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I turn my focus to getting Lily ready for the party instead, and I’m relieved when Brooklyn joins me. Despite my own shortcomings and personal mental shit, Lily deserves to have our—my—real friendship. I want to give it to her. There’s a lot of baggage between her and Theo, and as much as she wants to hide in the shadows whenever he’s around, there’s a part of her that wants to haunt him. I recognize it because it’s the parts of her and I that are alike.
By the time we leave our room and head down to the main courtyard to meet one of the guys who will guide us to this secret lair or whatever, Brooklyn and I have managed to turn Lily into a sex kitten, swapping out her school uniform blouse for my black wrap-around shirt. Brooklyn looks as polished as she always does, like a CEO about to seduce her assistant. And I went with the green, not because it makes me feel good, but because Lily picked it.
I’m trying.
“Ladies, this way,” Cameron says, rolling his hand out like a maître de.
We follow his drunk, high ass over to the back side of the library where James is prying open a door that looks to have been buried under vines for years. They seem to have invited a few other people, which is both a relief and a disappointment. James and Cameron usher the dozen or so of us through the door into the dimly lit archive room for the library. I’ve never seen this place.
My chest tightens as soon as the door locks shut behind us. I haven’t been to a party since the night of the accident. I can’t cling to the girls all night, though, despite how tempting that idea is. My head doesn’t play as many tricks on me when I’m with friends. Alone, I feel the running commentary. I can’t shake this sense that the world is looking at me and wondering what is wrong.
What is wrong with me?
“Lily.” Theo’s voice breaks up my nerves, but I can tell it has only spiked Lily’s. I lean into her and squeeze her arm.
“Look, an olive branch. Go talk to him.” I give my friend a nudge toward the source of her heartache, and it makes her stumble a tad. I wince when she glances over her shoulder at me.
“Sorry,” I mouth.
Brooklyn peels away next, accepting a drink from Cameron and laughing easily at one of his dumb jokes. Their friendship is simple.Easy.I envy that.
An instant chill crawls up my arms then down my spine. Somewhere over the last year or two, I’ve lost the confidence I once had being alone. I used to feel comfortable in my own skin, solid with my self-worth. My spiral started around the time I stepped into an elevator downtown my freshman year and found my father inside with his hand up some woman’s skirt. Spoiler alert—she was not my mom.
It's not that I was oblivious to his infidelity. None of us were.Are.It’s still happening on the regular. Over the last few years, I’ve come to realize that my father has never been discreet. He was so casual that day on the elevator, asking me what party I was going to or coming back from. His fifteen-year-old daughter walking around unaccompanied in hotels for penthouse parties hosted by celebrities was of no concern to him. In fact, it was the first time I ever felt as if he was bragging to someone about having a semi-famous daughter. He showed me off, in his own way.To his mistress.
“Welcome toTheo’s Lair.” James’s warm voice snakes around my shoulders and I turn into him, our bodies close. He’s wearing a fitted white T-shirt and faded jeans that hang on his hips, his dark brown hair combed back minus the few stray strands that have disobeyed and fallen on his forehead. He’s holding two drinks, whiskey from the looks of them. He hands one to me and our fingers graze on the exchange. I flit my eyelashes and glance up in time to catch his gaze locked on the diamond stud in the center of my bra. My nipples harden, and for the first time tonight, I’m glad I picked the green dress.
“He does know this is basically just a massive storage space, right?” I sip from my glass and smile with my lips pressed to the rim. James chuckles, the sound rattling his chest.
“I honestly think he sees a hundred-year-old speakeasy when he looks around,” James says, his eyes scanning the room then coming back to me, sparkling with amusement. I hold on to his gaze until my insides warm, and when they do, I let my lips pull into a tight smile and stare into his eyes a second more. I like pushing myself like that, over the edge to discomfort. Sometimes, being uncomfortable can feel good.
“Well, this building is old enough. I doubt it’s ever seen alcohol before, though.” I mentally picture our library staff partying hard down here, and the thought makes me breathe out a sharp laugh. Welles librarians take their work seriously, to the point that the women actually wear their hair in tight buns and have those beaded chains on their glasses to keep them around their necks. There’s only one male librarian, and he’s British and in his sixties. I don’t doubt he could cut loose if given the chance, but I can’t imagine the bun-wearing ladies are his jam. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard them yell athimto be quiet a time or two.
“Wanna see something cool?” James eyes to his right, toward a glassed-in office away from the few lights glowing down here.
I glance around for my friends, spotting Lily still sparring with Theo across the room and Brooklyn now playing some made-up paper ball trash can game with Cameron and two of the other football players.
“Yeah, okay,” I answer, tipping my glass back and swallowing the rest of my drink. It burns its way down, stunting my nerves. I hand James the empty glass and pass him, heading toward the office door.
“All right, then,” he says to my back. “I just got drank under the table by a—”
“Careful,” I interrupt, turning to face him as I walk backward, and he follows. “Don’t say something sexist.”
His mouth snaps shut and curves. He nods, acknowledging his faux pas, then drains his own glass, depositing it on a bookcase shelf as he closes the distance between us. I turn around, smirking, and proud of myself for finding my old fire. At least a spark of it.
I step into the office and head toward the desk on the far end, my insides tingling at the sound of the door clicking shut behind us.
“I was going to saytotal babe,for what it’s worth,” James says.
I spin around and sit on the desktop as I punch out a hushed laugh at him.
“That’s even worse!” Of course, I like that he thinks I’m a babe. I wish maybe his words were a touch more poetic, but babe will do.
I bite the tip of my tongue then pull my lips in to stifle the smile inching into my cheeks under his glare. His eyes are glossy, and maybe a little red. He’s not drunk, but he’s definitely feeling the buzz. I wonder how long he and Theo were in here waiting for the rest of us.
“Show me this amazing, cool thing you spoke of,” I say, breaking the quiet as I hold my palm out and gesture around the room. “Please say it isn’t motivational posters from the nineteen seventies.”
I nod to one plastered to the wall behind him, and he twists to read it out loud.
