Page 16 of The Last Special Thing

For the duration of the party, Weston was there. She could feel him, whether he was next to her or keeping tabs on her from across the room. For a single girl, she had the feeling she was in trouble. Art must have picked up on the energy as he kept his distance the rest of the night. She was dreading having to explain to him why the guy she wasn’t dating was weirdly territorial.

When the sun tucked behind the horizon, the night shifted. Scratchy blankets were pulled from the various units in the complex and dragged across the grass. The beer pong champions, with their tribal tattoos, hauled a couch out from their unit—a decision they would regret in the morning when sprinklers soaked the furniture.

“It’s time!” Max yelled from atop the folding table, hands up in offering to the sky. He kicked cups from the earlier games of beer pong onto the grass.

“Babe, can you come down?” Madisson asked, her eyes darted from the ground to where he wobbled.

He listened, but as he stepped to get off, his foot slipped on the spilled beer that coated the table.

Madisson raced over to him. He lay, looking up, laughing manically.

“Let’s get you inside,” Madisson said. She pressed a light kiss to his forehead.

Max pushed himself to his feet, and Art appeared from the shadows. He offered his shoulder as a crutch to help Max get back on his feet.

“I’m going to see the fireworks!” Max insisted, trying to dodge their aid.

The universe did Madisson a solid. A blue explosion boomed overhead.

Madisson sighed in relief as Art hobbled Max over to a plastic chair. Madisson relocated a second chair beside him. They sat together and watched the illuminated sky. Madisson’s hand slipped into Max’s.

Amelia chewed on the inside of her cheek. She may never understand Madisson’s attraction to Max, but Madisson loved him.

Weston moved next to Amelia and reached his arm around her. At his touch, she shrugged him off. It felt wrong; he never loved her in the way Madisson loved Max. She didn’t want his feeble attempt at affection tonight. Especially not when she had just been kissing someone else.

“What?” he asked, a smile not reaching his eyes.

“I don’t want to right now.”

He nodded but said nothing, letting his arms hang limp by his side. It reminded Amelia of when he didn’t reach for her hand earlier in the day. A parallel that he would never draw. Likely had no idea of the could-have-been moment from earlier. He had never been observant, certainly not of her.

While fireworks had always enchanted Amelia, the day's activity had caught up with her. She didn’t feel as drunk as much as she was depleted from the sun and her adventure with Art. Her shoulders slumped, and during a pause in the fireworks, she turned to Weston.

“Let’s go home,” she said.

She waved to Madisson. Max was passed out in the chair beside her, head back and mouth open. Madisson gave an apologetic wave back. Art was talking to a couple of other guys near the bear pong table, and she threw him a smile. He wiggled his fingers and raised an eyebrow. The guy beside him nudged his waist, breaking his eye contact.

Amelia and Weston snaked through the crowds, stepping over littered beer cans and red cups strewn around the courtyard. Even after they’d made their way down the block and away from the party, music reverberated in her ears.

“You’re good to drive?” Amelia asked.

“Yeah. I mostly smoked.”

Once in the passenger seat, Amelia closed her eyes. She must have dozed off, waking as the car slowed to a stop in front of her house.

“You want me to come in?” Weston offered as he stepped out.

“No, I got it. Thanks, though.”

They evaluated each other in her driveway, their over-the-top outfits resembling costumes in the late night.

“Goodnight then,” Weston said.

“Goodnight,” she replied.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked toward his house, shoulders hunched forward. It was the right decision.

Amelia made her way through the back gate to her flat. As soon as she turned on her bedroom light, her parents' light then flicked off. A gentle reminder that someone was always making sure she got home safe. At one point, she had found it overbearing, but tonight, it was comforting. She wondered who would care when she got home, once she was in college —hopefully someone.