under my eyes.
It feels nice to dress up like this. I’ve been a lot of versions of myself lately—the girl who wears her boyfriend’s oversized sweatshirt, the business woman who gets accused of having a sex tape, the actress who doesn’t know what her character is supposed to look like. It’s nice for once to just be me. My makeup, my skinny jeans and cut-off sweatshirt—my body, my rules. I can feel my confidence coming back already. It’s amazing how much your own unique look can make you feel at home in your skin. My look isn’t everyone’s, but it’s mine.
June’s mom holds the door open for us as we leave, hanging out the door as if we’re still the same little girls she sent off to walk to school by themselves for the very first time in second grade. I’m tempted to hold June’s hand in solidarity.
“Don’t do stupid things!” Mrs. Mabee shouts. She says that to me a lot.
“Nothing you wouldn’t do,” I shout back before getting into the passenger side. She shakes her head at my usual response.
Again—normal.
We head to Naomi’s to pick her up, then stop at Lola’s work as she finishes her shift. She’s a server at the Pancake House, this truck stop joint open twenty-four hours a day, which means she has unlimited access to bacon. I don’t care who a person is, if they say they don’t like bacon I immediately throw them in the sketch category. Because of birthday weekend, Lola swiped me an entire to-go box full. I’m already five pieces in.
“Abby, if you don’t slow down you’re going to be vomiting before you even get close to a shot of tequila,” June says, turning right on the old dirt road a few miles out of town.
“Well, guess what? I’m drinking beer tonight,” I say, winking as I take a bite of my sixth piece. June takes it out of my hand and finishes it for me, part for my own good and part because, well, it’s bacon.
It’s barely ten at night and the party is already crowded enough that we can hear it with June’s windows down. I crack my window and breathe in the scent of burning wood. There’s a huge clearing on McCaffey’s property and he always has these huge bonfires. It’s an amazing sight to break through the trees and see the bright orange flames off in the distance. June spots Lucas’s truck quickly, so she pulls the van up next to him and we all get out.
“Happy birthday, Abs,” Lucas says, pulling me in for a side hug and handing me a cup full of beer.
“Just what I always wanted. Thanks,” I say, taking my first gulp and feeling the tension in my neck and shoulders ease.
Tonight, there is no lawsuit. I’m on the brink of stardom. And there is nothing in my life to bring me down. I almost believe these words when a lifted red truck pulls up across the clearing, the chrome bumper catching the flicker of the flames as Tory hops out of the driver’s side and Cannon and a few other guys climb out of the back carrying a keg.
Tory stops and leans against the front of the truck, one knee bent as his foot rests on the bumper, his hands sunk in the pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing a red and black flannel over a black shirt, and his normally perfectly sculpted hair is windblown and messy. I recognize his dad’s truck, which makes me wonder why he’s driving it.
I bring my cup of beer to my lips and taste it with my tongue, tipping it back slowly while staring at Tory over the rim. He’s not even pretending not to look at me. It’s like a dare, to see if I can handle the attention. Well, I can. And he can keep on looking from over there. Hayden works tonight, which means I am one-hundred percent about my girlfriends. I plan on spending the night gossiping mercilessly, dancing to music under the stars, and telling dumb stories without endings that make me and my friends exhaust ourselves with buzzed laughter.
“You heard he moved out, right?” June says, bumping into my side.
“Huh?” I pull my cup away and shift my gaze to her.
I’m already breaking my rules. I’m not supposed to care. But Tory moved out and Hayden hasn’t said anything. Seems kinda weird.
“Oh.” She winces. Her mouth gets tight and she forces that pretend smile on her lips,