Dylan raced around the grand entryway, dressed as Superman. He picked up Abby and she squealed as he pretended to save her.
“And look at your hot outfit!” Jake said with a twang. He had a piece of straw in his mouth, carried a stuffed cow, and was barefoot.
Ivy appeared disappointed and confused.
“What are you?” she asked.
“Duh, I’m a Westsider,” he proclaimed.
I rolled my eyes.
“You’re so ignorant,” Ivy whispered, half horrified. “You’re going to embarrass me at my party.”
“Have you been to the Westside?” he asked.
“I know they wear shoes,” I said, shaking my head.
I looked to Ivy for help.
She reached into my purse and pulled out my eyeliner. She grabbed Jake’s chin with one hand and with the other drew several circles on his face and quickly colored them in.
“What are you doing?” Jake asked, annoyed.
“Now you are as you should be,” Ivy announced. “A cow!”
Everyone laughed—except, of course, for Jake.
“Where is Nash?” I asked, anxious to find him. I was looking forward to seeing what he wore.
“Parking the car,” Dylan said.
I imagined at any minute Nash would be running into the house dressed as a superhero, swooping me up in his arms and carrying me off to safety, or a knight taking me as his princess and challenging any guest who vied for my attention to a duel, or even a rock star who’d get down on one knee and serenade me with a love song.
Instead, Nash entered Ivy’s foyer as he always did—in jeans and a long-sleeved polo.
“What are you?” I asked.
He checked me out—eyeing my short skirt, bare legs, and high heels.
“I guess I’m the Big Bad Wolf!” Nash said as he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to him. “Grr,” he said with a growl.
The partygoers around us broke out in laughter, as if Nash were a headlining comedian. But I didn’t think his joke was funny.
I felt awkward and even let down, but I didn’t want my true feelings to spoil the party. I did my best to disguise my disappointment by making myself busy and handing out drinks in Ivy’s airplane-hangar-size kitchen.
I watched as Abby and Ivy talked, giggled, and snuggled with their boyfriends. I was excited and flushed and giddy many times when I was with Nash, but I felt something was lacking that my friends had.
“What’s with you?” Nash asked. “You seem aloof.”
“I’m not, I’m just helping Ivy out,” I said.
“Ivy’s making out with Jake. The only thing you can be helping her out with now is giving her an oxygen tank.”
It was odd; Nash and I seemed to sense each other’s feelings when those around us weren’t as in tune.
I was attempting to refill the ice when he took the silver monogrammed bucket from me.
“What’s up, Parker?”
“Nothing,” I said with a forced smile.
“You’re mad that I didn’t come in costume?” he asked.
“I’m not mad . . .”
“But disappointed.”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“I didn’t know it meant that much to you,” he said.
I gazed down at my shoes.
He took my chin and raised it so I was facing him.
“I guess I should have . . . it just seems so silly,” he said. He glanced at the crowd, then back at me. “I don’t want to wear a clown wig or Darth Vader mask. You’d think I’d look ridiculous.”
“You’re afraid of what I’d think?” I asked, surprised.
“I guess. You and everyone else.”
“Nash, you are gorgeous,” I said. “No matter what you wore, no one would be laughing at you.”
It was funny to me that deep down inside, the all-star athlete of Legend’s Run High still was insecure.
“Are you just charming me?” I asked.
“Did it work?” he wondered aloud.
I couldn’t help but smile.
But before I knew it, Nash kissed me and I was quickly lost in his lips. At that moment I no longer cared how he was dressed.
Chapter Five
Love and the Library
It was mid-November, and a few weeks had passed since my friends and I were circled around a campfire in the woods and Nash had told us his frightening werewolf story. Footballs, goalposts, and grass were replaced with basketballs, hoops, and hardwood floors. The red, gold, and orange autumn leaves had fallen or been blown away and now many trees stood naked. The temperatures fell, too. There was just a dusting of snow on the ground.
I loved the first fresh snow when it blanketed the town and closed the schools, or a weekend snowfall when it accumulated enough for us to stay indoors with a cozy comforter, a good book, and tasty hot chocolate. I loved the sound of the snow crunching underneath my boots or the ultralight snowfall on a silent street. I loved magical moments when the only impressions in the snow were the tiny footprints of a bird. And I cherished the memories of when Juliette and I were younger and dragged our sleds to Hillside or another nearby slope.