“Oh crap. Better see what my evil twin is crying about now.”
“That’s your sister?” The question slips from my mouth before I can stop it.
Vanessa gives me a pitiful smile. “Yep. Heather Castro, the Ice Queen of Rushmore, is my twin. There are worse fates; we could be identical.”
She pushes her way through the crowd to get to her sister.
I search for Troy and see he’s still busy socializing with his friends. It’d be fine to wait for him, but my bladder has other ideas. I shouldn’t have guzzled down all that beer before coming here. I go in search of a bathroom, but the house is so crowded, it’s impossible to get to anything. Finally, I ask a girl next to me.
“Oh, you don’t want to use the bathroom downstairs,” she tells me. “It’s disgusting.” She staggers forward, tripping over nothing.
Great. Drunk as a skunk.
“Use the one upstairs,” a different girl chimes in. She looks more lucid, so I follow her advice.
I head for the stairs, and I’m actually surprised it’s not off-limits. In fact, traffic is pretty heavy going up and down. Soon I find out that there’s a second party going on in some of the rooms. Yeah, this is definitely party central. I’m about to ask again where the damn bathroom is when I see two girls stumble out of a room. They leave the door ajar, and with a quick peek inside, I spot the door to a bathroom. This is someone’s bedroom, but my bladder is about to fail.
Fuck it. If they wanted to keep people out, they should have kept it locked.
I walk in, closing the door behind me, and then hurry to the bathroom. I try not to look at anything too closely; this is a guy’s bathroom, after all, and it’s also been turned into a Grand Central Station restroom. I pee standing up, even though it takes me ages to get it going in this position. Guys are so fucking lucky. In moments like this, I have serious penis envy. After a minute in a squat position that has my thighs burning, relief comes, but also the knowledge that after this first piss, I’ll need to go every fifteen minutes. Oh joy. I should have gone straight to tequila.
I’m washing my hands when I hear a noise outside the bathroom—a drunk girl, judging by her slurred speech, and someone else. My hand is on the door handle when I hear Troy’s voice.
What the fucking hell?
33
TROY
I lose track of time goofing around with the guys, and when I look for Charlie, she’s no longer chatting with Vanessa Castro, the midfielder of the girls’ soccer team. Afraid she got upset that I ignored her and left the party, I text her. When she doesn’t answer, I go looking for her.
There seems to be more people now than fifteen minutes ago, and getting anywhere in the house takes a lot of shoving and pushing. I stretch my neck, trying to find her on the makeshift dance floor. I do find Vanessa with her teammates, but no sign of Charlie. I decide to talk to Vanessa and ask if she knows where Charlie went when I’m intercepted by Brooke, who pretty much throws herself into my arms.
Her makeup is smeared, and her eyes are bloodshot. Even if those weren’t clues enough, she’s wasted; her breath smells like tequila.
“Troy, the person I’ve been looking for the whole night.” She hiccups.
I straighten her and then push her back. “What’s the matter with you?”
“What’s the matter with me? I’ll tell you what’s the matter with me. I shouldn’t have ever let my parents convince me to go to New York. If I had stayed, we’d still be together.”
Fuck me. I knew it. She came back because of me. I wasn’t crazy when I got that vibe from her at the diner.
“Come on, Brooke. Don’t do this now. You’re drunk.”
“I know I’m drunk. I had to. It’s the only way I can tell you the truth. Liquid courage, right?”
I sense the crowd around us is staring. Not everyone is shitfaced out of their minds yet, and I’m sure some are hanging on to every word we say. I have to get Brooke out of here.
“Come on. Let’s talk somewhere in private.”
As much as I’m pissed that she’s causing a scene, I can’t leave her alone in this current state. For starters, it’s not safe. There are a lot of weirdos on campus. Plus, I do owe it to our shared past to hear her out and explain that I’m with Charlie, and that’s not going to change. There isn’t any chance Brooke and I will ever get back together.
I steer her toward the stairs. There must be a quiet room where we can talk. In the back of my mind, I know this will look bad. I hope Charlie doesn’t believe the gossip when she hears about it. Once on the second floor, I try every door until I find an unoccupied room.
“I’m such an idiot. I hate New York. Always have. Why did I go?” she whines.
“Come on, Brooke. Sit down.” I push her onto the bed, stepping back quickly before she drags me with her.
I don’t want this situation to get more awkward than it already is.
“You were right, Troy. I did come back because of you. Seeing you during the holidays made me realize I missed you terribly. Every single guy I dated after you didn’t compare.”
I listen to Brooke pour her heart out, but the only feeling she can summon from me is pity. There isn’t a single spark left of what we had before.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asks.
“What do you want me to say?”
Her shoulders sag forward as she laughs without humor. “That you feel the same way.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why? Because of Charlie?”
“No. She has nothing to do with this.”
Brooke sits up straighter, and a new glimmer of hope shines in her bloodshot eyes. “So you’re not in love with her?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Fuck, Troy. You’re not making any sense.”
I run a hand over my hair. “I don’t want you to think that if Charlie wasn’t in the picture, then I’d be with you. That’s what I’m getting at. I care about you, Brooke, as a friend. Nothing more.”
Her face twists in agony, and more tears gather in her eyes. “It would have been kinder if you told me we couldn’t be together because you were madly in love with your roommate.”
“That wouldn’t be fair. I can’t compare what we had with what Charlie and I have.”
“What do you mean?” She wipes her face with the back of her hand.
“You were my first girlfriend, Brooke, and that’s something no one can take away. You’ll always be a cherished memory. Well, besides this one.”
She snorts. “Gee, thanks.”
“But Charlie is….” I struggle to put into words what she means to me. She drives me insane, whether with desire or grievance. She pushes my buttons like no other, but she also makes me feel alive. She’s a high I never want to come down from.
“She’s what?” Brooke asks.
“She’s endgame,” I say, not knowing it to be true until the words come out of my mouth.
Brooke’s eyes turn rounder. “Oh my God. You are in love with her.”
Maybe she’s right, but I don’t want to admit that out loud.