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“Got it,” Lauren announced when she returned, shaking the small bottle in her hand.
Sylvie sat up from where she’d slumped over on the couch. Instead of accusing her of changing out the Tylenol for cyanide, which was why Lauren had brought the entire pill bottle, Sylvie simply held out her hand.
Lauren slid into the space next to Sylvie on the couch. She handed her the water bottle first so she could open the container with both hands.
With her eyeliner smudged and her honey eyes glossy, Sylvie looked at her as she drank. She was saying something without speaking.
Lauren handed her the two pills. “What?”
Sylvie cocked her head to the side. She was so pensive, it was starting to make Lauren nervous.
“What is it?” Lauren asked again, her heart rate starting to pick up the pace.
“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened at the dance?” Sylvie popped the pills in her mouth and continued drinking her water.
Sylvie’s question shocked Lauren so deeply she dropped the bottle, spilling it’s contents all over the plush area rug.
“What made you ask me that?” She deflected, unsure how to answer the question. Throughout the years, she had wondered about that night more often than she cared to admit.
With the now empty water bottle in her lap, Sylvie shrugged. “I had such a crazy crush on you.”
The confession sent a bolt of electricity rushing down Lauren’s spine, electrifying every nerve in her body.
“You’ve had too much to drink, Syl. Why don’t you get some sleep?” Lauren started to stand, but Sylvie’s fingers around her wrist stopped her.
“Why did you use me? Just to get back at your ex? Or was it to humiliate me?” Sylvie asked as if Lauren had never spoken. She was dead set on having this conversation fifteen years after that night.
“Use you?” Lauren tucked her leg underneath her body to face Sylvie on the couch. “You’re the one who made out with me in the locker room, agreed to go to the dance, and then left with some dude from the Jesuit school as soon as I got there. You did that shit right in my face, and you think you’re the aggrieved party?” Lauren hadn’t realized how fresh the memory was, how vivid the image in her mind. How easily it still triggered her anger.
Sylvie’s face was gentle and beautiful as her eyes widened. “I saw you, Lou,” she explained softly, as if it still stung.
The use of her nickname again melted Lauren’s defenses and sent a rush of heat coursing through her body. She leaned closer to Sylvie, wishing she understood what the hell she was talking about.
“Saw me what? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she promised.
“I saw you talking to her.”
“Who?”
“Lexi.”
Lauren leaned against the couch’s backrest. It took a beat to connect the name to a face. She’d dated Alexis so briefly, she hadn’t thought about her in over a decade.
“I’m not mad anymore. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters,” Sylvie announced to her vaulted ceiling.
“I don’t remember talking to her, Syl. But even if I did, what does that matter?” Lauren wasn’t connecting the fifteen-year-old dots.
Sylvie rolled her head to the side, still resting on the backrest. She looked at Lauren for a long time, her expression unreadable.
“You embarrassed me,” she explained. “Congratulations. You made a fool of me. I really thought you were into me, but you planned on getting back with your ex the whole time. Or maybe you never broke up with her at all. As long as you got to laugh at me, right?”
The words tore through Lauren, shredding her chest. “That’s what you’ve thought all these years?” Unable to stop herself despite the considerable risk of rejection, Lauren reached out and took her hand. “Want to know what I thought?”
After a long, slow exhale, Sylvie nodded, her fingers intertwined with Lauren’s. The touch was intimate. Too intimate. With a squeeze, Sylvie retracted her hand, leaving Lauren’s skin tingling.
Focusing on the accusation, Lauren straightened. “I believe you saw me talking to Lexi. She was really dramatic and didn’t take our breakup well.” It was all she remembered about the girl. That and her very long acrylic nails. She might still have a tiny scar in an unfortunate location from them. “But I never got back together with her, Syl. When I walked into the auditorium and watched you draped on some baseball douche, I thought you were the one having a good laugh at my expense.”
Sylvie winced. “You were so close to each other while you were talking to her.”
