He puts his elbow on the desk. “You’re not a mind reader and you can’t control people. Even if you had been at that party, she would have left eventually. She would have taken the same curve in the road. You are not an all-knowing deity who can decide someone’s fate just by showing up at a party.”
But…
I wasn’t there. If I had been, maybe she would have waited until the rain stopped, maybe I would have driven her home, maybe we would have resolved all our shit—
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Stop. Stop. Stop.
“Zack?”
I inhale a deep breath and look up at him.
“You deserve hockey. You deserve happiness.”
He’s been saying those words to me since the day we started this.
I look back out the window.
“I want you to repeat those words to yourself when you wake up tomorrow. Then say them again when you go to bed. Say them whenever you feel like you’re spiraling down that hole. Okay?”
I give him a nod, but I’m not sure I agree with him. Magic words won’t fix me.
I watch a couple on the street at a bus stop. They’re young, maybe my age, and there’s a suitcase between them. She leans her head on his shoulder and stares up at him with big eyes. He smiles down at her and kisses her…and I’m wrapped in envy.
I want that, that…that…love.
I could have that.
I could.
But do I deserve it?
17
Sugar
The night of Eric’s party arrives the next week and I’m getting ready, my mind already on Z. I’ve seen him a couple of times since the Tipsy Moose, but it’s been brief. We met in the student center for lunch one day, and he took more pictures of us and posted them to his social media. “This will keep the girls away,” he said with a smile, but I knew they wouldn’t. He’s the kind of guy girls will crawl on the floor to be with. As we were leaving that day, me off to the library and him to hockey, Reece and Veronica showed up and Z visibly stiffened, his entire demeanor changing. There’s a weird energy when they’re around, and it pricks at me, makes me wonder what the backstory is there.
Don’t get your heart broken, Sugar.
Poppy eyes me critically, her lips spreading into a wide grin as she takes in my figure in the dress I picked out to wear. The color is a deep merlot, silky and stunning and clingy, and of course, it came from her closet. She’s two inches shorter than me and a size smaller across the boobs, but because it’s a halter dress that ties around the neck, we had some leeway. She claps, her face filled with glee. “I wish I had your boobs.”
“No, you don’t. Have you seen me try to jog? Scary.”
She tugs her cardigan around her slim shoulders. “I’m flatter than a pancake. I would die to shake those things in some guy’s face and watch him melt…”
“You’re beautiful, Poppy!” And she is with her shiny, dark, almost black hair and blue eyes.
She shrugs. “Meh.”
I grimace as I look at my reflection. “This dress is as subtle as a freight train. It practically screams look at me.”
“No, that’s the shoes,” she says with a grin.
We glance down at the strappy gold two-inch heels. They match the delicate gold necklace with a glittering rectangular quartz pendant around my neck. My toenails are painted a wine color and my fingernails match, all thanks to Taylor. I huff out a laugh as I look at my long legs in these heels. “I’ll be taller than all the girls and some of the dudes.”
“So? Hockey guys are huge. It’s perfect.”
The deep V of the neckline falls far enough to reveal my considerable cleavage, and I tug at it until she pops my hands. “Just leave it. You look like a siren.”
I twirl around. “If I bend over, my ass is going to show.”
“Don’t bend over.”
“Or do bend over,” Taylor says slyly from his spot on my bed. “Get you a little something when no one is looking.”
I shake my head at them both.
Taylor applies a thin coat of mascara to his lashes, snaps the mirror closed, and gives me a long look. “Honestly, I know you hate dresses, but you look good enough to eat.”
“It’s because I’m so dang tall. Nothing looks right on me, so I just stick with leggings or skinny jeans.”
“Leggings should be outlawed. Just wait until you get that law degree and get a nice job—then you can get your dresses tailored.”
Poppy plops down in the beanbag chair underneath my window, crossing her legs in the air and swishing her feet back and forth. She sends a disdainful look around my dorm room. “I feel horrible you have to live here. I would have loved to be your roomie, but we all assumed you and Bennett…” She shrugs. “Sorry.”
“Where is Julia anyway?” Taylor asks.
“I rarely see her so I assume she’s staying over with someone.”
I touch my hair, which I curled into soft beach waves that brush against my shoulders. My eyes are accentuated with shimmering grey shadow, and the lids are lined in black eyeliner. I inhale a deep breath.
“I’m nervous,” I say, putting on more Bad Girl wine-colored lipstick.
“What’s one party? Just picture yourself in law school next fall, learning all that lawyery stuff,” Taylor says.
“Those classes will be hard, I assure you.”
He waves me off. “Why, you’ll be just like Elle Woods in Legally Blonde. All you need is a cute little puppy and a friend who’s a manicurist to teach you how to bend and snap.” He stands and demonstrates. “Bend and snap! See? Easy peasy.”
I’m outright giggling. “Dude, I can’t even bend over.”
After picking up some donuts, I drive to Z’s, and I have a hard time finding a parking place. I end up on the side of the road one block over, and I curse myself for not agreeing to let Z come pick me up. While it was kind of him to offer when he texted me today, I like knowing I can leave when I want to.
The house is lit up as I turn the corner, shivering from the gust of cold wind as I cross my arms over my North Face.
Finally at his house, I walk up the sidewalk and open the door. It’s loud inside with music blaring over a sound system that I can’t see. Happy Birthday Eric! is written on a gold banner strung up on the wall near the staircase, and black and gold balloons float around the room.
There’s a coat rack overflowing with jackets, so I fold mine up and tuck it neatly inside the hall closet. “Stay safe, Coat.”
I feel exposed in my dress, as if I’m on display. Several girls are huddled in a pile on the couch in the den, and I search their faces for anyone familiar I might know, but it’s pointless. I don’t know these people. One of the girls turns around to get a look at me, and my eyes narrow. Veronica. She sniffs, turns her nose up, and whispers to one of the other girls.
I’m almost to the kitchen when she gets up and cuts me off, giving me an overly bright smile.
I blink. “Hi?”
Dressed in a slinky black pantsuit with a silver sash around the middle, she looks sophisticated and snooty. She’s wearing her I smell something bad expression.