We Don't Talk Anymore (The Don't Duet #1) - Julie Johnson Page 0,12

usually drink. I don’t really party. I’m not…” Popular, I add silently.

“Valentine, I’m going to let you in on a little secret.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Not one person here feels like they truly belong. Why do you think everyone gets so wasted at these parties?”

My nose scrunches in thought. “To hook up?”

“Well, yeah. But also because beer is like… social lube. It makes everyone less of a tight ass.”

I laugh so hard, it comes out a snort. Not my most attractive attribute, but I’m too tipsy to contain it.

“Laugh all you want,” Ryan says somewhat defensively, fidgeting with his fingers. “It’s true! When you’re buzzed, you don’t worry about saying the wrong thing or screwing everything up.”

His shoulders have gone stiff. It’s possible I shouldn’t have snorted at him. I remember my mother telling me a million times — men like making jokes, but they can’t stand feeling like one.

“I’m not laughing at you,” I assure him, attempting to get a hold on the mirth bubbling inside me. “It’s just… what a poignant metaphor, Ryan. I don’t know what your plans are for after graduation, but might I suggest a career in poetry?”

A chuckle vibrates through his shoulder, into mine. “There’s that sense of humor creeping out again. Careful, Valentine — I might not let you pretend to be shy around me anymore.”

“Oh, I think my secrets are pretty safe. Or have you forgotten our high school days are numbered? After a few more weeks, we probably won’t cross paths ever again.”

“Ouch! Dagger to the heart.” He scowls playfully at me. “You can’t shake me that easily. There’s still a handful of baseball games, then playoffs, prom, and, like, a million graduation parties to get through.”

I have no response to offer. Not one he’d appreciate, anyway. Frankly, I’m not certain I’ll be attending the majority of the events he’s just rattled off. The senior prom — four hours trapped on a party cruise around the Massachusetts coast with a hundred of my fellow graduates dressed in their best formalwear — sounds like a chapter pulled from a tome of my worst nightmares. And then there’s the small fact that, as of this moment, I don’t even have a date.

In another lifetime, I thought maybe Archer would ask me. After tonight, that seems about as improbable as me receiving an invitation to Sienna Sullivan’s post-grad sunset soiree.

“It’s a small town, Valentine,” Ryan, bless his naive heart, reminds me. As if a town’s size makes any difference when it comes to being an outcast. Even this small Massachusetts microcosm we call home is full of people who don’t fit in. Myself included.

Manchester-by-the-Sea.

Population: 5,000

Number of parties I attended to prior to Archer making the the varsity baseball roster and dragging me along as his weirdo sidekick: 0

“There’s a whole summer to waste before college orientation!” Ryan bumps my shoulder with his again. “Bonfires, beach days, you name it. Just because we aren’t passing each other in the halls every day, doesn’t mean we can’t hang out.”

My eyes widen. “You and me?”

“Yeah. Why not?” It’s dark, so I can’t be sure, but I think his cheeks are a little red. Gesturing back toward the house, he tacks on, “But also, I’m sure the guys on the team will throw a bunch more parties like this one. It’ll be chill. You should come.”

“Maybe.”

“Sounds like a no.”

“Parties aren’t really my scene.”

“What is your scene, then?”

I shrug noncommittally.

“Come on. That’s all I get? A shrug?” Sighing, he shakes his head. “Josephine Valentine. Always so mysterious.”

A scoff pops out. “I’m not even slightly mysterious.”

“Then tell me something about yourself. What do you like to do? You know, when you aren’t boycotting fun parties and kicking ass at beer pong.”

“Um…”

“Don’t overthink it. Just spit it out.”

“Sailing,” I blurt abruptly. “I like sailing.”

“That’s cool. You have your own boat?”

“Yeah, a 20-foot Alerion. She’s fast, but also small enough for me to take her out single-handed.” I smile at the thought of my most prized possession, bobbing at her slip back home. “It was a sixteenth birthday present from my parents.”

“Most girls probably would’ve preferred a convertible.”

“I guess.” I shift against the stone, uncomfortable. “But I usually get a ride everywhere with Archer, since he lives right next door. I wouldn’t have much use for a car of my own.”

“Right, I forgot. You and Reyes.” He sighs. “You’ve been his little shadow for as long as I can remember. Before he joined the team, I don’t think I’d ever seen him without