the rows of bottles and buckets of beer. All that’s missing is the bartender . . .
OMG, there’s a freaking cheese tray.
Mia finds Red Bull in the fridge. We mix it with vodka and snack on the cheeses. Kelly fishes a beer out of the ice water bucket and joins a game of dominoes at the dining room table. Mia and Lauren eventually get tired of girl time and scurry off to find their boyfriends. How could they leave me . . . and cheese? Their priorities are out of whack. I wander out of the kitchen with my drink and into the backyard, where I watch a heated game of horseshoes.
I find a lawn chair and get comfortable. I lean my head back, close my eyes, and listen to what’s around me. There are crickets in the distance, the clanking of horseshoes hitting the metal post, kids splashing around in the pool, a drunk guy talking loudly about some girl.
A couple years ago, I would spend all day getting ready for a party. Stressing about who would be there and what they would think of me. Agonizing over my clothes and hair. Almost not going because of this or that and then showing up and having the best time. I would make the rounds, drink in hand, talking to everyone. Once I got a little buzzed, I would look around and hope that my whole life would be this fun. My phone would fill up with pictures, and I would sneak into my house way past curfew. I thought it would only get better when I was a senior.
“I made you this,” a deep voice says above me. Maybe it’s God?
I open my eyes. Nope, just Jake. He hands me a drink in a coconut.
“Thanks,” I say, taking a sip out of the absurdly swirly straw. It’s a piss-poor piña colada but a nice gesture. Jake sits down in the lawn chair next to me and uses his hat as a fan. The air is still and stale. I look him over. It’s so effortless for him to be gorgeous.
“I see you, Georgia,” he says.
“I surely hope so. Otherwise, I’m a ghost,” I say.
He laughs. “It must be tough to come to parties, after what happened.”
“Impressive,” I say. “You must be a mind reader.”
“Do you think every guy will do that to you?”
“No, just Anthony,” I say. “And maybe you.”
He acts offended. “What? Me? Why would I do that?”
Because you are rich and good looking, and what would stop you?
“Maybe I’m a mind reader, too,” I say, putting the coconut drink down forever.
“Georgia. I’m nothing like Ant.”
Ant is what the football team calls Anthony. I hate that people still like him. When we broke up, I wanted the entire school to collectively unfriend him. It was devastating when they didn’t.
Jake scoots his chair closer to me. “Do you remember the first time we met?”
“I don’t even remember what I had for breakfast,” I say.
Big lie. A whole damn tube of cinnamon rolls.
“It was freshman year. You had the worst haircut,” he says.
“That couldn’t have been me,” I say.
“Like a bowl?”
“No idea. Wasn’t me.”
Jake shakes his head. He’s not going to let me off that easy.
“We had history together. I had the biggest crush on you.” He finds my eyes. “And I still do.”
He looks at my lips and leans in to kiss me. I move back in my chair and turn my face away. This doesn’t feel right. My heart isn’t into it. Other parts of me are but that’s not enough.
He smiles and takes a drink of his coconut drink. He seems unfazed by my rejection. “Georgia. I get it. Let’s make a deal. Are you listening?”
“To you mansplain? Yes, I’m all ears,” I say.
“How about we just have fun tonight? No agenda, no end game.”
I look at the stars. I’m tired of thinking about my mom. And about what happened this summer. It’s my senior year. I should be having fun.
“Terms accepted,” I say.
He looks surprised. “OK, then. First stop, dancing.”
Jake helps me up, and we head inside to hit the dance floor. I find my girls, and we wild out. Mia and Lo flip when they see me dancing with Jake. I can’t even look at them or I’ll crack up. Jake is a decent dancer. He keeps the beat sufficiently, doesn’t do anything embarrassing or get too humpy.
The music slows, and Jake moves toward me. We’re getting closer. And closer. He pushes my hair behind