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“Frankie,” Ian began, and I held up a hand.
“Don’t.”
“You’re mad…”
“Am I?” I crossed one ankle over the other. “Want to give me more details on my feelings and behaviors since you four all appear to be the experts on deciding what I get to do and to feel as well as know?”
He sighed. “Fine, maybe we deserve that.”
“No, maybe about it.”
That seemed to shut him up. “Accepted. We deserve that.” Not for long apparently. “I want to make excuses, but you were right. I knew that they were planning something, and I didn’t say a word. I’m sorry.” Well, at least he was talking for himself and not the others.
Not that it helped much.
The sliding door opened, letting the other three out, but I shifted my gaze to where the gate had opened and the first partygoers began arriving. Jeremy wasn’t sending them through the house, but around it. I was almost grateful for the new arrivals and the distraction they offered.
The first couple of people were kids I recognized, but I didn’tknowthem. Not far behind them were several members of the football team. Ian rose after a long moment and brushed my shoulder gently before he headed over to greet them. The sun had begun to dip, and the lights added a kind of moody glow over the area. In a little over thirty minutes, there must have been fifty people who’d shown up, including—and unsurprisingly—Rachel Manning and her little posse of girls. Maria, Patty, and Sharon arrived at some point.
I probably wouldn’t have noticed, except Laura Zaverman came over and claimed the lounge chair Ian had abandoned. Holding a can of soda in one hand, she perched on the edge of the chair and the only way to avoid looking at her would have been to turn my back.
I’d made it thirty minutes.
Thirty more, and I’d ditch. I still had no idea where I’d go, but driving around in the car had to be better than this.
“Hi,” Laura said.
“Hey.” To be honest, I didn’t know Laura. We had a grand total of maybe two classes together in the last five years. Maybe. That was a stretch. The only thing we had in common, I think, was Coop. Not really a way to open a conversation. Especially since a little over a week ago, she thought they were still dating.
Yeah. Cue uncomfortable silence. Particularly when the best thing I could think of was at least her sitting there was better than Patty or Maria who were both pissed at me, or Sharon, who probably wanted to punch me.
She lifted her soda and took a drink, her gaze skipping past me briefly then back. “I know this is kind of awkward, I don’t think we’ve really ever talked before.”
“Not much, no,” I said, then because I didn’t want to be more of an asshole than I already felt like, I dredged up a smile. “How are you?”
“I’m—confused.”
Fuck. I just invited this conversation.
“I’m sorry. Confused is not fun.” There, door closed.
“No,” she said, then glanced past me again. The hopeful smile on her face was painful. More, it told me what, or more precisely, who was there. “Hey Coop.”
I did not sigh or roll my eyes. He dropped to sit on the lounge chair next to me. “Hey Laura,” he said, his tone cool. “I didn’t know you were coming to the party.”
“I didn’t know I was coming either.” She glanced from Coop to me, then back again. “But I’m glad I’m here. Do you think we can talk?”
“We’re talking.” Oh, I knew that tone. He was going to be an ass. “What’s up?”
“I kind of meant…” Laura hesitated, glancing between us, and I elbowed Coop.
“I can take off if you two need to talk.” But before I could go anywhere, Coop latched onto my arm.
“No, you don’t need to go anywhere,” he said, then looked at Laura. “You can say anything you need to say in front of Frankie.”
Oh. God.
I was going to kill him. “No, she can’t, don’t be a douche.”
