She laughed again and walked off, only slightly wobbly, leaving me to watch my ex-boyfriend replace the whiskey in the woman’s hand with his own, pulling her to the dance floor.
The center of attention was where Derek belonged. He loved the spotlight, a performer at heart even if his diploma said English, and the guy could dance.
And then, since tonight’s theme was cruel irony, “Do You Love Me” by The Contours played over the speakers.
And I felt just like Baby in Dirty Dancing, clutching a glass of swiped champagne instead of a watermelon, as Derek fell into sensual sync with the woman.
We’d first seen Dirty Dancing as kids. We hadn’t really understood the nuances of the plot, more entranced by the music. Over the years, it’d secretly become one of our favorites, the scenes making way more sense as teens, the dancing much more interesting as our own dances had started popping up and proms loomed on the horizon.
One night, half-watching, half-making out, entwined on top of his comforter, Derek had pulled away, confusion flashing on his face as the glow of the TV flickered across his skin.
“Do you remember when we first saw this? In the pool house before my drum set was in there? Liam said your parents argued about watching it. What was that about?”
“Yeah, one liked it, the other hated it, so they always fought about watching it. You know how they are. They hate each other. They can’t stand being around each other. It was a whole thing,” I’d said with a shrug.
Derek had nodded, understanding. Back then, my parents fought about everything, the simplest sigh having the ability to launch them into a days-long argument.
“I’m sorry,” he’d said, gently brushing his hand over my cheek. “I didn’t mean to drudge up a shitty memory. I was just wondering.”
I’d nodded, still unsure how to talk about their divorce while they’d been in the midst of it. For two people who clearly wanted to be apart, they’d been bitterly dragging out the process.
In response, Derek had sat up against his pillows, pulled me to his chest, and wrapped his arms around me, his cheek resting on the top of my head.
Then he’d laced his fingers with mine and squeezed.
It had been our signal, a reminder that we were in this together, no matter what.
After a couple more scenes, he’d said, “We don’t have to worry about that. When we’re old, we won’t fight. And I’ll watch this movie with you whenever. Forever and always. No matter how many times Caleb gives me shit for it.”
I’d grinned at his promise, saying I’d hold him to that.
“Forever and always,” I’d repeated, locking my pinky with his, believing in us.
CHAPTER THREE
I awoke to a pounding, close to my temple and on my front door.
If Liam hadn’t been gallivanting around in a van, I would’ve assumed he’d forgotten his key and finally grown out of sneaking back in through the window.
And Dad was either at least 30,000 feet in the air or in his New York apartment between flights.
So it was just me, alone in this house, doors locked and curtains drawn, surrounded by incessant pounding.
I stumbled out of my bed, nearly kicking my old CD player across the room, and dodged a stack of boxes I’d been packing and unpacking for the past two years, unable to decide if I wanted to move out of Dad’s place, and if so, where the hell I was going anyway.
“Okay, so I finally did what you should have done four years ago,” Alex said as she burst inside, ignoring that I’d only cracked open the door, bleary-eyed and not committed to visitors.
“What?”
“I brought coffee,” she said, shoving the cup in my hand and a box of donuts before plopping down on the sofa. “And I have information. A lot of it.”
“… did you sleep last night?” I asked, taking in her disheveled appearance, her wide, red-rimmed eyes, last night’s makeup. “Because I was sleeping. Just now. Before you woke me up.”
She rolled her eyes, that detail unimportant, and held up her phone triumphantly.
“Research, Eli. I did a lot of it. You need to sit.”
I curled up on my mom’s favorite vintage wingback chair — a stiff structure that brought no comfort to our home except to Dad because he’d refused to give it to her.
“Lex, I’m kind of tired.”
“So eat the sugar.”
I obliged, too exhausted from last night to argue.
When I’d gone back to my seat, refusing to watch Derek with the mystery woman, Kennedy had already disappeared. But her champagne and dessert wine had gone untouched, so I’d helped myself, adding it to our long list of misdeeds against each other. Unfortunately, I was already experiencing payback through this hangover.
“Okay, so like I said, you should have done this years ago, but I’ve done it for you, so you’re welcome,” Alex said excitedly.
My brain was too foggy to catch up.
“Do what?”
“Stalk your ex-boyfriend online.”
I laughed, shaking my head.
“Yes.”
“No, Alex, no. I’m stopping you right now.”
“It’s already done. Let me tell you what I learned.”
I hastily sat down my coffee and donut. “No, you can’t bribe me. I’m putting my foot down. I don’t care. Do Derek and I pretty much despise each other? Yes. But do I care about his life which does not involve me? No.”
“You cared last night!”
“No, I didn’t,” I sighed. “It was weird seeing him, that’s all.”
Seeing him dancing with a beautiful woman hadn’t been the best feeling in the world, but I’d had plenty of years to heal my heart.
And at the end of the night, I hadn’t loved when Derek passed me, not breaking his step, refusing to even acknowledge me, his date brought barely able to keep up with his stride.
“So you don’t want to know anything about what I found out?” Alex asked skeptically. “You don’t want to know that it’s worse than we originally thought?”
I looked at her suspiciously, careful not to tread too far into this wild land of curiosity.
“What’s worse?”
“Derek has never been in a relationship since you.”
I looked at her, confused why this was relevant.
“What about that woman from last night? He looked pretty cozy with her.”
Alex shook her head. “No, her name is Sable, and she’s just one of his friends. They party together a lot. Based on what I could tell, she’s in and out of relationships and is moving to New York soon.”
“And Derek isn’t her boyfriend?”
“Nope, they’ve never been together. I bet he brought her to mess with you. I told you! You should’ve invited Noah.”
I shook my head, unable to come up with a response. That seemed so petty. Like messing with the seating chart.
“Didn’t you assume he’d changed? That maybe a part of him wanted to repent for what he did to you? Stringing you along, sleeping with you, and then dumping you? Cutting off all communication with you for four years?”
I sighed, not bothering to point out that I hadn’t tried to contact him either.