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The mention of my bestie’s name piques his interest. Wait, is Liam...smiling? “Maybe we’ll stop by. Text Mike the address.”
What in the ever-loving world is happening right now? But now Penny’s voice is in my head. She’s yelling over the music at a party, telling me about the hot townie she hooked up with last summer. What did she say about him? That he looked like the guy who played the mean tribute inThe Hunger Games? I’m frustrated when I can’t remember anything else she was babbling about, because now I want to dissect and analyze every last detail.
Parker adds, “Definitely come by. It’s gonna be lit.”
I mentally cringe, listening as Parker changes his language like a chameleon to suit his audience. It’s gonna be lit? Last Sunday night when he came over for dinner uninvitedagain, he deemed Audrey’s mediocre attempt at chicken piccataoutstanding.
Logan is typing into his phone and then nods without looking up. “Done.” He adds, “See you later,” before turning back to Parker. “C’mon, we gotta jet.”
“Two minutes,” Parker warns me before following Logan outside.
I’m stuck in my thoughts, stroking Shadow. “You’d better jet, Princess,” Liam says with a smirk. “Yourfriendsare waiting for you.”
“You secretly think you’re better than everyone, don’t you?”
He juts his chin in the direction of the exit. “Than those two? C’mon, Princess, that’s not even fair. They’ve set the bar pretty low, wouldn’t you say? Like, in the gutter?”
I take my time, trying to act cool and unaffected as I scramble for something to say that will cut him. “And you hate,” I add air quotes, “people like us. Isn’t that what you just said?”
“What can I say? Free booze, free weed, and bored girls who suck dick for fun. How can I pass that up?Andit’s gonna be lit, isn’t that what the man said?”
“You’re disgusting.”
He shrugs like my words couldn’t possibly touch him, let alone hurt him. “And you’re fake.”
I’ve got no comeback for that one.
Chapter Eleven
LIAM
Those people are not her friends.
I’m furious after she leaves, after she walks out the door and gets intohiscar. I want to scream at her,Hey moron,he’s fucking your best friend.
Thatonenight we hung out at the beach together? God, that guy Logan is a walking, talking asshole. We’ve hung out at least half a dozen times, but that’s his way of trying to gain the upper hand.Hmm, you look familiar, but I don’t really pay a whole lot of attention to people like you.
I didn’t like it when Mike invited them to our beach last summer. It was an intrusion. Her boyfriend Parker was always along for the ride too, but I’m good at reading people, so I’d bet money he legitimately didn’t recognize me just now. It’s almost easier to respect him for being dismissive because at least he’s not pretending. And he was preoccupied last summer, just like he was preoccupied the night of Sarah’s party last week.
Tipsy little Sarah was inside knocking back another glass of obscenely expensive champagne while her boyfriend had his tongue down that girl Penny’s throat and his hand up her dress. I saw them when I was hauling trash to the dumpster out back. He had his hand jammed between her legs, his arm thrusting in a way that was too fast and too rough. And she was doing that porn star moan she tried out on me last summer. So eager to please and so damn phony.
I almost laughed in her face that night on the beach, that’s how absurd she sounded, but at the same time I felt sorry for her. When she tumbled over me, stood up and wobbled as she went to remove the few remaining scraps she wore, I stopped her. She didn’t seem to care that we were only a hundred yards away from the others. She didn’t care that we were messing around in sand that was still a little damp and sticky from the last high tide. She didn’t even ask if I had a condom. And I didn’t care when she got mad, or when she laughed at me as she pulled her clothes back on. I couldn’t go through with it. I didn’t want to. Right before she stormed off, she turned back, looking to emasculate me when she ran a hand over the front of my jeans to point out that my dick had gone soft. I could have struck back, said something to make her believe she wasn’t enough to rouse interest in any man, but I passed. Even acting like a complete and total bitch, there was something in her eyes that told me I’d be kicking a three-legged stray.
Passing them on my way back into the kitchen last weekend, listening in as she whispered,Yeah, right there, and then moaning like she was in some dream-like ecstasy, I wanted to call out to her,Pipe the fuck down, Penny...There’s no way in hell that feels good.
And by then the party was almost over, thank God. The kids were drunk while their parents looked on smiling and laughing. Wistful for the booze-soaked, depraved nights of their own youth, I guess.
I’m surprised I didn’t pull a muscle from all the times I shook my head that night. First off, who in their right mind wastes Cristal on a bunch of teenagers? Would any of them even know the difference between Cristal and the cheap shit? I mean, that stuff costs like two hundred a bottle.
It was everything—the entire night was a tribute to waste and excess. I don’t claim to know much about flowers, but those vases were packed with branches and blooms that looked exotic. I bet each one of those table centerpieces cost double my shift pay, and there were alotof tables. But the worst was seeing that seafood tower laden with plump hunks of fresh, pristine lobster, knowing it would go largely untouched. The amount of good food dumped in the trash that night was obscene.
I needed three days to cool off before walking back into the barn. My uncle needed the help, but I knew I’d be grinding my molars to dust to keep from lashing out at her.
By the time I do see her again I’m damn near itching to tell her what she’s too blind to see, but I don’t. If she’s that clueless then shame on her, she deserves this life. She’ll be like the rest of those ladies, the ones who start nursing cocktails during lunch with their friends so they can be comfortably numb by the time their disinterested husbands come back from the city late at night with the smell of booze on their breath and other women on their skin.
Happy loving couples.
I won’t be at their party tonight. I’d rather eat glass. And I feel this evil sort of satisfaction as I lead the horse into the paddock just as their car pulls away. If I know Sarah, and I’m starting to believe that I do, she’ll be watching that door open and close, looking for me all night long.
