“Did you seriously just hook up with Chase?” Ava tugs on Danielle’s arm. “Everyone says you slept with him.”
“Everyone says,” Danielle repeats, her mouth twisted. “So it must be true.”
Ava tugs harder. “I’ve got it from here,” she says to me. And then they walk away, whispering to each other in low voices I can’t hear. Suddenly I’m overwhelmed again by the need to hide. I take a hesitant sip of what’s left of my beer, just for something to do. It tastes like warm pee.
Parties have always been Andrew’s thing, not mine, and I don’t know how he’s so good at convincing me to come to them, not when I’d rather be ten hours deep in a Netflix binge. I scan the room for him, or for Hannah, or somebody, but I’m too short to see over the crowd.
I’m going to kill Andrew for throwing me a birthday party and then leaving me to fend for myself.
C’mon, Collins, he whined earlier when I insisted it was a bad idea. We’ve spent all your birthdays together. Can’t stop now. It’s true—Andrew was there the day I was born. Before, actually. Our moms became friends in Lamaze class, so we’ve been stuck with each other forever. Andrew’s birthday was last week, and his parents took us out for dinner at Giovanni’s. Not really the birthday adventure he had in mind. So now that they’re out of town, I’m stuck with this.
I walk into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding Jarrod Price, who’s puking into the trash can. There are cups and dirty plates scattered all over the Formica counter. Andrew promised to get me pizza if I agreed to the party, and now the boxes litter the kitchen, covered in stray crusts and congealed cheese.
I gather up the dishes and put them in the sink, lathering up the sponge with soap and water.
“Please tell me you’re not cleaning right now.” Andrew slings an arm around my shoulder and pulls me into a quick hug. He’s always reminded me a little of a golden retriever—a smiling, floppy mess of sandy hair and freckles. Sometimes I swear I can see him wagging his tail.
“I just thought I’d get a head start.” I pick up a red plastic cup and run it under the faucet. Andrew whacks it out of my hand, splashing us both. His flannel shirt is already so rumpled it’s like he’s been rolling around in it. Which he probably has, with some girl or other. Gross.
“No cleaning on your birthday,” he says. “House rules. Besides, this is a red Solo cup. It’s disposable.”
“Don’t let it hear you say that. You might hurt its feelings.” I glance across the room to where Danielle is standing, sur-rounded by a gaggle of junior girls. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”
Andrew follows my gaze. “She’s Danielle Oliver. She thrives off attention. Things couldn’t have worked out better for her if she’d planned it.”
I think about my conversation with her upstairs, how she made me promise not to tell. “I just feel bad. If it were me—”
“She’s not you.” He loops an arm around my back again. “Thank God. You think I would have stuck around her for eighteen years?” I let him lead me over to the fridge. “I got you those stupid watermelon drinks you like. Did you see them?” He pulls out a pink frosted glass bottle and I grab it from him with joy.
“And you’re only telling me now? I’ve been trying to drink this stale pee all night.” I motion to the keg, sitting on a pile of dirty beach towels in the corner, thanks to Andrew’s cousin who turned twenty-one a few years ago and has been supplying our booze ever since.
“I’m just trying to toughen you up a little,” he says. “Someday you’re going to find yourself out in the wild, maybe at a party with a host who isn’t so charming or thoughtful, and there won’t be any stupid watermelon drinks and you’ll think to yourself, Thank God Andrew Reed taught me how to drink beer.” He motions toward the keg. “But you’re right, this tastes like pee.”
Still, he reaches over and pours himself a cup. That’s when one of the juniors peels away from Danielle and comes up to us, touching Andrew lightly on the shoulder. Cecilia Brooks is always lightly touching people’s shoulders. It’s like she’s mastered some sort of secret code. I know for a fact Tim Schneider always does her trig homework when she asks, which is the kind of powerful I wish I could be.
“Hi, Drew.” She tucks a strand of curly blond hair behind one ear and smiles, revealing two rows of perfectly white teeth. Cecilia’s parents are dentists.
“Hey, Cecilia,” he says. “I’ve been looking for you!” His usual line. Party Andrew has a different personality than regular Andrew. He always gets way cheesier when he’s around girls, and somehow it works. Andrew upgrades girlfriends like he’s upgrading iPhones.
“No you haven’t!” She laughs and slaps him lightly on the chest. “You’re such a liar.”
“He’s been talking about you all night,” I improvise, trying to help him out. “I can’t get him to shut up about it.”
Andrew steps down on my foot, indicating perhaps I’ve gone a bit overboard.
Cecilia turns reluctantly to me. “Oh, hi, Keely.” Then her eyes go wide. “Oh my gosh, is that a watermelon Breezer?” Her hand comes up to rest once more on Andrew’s shoulder. “I love those!”
I want Andrew to be above it. But no straight boy, it seems, is immune to the magical touch of Cecilia Brooks—especially not Party Andrew.
“Yeah, do you want one? I bought plenty.”
“Really? You are so sweet!” Shoulder touch.
I’m glaring at him, clutching my watermelon Breezer with two hands, as if somehow his pathetic pandering will cause it to slip from my grasp, sprout little wings, and fly into hers. He grabs a frosted pink bottle from the fridge and cracks it open, handing it to her. She takes a sip, glossy lips resting in just the right way on the mouth of the bottle.
“So, Drew, I came here with Susie, right?” Cecilia says. “But she might be too drunk to drive. She’s had like way too many shots of raspberry Smirnoff. Do you think . . . are people staying over here tonight? Do you think we could crash here?” Shoulder touch.
“You can definitely sleep here,” Andrew says, and Cecilia beams at him. I can practically see the hearts in her eyes.
I know he’s lost to me for the night, along with the rest of the watermelon Breezers, so I finish my drink and set it down on the counter, ready for the next move. We’ve been here before and I know my lines. “I’m gonna go find Hannah. I’ll see you guys later.” I wave and walk into the dining room.
Andrew chases after me, leaving Cecilia behind. “Hey, you can take my bed tonight, okay?”