Bossy(31)

Four months ago I would’ve agonized over a comment like that, wondering if he was falling out of love with me and trying to fix it by changing myself. Tonight, instead of that gnawing doubt that I expect to feel, there’s nothing.

It’s freeing. I take a deep breath and push Michael out of my head.

It’s a gorgeous evening. Cotton candy clouds float above me in a sea of orange and pink as the sun drops lazily over the horizon. The whole sky is reflected in the water and I wish I was here for a different reason so I could enjoy it instead of eating my weight in finger food to avoid saying the wrong thing.

I just want to put in enough time to be polite, and then go home.

His mother smiles and waves from across the pool. I nod and wiggle my fingers in response, feeling like an imposter. He still hasn’t told them I kicked him out, or why. I didn’t really expect he would, but I’d hoped.

I think his parents suspect something is off with us, though. They’re not stupid. When we said hello, Michael had tried to put his arm around my waist, but I kept moving out of the way. Since then I haven’t said more than two words to anyone. If he wasn’t following me around like a lost puppy, I wouldn’t even be near him.

If they don’t see it, they’re blind.

“Mikey!” Some cousin I vaguely remember from his mother’s side claps Michael on the arm and drags him off to talk sports.

Seizing the opportunity, I make a beeline for the punch bowl. I’m at my limit for wine and stuffed full of meatballs, but I desperately need something to drink. It looks like fruit punch, and I take a gulp, coughing in surprise when it burns all the way down, making my eyes water and my stomach turn to liquid fire.

Michael’s Uncle Chester whoops and gives me an enthusiastic thumbs up from across the pool. I guess I know who spiked it. Grinning, I raise my cup, acknowledging his little victory. I’d be annoyed, but girls who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw chili-mayo filled donuts. We’re two of a kind.

My second sip is more cautious, knowing what to expect this time. What the heck, it’s not like tonight can get any more awkward than it already is. Maybe I’ll get wasted and forget the whole evening.

It worked out so well last time after all. Now all I need is a guy like Declan to show up and I’m good to go.

I sigh. Declan. I’ve been doing so well too. It’s been at least twenty, thirty minutes since I last thought about him. Friday I wanted to kill him, tonight I’m one cup of punch away from wondering what he’s doing tonight. Who he’s doing tonight.

Because let’s face it, a man-whore like him has probably banged enough girls since we met to start a volleyball team. Come to think of it, he’s probably banged an actual volleyball team.

Who could blame them?

When he’s nice, he’s great. Drop dead sexy even. Even when he’s bad, he makes my blood pound in my ears and my heart beat faster. Especially when he’s bad.

I don’t belong here. I knew that as soon as I came, but now Michael’s been gone a while and his parents are busy chatting with their friends and family. Something I’m never going to be.

Maybe I should just leave.

“God this party’s boring. Good food though.” A way too familiar voice sounds next to me as a large figure leans up against the table, making it creak softly. “So which ones are his parents?”

I spin around to find the devil himself looming next to me, pulling pieces of teriyaki chicken off a little wooden spear. For several long moments I have no words. “Declan!” I hiss in a stage whisper. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He shrugs. “I crash parties, I guess. It’s a thing.” He flicks the spear into the bushes and turns to pour himself a glass of punch. “Besides, he gave you trouble last time. Figured you’d want backup.”

“Wait, so you took it upon yourself to follow me to a party you’re not invited to, just so you can pretend to protect me from Michael? Here? Right in front of his parents?” I gawk at him in disbelief. “Are you insane?”

He leans in like he’s going to impart some pearl of ancient wisdom. His voice is a hoarse whisper, pretending to be shocked. “Claire. I think someone’s spiked the punch.” He looks around, like he’s making sure no one’s nearby. “If I knew it was going to be that kind of party, I would’ve come earlier.”

I try to stop it, but instead I just end up snorting out a laugh like a donkey. “It’s for the best. If you and Uncle Chester over there joined forces, the ice sculptures would be on fire by now. You can thank him for the punch.”

He looks around, as if seeing all the possibilities for the first time. “Man, now I really wish I’d come earlier.”