
I inwardly groaned. And here it came, the ridiculously extra-long pause that—
“Win!”
A lone, high-pitched voice reached my ear, awkward and obviously unfamiliar with the weird pause Cameron had added to the chant at the beginning of last year. I turned around on instinct.
First row, middle of the bleachers, directly behind the fifty-yard line, Lily sat surrounded by Angéla and Sydney, wearing an expression of complete mortification when three full beats later than her own yell, the rest of the fans chimed in, “Win!”
Sydney cracked up, grabbing onto Lily’s arm as she turned an alarming shade of red.
My sister covered her mouth, her slim shoulders shaking but at least trying to hide her amusement at her new bestie’s predicament.
And then there was Lily…ah, Lily. My surprisingly funny, annoyingly controlling, and most definitely out-of-her-element dance partner…who winced as her big blue eyes shot to mine.
I swear, I couldn’t have stopped the smile stretching my face if Tom Brady or Drew Brees had come down and asked me to.
Choking back a laugh, I lifted my hands to the sides, indicating the electric stadium going nutso around us, and cocked an eyebrow, silently suggesting this was, in fact, pretty damn awesome. Even from the sideline I could see the roll of her eyes, and I laughed out loud, stoked she was having fun. Even if it was somewhat at her own expense.
With the static of the announcers forgotten, and even Ilusiòn’s troubles on the backburner, I turned back to watch the kickoff with a wide smile, my eyes landing on Aidan standing near the end of the bench. I raised my chin, still laughing, then focused on the game.
Finally, I was ready to do this.
As expected, our defense dominated the series. With each failed play, my pulse rate kicked higher. The prickle of the lights seeped beneath my skin, and I breathed in the familiar earthy scents of game night. The whistle blew, three-and-out, and our punt return team stormed the field.
With the marching band playing the opening riff from “Eye of the Tiger,” the remaining guys strutted back to the sideline, showboating like only true defenders can, and I joined in, yelling and slapping their backs, feeling the hard kick of the drumbeat in my stomach.
Chase slammed his helmet on his head and shoved me. I pushed him back, bouncing on my feet. After a huge return, it was our turn to take the field, and I thrust my helmet on, ready to kick some Hokie ass. Normally, I’d hold back for a series or two. With a team like Fairfield, Coach might’ve even suggested taking it easy the entire first half. But tonight, I had a girl to impress.
I wasn’t holding anything back.
Chapter Sixteen
Lily
“Fudge stick!”
Shaking my hand, I glared at the evil pushpin that had bit me back, then shoved it into the wall, this time with more zeal. Taking my pain out on an inanimate object seemed healthier than cursing a blue streak, and a heck of a lot more productive. Once it was firmly in place, I smirked to show it who was boss and leaned back to admire my handiwork.
A huge sign declaring Survivor: 5 Years and Counting! in bright orange bubble letters carried the theme of the night, along with the bowls of neon o
range Cheetos, nacho cheese Doritos, and golden, delicious Funyuns, which, admittedly, weren’t orange, but they were tasty. So were the Tostitos and Ruffles, which further messed with the whole motif, but this was a sleepover, which meant if it was salty and yummy and in chip form, it had to be included. Rule number one in the sleepover handbook, at least according to my mom, and lucky for me, I could even partake guilt-free. Bring on the carbs!
Grinning at the room, I sucked my throbbing thumb into my mouth and carefully stepped over the coffee table…only to trip on the upraised corner of the Torres’s geometric area rug.
A loud cackle followed my sprightly thump, and Sydney’s voice floated from down the hall. “Hey, Grace! Is it safe to come out yet?”
I flipped off the air, even though she couldn’t see me, then said excitedly, “Come on in!”
Angéla was the first to enter, being not-so-gently pushed by Sydney from behind. She gazed in confusion at the multicolored balloons I’d taped to the edges of various photos of family vacations and dance competitions, and, strangely enough, to the frame around the Virgin Mary, which I was 99.9% sure wasn’t sacrilegious. I mean, biblical people had parties, too, right?
Second-guessing that decision, I winced and watched Angéla grab an orange party hat from the entertainment center. Her sweet face was a mask of bewilderment—then she noticed the sign.
Dark chocolate eyes, the exact replica of her brother’s, met mine, and her mouth formed one word. “How?”
“Stone,” I answered, hoping I hadn’t overstepped a boundary. “He told me about your upcoming milestone. I know we haven’t known each other long, and I understand it can be hard knowing how to celebrate, or even if you should…but coming from the other side of the story, I’ve seen how easily it could’ve gone another way.”
With a cautious smile, I walked over, hoping the shine in her eyes was from happiness and not pain. “I think it’s awesome and inspiring you’re a survivor, and we should honor that. So I hope you don’t mind, but…” I reached into the duffel bag at my feet and plucked up a sparkly boa, wrapping it around her neck. “We decided to throw you a little surprise party.”
While Sydney grabbed the gift box we’d stashed behind the sofa, a present wrapped with pristine orange paper and topped with a huge white bow that could’ve been done by professionals—Syd never did anything halfway—I reached into my bag and pulled out two more boas.
“You guys.” Angéla stared wide-eyed at the box in her hand, gently touching the paper like it held the greatest gift in the world, and she hadn’t even opened it yet. “You didn’t have to do this. I don’t know what to say right now.”
“Well, maybe you can start by opening it,” Sydney teased, although her hazel eyes looked awfully misty, too. She blinked a couple of times and waved a hand in front of her face, then quickly grabbed a boa from me, looking away as she threw it around her neck.
The old softie.
Angéla released a breath and gently flipped over the box, studying the precise lines of the wrapping for an entry point. Delicately, she slid her finger beneath the seam, tugging the tape up to not rip the paper. It was so cute that my heart hurt a little. When it was finally uncovered, she took another breath, then opened the box and stared at its contents.
“I found a website online,” I explained. “Not Another Bunch of Flowers. It specializes in survivor gifts, and the woman who owns it had breast cancer. She donates a portion of her profits to different charities.”
A small smile tugged Angéla’s lips as she removed the colorful “I Kicked Cancer’s Ass” pin, and she promptly set down the box so she could pin it to her pajama top.
A hard knot lodged in my throat, wishing I could’ve had this moment with my mom, but I swallowed it down, wanting tonight to be about Angéla and her story.
With slightly shaky hands, I reached over and removed the second part of the gift. “I discovered ‘touch wood’ is the English equivalent of ‘knock on wood.’ Soldiers in WWI used to wear ‘touch wood’ charms for good luck, and since wood is a traditional gift for five-year anniversaries, and this is your fifth year being cancer-free, we thought it was fitting.”
I pulled out the necklace, and the delicate shine in Angéla’s eyes swelled to full-on tears. One fell down her cheek as she turned and held up her hair, silently asking me to put it on her. Fighting my own tears, both for Angéla and Mom, I carefully slid the charm around her neck and clasped it.
Angéla turned, her fingers touching the charm. Her voice was soft when she said, “I love it,” and after a moment, she raised her head and looked around the decorated room. More tears fell, and she let them go, not even trying to stop them. “I-I love everything. You…you don’t understand…what this means.”
She drew a breath, looking at us both with eyes holding so much gratitude and surprise and naked vulnerability that my own tears gave up the fight as I grieved my mom and celebrated the sweet life in front of me. A choked sound came from Sydney, and she dragged her hands under her eyes with a watery smile.
Angéla blubbered a laugh. “I’m trying to talk, but I have no words. Seriously, you should mark this down because this never happens to me.”
I laughed, too, a half-sob/half-snotty whimper that was disgusting and real and heartfelt, and the next thing I knew, I was wrapped in a three-way hug of tears and new friendship.
From the outside looking in, this moment probably looked weird—three girls blubbering together, one of them practically a stranger. But it didn’t feel that way. My heart expanded to hold all the emotion until I felt like how I supposed the Grinch did on Christmas morning. Cool air-conditioning ghosted over my skin, and suddenly, Mom was with us, too.
We were still one big puppy pile when a beep beep in the kitchen broke us apart, and I sucked in a ragged breath, dragging my hands over my wet face and feeling twenty pounds lighter than I had that morning. I’d had just enough time to somewhat collect myself when one of the most gorgeous men I’d ever seen waltzed into the room carrying a tall stack of pizza boxes.
A beautiful man and cheesy carbs. Now that was what romance novels were made of.
Sydney and I exchanged dual looks of awe as he swept into the room, scooting the chips aside to make room for the pizza. Next to me, my best friend muttered under her breath, “DILF,” and I stifled a snort, elbowing her in the ribs.
“I hope you’re hungry,” said the man, who was obviously Angéla’s dad. He smiled at us, flashing the same set of dimples made popular by his son. “I’m Mike, or Mr. Mike, if you prefer. I’ll answer to either, you’re practically adults.”
His smile grew curious as he took in our red, puffy eyes, and he transferred his attention to the rest of the room, finally noticing the decorations. Walking over to the wall, he read our homemade sign and placed a hand on his chest. He bowed his head and briefly closed his eyes, and when they opened again, they immediately found his daughter. Angéla flew into his arms.
Sydney shifted uncomfortably next to me, but I couldn’t look away from the father-daughter moment. Mr. Mike whispered something in Angéla’s ear, and as she nodded, I forced my gaze away, wiping my eyes when a fresh batch of tears sprang free.
“Thank you,” he said a few moments later, and I glanced back to see Angéla smiling the sweet smile of a girl who knew she was loved. I quickly bounced my eyes to her dad. He was already watching me. “I appreciate you doing this for my daughter. Lily, is it?”
I nodded, shoving my own family drama in the closet of my mind, and smiled at the man who’d brought me food. That old saying about the stomach being the way to a man’s heart? I was here to say that stuff worked on women, too.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said, a strange note in his voice making me wonder what he meant. Had Angéla talked about me? His wife, Viktória? Or could it have been Stone?
Mr. Mike grinned at the collection of snackage on the coffee table and nodded in approval. “I was gonna say help yourselves to anything in the
kitchen, but I think you’ve already got that covered.” He winked to show he was teasing, and twin surges of heat ignited my cheeks.
Sydney simply continued to gawk.
He chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ll get out of your hair now. If you girls need anything, I’ll be down the hall, and Viktória should be here shortly. And don’t forget to save some pizza for your brother.”
With a final grin, he wished us good night and headed back to where the bedrooms were. Not five seconds later, and not bothering to lower her voice, Sydney announced to the room at large, “Angéla, your dad is freaking hot!”
A masculine chuckle floated from the hall, and Angéla groaned.
Chapter Seventeen
Stone
Casa Winters was a madhouse.
From my vantage point behind the kitchen island, its granite surface covered with liquor bottles and mixers, I surveyed the crowded living room. Wall-to-wall bodies were packed so densely you couldn’t see the hardwood. The oppressive body heat battled with the air-conditioning. In one corner of the room, a girl looked like she was crying—not in the sad way that’d make me go over and check on her; more like the psycho, angry way that made my balls shrivel up. In another corner, two couples were huddled in a circle, all four of them with their heads buried in their phones. I fought a wave of disgust. It brought back unwanted memories.
When people stopped to congratulate me, I nodded. Teammates clasped my shoulder; I smiled. I even laughed when a drunk Kurt mounted the antique dining table for an ill-advised striptease to what I was pretty sure was Britney Spears circa 1999. Admittedly, seeing my massive center gyrating to bubblegum pop made me almost hope someone was recording so I could rib him for it later, but I kept myself in the kitchen. I had less than zero interest in joining the chaos.
Something was off. I’d gotten my head out of my ass in time for the game, but now that it was over, I was right back to feeling like a stranger in my skin. Normally, it took a couple of hours for the walls to start closing in, especially after a big win. Tonight, I’d been struggling to breathe since I arrived. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Lily had said the other day, about me hiding behind my smiles.
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