school who not only could afford reliable internet but could actually be present in his life. I pictured her as a pretty girl, taller and more elegant than me. His very own Princess Becca. It was a ridiculous thought—Ripley wasn’t like that—but the idea ricocheted around in my head anyway.
Ella, ella, eh, eh, eh . . .
The chorus of “Umbrella” had resumed its loop. For the umpteenth time, I wondered: Why that song in particular? I’d been a toddler when it came out, and as far as I could remember, it didn’t have any special meaning for me. Yet somehow it had burrowed itself into my brain like a Lyme-disease tick.
I was about to head back to the RV when I heard the sliding glass door open behind me. I turned. It was Liam.
He paused in the doorway, one hand in his front pocket, looking like a model from the J.Crew catalog.
“Mind if I join you?”
I pressed my lips together. Was he serious with that pose?
“It’s your house,” I said.
He closed the door behind him and crossed to the railing, leaving a respectful distance between us.
“It’s my father’s house, actually. He reminds me all the time.”
“Probably beats living in an RV, though.” Shut up, Ellie. Shut up.
Liam raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know. You kind of live like a rock star.”
“More like a senior citizen.”
He laughed. It was a soft, deep sound, and it caused an unfamiliar warm sensation in my midsection.
“You look different,” he said. “Your hair is longer.”
“Yeah, that happens.”
“Still a smart-ass, though.” He laughed.
The truth was I couldn’t afford to get it cut, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.
Liam turned to face me, leaning his elbow against the railing. “It’s good to see you again, Ellie.”
I bristled when he used my name; it was such a bro technique. Use their name, make them feel special.
I turned away. “Your house is huge.”
“Like I said, it’s my father’s. Well, technically, it belongs to his trucking company. It’s a tax thing.” He was quiet for a moment as he looked down at the wedding below. “He still treats her like she’s five years old. Hence the backyard wedding in October.” He gestured at the tents. “For favors, we’re handing out umbrellas.”
Great. Just when I’d almost gotten the song out of my head.
Liam leaned forward, about to say something else. Please, not my name.
He seemed to change his mind before saying, “Could I interest you in some vodka?”
I bit my lip. “Actually, do you have any food?”
Liam offered to take me out back for leftover canapés, but I didn’t want to risk being seen by anyone else from Eastside. So while Dad set up for his finale, I sat on Liam Miller’s front steps in the cool autumn evening, drinking apricot punch spiked with Smirnoff and eating the best goddamned peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’d ever tasted.
I hated PB&Js, probably because I’d lived on Wonder Bread and Jif for so long. But the sandwich Liam made me was of an entirely different paradigm. The bread was some kind of artisan multigrain ambrosia. The peanut butter was organic and had to be stirred. He just sat there while I ate, and I started to feel self-conscious. I must have looked like a starving orphan.
“You don’t have to babysit me. Go be with your girlfriend.”
Liam leaned back on the top step. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s the maid of honor’s little sister, and she’s obnoxious.”
“Oh. Okay.” I was an idiot. I stuffed the last bite into my mouth.
Liam tugged at the zipper on his jacket. “Have I done something to piss you off?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It’s just . . . you’ve been kind of cold to me since I answered the door.”
I brushed bread crumbs from my lap. Did he really not know? Or was he just trying to pretend nothing had happened?
Finally, I said, “You basically ignored me at Eastside. Why should I be nice to you?”
His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is,” I said. “Once the play was over, you barely said hi to me.”
“I said hi to you in the halls.”
“Once. When you were alone. When you were with your friends, you didn’t even look at me.”
He opened his mouth, closed it. “I don’t remember it like that.”
“I do.” I held his gaze for a few seconds, and then he looked away, frowning as if reliving something unpleasant.
“Wow,” he said. “Okay. Yeah. Maybe I was kind of an ass.”
I watched