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I’ll keep searching for Lizzie and hopefully, Brett will wrap up whatever he’s got going on. A handful of minutes later, I spot my bestie’s dark head in the crowd. Relief pumps through me as I push my way toward her.
“Hey! Where have you been?” Before she can respond, I throw my arms wide. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
“Oh, sorry!” She bites her lower lip and glances away. “There are so many people here; I got a little lost in the crowd. I shouldn’t have left you like that.”
Her apology has my irritation draining away. Now we can get out of here. The last thing I want is to chance another run-in with Ty, especially if he’s making out with Heather.
Or any girl, for that matter. All it will do is drive the knife further into my heart.
With a tilt of my head, I inspect Lizzie a little more carefully and realize how disheveled her appearance is. Her hair isn’t as fluffed up as when we arrived, and her lipstick has been chewed off. My eyes narrow. It’s almost as if she’s been—
“Are you two ready to leave?” my brother asks, appearing out of nowhere.
“Yeah,” she blurts, “this place is lame. I’m ready to go.”
I’m glad we’re both on the same page.
Yesterday, I had been looking forward to the long summer stretched out ahead of me. But the last thirty minutes have changed that. I can’t wait to get out of here and meet some new people. More than anything, I want to forget all about this stupid crush. The only problem is that Ty also attends State. Luckily, it’s a huge campus. With a little careful planning on my part, I should be able to avoid him for the foreseeable future.
As crappy as this night turned out to be, maybe it’s the kick in the teeth I needed to face facts and move on with my life.
Ty will never see me as anything more than Brett’s little sister.
And there’s nothing I can do to change that.
Danielle
Since Lizzie downed a couple of drinks earlier, Brett insisted on driving us home from the party in the family station wagon—or the woody—as we fondly refer to it.
“Sorry for ruining your night,” I mutter from the backseat.
In answer, he jerks his shoulders into a tight shrug, continuing to stare at the black ribbon of road stretched out in front of him. Honestly, I’m a little surprised he hasn’t chewed my ass out for showing up at his friend’s party. Instead, he’s remained stoically silent.
My attention swings to Lizzie who sits next to him in the front seat. As soon as we reached the wagon, she called shotgun, beating me to the punch. She, too, has been strangely quiet which isn’t like her at all. Lizzie is usually a chatterbox who talks a mile a minute.
When neither fills the uncomfortable void, I clear my throat and direct my attention to her. “You never mentioned where you disappeared off to.”
Lizzie’s gaze flits to mine in the rearview mirror before darting away. “Oh, nowhere in particular. I was just mingling.”
When she says nothing more on the topic, I raise a brow. Yeah...I don’t think so. My guess is that Lizzie was making out with someone, and I’m dying to know who the boy in question was.
“Really? Is that why your hair is a mess, and your makeup has been rubbed off?” Give me a break. “From mingling?”
Her hand rises to her dark hair before running a palm over it, trying—and failing—to smooth it down. She shoots a glance in my brother’s direction, but he continues to stare at the windshield as if he’s not listening to a word we’re saying. Which, in all likelihood, he’s probably not. He doesn’t give a damn about girl talk. I’m used to him tuning me out and pretending I don’t exist.
Before I can fire off any more questions, Brett reaches over and turns on the radio, cranking up the music. The post-punk sounds of U2 fill the interior of the station wagon.
“I love this song!” Lizzie says, some of her previous stiffness melting away.
Brett glances at her in surprise. “Joshua Tree is my favorite album.”
“I just bought it last week. I’m so stoked to see them in concert this summer.”
“Yeah,” he gives her a penetrating look, as if noticing her for the first time, “me, too.”
She grins as their gazes cling in the darkness. “What’s your favorite song?”
It’s almost like I’m not even here, which is strange. When did these two actually start conversing with one another? Usually, Brett disses her, and Lizzie makes a meathead jock comment in response.
“Who can pick just one?” he fires back. “They’re all amazing.”
My face scrunches as my attention bounces between them.
“True.” Lizzie twists toward him on the seat. “But if I held a gun to your head, which one would you choose?”
