“Of course he’s missing.” Andrew sighs. He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Typical.”
“Why do you hate him?” I’m yelling now, and I can see that Abby has completely given up on her text, watching us with rapt attention.
“I don’t hate him,” he says, and then shakes his head, pulling his hands out of his pockets. “Actually, you know what, I do hate him. I have every right to. You used me to get with him. You fucking said his name while we were hooking up. You’re the hypocrite, Collins. You get mad at me for using girls, for hooking up with girls when it doesn’t mean anything, but you’re the master at using people. You didn’t even care about my feelings.”
“You never care about anyone’s feelings!” I say, throwing my hands into the air. “You’ve been sleeping with girls for years, throwing them away the second something better comes along.”
“No I haven’t!” he shouts.
“Are you kidding? You’ve—”
“I haven’t been sleeping with anyone!” He looks quickly behind him and then takes my arm and pulls me farther into the corner, out of earshot.
“What are you talking about?” I say, pulling my arm out of his grip.
“I haven’t . . .” He pauses, and his voice is so quiet I can barely hear him over the thumping of the music. “I haven’t slept . . . with anyone. Ever.”
“That’s not . . .” That’s not true, I want to say. But—he never slept with Cecilia, she said so herself, never slept with Sophie, because she’s waiting until marriage.
“You’re a virgin?” I ask, feeling as small as my voice.
“Yeah.”
It all makes sense now—why he’s been acting so cagey around me. It’s because, this whole time, he’s been scared I’ll find out the truth.
“You lied to me,” I say. “I thought . . . you let me believe you were some sort of expert. I never would have . . .”
“Come on, Collins, that’s not fair. What was I supposed to say? You came to me and you were so vulnerable and I just wanted to help you. I just felt bad—”
“You felt bad for me,” I say, the words hitting me like a punch to the gut. Could I be any more pathetic? “You could have told me the truth. I feel like such an idiot. I asked for your help, I wanted your advice, and you didn’t know anything either.”
“It’s not easy for guys to just . . . admit they don’t know anything. I never lied to you, I just didn’t correct you when you assumed—”
“You made it pretty easy to assume!” I think of all the times he’s told me about his hookups, how I never once asked for clarification on what the term meant; how convenient that must have been for him. Hooking up can mean so many different things: making out on a dance floor, a hand job at the movie theater, going almost all the way in someone’s bed but changing your mind.
“There are expectations when you’re a guy,” Andrew says. “There’s pressure. Guys talk shit. And you’ve always had these ideas about me—Party Andrew. Everybody has these ideas about me now, and I can’t just . . . I’m all fucking talk, okay? Is that what you want to hear? If people want to believe I’m some big player, I’m not going to correct anybody. You can’t just admit to other dudes that it hasn’t happened yet. That you want sex to be special. Nobody buys that.”
“But I’m not just anybody,” I say. “I’m somebody. I’m your most important somebody.”
I’m not though; I realize as soon as I say it. “So you haven’t slept with Danielle.” It’s a statement, not a question. He doesn’t answer, and I let the word hanging between us unsaid come to the surface: “Yet.”
He rubs the back of his neck and doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to.
“Why?” I ask.
“What?”
“You’ve had plenty of opportunities. Why did you let Chase get there first?”
He takes a long time to answer, like even now the words are hard for him to admit. “It’s not a race, Collins.”
“Are you sure?” Because that’s how it’s felt so far—like high school is one big competition and I’m the one losing.
Just then, I feel a heavy arm on my shoulder, the familiar smell of aftershave and tobacco that once made me so giddy, and I know that it’s Dean. Andrew’s expression hardens and he stands up a little bit straighter, and I bristle, because there it is in action: there’s the overprotective brother.
“What are you two fighting about now?” Dean asks, and the question makes me sad. Andrew and I have disintegrated so much—our friendship is so strained—that Dean assumes we’re probably fighting about something. And even though Dean is the reason for it, it’s my fault really. I was the one who couldn’t be honest with myself, who couldn’t be honest with Dean. I was the one who decided to risk my friendship with Andrew instead of telling Dean the truth. I’m the one who messed everything up.
“We’re not fighting,” Andrew says. Even though he’s admitted his secret to me, I can tell he still doesn’t want anyone to know.
“Oh thank God,” Dean says, his tone flat and sarcastic. He nuzzles his face into my neck, tickling my skin with his nose. “It’s getting pretty boring here. You want to head up to the room?”
I know I should answer Dean, but I can’t look away from Andrew. His cheeks are red from our fight, and he’s breathing hard. His hair is sticking up in all directions, and he looks, suddenly, so young, like the little boy I used to tell everything to.
And all I want to do is comfort him, even though I’m the reason he’s upset in the first place. I want to leave everything behind—leave this ballroom, leave Dean, leave Prescott, and just be with him, just hold on to him and never let him go. But it’s too late for that.
I know suddenly what his grand gesture is going to be. I know why he and Danielle got a room tonight. He’s going to tell her he loves her and then he’s going to sleep with her for the first time. His first time.
So I have to let him go.
I turn around and face Dean, placing my hands on either side of his chin and pulling his face toward mine. Then I kiss him like there’s nobody else around—like we’re already up in the room. I kiss him like it’s a promise. When I pull back, I can see his pupils have dilated.
“Yeah, let’s head up to the room,” I say, my voice scratchy.
He begins to lead me away and I let him, following him toward the exit. I don’t want to look back at Andrew, but I can’t help it and at the last second I turn and look behind me, afraid of what I’ll see on his face.