The Cousins - Karen M. McManus Page 0,40
is here.”
“I think everyone is here,” Archer said diplomatically. He couldn’t resist elbowing Anders and adding, “We live on a twelve-mile island, remember? Nightlife is kinda limited.”
Allison was silent. She’d hoped that Anders’s ire toward Matt might have cooled after a semester away, but apparently not.
“Forget that guy,” Adam said, jogging up the front steps two at a time. He pulled the door open with a flourish and looked back. “He’s no one.”
Rob Valentine had graduated from Gull Cove Island High last year, and he’d just moved into a new place—one of those rental bungalows that tourists wouldn’t touch because the owner couldn’t be bothered to invest in any upkeep. The beach grass in front was long and yellow, the paint was peeling, and one of the front windows was taped over with cardboard that did nothing to keep the cool air out. It was dim inside, filled with pulsing music and what looked like half of Gull Cove Island High’s current and recent student body. Allison couldn’t help but compare the noisy scene with the much more sedate parties she’d gone to at boarding school before graduating last month. Students lived on campus at Martindale Prep, as did a lot of teachers, which effectively dampened everyone’s social lives.
A pretty blonde wearing a Burger King crown and holding a wine cooler swayed in front of the Story siblings’ path as soon as they stepped inside. “It’s my birthday,” she slurred, poking Adam’s chest with her bottle. “Are you my present?”
Adam smirked, sliding an arm around the girl’s waist. “I could be.”
“Archerrrrrr!” A boy Allison vaguely recognized as Rob Valentine waved wildly from a corner where kids were sitting on pillows around a low table. “Come play quarters.”
“They’re dropping like flies,” Anders said as Archer sprinted toward his friend. “Come on,” he added to Allison, who watched in disbelief as Adam and the birthday girl started making out against a wall. Thirty seconds after arrival; a new Adam Story record. “Let’s get a drink.”
Allison didn’t particularly want to hang out with Anders, but she didn’t recognize anyone else here, so she followed him into the bungalow’s run-down kitchen. “Beer?” he yelled over his shoulder, then grabbed two Solo cups from a stack on the counter without waiting for an answer. The line for the keg was ten people deep, but Anders pushed his way to the front as though he didn’t notice and wrestled the tap away from the startled boy who’d been filling his cup.
“Some things never change, huh?” asked a wry voice.
Allison turned to see Kayla Dugas, Anders’s ex, and the third point of the infamous Matt-Anders-Kayla love triangle. Kayla’s signature waist-length hair—she’d never cut it in her entire life—was hanging over her shoulders in loose curls. She looked effortlessly sexy in a black tank top and jeans, no makeup except for wine-colored lipstick on her rosebud mouth. Allison, who’d agonized about what to wear before settling on the kind of sweatshirt-and-shorts combo that Matt had deemed “GCI casual,” suddenly felt ten years old.
Kayla had that effect on people. She wasn’t unfriendly, exactly, but she was aloof in a way that Allison found frustrating. If life were a movie, Anders’s on-again, off-again townie girlfriend would have been eager to impress his wealthy family, but Kayla always acted as though she was the one who needed to be won over. As a result, none of the Storys had ever really warmed to her except for Allison’s father, who’d considered her a breath of fresh air. “I do believe your father has a crush,” Mother had once said acidly, which made Allison certain that she celebrated Anders and Kayla’s frequent breakups more than anyone.
This last one, after the Matt hookup, had been the longest ever. Anders had gone back to his second semester at Harvard swearing he’d never speak to Kayla again, and Allison hadn’t heard him mention her name since. Until—
“Kayla.” Anders handed Allison’s beer to his ex, as though he’d intended it for her all along. “What a delightful non-surprise.”
“Anders.” Kayla accepted the cup with a sly smile. “Thought you weren’t talking to me?”
Allison slipped away before Anders could reply. She’d never understand their dynamic: how her haughty, imperious brother could practically grovel for Kayla’s affection until she gave it, and then promptly ignore her. Allison waited her turn at the keg, feeling invisible as Anders and Kayla kept inching closer together, becoming the center of the room’s attention even as everyone pretended not to notice them.