Summer of Supernovas (23 page)

“You’d think,” I reply. Someone jumps in the pool, inciting screams and splashes.

“Wil!” It’s Seth.

Elated, I stand on my tiptoes, but the crowd obscures him. “Seth! Where are you?” My return shout turns heads in our direction.

“Here! I’ll come to you!” Seth hollers from wherever he is.

One of the turned heads takes an instant shine to Irina. The muscled guy takes off his ball cap, turning it backward, before mouthing a sexy hello. Except…uh, I’ve never seen anything so
unsexy
in all my life. Then he tries to wink but his eye function is delayed, so his one eye sticks closed. Now he just looks like a deranged pirate.

“It’s bad enough Jordan canceled. You owe me to infinity and back,” Irina grumbles in my ear. It’s the second time she’s reminded me. Had it not been for my monumental desperation, I wouldn’t have asked, because I’m
well aware
of her eastsider contempt.

Spotting Seth, I feel anxiety coursing through me once more. But I plaster on a smile and wave before addressing my friend. “Give it a chance. You might have fun. Everyone else here seems to be.” Her squinty eyes assure me that ain’t happening. “Okay, could you at least
try
to keep havoc at a minimum?” I plead.

Irina’s dark red lips twist in a smirk. “Then how am I supposed to have fun,
dorogaya
?” She chuckles. “Go on, reunite with your boy. And it better be more than
satisfactory.
I’m going to mingle.”

Clearly, havoc will not be at a minimum. Terms I’ve come to accept where my comrade’s concerned.

Seth squeezes through a dancing cluster of girls who are eager to have him press against them. Is it possible he’s gotten even hotter in four days’ time? His shorts are slightly baggy, but fitted in all the right places, and the light blue T-shirt makes his skin look beautifully bronzed.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He scoops me up in his arms. And now that I’m wrapped up in Seth, I decide I
was
probably worrying for nothing. Perhaps I’d even blown the whole conversation over Grant out of proportion. “Mmm, I missed you.”

“Missed you, too.” I bury my face in his warm neck, breathing in.

“I had a bad feeling you might not show. I called and texted.” He sets me back on my feet. “What happened?”

“Gram confiscated my phone. I’m sorry, Seth, I didn’t have a way to reach you. And she was watching me like a hawk, so…”

He traces his thumb over my fretful brow. “Hey, now, don’t apologize. I figured your punishment was gonna be steep. I’m just psyched you came. Must’ve worked some magic to get here tonight.”

“Gram doesn’t know I’m here.”

Seth cringes. “Really? Aw, hell, the woman doesn’t need another reason to hate me.”

“She…she doesn’t
hate
you. And she won’t find out. Let’s not talk about it, okay?” Because every time I think of my scheming deception, the guilt feels like asteroids pummeling my solar plexus. Which will dampen the night like a big soggy blanket.

You know what?
Screw it!
No more angsting over what I’ve done to get here. In another seven months and change, I’ll be eighteen and no longer subject to Gram’s antiquated rules anyway. Tonight I will take full advantage of my hard-won freedom. Starting now.

Seth laces his fingers in mine, drawing the back of my hand to his lips. “Am I allowed to say how effing incredible you look tonight?” He brushes another kiss on my hand. “Ah,
now
she smiles. How about a drink?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Seth gestures toward the fire pit. “Ryan’s over there with his girlfriend, Ginger, who’s dying to meet you.” He scans the area. “And you have to meet Brody and Jack, because they think I’m making you up.”

“Brody Cooper?” I ask weakly.

“Yeah, you know him?” Seth peers back at me.

“Uh…” Well, it’s not like I can tell him Brody was Mr. Saliva from freshman year under the bleachers. What are the odds? “Yes, we’ve met. It was a long time ago, so he might not remember.”

A girl can hope.

“Guys, it’s like I’ve always said.” Ryan’s girlfriend, Ginger, rises from the couch, adjusting the wrap dress over her petite figure. She might be small, but nature has packed adorable into every inch of the redhead, right down to the spray of freckles on her nose and cheekbones. “Seth just had to find the right girl. The
right
girl can tame even the
wildest
boy.”

“Who you calling tame, woman?” Ryan challenges.

She rolls her eyes before gathering her long copper curls over her shoulder. “I’m talking about
him.
” Ginger points at Seth.

She’s referring to the doting and continuous displays of affection.
“Later,”
I promise Seth when he leans in nuzzling my neck and his hands begin to wander.

Of course, I’ve missed him, too. I just…don’t need to prove it before an audience. It’s bad enough the couple on the other side of the fire pit are going at it.

“One day, Wil,” Ginger says, smirking, “promise you’ll tell me what you did to win the heart of Absinthe’s serial dater.”

I flash a hearty smile I don’t feel. It’s nothing to do with jealousy, and
everything
to do with how I’m suddenly smothering under Seth’s attention.
What the hell’s my problem?
He finds me mesmerizing,
enchanting
even—those sweet words should have turned me to putty, coming from my soul mate.

Why, then, do I feel like Andromeda chained to a rock?

“Ginger’s exaggerating about that serial-dater thing,” Seth says softly in my ear. He drapes an arm over my shoulders, caressing my skin.

Ryan pipes in, “I think that was Grant’s title, actually.”

The mere mention of Grant causes Seth’s fingers to spasm midmotion on my arm. I hoped to skirt the subject tonight. Hoped he’d forgotten his heat-of-the-moment ultimatum. Maybe that was unrealistic. But was it too much to ask for a single night of worry-free fun?

“Yeah,
was.
” Ginger frowns, taking a swig of her drink. “Has Grant even dated anyone in the past year?” If not for being shackled by Seth’s arm, I would lean forward to hear the answer.

“Babe,” Ryan groans, “you know he hasn’t. There hasn’t been anyone serious since…you know.”

Ginger nods to herself. “Well, he’s going to be my next project. I’m going to find Grant a girl. Not just any girl either. She’s going to be extra, extra special. He deserves that after everything he went through.”

The smothering feeling manages to worsen, as if the weight of the sky bears down on my chest.

Now the guys are in deep discussion, planning their next trip to Lannister since the last was rained out. With Seth distracted, it’s a perfect opportunity to get a little breathing room. I wriggle from his arms, which have managed to replicate four times.
Because I am suddenly dating an octopus.

“Where are you going?” Seth’s brows draw together.

“Refill.” I shake my empty cup and rise from the couch.

“I’ll come with you.” He jumps to his feet.

“No, I’m…going to use the bathroom, too.”

Ryan gives his head a shake before standing. “Dude, give the girl some oxygen.” Seth laughs and flips him off. “Sorry, Walker, you’re not my type. Besides, our beer-pong title won’t defend itself.” Ryan cocks his head. “You in or out, man?”

Seth looks uncertainly down at me.

“Go. Defend your title,” I say, pecking him on the cheek and all but shoving him into Ryan’s ready arms. “I can entertain myself for a while.”

Tentacle-free, I work through the partygoers to the nearest bathroom, in the pool house. With the exception of the basement level, the rest of the mansion is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Totally understandable. I wouldn’t want a quarter of this rowdy crowd in my backyard, let alone my house. As if on cue, a girl barfs on a patch of neatly pruned bushes while her friend holds back her hair.

Ick.
I quickly take care of business and return to the festivities.

I spot Manny, who’s apparently appointed himself guardian of the keg. He tops off the red plastic cups of several girls circling him. They’re rapt as he sits on the long table, explaining the secret to a minimal-foam pour. I have to suppress a giggle, because you’d think he was spouting poetry.

And it doesn’t matter that Manny’s short by guy standards. He’s got a rare charisma that makes him shine brighter than the people around him. They want to bask in his glow. And I don’t blame them.

“Hey,
chica
!” Manny bursts into a smile, holding up an arm for me to tuck into. He gives me a squeeze. “Where you been hiding your fine self? Hmm?”

“Hey.” I grin. “Unfortunately, I’ve been under house arrest.” I tug the bottom of his T-shirt featuring a giant handlebar mustache packing pistols on each end. “Can I ask where you even find these?”

“My cousin has a screen-printing business. If I dream it, he can do it.
Ahem,
ladies”—he tilts his cup in my direction—“this is my girl, Wil. And by ‘my girl’ I mean she
would
be if the Walker boys hadn’t snatched her out from under me.”

The eyes all flick to me. It is a lot of eyes. They outnumber the octopus arms I just escaped. “Walker
boy,
Manny—singular, not plural. Has he been this delusional all night?” I ask the semicircle. One of them drunkenly giggles.

“Oh, cut me some grammatical slack. English
is
my second language, after all.”

“You’re so full of it.” I turn toward the table, with its various jugs and pitchers, and go for the safest bet. Otherwise, I’ll be joining the pukefest in the bushes. I twist the spigot on the large glass container filled with lemonade and fruit slices. Consuming a week’s worth of sodium from Curio’s fries has made for an unquenchable thirst.

I sip my drink as Manny talks about Wanderlust’s last performance, when someone threw ginormous silk panties on the stage, which I thought was only done by old ladies at Tom Jones concerts. He goes on to describe in great detail how the parachute bloomers landed at Grant’s feet and Grant turned eight shades of green. We crack up.

Manny glances over my shoulder. “Ah, speak of the devil.
¿Qué pasa, mano?
”

The approaching figure makes my heart seize midpump. My legs go wobbly. The lemonade in my throat turns to fire, blazing all the way to the pit of my belly. Grant.

And he’s swapped his usual gray T-shirt for a fitted black one. I can see the contours of his arms and chest. He’s also gotten a haircut. He looks…
whoa.

For a night so full of carefree promise, it suddenly has catastrophe written all over it.

M
anny fist-bumps Grant. “How long you been here? Haven’t had any sightings yet.”

“Not that long,” Grant replies.

My limbs are reduced to pure gelatin as I reach for another glass of lemonade, knocking it back in a few gulps. Grant arrived—
not that long ago.
Well, maybe that accounts for Seth’s sudden smothering behavior and overzealous PDA. But can I justify being annoyed, let alone angry, with Seth when my reaction to Grant is…
whoa
?

Manny tosses Grant a Fresca from the ice tub next to him.

“Gracias.”
Grant moves in beside me.

Tristan’s family compound sits on eleventy billion acres, and I hear there are even sprawling gardens that put Versailles to shame. Yet Grant has to occupy my tiny three-by-three space. Manny goes back to lavishing his attention on the girls; their sunflower faces stretch to meet him.

Grant cracks open the soda. “So, you gonna give me the silent treatment now?”

Light-headed, I spit out a perfunctory, robotic greeting.

Grant leans against the table and crosses his arms. I do not notice his biceps. “That’s a very courteous hello. Which I guess is better than nothing. Look, if you’re still mad about Tuesday, that wasn’t by choice—your gram called
me.
” He releases a frustrated sigh. “She was out of her mind with worry! What was I supposed to do, Mena?” We both catch the slip. “I mean, Wil.”

I’ve favored the name Wil since middle school. Maybe deep down I’ve wanted to preserve the name Mena, just for Mama and Gram—like a treasured keepsake. But now hearing it fall from Grant’s lips makes me feverish. Which is all sorts of wrong. All. Sorts.