I’ll Meet You There (26 page)

“What, you thought I was going to hold a grudge? That’s Chris’s style.”

She was right. That
was
Chris’s style. Which explained why Dylan had come over and Chris had not. I’d already
tried to call him, but I refused to try more than once.

“There is one teeny, tiny catch, though,” she said.

I raised my eyebrows. “What?”

“There’s a party tonight by the creek. I have it on good authority that Josh will
be there. Ergo, you will be there.”

“I know. I’m still not going.”

“How do you know about a party?”

“Josh told me.” She lit up, and I shook my head. “It’s not what you think. It got
weird and—”

She held up her hand. “My forgiveness after
years
of insults will only be given to you if you come out with me tonight. Hooking up
with Josh is strictly optional, but encouraged.”

I shook my head. “This is a seriously complicated situation.”

I thought of his chess pieces lying scattered beside the pool, the way he’d suddenly
become distant and cagey.

“I won’t take no for an answer,” Dylan said.

I twisted the long piece of brown paper in my hand into a branch, feeling the paper
bend and mold under my fingers. It was too thin, and the glue coating my skin was
making it tear. Dylan sat there staring at me, waiting for me to capitulate. I balled
up the paper and fell back against the bed with an overdramatic groan.

She handed me a dress she’d folded into her bag and pointed to the bathroom. “Go put
this on.”

Josh probably wouldn’t be there, I reasoned. He certainly hadn’t been in a partying
mood a few hours ago. I could just go, stay for a half hour, then come right back.

“Fine.” I held the dress out to her. “But I can’t wear this.”

It was cute, but I knew it would be much shorter than I was comfortable with. And
tighter. It was the kind of dress that probably made boys check their pockets to see
if they had a condom with them. At least, it was that kind of dress when Dylan was
wearing it.

She twirled her foot around. “Just try it on. It won’t be as short on you as it is
on me.”

I sighed and went into the bathroom. I pulled my hair back and started washing my
face.

“What’s this room called again?” she asked.

“
Viva México
.”

Most of the decorations consisted of Frida Kahlo prints. I’d been obsessed with Frida
ever since I’d seen Salma Hayek in a movie about her life. I loved how Frida painted
her pain. Whatever crap was happening to her, she put it on the canvas and let the
colors and lines tell her story.

In addition to the Fridas, I’d pinned up
lotería
cards that Chris had gotten me on a trip visiting relatives in Mexico. Next to a
sombrero hanging on a hat rack there was a
Día de los Muertos
piñata in the shape of a dancing skeleton wearing traditional Mexican clothing. There
were even maracas on the nightstand.

“Lots of this shit’s creepy, Sky. No wonder you’re sitting here all by yourself, listening
to wrist-slitting music.”

“Sia’s introspective, not depressing. There’s a difference.” I had to admit the piñata
was a little creepy, especially in the middle of the night when the wind from my open
window made it dance around.

“Whatevs,” Dylan said. I heard her sigh and flip through one of the old celebrity
magazines I was collaging with. I started brushing my teeth, just in case fresh breath
ended up being important tonight.

“You know, I’m going to take some classes in September,” Dylan said. “Become an X-ray
technician. That’s legit.”

I stuck my head out the door. “Dyl, seriously. I’m sorry. Don’t feel like you have
to—”

“No, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I mean … I don’t want to be here
my whole life. Plus, Seanie deserves more.”

I nodded. “What’s Jesse say?”

“He’s down. That boy would move to freaking, I don’t know,
Russia
with me if I wanted to go.”

“It’s really cold in Russia.”

“Yeah, fuck that.”

I left my pajamas in a heap on the linoleum floor and pulled the dress over my head.
There was a floor-length mirror behind the door, and I turned around to see how bad
the dress was.

“How’s it look?” Dylan called.

I want him to see me in this.

“It’s okay,” I said. I let my hair fall around my shoulders and put on some mascara.

When I came out, Dylan put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. “
Hot!
”

I blushed and slipped on my All Stars to feel a little bit more normal.

“Hate those shoes, but I’ll take what I can get,” she said.

I pointed to a picture of Frida sitting in a man’s suit, her hair short, with a pair
of scissors in her hands and hair at her feet.

“This is how I was feeling today,” I said. “I’m gonna wear whatever shoes I want.”

Dylan looked at it, then back at me. “Tragic much?”

Chris would have gotten it, I thought. Or maybe Josh. Then I felt guilty because this
was exactly the thing Dylan had meant, about Chris and me being so down on Creek View
people.

She stepped closer to the painting. “Don’t do that to your hair.”

“I wasn’t going to,” I mumbled.

“Ready?” she asked.

I took one more look in the mirror. “No.”

Dylan grabbed my arm. “Our friendship hangs in the balance. Get your ass out.”

I glanced at my collage, then shut the door behind us.

*   *   *

Dylan nudged me in the ribs and nodded toward the group a few feet away from the bonfire.
About fifteen people, they all stood close to one another, sizing up who they wanted
to take home that night.

“There he is,” she whispered.

Josh was in the center of their circle, sitting in the bed of his truck, legs dangling
over the tailgate, a bottle of beer in his hand. Each time he took a sip, he held
the bottle’s neck with his thumb and index finger and tipped the beer into his mouth.
I didn’t know it was possible to envy a bottle of beer, and I got lost for a moment,
watching his lips against the glass. Hypnotized. It was terrifying, how my body had
started reacting to him. He was a fix I needed bad.

Dylan laughed her husky I’m-thinking-about-something-naughty laugh. “Wow.”

I tore my eyes away from Josh. It was like I’d been deep diving in some fantastic
water underworld and now I had to come up for air. “Oh, shut up.”

Dylan whipped out her troublemaker red lipstick and swiped it over her lips. “Sky,
you better get in on that before one of the Swensons suggests a threesome.”

The Swenson twins, notorious sex fiends, who, if memory served correctly, had both
slept with Josh on multiple occasions. Possibly at the same time.

“I really wish that the boy I’m in love with hadn’t slept with three-quarters of the
Creek View population,” I said.

I hated the longing I felt. I didn’t want this need to be near him. I didn’t want
to feel murderous every time a girl touched his arm—like one was doing right now.

“Oh my God.
Sky
.” Dylan stared at me, incredulous.

“What?” I clutched at my dress, certain there was a big-ass rip in back or something.
I pushed against her arm. “
What?
”

“You just said
love
.”

“No, I didn’t,” I said quickly.

The word had tasted sweet, exotic.
Love.
I shivered.

“This is almost as good as losing your virginity!”

“A little louder, Dylan. I’m not sure everyone heard you.”

“Oh, come on. You have to admit, this is pretty epic. Especially since it’s
Josh Mitchell
.”

She kept talking, but I wasn’t really paying attention anymore because my eyes had
strayed involuntarily to Josh again, and he was staring at me, eyes wide, mouth open.
Taking in the dress Dylan had made me wear. I couldn’t resist the chance to raise
my eyebrows a little and smirk. This was how you played the game, right? Some girl
came up to him, holding out a bottle of beer, shoving her breasts in his face. I looked
away. This wasn’t a game I could play, not even if part of me wanted to.

“Hey, baby,” said a soft, male voice.

I turned around, and Jesse was instantly all over Dylan, his hands on her waist, his
body pressed against hers. It was kind of amazing that she’d gotten pregnant only
once—I’d never seen people more hungry for each other than those two. But instead
of being annoyed or mildly disgusted by it like I used to be, I was sort of starting
to think it was beautiful.

He whispered something in Dylan’s ear, and she threw back her head, laughing hard.
“I’m not letting you get away with that,” she said.

“Um. I’ll let you guys—”

Dylan pulled away from Jesse’s lips. “No! We have to get you and Jo—”

I held up my hand. “Jesse doesn’t need to know the details.”

“Aw, c’mon, Sky. I won’t tell nobody.” Jesse looked at me for the first time, his
eyes comically surprised. “
Damn
, girl. That dress is—” Dylan smacked him on the arm, and he laughed. “Don’t freak
out on me,” he said. “It’s just, I’ve never seen Skylar wear … you know. Your kind
of clothes.”

“Shit,” I said, pulling at the hem. “I
told
you, Dylan. It’s too short.”

She rolled her eyes. “That was sort of the point. You look all
ooh-la-la
. It’s
exactly
what you need to be wearing right now.”

“Is
ooh-la-la
like Moulin Rouge
ooh-la-la
, or Tate’s
ooh-la-la
?” I asked. Tate’s was this skeezy strip club about thirty miles up the highway.

“Does it matter?” Dylan said. She squealed as Jesse leaned into her, whispering again.

For a second I heard Josh’s voice above the collage of conversations and music pumping
from somebody’s car stereo, and I pretended to look around so that I could watch him.
The guy next to him said something, and Josh laughed. They knocked their beer bottles
in a half-assed, manly toast, then drank. It was like nothing had changed—even with
one leg, Josh Mitchell would always be a local god.

I’d thought he’d be excited to see me, want to hang out or something, but it was as
if I wasn’t at the party at all. He wasn’t looking at me, seemed much more interested
in the girls near his truck. Was this a bad idea, me coming? After what had happened
at the Paradise, maybe I was the last person he wanted to see. Here, he could pretend
cars backfiring didn’t remind him of a war he was still fighting, even though it was
thousands of miles away.

“Skylar. You look … wow.”

Blake. Of course it was Blake.

“Hey.”

Dylan, finally aware of my presence again, grabbed me and put an arm around my shoulders.

“She’s not here for you, Blake. Back up off.”

Blake rolled his eyes. “Down, girl,” he said. “I’m not drunk enough to make an ass
of myself just yet.”

“Since when did you become self-aware?” I asked him.

“I’m always aware of myself,” he said. Typical Blake. “So.” He clapped his hands and
rubbed them together. “I’m helping with drinks—wanna come check out our selection?”

“I don’t drink, remember?” I said.

Blake shrugged. “I can work with that.”

My options weren’t great: be Dylan and Jesse’s third wheel or hang out with my ex-fling.
I couldn’t stand here all night, so my impatience made me choose the greater of two
evils.

“Fine, I’ll go over there.” I turned to Dylan and Jesse. “You guys coming?”

“Um. In a minute.” That was Dylan-speak for
I’m going to have a quickie in my boyfriend’s back seat
. “If that’s okay?”

“You’re giving me a ride home, don’t forget,” I said.

Dylan swatted me on the butt. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

I shooed her away. “Get out of here already.”

I followed Blake to the table that was set up next to a truck bed full of bottles
and ice. I had to keep fighting the urge to pull at the hem of my dress, so I settled
for clutching my purse like I was walking through a dark alley.

“So why are you all dressed up?” Blake asked.

His eyes were straying over the dips and curves of my dress, like he was trying to
figure out the quickest way to take it off. I wanted
Josh
to look at me like that and—God, I couldn’t believe I was thinking this way. It was
like some horny Creek View girl had taken over my brain. I’d worn this dress so that
Josh would see me—and only me—for the rest of the night.

But it wasn’t working.

“I’m not dressed up,” I said. “I just … It’s a party, isn’t it?”

I suddenly felt like a seventh grader at her first school dance.

He squeezed my hand. “Yeah. And I’m glad you came.”

I pulled my hand away and shook my head. “Alexis: girlfriend. Me:
not
your girlfriend.”

He opened his mouth to say whatever Blake-ish thing he was going to say, but we were
at the drinks table and this girl named Tina was throwing a bottle around like she
was in the cast of
Coyote Ugly
. I didn’t know her very well—she’d graduated the year before me—but her mother was
the only person on the Paradise “housekeeping” staff, so sometimes we hung out around
the pool.

“Hey, Skylar. What’ll it be?”

“Um…”

“Make her that fruity thing you gave Jessica,” Blake said. “Virgin, though.” He gave
me a playful punch on the shoulder. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

Tina poured the drink, then Blake handed me the red cup. “To Skylar Evans—because
she’s finally joining the party.”

I raised my cup. “To Blake Mitchell—no, never mind. To me.”

“Oh,
burn
,” he said.

Someone near the bonfire yelled, “Skylar!”

Not Josh.

It was one of the guys next to him—his friend Brady. I’d gotten to know him a little
bit because he’d started coming around the Paradise now that Josh was home. Brady
waved me over, but I barely noticed because one of the Swenson twins had her hand
on Josh’s knee and her lips close to his ear. He smiled, slow and easy. He’d heard
Brady call my name, of course he had, but either he was intent on ignoring me or he
was more interested in what that Swenson girl was offering him.