Barn Party, aLewellen Welcome Weekend tradition, was exactly what it sounded like: an all-day party in a field abutting a barn.
Kegs sat on the ground next to pickups. Striped wool blankets lay strewn over truck beds. People were everywhere. A group of girls in matching T-shirts squatted together for a group photo. Boys in Greek letters were pitching a tent. Countless bodies were stacked on top of each other in lawn chairs, attempting to make the most of every available seat. A group in the center was commandeering the music with an amp so loud its vibrations shook the grass. A few cars were attempting to compete, blaring Rihanna, Kendrick Lamar, and a country artist I didn’t recognize.
Binge drinking aside, there was something almost wholesome about it all. A Norman Rockwell portrait of Midwestern collegiate debauchery.
“This reminds me of the ‘Party in the USA’ music video,” Laurel said before wandering off with Petey in the direction of a cornhole game.
Solo cups snapped under my feet. Ethan winced at the red trash scattered every which way. “So much plastic,” he murmured.
“Is this your nightmare?” I asked.
He looked at me, his eyes bright. “Nah. This is the dream.” He slung his arm over my shoulders, and I caught sight of his tattoo. It looked almost exactly like the flowers in the photoI’d sent to him of the two of us lying at the top of the waterfall, our heads knocking together. The waterfall I never did dive off of. Maybe college could be my second chance.
Ethan and I took a lap around the field, sizing up the party, but still found ourselves irresistibly drawn to the people we’d arrived with. Laurel and I made it two rounds into a contentious flip cup tournament before getting knocked out of the bracket by Petey’s hockey teammates. At some point, the RAV4 behind us started blaring “See You Again” through the open hatchback, so naturally, Petey wept as he recalled the plot ofFurious 7.
“That’s really beautiful, man,” Ethan told him, comforting his buddy and validating his deeply felt opinions on the poignancy of big-budget action movies. But then a Demi Lovato song streamed through the speakers, and Ethan and Petey swiftly downshifted into what appeared to be an intricately choreographed dance routine.
Everything about the four of us together felt like old times, and still, I couldn’t quite settle into our new dynamic.
For one, Laurel and Petey werealwaystouching. If he wasn’t stealing her sunglasses off her face in that way men tease women they’re hoping to have sex with, she was “noticing” another one of the stupid tattoos he’d inked after losing a bet.
“Are those the lyrics of ‘We Belong Together’ encircling a DQ Blizzard?”
She traced the cursive with the tip of her finger, face equal parts disbelief and unfathomable arousal. He whispered something in her ear and she practically cackled. What could Petey possibly be saying that would make her laugh like that?
In the time it took Ethan and me to assemble our pop-uptent, Laurel was on the hood of a car with her tongue down Petey’s throat.
“Well, that seemed inevitable,” I said to Ethan, pointing them out.
His hair fell onto his forehead in handsome wisps that made my fingers tingle with the urge to touch it. If for no other reason than to compare it to the feeling of his freshly buzzed hair in my memories. “Oh yeah, Petey lost his mind when Lo said she was transferring. You know he’s, like, fully in love with your sister?”
I laughed. “What?”
“He compared her to a mermaid who would put a curse on a sea captain. But in a hot way.”
“How…” Unease swirled in my stomach. “They hardly know each other.”
He shrugged. “They know each other as well as we do.”
Before I could fully consider who it was I didn’t know as well as I’d thought—my best friend or my sister—Ethan began reintroducing me to old friends from middle school who pretended to remember me, my face vague to them like an old locker combination. When the sun went down, and he left to relieve himself behind a tree, I helped my new/old friends build the bonfire with a group of seniors who looked like honest-to-god adults.
“Here.” The only girl who looked about my age passed me a long stick. “Just poke at the fire. As long as you look busy, no one will send you out into the woods for kindling.”
“Ooh. I like that strategy,” I replied, taking it from her. “I was planning to stare into the flames and look generally unapproachable, but this works too.”
She laughed generously, the crackling firelight dancing onher face. “Always good to have a backup option if the stick breaks. I’m Sadie, by the way.”
“Charley.”
“Oh, I know,” she said back, flicking her brown bangs out of her eyes. “You’re the famous Chuck.”
“Famous,” I repeated, hoping my tone didn’t mirror the sinking feeling in my stomach. I didn’t know of Sadie, but Sadie knew of me. She knew of “Chuck,” which for some reason had me feeling like I was dangling over a ledge.
“You’re Ethan’s ‘friend from Canada.’ ” Her eyes sized me up, and I had to summon every ounce of confidence to keep looking back at her with an unbothered gaze. “That’s what we call you. We knew you were real, but Ethan’s fun to tease. I mean,youknow. He’s so cute when he’s annoyed.”
“Yeah,” I said, watching her eyes measure my response.
The truth was, I didn’t know whether Ethan looked cute when he was annoyed because I hadn’t been in the same room with him since the eighth grade. I only knew thatSadiethought he did. Sadie, with her Cool Girl bangs and her beachy waves that looked undone in a way that would’ve taken me hours but probably justhappenedto her.
