After the Ink Dries

by Cassie Gustafson

  My face falls into my hands. “God, I’m never drinking again.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  I look straight at her. “I’m serious, Caylee.”

  “Don’t be such a drama queen, E. Everyone gets wasted at some point. And I’m sure when you guys talk, you’ll just laugh it off together. But if you’re worried you two slept together, I mean, it happens. That’s how Zac and my first time went down, and look where we are now.”

  I’d heard from Amber that Caylee had slept with Zac the very first time they’d hung out. Alcohol was involved, of course. And now I can’t count the number of calls I’ve gotten from Caylee, near tears, afraid that Zac’s going to leave her for someone else, certain that he doesn’t find her attractive anymore. Ignoring this, I say, “I’m not worried Thomas and I slept together. I, like, checked and there wasn’t any… signs down there….” My face scalds. “But, um, last night, what happened after the two of us went inside?”

  She shrugs. “Well, the keg got tapped soon after and the party pretty much wound down from there. Zac went inside to grab more booze—and came out tasting like tequila, so that was fun. Meanwhile, I got stuck outside with Julie, who was super drunk. She had a rough night too, if it makes you feel any better. You know how in love she is with Ricky and how he’s always flirting with other girls right in front of her?” She waits for my nod. “Well, guess who got to sit through, like, thirty minutes of drunk Julie crying? This girl.” Caylee thumbs at herself, then shrugs. “But hey, what are friends for?”

  Julie sits in front of me in English and hangs out with us sometimes. And for some unknown reason, she’s madly in love with Ricky. At one point, Caylee tried to play matchmaker between Julie and Ricky, but his “she’s not that hot” comment had shut that down fast. Of course, Caylee’d never told Julie.

  “So, everyone left the party then?” I ask.

  Come on, phone. Turn on already!

  Caylee picks up my Rapunzel figurine. “Pretty much. I finally got Julie calmed down and sent home with Amber. Amber wasn’t stoked to play taxi service, let me tell you, but said it was her ‘womanly duty,’ or something. And then I found Zac on the stairs. He was coming down with the guys and I asked where you were so I could check on you, but Zac told me you’d passed out in his room and that he’d already made sure you were all good and he’d, like, given you a blanket or something. Which is so sweet of him.”

  A strange humming starts in my ears. Tell her now! But how? “Who else was there?” I ask. “Coming down the stairs, I mean?”

  Caylee shakes her head, thinking. “Um, it was Ricky and Stallion. And Thomas, of course.”

  Heat pools in my chest at his name. Thomas was with them the whole time? Have I been so desperately wrong about him?

  “Oh, and Tina. She was so drunk last night, she’s probably still passed out. Man, what an attention whore.”

  Whore.

  “Tina knows you’re with Thomas now, but she just won’t let up,” Caylee adds. “Not that she even likes him anymore. She just can’t stand for the spotlight to be off her. I hate her for you.”

  So, Tina was upstairs too. Not surprising. I stare blankly at my phone as it powers back on.

  “Oh, and Forest, I think,” she continues. “Man, Forest is so freaking funny! I still can’t believe he jumped in the pool in that shark costume. He’s, like, totally stoner chill, unless of course you mess with his little sis, Elle. Then watch out! I mean, have you noticed how adorably overprotective he is of her?”

  My phone buzzes in my hand as notifications crowd my home screen—missed voicemails and text alerts from my mom trying to get ahold of me last night. Thinking about her frantic worrying fills me with sadness. And I really had hoped Thomas would’ve called, or at least texted…

  Wait, there’s a social media alert. I sit up so quickly I almost face-plant. It’s from Tina. She tagged me in a photo two minutes ago.

  “What’s up, E? You look sick.”

  Caylee’s voice startles me. I lock my phone and toss it on the desk. If Tina tagged me in a photo, it can’t be good. She hates me. I desperately want to look, but I don’t want Caylee to see in case it’s really bad, which means I’ll have to wait for her to leave. I clear my throat. “Just a million messages from my mom. So that’s it, then, from last night?”

  Caylee shrugs, plopping on the bed. “Yeah, not much else to tell. After that, Zac told everyone to clear out….” Her eyes find mine, a smile spreading across her lips. “But, um, want to hear something really scandalous?”

  My stomach fills with rocks at the joy radiating from her. I nod slowly.

  “Well, Zac and I had, like, a date in his parents’ room since his room was occupied.” She gives me a mock-accusatory look, though she’s all smiles now. “And, oh my god, you should have seen Zac last night! He really wanted me. Like, couldn’t keep his hands off me. He hasn’t wanted me like that in ages. And in his parents’ bed, too!” She starts to laugh.

  I stare at the Caylee in front of me and try to match her with the Caylee she is around Zac. The Caylee who sits, silent and still, dwarfed under her boyfriend’s massive shoulder. The Caylee who, at Pizzaz, picks at her salads and nibbles on one or two of Zac’s discarded pizza crusts. The Caylee who—whenever Zac gets a text—leans forward suspiciously and tries to scan the screen. I hate it, the difference between this ecstatic Caylee and the one buried in her turtle shell when Zac’s around. I hate so much that he can buoy or crush her with his mood of the hour.

  Zac B. BITCHES! You have to tell her.

  “It was awesome, E,” Caylee continues, face lit up. “Just so great to get his full attention again. But that’s not even the best part. Are you ready for this? After we had sex, he was lying on top of me and then… he told me he loved me!” She squeals into her fists. “He just looked into my eyes and said it! For the first time! Like, he actually said, ‘I love you, Caylee-bear.’ ” She flings herself back onto my comforter.

  I can’t breathe, watching her elated expression as I feel Zac’s name burning on my inner thigh.

  She gushes on, oblivious. “And here I was thinking he was losing interest. Like, ready to break up with me, or something. But how ridiculous is that? Because clearly he’s not if he’s telling me he loves me!”

  Zac doesn’t deserve her, but if I told her what happened now, would it break her? I glance over at a drawing of Erica Strange taped to my dresser. She’s scaling a stone fortress, her confidence infallible, Sparky at her side. She knows that horrible monsters lurk within, but she doesn’t hesitate for even a second. I turn back to Caylee. “And you believe him?”

  “Hmm?” She props herself up on one elbow.

  “Do you, like, think that he meant it when he said it?”

  Hurt flashes across her face. “Of course I think he meant it. Why wouldn’t he mean it? I’m his girlfriend.”

  Tell her. Tell her now!

  The office chair squeaks as I wheel closer to her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, Caylee. Seriously, I’m happy for you. I’m… so glad he finally said it, is all.” Do it, Erica. “But…”

  Her phone buzzes. She tears her eyes from mine, pulling her phone from her hoodie and scanning the screen. “Gotta run. I’m meeting Amber at Juiced.” She types a reply as she scoots off the bed. “Girls’ date. You want to come with?”

  Wait! I want to scream. I have to tell you something! But how? Then a horrible thought strikes. Maybe she would think I invited it all somehow. That last night, I’d wanted the attention or was trying to steal Zac in some way. The thought makes my head spin, but Caylee has a vicious jealous streak when it comes to Zac. I clear my throat. “I’d better not.”

  “Okay, cool.” She shrugs, voice lukewarm. “See ya tomorrow, then.”

  I can’t. I can’t. But…

  As she pulls open the door, I call out, “Caylee!”

  She turns back, eyebrows raised in question.

  “Did Thomas say anything to you?”

&nbs
p; “What?” Her face looks annoyed, like she was expecting me to apologize again for questioning Zac’s declaration of love.

  “When Thomas was coming down the stairs, did he say anything to you?”

  She frowns in thought. “Um, he looked a little sloshed like everyone else. But no, he didn’t say anything. Zac just told me where you were, is all. And speaking of Zac”—she’s looking at me now—“it was really nice of him to let you sleep in his room last night, so if you get the chance, maybe you should thank him.” The cool edge to her voice surprises me. I must’ve really upset her; she’s halfway out the door already.

  “Feel better, E.” With a little wave, she disappears.

  Zac, Forest, Ricky, Stallion. And Thomas. He was there the whole time—from bringing me upstairs to coming down with the guys. Tina, too.

  Two thoughts slip past the numb: What don’t I know yet? And worse: Did Thomas watch?

  All I know is I have to find out. And maybe I’m about to.

  I scramble for my phone. The notification is eleven minutes old and has since updated. It now reads: Tina Marcus has tagged you in 5 photos.

  THOMAS

  AFTER LEAVING AUDITIONS, I’D BARELY had time to throw on my practice jersey before heading straight to the field, only to get reamed out by Coach for being late.

  Now I stand in front of the goal, trying to monitor the ball’s whereabouts, but despite the Gatorade I chugged, my head pounds with every movement. The heavy clouds aren’t making anything easier, blocking out the sunlight. Plus, it looks like it’s going to rain, which it hardly ever does in SoCal. And the wind’s insane today, whipping practice plans and empty water bottles around.

  Trash from blown-over cans tumbles across the field. I bat a plastic bag out of the air with my goalie stick, chucking it away from the net. My head’s too full—everything from cleaning up orange juice in Zac’s kitchen while listening to Erica slip out the front, to seeing my uncle in the back of the auditorium during auditions, then afterward, as I’d practically sprinted back to my truck, reading the text from him: Will call this afternoon. I hadn’t bothered staying for the Q&A or campus tour. There was no point. Plus, I knew Uncle Kurt was catching up with his buddies in the department. Since he volunteers with the school to give students hands-on experience in the music world, he knows everyone, so he’d definitely hear how badly I botched it all anyway. Not that he didn’t see it for himself. I’m already dreading his call.

  When I glance up, I catch Stallion’s gaze from behind his face mask. He stares a second too long, chucking his chin at me before turning away.

  What’s that about? I watch him track the ball, then rush Cole down the field. You’re being paranoid, I tell myself. Of course Stallion looked at me. I’m the goalie.

  Zac stalks the sidelines in his Panthers jersey minus the pads, moving like a man who’s got a full ride to Syracuse, which he does, so long as his elbow heals properly. His good hand holds a clipboard with practice plans, but Zac’s oddly subdued. Normally he’s shouting orders across the field like he owns the team, which, considering who his father is, he practically does. Zac catches me staring and flashes a grin, like we’re in on some secret together. Heat balls in my stomach when I turn away, and I get an eyeful of dirt from the wind.

  Blinking hard, I watch Forest as he backpedals and sidesteps, trying to thwart Mario’s attempts to near the goal. I can tell he’s moving a little slower than usual, but at least he’s not acting weird.

  I spot Ricky in the thick of things, but he doesn’t glance my way. And there’s Cole and Matt. They were at Zac’s last night too but left early because of their curfews.

  Mario sprints by, and I catch sight of his shorts. They’re the dark blue mesh kind, with a small crocodile patch on them.

  And I see Erica from last night standing by a roaring bonfire, biting her lip and smiling, holding my hat over the flames.

  “Hop on, little croc,” I tell her.

  “Trying to get me alone, Thomas the Rhymer?” she asks.

  I shake my head so hard my helmet rattles. No. I don’t remember what happened. I don’t.

  I know I should text Erica. Not that I had much time before or after my audition, but that’s not an excuse, and I’m sure she’s wondering why I haven’t reached out. Or maybe her phone’s still off. Regardless, I could’ve sent her a message earlier that she’d get when she turns her phone back on.

  I watch a loose paper flap against a chain-link fence in the distance, promising myself I’ll text her as soon as we hit the locker rooms.

  “The hell was that, VanBrackel?”

  Coach’s shout startles me, and I spin, caught off-guard. Coach Mac has thrown up his hands, the other coaches mirroring his exasperation. Sure enough, the ball’s sitting in the net, Mario having just scored. The whole team’s staring at me. I didn’t even know the ball was close, let alone whizzing past, and I’d made zero effort to block the shot.

  Next to Coach, Zac’s holding his elbows, arms crossed and head shaking.

  “Sorry, Coach,” I mumble through my face mask, feeling everyone’s eyes burn into me.

  Coach beckons. “Thomas, a word.”

  I shake off my helmet, tuck it under an arm, and jog into the wind.

  Coach Mac stares me down, crushing his hat in his hands. He looks crazed, wind blasting his hair in all directions. “What the hell’s going on out there, Thomas? Yesterday you were on fire, and now this crap?”

  Zac laughs, slapping the clipboard against his thigh. “Girl troubles, I’m afraid.”

  I stare at Zac, both shocked and willing him not to say any more. Zac joking around out here is unheard of. Normally within a thousand yards of the lax field, Zac gets worked up to no end, shouting orders. He lives and breathes lacrosse. But I guess we’re all off our game today.

  Coach’s face goes purple at Zac’s indifference. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what’s going on. We can’t afford this inconsistency, especially with the PV game bearing down on us.”

  Today, I can’t find it in me to care, but I say, “Sorry, Coach. I lost focus. It won’t happen again.”

  Coach glares at me, then at Zac. “As for you. Just because you’re not on that field right now doesn’t mean you get to dick around, especially if you want to come back next month. We have some lacrosse to play, and if neither of you can remember that, then I have ten guys who would be happy to replace you. Understood?”

  Under the heat of his glare, Zac and I both bark out a “Yes, Coach.”

  Coach jams his hat back on his head, crazy hair puffing out the sides. “Good. Now get the hell back out there, Thomas, and let’s see some goddamn focus, okay?”

  As I jog back to my post, Forest’s stick slaps my shoulder pad. “You good, my man?”

  I wonder if he means more than this field, this game. But I shove my helmet on and huff out a “Fine.”

  “Girl troubles”, Zac had called it, like that sums it up.

  Retrieving the ball from the net, I fling it to Stallion. He catches and cradles it, readying the players for another toss-up. The scrimmage resumes, and I throw myself fully into the game. Not only for Coach, but because I’d do anything to get the hell out of my head today.

  ERICA

  IN THE FRACTION OF A second it takes to reread the notification on my phone, I realize my world has imploded.

  A part of me knew it was coming. It was only a matter of time. That’s how these things work, don’t they? Everyone finds out, shares the gruesome details, and delights in someone else’s misery? I’m completely screwed.

  Screwed. A disgusting word. The point of a rusty nail driving into the arch of a foot.

  Tina Marcus tagged you in 5 photos.

  Tina’s hated me since the moment she saw me with Thomas at Pizzaz Pizza Parlor. Apparently, Tina also despised Thomas’s ex-girlfriend Angie, who he dated freshman year, so much so that Tina allegedly threatened to kick Angie’s ass on multiple occasions. And that was before it’d come out that Angie
had been cheating on Thomas the whole time.

  Guess I’m about to find out just how much Tina hates me, too.

  Clicking takes me to my profile, where the images go front and center.

  Squinting into my phone, breathless, I stare at the photos. They’re all from Zac’s backyard, Thomas and me.

  I click the first one.

  In it, I’ve got a red cup in one hand and Thomas’s hat in the other, held over a fire pit. I’d forgotten that. I’m laughing, clearly drunk, falling over myself. My eyes reflect the flames, making me look demonic, and my skirt’s hiked up almost to crotch level, exposing thick thighs. Luckily, even zoomed in, the photo quality is bad because of how dark it was, but that hardly makes me feel better.

  I know sabotage when I see it. Tina Marcus took these photos and just tagged me in them. I always knew she hated seeing me with Thomas, but this much?

  In the photos, Thomas looks… Well, the me from yesterday would’ve said incredible. One hand holds a red cup and the other reaches for his hat. He’s mid-laugh. Gorgeous.

  But so much has changed. I stare at him, feeling confused, and repulsed, and sad beyond words as I click to make the photo go away:

  Untag.

  Heart thundering, I scroll to the next photo.

  I’m sitting on Thomas’s lap, my head on his shoulder. Not a good angle. Plus, I look passed out. Maybe I was. My thighs look even more gargantuan in this picture, with Thomas resting his hand on one. His face is turned to the side, talking to someone outside the photo, hat on backward, eyes half-closed.

  Untag.

  Next photo.

  Oh god.

  It’s a direct shot of my ass. I’m on all fours in the grass, jean skirt hiked. Thomas is bending over me, arms hooked around my middle, trying to help me up. I’m sure my breasts are spilling out the front.

  Untag.

  Tina, you bitch.

  Next.

  My breath catches. This one’s even worse. It’s from the same angle except Thomas has finally helped me stand upright, arms still around me, though I’m bent over at the middle like a rag doll. Once again, my butt’s hanging out of my skirt, though luckily the photo’s too blurry to see details.