Smart Girl (22 page)

He shakes his head.

“It’s an old legend that says if you fold a thousand paper cranes, you would be granted one wish. All of us had only one wish in the world, and that was for her to get better. It sounded like the perfect choice for us. Me, Tosh, and my dad went to get the tattoos at night while Gran stayed with my mom. We each got two hundred and fifty—which took forever and hurt
so
bad.” I run my fingers down my side, where two hundred and fifty teeny-tiny colorful paper cranes swirl across my skin. “Tosh got his on his back, and Dad got his across his chest—over his heart, he said. Theirs aren’t colorful like mine. Not sure they were manly enough to handle the pain.” I wink at him, and I’m surprised to see how uncomfortable he looks. “When we showed her what we’d done, she must have cried for days.”

“I’m sure she was touched,” he says stiffly.

“No, she was livid. She hated tattoos, said we’d all marred our perfect skin and we’d regret it later.” I can’t help but smile. “When she went into remission, she got the last of the cranes tattooed along her side.”

It’s a good story. One of my favorites to tell, and I expect him to be charmed. I expect him to ask me more questions or tell me something about himself that I don’t already know. But that’s not what happens. What happens is that he says something charming about needing to inspect my tattoos in further detail. He rains down kisses on my skin and praise for how beautiful I am, and for the first time since we’ve been together, all of it feels wrong.

Chapter
FOURTEEN

I walk down the hallway towards Max and Landon’s apartment just like I did last year on this night. This time around I’ve got on a tight black minidress, which I know Liam will love. Even if I’ve been feeling weird about us this week, that didn’t mean my feelings for him are less intense or that I don’t want him to think I look crazy hot on New Year’s Eve. So I’m rocking big hair and great makeup, and I even put on the black pumps he loves so much. On the way out the door, though, I imagined the suck factor of wobbling along all night in those too-tall shoes, and I swapped them for my high-heel wedge sneakers. When I get to their door, I knock on it with the bottom of the champagne in my hand.

Max is the one who answers the door, and we end up standing there staring at each other. I hate feeling this way. We might be a lot of things, but awkward around each other isn’t one of them.

“Are we still fighting?” I ask with fake petulance.

She smirks. “I don’t know. Are you still acting like a jackass?”

“Probably.”

“So long as you’re aware of it.” She moves aside. “Come on in.”

I follow her into their kitchen with a smile on my face. That is the Mackenzie Jennings version of kissing and making up, and that’s likely as good as it’s going to get with her.

We head into the kitchen, and I watch while she opens the bubbly and pours it into juice glasses for us.

“I like your dress,” I tell her.

She looks down at the bright-blue dress she has on. It’s made of layers of shredded silk. One might go so far as to suggest the skirt almost,
almost
looks ballerina inspired. It’s her style but with a softer effect than she ever would have worn before.

“Thanks.” She turns towards the back of the apartment. “Landon, if you put any more mascara on your lashes, you’re actually going to weigh them down rather than boost them up. Get out here!”

Landon yells something neither of us can make out and then hurries down the hallway in a tiny gold dress. I’m actually kind of startled to see her in it.

“Not that I’m judging, but didn’t you wear that dress last New Year’s?” I ask as she makes a beeline for the glass of champagne waiting for her on the countertop.

She runs a hand down the sequins with a soft smile. “I know. I hate to repeat myself, but Brody asked me to wear it again.”

“Here we go,” Max grumbles.

Landon’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh really? And who bought the dress you’re wearing tonight,
Mackenzie
?”

Both Max and I give her odd looks.

“Dude, why are you using her full name?”

Landon smiles and then laughs. “I don’t know. I was trying to be funny . . . and also, I started drinking an hour ago, so my humor barometer might be a little off.”

Gods, I love these weirdos!

I hold up my juice glass in salute. “To Sandra?”

They smile in unison, and we clink glasses to the oddball toast we made up when our friendship was still new. “To Sandra!”

I can already tell this night is going to be epic.

Brody meets us at the door to Twenty-Five, and the crowd of people there part for him like Moses and the Red Sea. Probably because he owns this club and has made an incredible reputation for himself as an arbiter of cool, sophisticated venues—also because he has a security guy with him who looks bigger than the magical prisoner in
The Green Mile
.

“You’re looking dapper this evening, pal,” I tell Brody as I lean up to give him a hug. He smiles down at his dark suit; it’s a perfect compliment to Landon’s dress.

“Thanks, so do you.”

As we head through the club en masse, Taylor comes down the stairs from the VIP section. His suit is a charcoal gray cut slim, sort of
Mad Men
style, and he’s rocking a skinny tie. I’ve never seen him dressed up before. It’s totally adorable. He gives Landon and me a hug and then leans in close to whisper something in Max’s ear before kissing her there. She grins and beams at him with total unrestrained joy. I know for a fact she never imagined this for herself. I am so happy for them.

We walk up the stairs to the VIP area and the lounge we’re commandeering for the evening. I couldn’t care less what my friends do for a living. If Brody were a manager at Chick-fil-A, I’d still love him simply because he made my best friend so happy. But on a night like this? It’s pretty flipping cool to know the guy who can hook you up with a lounge that typically requires A-list celebrity status or an Amex black card.

The club is pulsating with music and people, and the energy is electric. I’m sure my hair is growing bigger by the second. A server hurries over to Brody and starts taking everyone’s drink order, but Landon is already bouncing to the music. One more drink and she’ll be bringing out her sprinkler or a really bad rendition of the Dougie.

We slide onto the sofa just as Malin shimmies her way over with Casidee. They both look gorgeous tonight, and I tell them so, though Malin’s outfit is a surprising change of pace.

“You do look so pretty, Mali,” Landon tells her uncertainly. “But is that . . . Are you wearing your sister’s shirt?”

Malin smiles proudly and stands up to show off her outfit.

“Do you like it?” she asks us happily.

A worn-out Jesse and the Rippers T-shirt with a hole in the sleeve is half tucked into silk ankle-length skinny slacks and designer heels that are a mile high. She looks gorgeous, even if it’s not the short designer dress we’re used to seeing her in on a night like this.

“It’s my new style.”

“It’s fabulous,” I tell her sincerely.

Everyone else agrees, just as the server arrives with our drinks in record time—which I suppose makes sense, since Brody is the one signing paychecks. We settle in to hang out. I sent a text to Liam letting him know we were a few minutes away. I wonder why he’s not here yet. I really can’t wait to see what he’s wearing. Is it a suit? Is it classically cut like Brody’s or more stylish like the one Taylor has on? I take a quick swig of my cocktail just as the opening beats of a Lady Gaga song come on. It’s New Year’s, the drinks are strong, and Gaga is bringing her A-game. There’s only one option here.

I jump up and grab Landon’s hand to pull her with me to the dance floor.

We dance forever. At some point every member of our group comes to join us. Even Max lets Taylor drag her up for a song, which is a miracle in and of itself. They all come in for a while here or there, but nobody can hang on a dance floor like my girl Landon and I can. We laugh and dance and make up routines. We do shots with a group of girls celebrating a bachelorette party and pretend we know how to break-dance until a guy who actually knows how to break-dance comes out and shuts us down. When we finally head back to the lounge area, we each grab bottles of water and collapse in a heap with our friends.

“Fifteen minutes, everyone! We’ve got fifteen minutes until the countdown!” the DJ calls out over the music.

Fifteen minutes? How did it get to be so late? Where is Liam? He was supposed to meet us here, but I haven’t heard from him. I start to panic a little. Did something happen with his mom again? I grab my clutch and pull out my phone. I must stare at his text message for a full minute before I can process what I’m reading.

Not going to be able to make it tonight, I’m meeting up with some friends. Have fun, I’ll text you later.

My joy, which was so encompassing a moment ago, deflates like an old balloon. He’s not going to make it? But it’s New Year’s Eve and everyone is here and . . . wouldn’t he want to spend this night with me? I know we’re not
together
together, but I was looking forward to finally having a date—sort of—on New Year’s. And friends? What friends does he have besides the ones assembled here? I’m sure there are other people he hangs out with, but none of them are better friends than the ones at this table.

The DJ announces that we have ten more minutes, and the anticipation in the room builds. Beside me Malin finds sobriety long enough to ask the question that’s pounding in my head along with the bass.

“Hey, where is Liam?”

Brody looks up from laughing over something with Landon. “He was meeting up with some buddies from college, I think. He said he’d try to catch up with us later.”

Malin is too self-involved to understand how the words might affect me, but I get varying degrees of pitiful looks from Max, Landon, and even Casidee. How flipping terrible. When your twenty-two-year-old assistant feels sorry for you, something has probably gone really wrong in your life.

It feels hard to breathe and hard to sit there without crying. But I absolutely refuse to draw more attention and force myself to stay seated. But unfortunately I can’t force myself to stop remembering Max’s words. They echo over and over in my head, telling me how Liam is selfish and how what he wants takes precedence over anyone else’s feelings.

I shake it off—literally shake my head to make the thoughts leave my brain. I plaster a bright smile on my face and bounce up from the sofa.

“We better get on the dance floor. It’s only five minutes until midnight!”

Everyone smiles and comes to join me. Landon is the only one who grabs my hand to stop me.

“Hey, girl, are you OK?”

I give her a watery smile. “I don’t want to cry on New Year’s, OK? It’s got to be terrible luck. Let’s go dance it off and have fun. I’ll figure it all out later, OK?”

She smiles and throws an arm around my shoulders to lead me to the dance floor. Once we push our way into the mass of bodies, Brody snags her arm and pulls her in for a dance. Beside me Malin is dancing in a way that suggests she drank her body weight in hard liquor this evening. That sounds like a really good idea right about now. I grab two glasses of champagne off a tray that the servers are passing around and then make quick work of both of them. The bubbles make my head swim, dulling some of the questions.

“All right, you sexy beasts,” the DJ calls out. “Get ready!”

Everyone is all smiles and giggles and laughs, exactly how you should feel in this moment. It shouldn’t feel like your heart’s been stomped on; that is not what this is about.

“Ten! Nine!” Everyone starts to chant along with the DJ. “Eight! Seven!”

A hand grabs my forearm in a viselike grip. I look up at Max in shock, but she’s not looking at me, only holding on to me. I follow her incredulous line of sight to see Brody on one knee in front of Landon, holding a small red box.

“Five! Four!”

Landon’s face is filled with total awe, even as she leans closer to hear the words he’s whispering into her ear, since it’s too loud in here. I put my hand on Max’s and squeeze her fingers tight.

“Two! One! Happy New Year!”

Landon nods and throws herself into Brody’s arms, nearly knocking him backwards onto the floor. But he’s laughing and she’s laughing, and she can’t stop kissing him. Their joy is palpable, and all around the room even the jaded LA socialites in the VIP section are cheering for them.

I watch as Brody stands up and presents the ring again to Landon, who hasn’t even put it on yet. She looks at it like it’s magic, and I guess it is. Even from back here I can see it sparkle. I don’t realize I’m crying until Max hands me a cocktail napkin. Her eyes are suspiciously bright too. Landon lets him slide the ring onto her finger and then leaps into his arms again. The kissing and laughing repeats itself until she finally turns away to look back at us. Max and I are still holding hands and watching her with watery eyes. Apparently witnessing our best friend get engaged turned us into old women. When they walk the few feet back over to where we’re standing, we envelop her in a group hug, and though she’ll never admit to it later, Max giggles and squeals along with us. I look at Landon’s gorgeous ring and feel like my heart might burst for her.

“I just knew this night was going to be epic!” I yell over the music.

Landon nods happily, apparently too overwhelmed to speak.

“We need more champagne!” Malin declares.

Brody points back at our lounge area, which has been stocked with obnoxiously expensive bottles of champagne on ice. We hurry back over—high on everything that’s happened—and take our seats just as several servers walk up with tray after tray of food. When they start to unload the plates onto our table, Landon’s smile threatens to break her face in half.

Pancakes. Every kind, every shape, every size you can imagine are piled high on the plates. When the last plate gets put down before us, Landon gives up on any pretense of calm and just goes ahead and starts crying. She looks at Brody with so much love and joy that it’s hard not to get emotional along with her. It’s too loud in here to make out what she says to him, but I read the words on her lips.

His smile is tender, and though the room is packed with energy and people and a chaotic mess of color and sound, he doesn’t seem to notice any of it. He only has eyes for her.

“You’re my favorite thing too,” he says back.

I reach out for a plate of pancakes and give them their privacy.

It’s past two o’clock in the morning when we leave, and I feel heartsick by the time the car service drops me off at home. Tosh’s car is in the driveway, but he’s asleep when I wander in, and all the lights in the house are off except for the hallway to my room. I wonder if he ever even left here at all. When I invited him to go out with us tonight, he declined. He blamed it on having too much work to do, but I know he’s still upset with me for Christmas. The reminder makes my heart hurt more.