I don’t like that he’s right.
I don’t like that the person who’s made me dance is the same girl I’ve spent years trying to get away from. I don’t like that someone — anyone — has the capacity to do this to me. I have spent a long time making sure nobody had this kind of power over me.
Benson sips his water. “She brings it out of you, huh.”
I don’t answer.
He leans in and says, “That’s not the worst thing in the world.”
“Cap.” I shake my head. “She has a boyfriend.”
Benson goes still for one second. He doesn’t look at me when he answers. “Yeah.” A beat. “Right. I forgot.” Another pause. “Be careful with that, then.”
“Yeah.” I refill my glass at the sink. “I took your advice about the friend thing.”
He nods. “Good.”
He doesn’t say anything else.
I drink the second glass and head back toward the living room.
Mila is just walking in, so I stop to let her through. She doesn’t move. I make my way to walk past her.
“Blue.”
She isn’t looking at me. She’s looking at her drink. The light from the kitchen behind me is hitting half her face and leaving the other half in shadow, and her mouth is small and tight, and she takes one slow sip of whatever’s in her cup before she speaks.
“Don’t get used to it.”
I look at her. “To what?”
She looks up at me, finally. “To her.”
I open my mouth.
She doesn’t let me get there. She walks past me into the kitchen.
Don’t get used to Melly.
I don’t know what she means.
I think I know what she means.
I think she meansdon’t get used to her being nice to you. Don’t get used to her being in your jersey. Don’t get used to this version of her because this version is a Halloween version, and the costume’s going to come off, and on Sunday morning she’s going to wake up in her apartment and go back to being a girl with a boyfriend who isn’t you, and you’re going to go back to being a guy she hooked up with from high school, and that’s all you’ll ever be, Golding. So don’t get used to it.
That is what she means. That has to be what she means.
I don’t let myself wonder if she meant something else. I don’t let myself wonder why a girl who hates me just gave me a piece of advice instead of slapping me across the face.
I walk into the living room because that’s where Melly is.
The party thins out around midnight.
Mara has disappeared with Drew. Stanley has passed out on the couch with his mouth open and one shoe off. Mila is on her phone next to Stanley. Rowan is in the corner talking to Gianna about something I can’t hear and probably don’t want to. Penelope, Lucy, and Benson are at the kitchen table with cups of water.
Melly and I are at the island. She’s on a barstool, knees pulled up under the hem of my jersey. I’m leaning against the counter beside her with my arms crossed.
“Do you remember Mrs. Hartley’s English class?” she asks.
