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  The moments when she is like this, when she pretends to care about something other than her alcohol, are the moments I hate her the most. Because, briefly, I almost think she does care. And that would be a catastrophic error on my part. Maybe she does care, but not enough. Never enough.

  My mom makes a choking sound and I know she felt that barb deeply. I don’t feel good about it. I feel disgusted—by her, by me, by it all.

  “Grayson,” she pleads.

  I am shaking, my throat thick. I fist my hands to steady them. “You don’t love me! You’ve never loved me. How could you love me? I’m a fucking mistake!” I shout; shoving past her. I grit my teeth against the pain I glimpse on her face as I pass by. She’s hurt? What about me?

  “Grayson, what are you talking about?” Her voice is urgent, her words rushed.

  The pressure in my chest is too much—my heart is pounding too fast. It’s going to explode. It’s going to fucking burst and then maybe it will all be over with. Maybe that would be a good thing.

  I spin around and pin her in place with my eyes—with my rage—as I holler, “I heard you, all right? I heard you and Dad fighting about me. I know you didn’t want me! I know I ruined everything by being born!” Her face goes white, but she does not deny it. My chest heaves and there is an annoying sting in my eyes at her silence.

  I storm for the door.

  “Grayson!” she calls after me, but I keep going—down the hallway, down the stairs.

  “What’s going on?” my dad demands, meeting me in the kitchen. He puts a hand to my chest to halt me, but I shake him off.

  “Nothing,” I growl, barely glancing at Aidan’s pale face from where he sits at the bar, eating again.

  “Grayson!” It’s my dad calling after me this time, and then it’s the both of them, and their voices are ringing in my head, melding into a cacophony of all I cannot stand—pain and regret and fear and anger. I have to get out of this house. Now.

  I barrel out of the house, gasping for air. My heart literally hurts. I look wildly around, wanting to go to Lily—knowing I can’t. I make of sound of pain and jab the heels of my hands into my eyes, knocking my glasses off my face. I reach down, tears blinding my eyes, and blink them away as I carefully reposition the glasses on my nose.

  “Oh—Grayson.” I think I am imagining her voice, but then I’m in her arms, and I take a shuddering breath as her strawberry scent envelopes me. My knees buckle and I begin to fall, Lily holding me as we kneel on the cold grass, our arms wrapped around each other. I hear the door behind us open, and after a moment, it closes.

  “What happened?” she cries, pushing me back to better see my face. I resignedly stare back. Lily makes a sound of misery, tugging my glasses from my face. Her thumbs brush at my wet eyes. I should feel like a wimp, but I can’t, not with Lily. She accepts me as I am, no matter how good or bad that is. I hurt so much—too much. Lily runs her hands through my hair, touching my cheek, kissing my forehead. I close my eyes and rest my forehead to hers, my hands on her waist, her hands on my shoulders.

  “If you knew…that your parents never wanted you to be born—“

  “No, Grayson,” she murmurs. Lily slowly moves her forehead back and forth against mine. “No.”

  My fingers tighten on her waist. “If you knew that…how would you feel?”

  “It’s not true.”

  “It is true,” I hiss, rearing back to glare at her.

  Lily stares back at me, her face stubbornly set. “How can you say that? I know your parents have issues, but you—“

  I laugh bitterly. “Issues? My parents don’t have issues, Lily, they have a fucking emotional death sentence—something—not issues.”

  “All families have problems, Grayson.”

  “Really? What’s yours? Your mom bake too many cookies over Christmas and your dad got fat?”

  Lily pushes me hard and I almost fall over, catching myself with a hand to the ground. “Don’t be an ass to me when I’m trying to help.”

  “Don’t try to help.” I don’t know why I’m being the way I am. I don’t want to hurt Lily, but I can’t seem to stop.

  She stands up, tossing her hands in the air. “I don’t understand you anymore!”

  I get up. “So don’t be around me anymore!” I shout back, wanting to take the words back the second they leave my dumbass mouth.

  Lily opens her mouth, going still. “You don’t mean that,” she says softly.

  I swallow, bending down to grab my glasses from the ground. “Maybe I should.” I jab them onto my face. They’re crooked. I scowl and straighten them.

  She nods. “Yes. Great plan. Push everyone away that has the misfortune to care about your sorry ass. Wonderful plan.”

  “It is a good plan,” I say, having a crazy urge to laugh. Maybe it’s the look on Lily’s face—the look of thorough disgust that’s directed at me.

  Lily giggles. “I’ll make up a rough draft for your mission of idiocy.”

  “Make sure it says ‘Idiot Mission’. Otherwise it won’t work.” I grin, all the anger and pain washing away with her laughter. “Holy fuck, that was cathartic. We should insult each other more often.”

  “Or not. And you shouldn’t even know what that word means. You’re much too smart for a guy.”

  I give her a look. “Hey.”

  Lily sighs and yanks me to her, hugging me tightly. “You’re wrong, you know.” When I stiffen, she adds, “That’s all I’m saying. They love you. I know they do. And no one who knows you could ever think you were anything but meant to be.” Warmth flows over me at her words. Lily pats my back. “You should probably go before you’re late for work. It’s almost two.”

  “Shit.” I run to the car.

  “What time are you done?” she calls after me.

  I yank the door open, banging it against my knee in my haste. “Six!”

  “Pick me up at seven!”

  I don’t have time to process what that means as I hop into the car and pull away.

  ***

  Ana bumps my arm with hers, sloshing water from the glass I’m holding onto my hand. “Thanks for last night. With the dicks from school,” she adds when I questioningly lift an eyebrow.

  I wipe the water from my hand on a towel behind the bar. “No problem. Like you said, they were dicks.”

  “My hero,” she trills, briefly resting the back of her head against my shoulder.

  “You don’t need a hero, Ana. You’re tough enough to take care of yourself.”

  She straightens, an unknown emotion flashing in her eyes and disappearing almost immediately. “Right. That’s me. Tough through and through.” Ana taps her fingernails on the counter. I feel her eyeing me. “Your girlfriend looked at me last night like she wanted to punch me in the face.”

  I look up from the register, giving a customer his change. “What?”

  Ana’s hair is in a ponytail on the side of her head so that it hangs over one shoulder. A forest green sweater accents her curves and skinny jeans show off her toned legs. She gives me a look. “Your girlfriend. She doesn’t like me.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my friend. Which you know. And she doesn’t know you.”

  “She knows she doesn’t like me. What’s up with you two anyway?” Ana washes a few glasses and sets them on a towel to dry.

  “What do you mean?” I wipe off the bar with a wet rag; not really wanting to have the conversation Ana seems set on having.

  “You’re all awkward looks one minute, smoldering glares the next. Why don’t you two just have sex and get it over with?”

  I yank a glass out of her hand, lowering my face toward her so she gets the full effect of how not happy that comment made me.

  Ana laughs and pats my cheek. “Oh, young one, the things you need to figure out before you seriously mess everything up.”

  “Knock it off, Ana,” I mutter, grabbing another customer a beer.

  “You’re in love with her. She might be in love wi
th you. She acts jealous enough.”

  “Her name is Lily,” I grind out. “And you got all that from five minutes in her presence?”

  “Lily’s look said hours of things. Why aren’t you dating?”

  “She’s my best friend.” I try to leave her and the current conversation at the bar, but Ana follows. I straighten the chairs and tables near the window.

  “So? The couples that are meant to be together are best friends.”

  It can’t be that simple, not with Lily and me. “I don’t want to lose her as a friend if things don’t work out.”

  “What if you lose her because you remain just her friend and never make a move?”

  I glare at her. “Don’t you have work to do?”

  Ana juts a hip out and places a hand on it. “Oh, honey, you are more than enough work to keep me busy. Ask her out.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m leaving for college at the end of the summer. I can’t start something and then leave. That would be even worse than not saying anything. I’m trying to do whatever is the least hurtful for Lily. It has to be this way, Ana.”

  “What about you? What about what hurts you? Or don’t you matter in all of this?”

  I shift my eyes from her knowing ones, rubbing my forehead. “It doesn’t matter what I feel or think about any of it. All that matters is Lily.”

  “Wow. You really love her,” she states, holding my gaze.

  I don’t say anything, shifting my jaw as I glower at her. Ana means well, but damn, is she nosy.

  “What’s the real reason you won’t tell her how you feel, Grayson?” Ana quietly asks.

  I swallow around the tenseness of my throat. A lengthy silence ensues. I blink my eyes and look away as I finally say, “I’m not good enough for her.”

  Ana doesn’t speak for a long, long time, and when I can’t stand the silence another second and glance at her, it’s to see an expression of utter sadness on her face.

  “Why don’t you let her decide that?” she says and flounces away to actually do some work.

  The rest of the shift passes quickly and I leave Ana in the company of her parents with acute relief. She mouths, “Tell her,” as I head for the door. I give her a look, her laughter following me from the bar. It’s not that simple. Life is not that simple.

  I’m showered and ready by six-thirty. Lily and I never really said whether or not I am supposed to be going with her to the stupid party—that kind of ended at an impasse, but that was the only thing her comment about me picking her up at seven could have meant, so here I am. Beyond ecstatic.

  I pace the length of my room, glancing at my reflection each time I pass. I messily styled my hair with some goopy stuff and decided to wear my glasses again. My eyes seem to get tired faster when I have contacts in. I put on cologne Lily got for me for Christmas and a black leather tie bracelet I bought at her urging from a flea market last summer. Dark jeans and a black tee shirt with the band name ‘Staind’ on it make up my outfit. My signature shoes are black Converse. Lily has called my style a mix between rocker boy and geeky bookworm.

  I grab my wallet, shoving it into my back pocket as I leave the room. I say a quick goodbye to Aidan and my dad. The earlier incident between my mother and I hasn’t been brought up and I haven’t seen her since before I left for work. That’s how it goes in my house—we pretend what we don’t want to see isn’t really there. Denial at its finest.

  Chapter 10

  I’m not nervous, but I’m not exactly overjoyed to be going to Garrett Adams’s house either. Of course it’s a huge, perfect white house with colorful flowers around it, shade trees in the yard, and a porch with a swing. Everything’s new and clean and I hate it. There is absolutely nothing wrong with the house I live in—it’s new and clean enough too. For some reason I feel like his house is better than my house, which is so fucking ridiculous I can’t even stand myself for having the thought. It’s a house. Next I’ll be forcing him to whip out his dick to see how his compares to mine too. Okay, so I won’t be doing that, but I do have to wonder about that now too.

  “How long are we staying?”

  Apparently she lied for once because Lily is wearing a short jean skirt and a white top and then these hot pink shoes with bows on them and she is in no way dressed inappropriately. I really need to ask her about her shoes one of these days. Her hair is twisted around her head in a seductively messy way and every time I look at it, I want to grab her and kiss her, so clearly she knows what she’s doing. Then again, she probably doesn’t. I sigh.

  She frowns at me. “Until we want to leave. Why? Does your coach turn back into a pumpkin at midnight, or what?”

  “Funny.”

  Mia giggles. “Maybe we should call you Cinderella.”

  The sky is quickly darkening as night descends, the air cool and smelling of fresh grass and rain. Lily drags me to the door, Mia close behind, struggling to keep up. She is dressed in some bright green stretchy dress that looks a size too small. Her hair is curly around her face. I don’t know how she can move in the garment she calls a dress, but I don’t really care either.

  “Or not,” I snap back.

  “Ooooh,” Mia coos, her brown eyes sparkling. She enjoys irritating me entirely too much.

  I turn to Lily. “You know I don’t want to be here.”

  “So why are you?” Mia asks; her eyes sharp on my face as she awaits my response.

  The door opens before I can answer and there stands Garrett Adams with a cheesy grin on his face when his eyes land on Lily. I want to punch him blind so he can never gaze at her again. My fists tighten with longing. He’s wearing a preppy orange polo shirt and faded jeans, his brown hair ridiculously styled so the front is sticking up and the rest of his hair is flat. ‘Springsteen’ by Eric Church is playing loud from what I can tell even before looking is an astronomically expensive sound system. Okay. Now I’m jealous.

  His brown gaze flickers to me, his smile dims—which makes mine appear—and he unenthusiastically opens the door wider. “Lily, Mia…Grayson,” Garrett grinds out, his facial expression showing how distasteful he finds the sound of my name on his lips. Totally mutual, buddy.

  I pat him on the shoulder—hard—and walk into his house. The fact that he is so completely unhappy about my presence at his party has lightened my mood considerably. It’s not like he is going to tell me to leave because if I leave, Lily leaves, and he doesn’t want that to happen. Sucks to be him.

  “You want something to drink?” Garrett says loudly, leaning too close to Lily.

  I stiffen, but Lily just nods.

  The first room, which is probably technically called an entryway, is larger than my living room. The walls are a shade between white and butter, the ceilings high, and the room is packed full of intermingling testosterone and estrogen—i.e. boys and girls. People shout, laugh, and dance around me as I make my way through the highly perfumed mob, getting jostled from the front, back, and sides. Every now and then I catch a whiff of beer or hard liquor.

  Garrett is walking ahead of us, periodically glancing over his shoulder at Lily as he goes. At one point his eyes raise and meet mine. I wink and he quickly turns around with a frown on his face. I’m pretty sure me being here was not part of his ultimate plan to get Lily in his clutches. Should I tell him she wasn’t even going to come unless I came with her? Maybe later.

  “Where are your parents anyway?” Mia asks, practically lying on Garrett’s back to make sure she is close enough to be heard. Or maybe she just wants to lay on him.

  He answers without looking back, “Out of town for the weekend.”

  “So when your parents are gone, you have parties?” Lily asks.

  Garrett grins at her and I feel my face tighten up. “Yeah. Don’t you?”

  She shakes her head, smiling, and I feel sick. I swallow, looking away. Mia is watching me, her eyes large. Great—she is exactly who I don’t need to be paying close attention to my reactions
to Lily and Garrett. I quickly avert my eyes, pretending to find a guy jumping up and down in the middle of the room fascinating.

  “My parents would know if I had a party.”

  “How?” Garrett asks.

  Lily shrugs. “They’re intuitive like that.”

  “Plus you never would do that because you respect your parents and they trust you and you wouldn’t want to ruin that,” I add, looking at Garrett.

  His eyes narrow at the obvious slight. “My parents are okay with me having a few people over.”

  I nod, looking into the packed entryway. “Clearly your math skills are as bad as your basketball ones.”

  Mia snorts and Garrett’s face reddens. He spins around to stalk into the kitchen. Lily widens her eyes at me, but a smile is trying to take over her lips. A couple is making out against the refrigerator and Garrett shoves the guy’s shoulder and they break apart, hurriedly leaving.

  “What’ll you have? Beer, wine cooler, mixed drink? There’s punch too.”

  “Water,” I answer.

  Garrett ignores me, waiting for Lily to reply. “I’ll go with punch. It’s non-alcoholic?” Lily doesn’t drink; a fact I respect her more for, but I also wouldn’t judge her if she decided she wanted to drink. I don’t know if she doesn’t drink because of me or because she just doesn’t want to. Either way, I’m glad.

  “Yep. The punch is alcohol free.”

  “Screw the not drinking. This is a party. I want a beer,” Mia says, opening the fridge and helping herself. She pops the tab of a Busch Light and begins to chug it.

  “I’ll get her punch. Where is it?” I don’t trust Garrett to not put something in her drink.

  “It’s in the other room. I’ll get it.” Garrett puts his hand on Lily’s arm and nods toward the foyer.

  I smile tightly, wanting to fling his hand from her. “I can do it.”

  “But I’m the host, so I should,” he says between clenched teeth, looming toward me.

  Lily shoves herself between the two us, being sure to jab us both in the chest with her elbows. “I’m capable of getting my own drink. Excuse me.” She heads back to the entryway, Mia following.