“Hilarious.” I throw an eye roll.
“Well, I think you had an amazing season.”
I shift my feet, uncomfortable. I’m not the hugest fan of compliments, something Gregg knows. “I had help.”
“Oh right. I forgot that you’re blandly ordinary and your team pretty much carried you.” He smiles over the ridge of his cup.
“Your accuracy is impressive.” I nod toward the house. “Looks like Alec’s making friends.” Two of the girls have moved closer to Alec. “So is it true he got expelled for having a girl in his dorm?”
“Fact. Why? Is that important?”
“Not to me. Lizzie’s writing an exposé.”
“Classic, right? One of the most interesting things to happen here didn’t even happen here.”
“Classic indeed.” I take a sip of water, the cold shocking my insides. “How long have you guys been friends? I’ve never heard you mention him before.” My curiosity about Alec surprises me.
“His peeps moved here last year. We share ice when he’s home on break but I’m one of the only dudes he knows in town.”
“Bummer for him,” I say, and laugh.
Gregg puts his arm around me and squeezes. “Enough about Alec. How about you? Things cool?”
I lean into him in our comfortable way. I know he’s asking about my home life. Olivia. The Missing Link that is/was Dad. I pull in a deep breath, prepared to blow the entire update his way, get his take on the unfolding madness. “Olivia’s meet—”
But then my words are stolen.
Gregg’s mouth presses onto mine, evaporating sound between us. His cheek stubble pricks against my skin. He thrusts his tongue between my lips and it meets mine, furiously searching. I pull back, shove my palm against the thick ridge of his collarbone.
“What was that?” Shock ripples through me in a way I thought impossible only moments ago. Gregg tilts his head and settles it onto my shoulder.
“Go out with me, Zeph.” A plea whispered into the crook of my neck.
I slink out from under the weight of his drunk head and he scoops me to his tree trunk chest. My feet dangle in midair. He pushes “Zeph” into my ear. Half of me shivers from the intensity of being held by his strong arms. The bigger half of me can’t believe this is happening because it’s Gregg. My friend-since-preschool-Gregg.
“Put me down.”
He eases my feet to the grass.
My voice falls soft. “You kissed me.”
“I know. It was a little more one-sided than I’d planned.”
“Planned?”
“I—” he starts, but something rustles behind us. Lizzie.
“You two look cozy,” she says.
Gregg staggers backward, looking as disoriented as I feel.
“Sober much?” Lizzie laughs, showing no signs she saw the kiss. The kiss that was planned. Oh god.
Gregg stares at his empty hands. “I-I need to grab a beer.” He turns quickly, heads toward the patio. I pull my sleeve over my hand and blot my mouth, wishing I had a stronger drink to wash away the taste of Gregg—Gregg, who’s practically my brother.
Lizzie arches her eyebrows. “Is it something I said?”
“No, I think he just . . .” But I don’t know how to process the last two minutes, let alone make an excuse for Gregg’s behavior. I grab Lizzie’s beer, swig a sip, and shove the cup back into her hand.
“Whoa. What’s gotten into you?”
“I think I want to bail.” I can’t drink enough to forget that kiss, but maybe Gregg will. Maybe he already has.
“We can leave if that’s what you want. Things have to be pretty messed up for you right now.”
Major understatement. “I need to go.”
On the drive home, Lizzie doles out supportive advice about the recent development with my parents in the way I’ve come to depend on, but tonight I only half listen. I’m too floored by Gregg’s kiss to focus on much else.
I retreat to my room and lock the door. Lying on my bed, my brain cyclones with thoughts of men and boys and boys and men. All making the wrong choices.
• • •
Gregg’s kiss haunts me all Saturday morning, so I ditch my homework and run. A lot. Just like I always do when too many issues creep up that are beyond my control. When I return to our long dirt driveway I stop to stretch against the pole that is supposed to hold up a green Ashland Drive sign, but the lonely metal rod stands as bare as the surrounding trees.
A twig cracks in the far distance. A deer, probably. The quiet of our forest is a comfort after the chaos of Waxman’s party. A bit of thankfulness surges in me for Dad deciding to buy so much property. But then I remember that this wooded seclusion and me and Mom wasn’t what Dad wanted after all. Or is it? A chill licks my insides as I reach for the mailbox, duck my hand into its mouth, and retrieve the stack of letters. All bills. Some with Dad’s name.