Past - Age Nineteen
“Lily, wait,” Aspen says, with what might actually be a pleading tone.
The tone alone stops me in my tracks. Aspen never pleads—he demands, but never pleads.
I stand glued to my spot in front of the door. My brain’s telling him to fuck off, that it doesn’t matter whatever words leave his mouth next. But my stupid heart hopes that maybe we can return to the two people who’d managed to openly communicate on the phone over break. It craves it. So my head loses, and my heart wins.
“What?” I ask dejectedly, turning my body to face him. I lean up against the sliding glass door, staring at Aspen and waiting for him to continue.
I’m caught off guard with the look on his face; normally he has a cocky smirk permanently attached to it. The posture of his body, always straight and confident. Right now, he looks almost unsure. There’s an inward slope of his shoulders that isn’t usually there.
He takes a long breath, looking me dead in the eye with a look I can’t decipher. “I just don’t want—”
The glass door slides across my back, causing me to jump and look toward the door.
“There you are!” Selma explains from behind me. I look over her shoulder to find Maverick standing right behind her. “We’ve been looking all over for you.” She gives me her normal sweet smile, and I try to return it but I’m still on edge from whatever Aspen was about to say.
When I turn to face him, I see his uneasy expression has been completely wiped way. Instead, he has on his typical smirk. He takes the last few steps to where I’m standing, blocking the entrance to the door. He puts his hand on my shoulder as he squeezes through.
“Be careful, Lily,” he warns quietly, giving me a quick glance before pushing all the way through the door. “I’ll see you guys later.” Aspen stops for a moment, acknowledging my brother and Selma. Then, he looks at me one more time before disappearing inside.
I wonder for a moment what he was about to say before Selma opened the door, but then I stop myself. At this point, it doesn’t even matter.
“Going to tell me what that was about?” Selma asks. “You’ve been out here for thirty minutes. Were you talking to Aspen that whole time? I thought you guys hated each other?”
I start walking inside and Selma is right on my heels, being awfully persistent with her questions. For someone who’s normally so quiet, she sure is asking a lot. The party is bustling around us. I’m in the middle of sidestepping a couple making out when Selma starts talking. Maverick was left behind, talking to one of his friends.
“Lily?” she asks again, her small hand resting on my shoulder in comfort. Selma isn’t one to pry, and I know she won’t demand that I tell her anything, but I also don’t want her thinking I was sitting out there so long with Aspen—alone.
“It wasn’t anything, Selm. I went out there to get a breath of fresh air. Blaine came over to talk to me, and he actually admitted that he’s had a thing for me. Did you know that?” I swipe my hands over my jeans, looking to her for an answer.
She gives a short shake of her head.
“Well, anyway,” I continue, “I think Blaine was about to kiss me when Aspen walked up. He got moody for some reason. We’ll never know why, because it’s Aspen. We argued, and then you opened the door. That’s it. Now I’m going to party because my head is freaking spinning.” I grab the nearest drink and then gulp it down fast.
When I make eye contact with Selma again, her jaw is hanging right open as she silently watches me. I use the silence to continue to chug the beer. It tastes bitter on my lips, but I ignore the awful aftertaste. Right now I’m just trying to wipe Aspen’s unreadable look from my mind.
I try to think of Blaine instead.
Blaine Wilcox. I’ve had a crush on him for so long I thought it would never become anything more.
“Ahhhh!” a crowd cheers from the left of us. Selma stands beside me as I look toward the noise. It’s a group of our friends playing beer pong, and from the looks of it, the team whose turn it currently is, is having to make trick shots.
I continue to observe the party, taking in all the sights. My gaze stops instantly when I find Aspen watching me from across the way. He’s sitting on a barstool, a new girl’s arm draped over him. She whispers something in his ear, but he doesn’t give any type of response.
Nope—none. All he does is stare at me with a taunting smile.
It makes my stomach feel like Jell-O. I quickly avert my eyes, pulling the beer bottle to my lips only to find it empty. “We need more,” I tell Selma, grabbing her by her skinny elbow and pulling her toward the kitchen—away from Aspen’s weird looks.
“Found you,” a voice whispers in my ear as soon as we walk into the kitchen.
I turn around to find a smiling Blaine, holding a bottle of water. “You did.” My own smile peeks through.
“Can I get you anything?” he asks, placing his hand at the small of my back and directing me toward the counter where all the drinks are fanned out.
“That would be great,” I respond quietly, moving a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
My back feels hot; right between my shoulder blades, I feel this intense heat. I’d blame it on where Blaine’s hand is resting, but his is lower.
This heat is from a gaze.
A gaze across the room I’m trying very hard to ignore.