“C’mon . . . it’s just one party! You’re in college now—just one party won’t hurt,” Steph practically pleads, trying to convince her. “Wait, how are you getting to the store? I thought you didn’t have a car?”
“I was going to take the bus. And besides, I can’t go to a party—I don’t even know anyone,” she responds. I laugh again. “I was going to read and Skype with Noah.”
Because going to a store is so much fun. I bet she shops at fucking Target; she seems like the type. And her Skype date . . . I bet she’s going to show an ankle to her poor excuse of a boyfriend.
“You don’t want to take the bus on a Saturday! They’re way too packed. Hardin can drop you on the way to his place . . . right, Hardin?” Steph glances at me.
I won’t be dropping anyone off anywhere.
“And you’ll know me at the party,” Steph continues. “Just come . . . please?”
“I don’t know . . . and no, I don’t want Hardin to drive me to the store,” the obnoxious girl whines. I shift over and smile at the two of them; it’s all I can do, since they’re both annoying the shit out of me.
“Oh no! I was really looking forward to hanging out with you,” I say. “Come on, Steph, you know this girl isn’t going to show at the party.” I take a moment to look at the way her white T-shirt is tight across her chest and hips. She should dress this way instead of that long-ass skirt she was wearing the other day. Her khaki shorts are still too long, but you can’t win ’em all.
“Actually, yeah, I’ll come,” the girl says—Tessa was her name, I think. Yeah, it was. I hear shrieking and squealing, and it’s my cue to leave when the girls start hugging and shit.
“Yay! We’ll have so much fun!” Steph promises the girl as I leave the room.
I DRIVE FARTHER on to campus and sit through the rest of my classes for the day. Afterward, I get a text from Nate to meet him and Tristan at Blind Bob’s and head that way. I turn the music up in my car and roll the window down. When I was a teen, I used to think people were fucking show-offs when they blasted music from their car windows, but now I get it. Sometimes I just want to drown out the world around me, and music and reading are the only things that do that for me. Everyone has their thing, and these are mine.
When I need silence, the noise helps.
Better than a fifth of Jack, I suppose. My mum, crying on the phone in the middle of the night, would say so.
“What took so long?” Tristan takes a bite from a hamburger; half the toppings fall onto the plate in front of him.
“Traffic was a bitch.” I slide into the booth next to Nate. Our usual server nods at me, and moments later she appears at the table with a glass of water.
“Still sober, yeah?” Nate questions; his eyes carefully avoid my glass as he takes a drink of his beer.
“Yep. Still sober.” I finish half the glass of water, trying not to think about the way an ice-cold beer would taste on my tongue.
“Good for you, man. I know everyone gives you shit about it, but I think it’s pretty fucking awesome, the self-control you have.”
At Nate’s praise, I shift awkwardly.
Tristan laughs, wiping a napkin across his chin. “Self-control? I heard Molly screaming your name just last night.”
“Well, sober with drinking. No, no, of course not chicks.” Nate laughs along, pushing his shoulder into mine, and I’m thankful for the change in tone. It was getting too personal for my liking.
Nate ends up convincing me to let him drive my car. He only had one beer, and I don’t feel like driving really, so I agree to let him if he drives me to pick up Steph and her roommate.
“She’s been blowing up my phone, says you won’t answer her,” Nate says as we pull out of the parking lot.
I roll my eyes. “I told her an hour ago that I would give them a ride.” Steph can be really fucking annoying.
“I just told her we’re on our way. I’m glad that Tessa girl is coming with her,” he says, and rolls down the driver’s-side window.
“Why?”
“Because she seems nice and should definitely get out more. Steph said she thinks her boyfriend is her only friend or something.”
“Boyfriend? You mean Mother Theresa has a boyfriend?” I scoff. Wait, the blond guy in the dorm? They look like siblings, not boyfriend and girlfriend. Is that who she’s Skyping with? Definitely a fully clothed video, then—with an added blazer, probably, for protection.
“Yeah, he was there with her, that preppy dude.”
“Go figure.” I laugh and turn up the music. Tess and her stuck-up Gap-model boyfriend would hate this music. I turn it up even louder.
When we pull into the parking lot of Steph’s dorm, my phone buzzes. It’s Molly’s name, so I hit ignore.
“Ladies.” Nate greets the girls as they walk up to the car. Steph is dressed in a fishnet dress, and her tagalong is wearing what looks like a maroon sack. I don’t get it. I saw the outline of her body in that towel—why does she wear this hideous shit?
“You do know that we’re going to a party, not a church—right, Theresa?” I say as she climbs into the car.
“Please don’t call me Theresa. I prefer Tessa,” she says succinctly. Snobbily.
I knew her name would be Theresa. I’ve read enough novels to put that together. I seem to have struck a chord with this one.
“Sure thing, Theresa,” I taunt her. As we drive, I glance in the mirror a few times to look at her. She doesn’t appear annoyed when she doesn’t know my eyes are on her. The house is close; we only have to sit through a few minutes of awkward silence until we arrive. Nate parks in front of the house behind a line of cars.
She huffs and rolls her eyes. “It’s so big—how many people will be here?” Theresa asks. Doesn’t the full lawn give that away?
“A full house. Hurry up,” I tell her, shutting the car door. She just sits there, in shock, I think, and I walk up the yard.
four
He knew from early on, from their first encounter to the first time she used that smart mouth against him, that he felt something different when it came to her. He wasn’t sure . . . no, he had no fucking idea that the fire inside of her would weaken, then be extinguished by his habit of making mistake after mistake, but often he finds himself sitting alone, reliving the days when she was on fire. When her voice and her actions were filled with so much passion that the air between them would fill with smoke. He should have known that that much passion would lead to destruction, to the burning of her soul, and make every ounce of her spirit disintegrate, taking the girl he loved, the girl that he couldn’t and still can’t breathe without, and he would have to watch her drift away, with the last few clouds of gray smoke.