I stop twirling the joint. “Like what?”
“She said it was fine if Aeron drank and smoked. I gave him that joint from your stash in the basement.”
I pull my hand from my pocket. “How do you know about my stash?”
“Bro.”
I smirk. Fair enough.
“Anyway.” Carter gestures at me. “You’re here and you took the joint, so it seems like June changed her mind.”
I think about June encouraging Aeron to relax, and my mouth curves. That must’ve cost her. June’s whole operating system runs on vigilance and gripping the people she loves tightly. Giving Aeron space to drink at a frat party goes against every protective instinct she has. I picture her saying the words to Carter, trying to keep her voice casual, and the image makes my face hurt from smiling. She’s learning to loosen her grip. That’s not a small thing for someone who holds on like she does.
I’m proud of her.
“Nah, she didn’t tell me to come,” I say and settle back against the wall. “I needed a break from studying and I guess I wanted to check up on Aeron myself. Can’t let my girlfriend’s younger brother get in trouble. That wouldn’t be good for our relationship.”
Carter’s palm claps my shoulder. “Bro. You said it out loud.”
“I haven’t quite asked her yet, but I figured I’m her boyfriend, right?”
He laughs and his whole body leans forward from it. One of his Hargrove friends pulls him back into the other conversation but Carter glances back, grinning at me over his shoulder.
I rest against the wall and watch the room. The bass is vibrating through the floor into my shoes. I check my phone. How long has Aeron been gone? I don’t know what time it was when he left, but it feels like a long time.
I wait some more, scanning the room and hoping to see him coming back. He doesn’t so I check the time again. Ten more minutes have passed. I know party bathroom lines can be long, but this feels like too much.
I tap Carter’s arm. “I’m gonna find Aeron.”
“Cool,” Carter says without turning.
The hallway bathroom is occupied. I wait for it to open. A girl comes out adjusting her skirt. Aeron’s not in the line either. I check the line for the second bathroom upstairs. He’s not there.
I find a few more bathrooms, but still no Aeron anywhere. I start checking more places. Bedrooms that are open, hallways, a den. No Aeron.
Back downstairs I check the living room. A game room. Laundry room. An office. The front porch. Pool. I check everywhere I can think of. No Aeron.
My fingers find the joint in my pocket again and I roll it faster.
I text him:Where are you? Let’s smoke.
The message is delivered but unread, so I wait. I lean against the kitchen counter and wait. Two minutes. Five. The party noise filters in from the other rooms. I check my phone again. Still unread.
Ten minutes.
I push off the counter and go back through the house. I’m extra methodical now. Where the hell is he? If he’s hooking up, fine, but he’d besomewhere.Did he leave?
I call his phone. It rings and rings and then goes to voicemail so I disconnect. I continue checking every room—startling a few people on beds hooking up—every corner, every cluster of people on every piece of furniture. I ask a guy by the front door if he saw a tall kid in a black jacket leave. He shrugs.
I check the side yard. The driveway. Loop back through the patio. I finally notice that the backyard doesn’t end at the row of bushes. There’s a small path to another section of yard, leading to an area that’s bathed in darkness.
I walk there and my eyes adjust. It seems to be a garden area with some solar lights. I don’t know why he’d be here unless he found some girl to make out with. I smile at the thought. I hope that’s the case. The kid deserves it.
I walk the cobblestone path. Ground solar lights mark the way in small halos. There are bare branches overhead, stretching toward the night sky.
“Aeron,” I call out.
Nothing.
