22
MORGAN
“Why are we going to the lacrosse party again?” Lydia whines, swiping another coat of mascara on her eyelashes.
“Come on, it’s a rite of passage, and Morgan’s never been,” Allie says. “Everybody should experience the splendor of hanging out with a bunch of drunk lacrosse bros at least once in their high school years, right?”
“But why do I have to suffer along with you?”
“Wow, you guys are not exactly selling it here,” I say, trying to sound cool about it even though I really, really want to go. Just the idea of seeing Ruby again, especially Natural Habitat Ruby and not Freaking Out Over a Group Project Ruby or Beauty Queen Ruby, has me ridiculously intrigued. So ridiculously intrigued, in fact, that I’m willing to risk running into the Miller twins again to do it.
“Lydia’s just being dramatic,” Allie says, shimmying into a tight gold tank top. “They’re always fun, plus free booze for the girls. Only the guys get charged.”
“That part is nice,” Lydia admits. “Though self-serving and mildly to moderately dangerous at the same time.”
“So . . . what are you wearing tonight?” Allie asks me, pointedly changing the subject.
“Uh, this?” I gesture to the clothes I have on.
“Uh, no,” she says, teasing me. “You cannot go to a party in track shorts and a band T-shirt. Sorry.”
“I like track shorts and band T-shirts,” I say. Except then I think about Ruby and how she might want to see me out of my uniform just as bad I want to see her out of hers. Wait, that came out wrong . . . Or maybe it didn’t. I don’t even know anymore.
“I’ve got something better,” Lydia says, disappearing into her closet and coming out with skintight black jeans and a tank top that’s barely there.
“I think this is too small,” I say, and then realize it laces up the whole entire back. “It’s not even a shirt. It’s like half a shirt. That’s—”
“Entirely the point,” Lydia says, shoving me into her bathroom to get changed.
Twenty minutes later, we’re all piled into Allie’s car.
“Where is this party, anyway?” I ask.
“Oh, not far,” she says. “We could walk there if I weren’t in these shoes.”
“Yeah, it’s at Tyler Portman’s house,” Lydia says. “His dad travels a ton for work, and his mom usually goes with him, so it’s just him. He’s been hosting killer parties since we were fourteen.”
“Tyler Portman?” I ask, my stomach twisting. As in the Tyler Portman that Ruby was, and possibly still is, hooking up with?
I tug at my clothes, suddenly feeling even more exposed and off my game. At least if I were still wearing my old stuff I could hop out and run away. In this, I’m effectively trapped. But seriously, what is Ruby trying to pull?
“He’s an epic dude-bro, but what can you do?” Allie says. “He has the best parties, and he’s actually pretty sweet once you talk to him.”
“Since when do you actually talk to him?” Lydia scoffs.
“Since sometimes,” she says with a smirk.
“Oh my god, are you hooking up with Tyler now?” Lydia groans and shakes her head, but Allie just laughs.
“I can neither confirm nor deny. But if I were, it would just be a super-casual, no-strings-attached thing. Like, we’re not exclusive or anything. Not yet, anyway.”
“You little shit,” Lydia says, punching her arm. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”
“It’s new. Very new.”
And I flop against my seat with a smile. Maybe it’s a coincidence that Ruby’s first real invite to me was to his house. Maybe she’s done with Tyler, and this is her way of telling him that. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Granted, I’ve never been to a house party before, but I thought I had a pretty low bar for being impressed. Now that I’m here, I realize it should have been even lower, like to the basement floor. It’s super crowded as we push through the house to the kitchen, Allie leading the way, laughing and shouting, “It’s beer time, bitches!”
The music thumps hard enough to make the walls rattle, and everything’s sticky and smells like sweat and stale beer. I have never wanted to be someplace less—and that’s before I notice Ruby grinding against a bunch of the lacrosse guys.
Okay, scratch everything I thought in the car. I’m out.
I turn to leave, but Allie stops me, two beers in her hands. She gives me one and raises the other one in the air, dancing into the middle of the living room to a chorus of catcalls. Charming place, really, this house full of dumb boys.
Lydia comes up beside me then with her own cup, raising an eyebrow at our dancing friend. “Allie eats this shit up,” she says, taking a hefty swig of beer. I follow suit, trying not to cough when the warm, foamy liquid hits the back of my throat.
“Is it always this gross?” I shift my weight to unstick my feet from the floor, not entirely sure if I’m talking about the beer or literally everything else.
Lydia nods, downing the rest of her beer in a gulp while watching Allie in the crowd, her jaw slightly tense, head tilted . . . and a longing in her eyes that nearly matches mine.
“Holy shit, Lydia, do you like—”
“I’m going to get more beer.” She cuts me off with a look that says Drop it before disappearing into the crowd.
Interesting. Maybe I’m not the only queer girl with a hopeless crush tonight.
Anika and Drew are off in the corner, and as soon we notice one another, they start beckoning me over. I’m moving through the crowd, getting jostled here and there. When I’m almost to them, I do a little half wave thing in greeting at the exact moment some kid steps back, sending what’s left of my beer sloshing all over us both.
“What the hell!” he shouts, turning around like he intends to maul me . . . which is the exact second a hand wraps around my waist and pulls me backward.
“Sorry, Travis,” Ruby calls over her shoulder, leading us away. “She didn’t mean it.”
The kid, Travis, apparently, shakes his head, picking at his beer-soaked shirt and wringing it out.
“You came!” Ruby shouts over the din of the music, pulling me to the opposite corner of the dance floor. I can tell right away she’s drunk, but I try to ignore it because she looks so legitimately happy to see me. I glance over at Anika and Drew, who give me twin puzzled expressions, and mouth a quick apology.
“I guess I was bored,” I shout back, and the song switches, the beat throbbing against the dance floor. Ruby smiles so big and wide I almost drown in it. I am so screwed, so absolutely lost in this girl in front of me, this girl who’s grinning like seeing me is the best thing that happened to her all day.
Ruby catches her long hair in her hands, pulling it up to the top of her head and letting it cascade down over her shoulders as she starts to dance. Thanks for that, universe. I’m definitely never forgetting this moment for as long as I live.
“I love this song!” she shouts, moving even closer until she’s brushing up against me with every move. I stand still and awkward, not sure what the rules are in this situation, if this performance is for me . . . or for everyone else.
“Dance with me,” she whispers in my ear, spinning me around so she’s behind me, and a full-body blush shoots fire down my skin.
She puts her hands on my hips, pushing and pulling me until I find the rhythm, her body pressed against my back, her breath on my shoulder as she sings along. She slides her fingers from my hip to my hand without warning, interlacing our fingers and then running them across my stomach. My breath catches as she dips them a little lower, just beneath the waistband of Lydia’s too-tight pants, before twirling me around to face her. I lose the beat then, laughing as she bites her lip. She releases my hand, grazing her fingers up my sides and then down my neck, her hands everywhere and nowhere until it’s just us on the dance floor, her leg slotted between mine as the whole world falls away.
“I know you like me,” she whispers into my ear. And I . . . I don’t know what to do. She pulls my hands around her neck and dips her head onto my shoulder, a flick of her tongue against my skin before she pulls back, wiping her lip like it was just a stray drop of beer. I am lost, utterly, in the feel of her body under my fingertips . . .
And then people start whooping and catcalling, and I realize just how many of the lacrosse boys are watching, cheering and clapping at the spectacle of us. I hate it.
Ruby is still dancing, reveling in the attention and not noticing I’ve lost the beat. And then Tyler comes up behind her, turning our twosome into a threesome, and I stop dancing altogether. The beer churns in my stomach, drowning all the butterflies as his hands touch her skin.
Tyler grabs Ruby’s hips and pulls her toward him. She laughs, never missing a beat, and I dart off the dance floor and up the stairs, like some girl in a horror movie, not knowing where I’m going but just needing to get away. Fitting for this nightmare scenario. I find an empty room and run to the window, flinging it open and gulping down the cool night air.
A hand comes up and rubs my back, and I jump, my stupid hopeless brain praying it’s Ruby. But it’s not. It’s Anika standing there, with Drew behind her shooting me a knowing glance.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Anika says, and I don’t even realize I’m crying until she pulls me into a hug.
“I just, I don’t know.” I sniffle into her shoulder. “I don’t get it. I thought she liked me.”
“She’s a mess, Morgan,” Drew says, squeezing my shoulder with a sympathetic look.
“But what does she want?” I whine, like they’re going to know. I don’t even think she knows. “I said I would never do this again—fall for the girl who’ll most screw with my head. And I did—like, textbook. What is wrong with me?”
“Hey, hey, stop,” Anika says. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Why don’t we get out of here? We’re meeting the rest of the gang at the diner. Come with us.”
“I dragged Allie and Lydia here just so I could see Ruby.” I laugh, short and bitter. “I can’t ditch them.”
“Really?” Drew asks, looking hesitant to leave me. “I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“I can’t.” I don’t want to admit that a tiny part of me is still hoping Ruby will magically appear and apologize.
Anika and Drew exchange a look. “I know we aren’t best friends or anything,” she says. “But even I can tell how much this is upsetting you. Just come with us, please? We’ll talk it out over bad food and worse lighting. Aaron’s coming too. He can go full peer counselor on you.”
I shake my head. “I just need a minute to pull myself together. But go, have fun. I’m good, I swear.”
Anika pulls me into an awkward hug. “Okay, well, text us if you need us.”
“Will do,” I say, and I force out a smile.
It turns out “a minute” was a poor estimation. I take more like fifteen, actually, sitting on the floor, calming down my stomach, nursing my whiplashed libido, and trying really hard not to cry over the fact that the most intense romantic experience of my life may have just been a show Ruby was putting on for her bang buddy, Tyler, and his friends.
The hopelessly naive part of me still hopes that I’m wrong and that Ruby never came up because she’s still downstairs looking for me. Maybe she already told Tyler off, but I have no idea because she can’t find me while I’m up here pouting instead of fighting for the girl I want.
I scrape my ego off the floor and head down, taking a deep breath as I turn the corner, only to immediately bump into Lydia.
“There you are!” She looks pissed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
“What’s going on?”
She links her arm around mine and pulls. “We’re leaving. Now. Allie’s in the car sobbing her brains out.”
“Why? What happened?” I swear to god, if any of these boys touched her or hurt her in any way, I’ll—
“That happened,” she says, pointing behind us.
I turn my head just in time to see Tyler dip Ruby on the dance floor, nuzzling her neck and kissing her behind her ear. Her head turns as he pulls her up, her sleepy eyes meeting mine, widening just a bit before squeezing shut when he kisses the corner of her mouth.
“That fucking asshole,” Lydia says, glaring at Tyler as she pulls me out the door. “Leading Allie on like that, making her think it was more than it was.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “That asshole.”