REID TEXTS ME ON FRIDAY.
Hey, so my friend Douglas and I are going to Medieval Madness.
I write back, That’s awesome.
Want to come? Smiley emoji.
Oh.
My heart thuds. I’m so sorry. I can’t!
Oh, no problem, he writes.
I’m going to a party with Cassie and Mina
Three dots.
Oh, okay, he writes.
I’m sorry.
Why are you sorry?
I don’t know!
But I am. And it’s stupid, because God knows what Medieval Madness even is. Something where you drink from flagons, probably. And wear tunics. Something so Reid. I really shouldn’t care.
But I do care. It sort of ticks in the back of my mind all evening.
We Metro to Bethesda after dinner, and Mina picks us up from the station. She and Cassie kiss in the car. Just a quick kiss, like parents do. And it occurs to me, suddenly, why they call it the Kiss and Ride.
“So, Max’s parents aren’t home?” Cassie asks.
“Yeah, they travel a lot.”
“There aren’t going to be adults?” I blurt. I feel like I’m Xavier’s age.
“Well, his sister is eighteen,” Mina says, catching my eye in the rearview mirror. “So, in the eyes of the law . . .”
Cassie twists around to grin at me. “Stop making the Molly Face.”
“I’m not,” I say, but my cheeks are warm. I shouldn’t be freaked out by the idea of a house party. It’s not like it’s an orgy. I don’t think it’s like an orgy.
Mina parks on the street, at the end of a long line of cars. I can’t believe how many cars there are. I have to admit, I had no idea house parties were even a thing. I fold my arms across my chest and try to act nonchalant.
But there’s something about tonight. Everything feels a little surreal. For one thing, it’s surprisingly chilly out. I’m actually wearing a jacket in July.
“Molly, you look so cute,” Mina says, putting an arm around my shoulders.
Which makes me blush.
“I’m cute, too,” Cassie says.
Mina smiles up at her. “You just look like you’re cold.”
“A.k.a., you’re a wimp.” Cassie grins. She’s wearing a tank top and these short yellow shorts. She’s just one of those people. She can throw on anything and look adorable. Whereas I’m completely camouflaged in careful layers. Under my jacket, I’ve got this belted dress—green, with tiny birds on it—and a camisole, and boots.
We’ve timed our arrival pretty carefully. It’s late enough that we’re not the first ones here, but not so late that everyone’s sloppy drunk already.
“Should we text Will?” Mina says.
Cassie shrugs. “Is he here?”
“He should be.”
The way into Max’s basement is through the backyard, which still has one of those giant playhouse structures, with swings and a rock climbing wall. And it’s perfectly maintained. Even though Max doesn’t have younger siblings. Parents are funny like that.
But inside, it’s not quite what I expected. Not that I had any idea what to expect. I guess I thought it would be more like a movie, with a beer pong table and a keg in the corner and guys in well-worn baseball caps. And yes, there are plenty of guys in well-worn baseball caps, but other than that, it’s just a normal basement. There are two Ikea-looking futons and a bunch of chairs, a foosball table, an air hockey table, and a giant drum set. The lights are dim, and there are lots of people holding red plastic cups.
“Mina!” someone shouts. It’s a girl I’ve never seen before, and she’s ridiculously gorgeous—tall, with light-brown skin and wide hips and a very twee blue patterned dress. She nudges a fallen hoodie aside with her toe as she walks toward us. “Hey! You must be Cassie.”
She’s talking to me. “Oh, I’m—”
“I’m Cassie,” says Cassie.
“This is Samar,” Mina says.
“Oh, you’re Samar,” Cassie says.
And now I’m wondering what planet I must have been living on, because I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard of Samar. But Cassie’s greeting her like she’s famous. I hate that. I hate feeling so utterly out of the loop.
“Oh, well, hi! I don’t know you,” Samar says to me.
“This is Molly,” Cassie says, with no point of reference. Just Molly. Like I’m some random girl.
“Are the boys here?” Mina asks.
Samar nods. “Yeah, Max is hooking up with someone, and Will—I just saw him. He’s . . .” She cranes her neck. “Oh, he’s by the booze table. Predictably.”
There’s a desk at the back of the room that’s been totally overtaken with little glass bottles and half-full liters of Coke and orange juice. And there’s Will, pouring Sprite into a red cup, his red hair perfectly tousled. His eyes light up when he sees us walking toward him.
“You guys made it!” He grabs my hand. “Molly, let me make you a drink. What do you want?”
“Um.”
“There’s vodka, Jack, rum, and gin, I think?”
I hesitate. “I guess rum?”
He pours a rum and Coke and hands it to me, and I realize with a start that Mina and Cassie are gone. They’ve been absorbed into the crowd. There’s someone waiting to pour a drink, so Will and I step to the side, in front of a futon. My legs are heavy with nerves, and I kind of want to sit, but people aren’t really sitting. I guess you’re not supposed to.
Okay, so being alone with Will is making it very hard to keep my cool. Maybe it’s just Abby getting into my head, but there’s this prickling sense of possibility. It feels like something could happen between us—something other than me blushing a lot and drinking a rum and Coke with record-breaking slowness.
“I can’t handle this music,” Will says.
“Who is this?”
“I don’t know. Maroon 5. That Adam guy.”
“Ah, yes. That Adam guy.”
Will grins at me. That’s the other thing about Will. He makes you feel like you’re the only person in focus. Like everyone else is just background noise. I’m pretty sure it’s not personal. Probably every girl who enters his orbit feels this way, at least for a moment. Still, I can see how people get swept up in him.
It’s just so hard to believe this is my reality right now. I’m at a party in Bethesda, and my sister has vanished, and now I’m alone with a very cute boy. Well, not alone. But we might as well be. I think his calf is touching mine. I wonder if people watching me right at this moment think I’m part of a couple. With Will. That’s sort of thrilling.
But I can’t shake the thought that I could be at Medieval Madness right now with Reid. Like there’s some alternate universe Molly drinking from a flagon right this second—and yes, it just occurred to me that flagon rhymes with dragon. And yes, I really want to text Reid to tell him. But I probably shouldn’t text Reid when I’m standing with Will.
“You must be hot,” Will says, startling me.
He means my jacket, but I blush anyway.
“I don’t know if there’s a place to put my jacket,” I say.
“I’ll take it.” He sets his drink on a coffee table.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“No, I’ve got it. I’ll find a spot for it.”
I unbutton it, feeling strangely like I’m in a movie. Undressing.
“I like your dress,” he says when I hand the jacket to him. “I love it.”
“Thanks.” I can’t even look at him.
“So, I’ll be right back.”
I nod. But as soon as he leaves, I feel a hundred times more self-conscious. I sip my drink faster, my other arm curling across my body. It occurs to me that Will could peek at the tag of my jacket and see my size. Which makes my heart jump so high in my throat that I almost run after him.
But suddenly, someone’s beside me. A random boy. “Hey, want to hear something crazy?” the boy says, as if we’ve known each other for years. I’ve never seen him before in my life. He’s pretty cute—kind of athletic looking, with super-short brown hair.
“Okay,” I say.
“So, like, we’re in this little town,” he says. “Like, in England. And there’s this big stone wall next to the street. Like, just this big-ass wall. And so we’re pretty fucked up at the time, and my dude Jones has to pee.”
I don’t know who Jones is or why I should care about his bodily functions. But maybe this is how parties work. Maybe there’s some kind of drunk etiquette I don’t know about.
“So he pees on the wall, but then . . .” He sips his drink again, and then says, “Shit.”
“What?”
“I’m gonna need a refill. You want something?”
And I don’t know how any of this works, but I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to let strange guys fill my drink.
“I’m fine?” It comes out sounding like a question. I hate that.
“No worries,” he says. “So like—well, I gotta tell you this part. There were these giant fucking—”
“Hey.”
I look up. And Will’s back.
“Hey, man,” says the guy.
Will narrows his eyes at him.
“Oh, are you guys, like, together?”
“Yes,” Will says quickly.
My heart almost stops.
“Oh, okay, cool. That’s cool,” the guy says. “Okay, well, have a good night.” He chugs the last of his drink and starts to leave—but then he turns back to face me, suddenly. “Okay, I just gotta say it.” The guy touches my arm. “You are fucking gorgeous for a big girl.”
I freeze.
“It’s a compliment!”
I look at him. “Fuck you.”
I’ve never said that before. At least not out loud. It feels kind of amazing. My heart pounds wildly.
“Whoa. Okay. Not trying to . . . whatever.” He tilts his hands up defensively. And as he drifts back into the crowd, I hear him mutter, “Fat bitch.”
Will looks at me. “Okay, that was the hottest fuck you moment I’ve ever witnessed.”
“Um. Thanks.”
“Do you even know that guy?”
“Nope.”
“Wow. Just a random dickhole.”
“I guess.”
I can’t think straight. I can’t think of anything other than the fact that Will said we were together. And I know he was just trying to get rid of the random guy. But still.
He sinks backward onto the futon, patting the cushion beside him. I sit and tug my skirt down closer to my knees.
My heart won’t stop pounding. I take a tiny sip of my drink.
He leans back, eyes flicking toward me, and he opens his mouth like he’s about to speak. But I cut him off with a question. And I almost don’t realize I’m asking it until it tumbles from my mouth. “Why did you tell him we were together?”
“Oh. Shit.” His eyebrows shoot up. “Sorry. Were you trying to . . .”
“No! God. No. He was shady.”
“Yeah, you looked really uncomfortable.”
“I did?”
Will laughs. “Yeah, your body language was like . . .” He sits up rigidly straight with crossed arms and a look of utter terror on his face.
“I did not look like that!”
“I mean, I thought you were going to vom. That’s kind of your thing, right? Public barfing?” He grins.
“Touché.” I smile back at him.
God. He really is so beautiful. His eyes are supernaturally blue. And he’s funny and nice and smart and all the other things boys should be. Not to mention that he’s best friends with my sister’s girlfriend. It would make a lot of sense for me to fall for him.
Much more sense than Reid, for example.
I lean back against the cushions and squeeze my eyes shut. When I open them, I catch a glimpse of yellow shorts and tangled legs on an armchair across the room.
It’s Cassie and Mina.
The funny thing is, Cassie’s always described her hookups in glorious detail, but I’ve never watched one happen. I’ve never actually seen her make out with someone.
It’s weird.
And sort of sweet.
But mostly weird.
They’re completely intertwined. That’s the main thing. It’s not even that they’re kissing continuously, but there’s no space between their bodies anywhere. I watch as Cassie tucks a lock of Mina’s hair behind her ear, and Mina’s lips twitch into a smile. Then Cassie says something, and Mina laughs, and they kiss again, and Cassie’s hand cups Mina’s cheek.
I definitely shouldn’t be watching this. Though I guess I’m not the only one. At least three dudes are blatantly staring at Cassie and Mina like they’re the Super Bowl.
The futon creaks, and I suddenly remember Will is sitting beside me. He’s tucked one of his legs up, bent at the knee, and he’s tugging at his shoelaces. And looking pointedly away from the armchair.
“Are you freaked out by it?” I ask, and my voice comes out quiet.
He looks up at me with a start. “By Mina and Cassie?”
“I don’t know.” I smile slightly. “I guess?”
He leans back, staring at the ceiling. “I think they’re good together.”
“Oh, well, yeah. I just mean the fact that they’re making out in front of us. It’s like watching your parents make out, you know?”
He laughs. “Sort of.”
I sneak another glance at them. They seem so separate from this room. Like they’re on a piece of driftwood, floating. And I feel so lonely, all of a sudden.
Maybe I should reach for Will’s hand or scoot closer or say something uncareful. I could do that, I think.
But then my phone buzzes.
I shouldn’t check it. Not right now. It’s just a text. Probably from Abby. Or from Olivia, who’s still in Pennsylvania with Evan Schulmeister.
I will not be vag-blocked by Evan Schulmeister.
It buzzes again, and I lose my train of thought.
“Anyway, I should probably find Max,” Will says, patting my arm quickly, before hoisting himself up. “You’re okay, right?”
“Yeah. Definitely.” I nod.
It’s funny. I feel less disappointed than I thought I would.
As soon as Will walks away, I peek at my phone.
It’s Reid.
I guess I kind of had a feeling.
So I’m sitting here with Douglas outside of Medieval Madness
And this place is an orgy.
Wait, Douglas would like me to clarify that Medieval Madness is not an orgy. King Street is an orgy.
I lean back into the cushions and giggle quietly. That is hilarious, I write, because I’m at an orgy, too.
He responds right away. Oh, really?
But it’s a classy orgy. Mostly kissing/groping.
And texting . . . he writes.
Which makes me blush. I’m not sure why. And texting.
I really love texting, he writes.
Me too.
Three dots. He’s typing something. I glance up, and it’s funny—I feel sort of invisible. There’s this party happening all around me, and I’m entirely separate. I’m a total ice cube. But in a good way.
You know what would suck about living in the Middle Ages? he writes finally.
The bubonic plague? I reply.
Yes. But also. No texting.
Three dots. He’s typing something else.
But imagine if there WAS texting in the Middle Ages.
I smile. Oh, you’re really thinking about this, I write back.
Yes.
So, what would medieval people have texted?
Three dots.
Chaucer quotes. Codpiece selfies.
Yeah. Holy shit. This boy is funny over text.
I can totally see you sending a codpiece selfie to Queen Elizabeth, I write.
Wrong time period, but yes. G-d yes.
AND HE DOES THE JEWISH THING WITH GOD’S NAME. FUCK.
That’s cute.
Step it up, Molly.
“Elizabeth. R U a virgin? Luv Reid” I type.
He writes back immediately. “Nope.” Winky-face emoji.
Uh, wasn’t she the virgin queen?
Not if I’d been alive, he writes.
Sorry, but who is this boy? Because I’m pretty sure he’s flirting. And I did not realize Reid Wertheim knew how to flirt.
I bite back a smile.
And I’m about to write back something very uncareful when Cassie collapses on the couch beside me. “There you are! Hey. Okay. Guess what.” She leans her head on my shoulder and smiles up at me. “You, Molly Adele, get the Lexus tonight!”
I just look at her.
“Why are you making the Molly Face, Molly Face?” She giggles.
“Okay, how drunk are you?”
“Just a little,” she says, and sighs. “Molly.” She nuzzles into the crook of my neck. “You always smell so flowery.”
I laugh. “It’s our shampoo. You literally use the same kind. From the same bottle.”
“Yeah, but I don’t smell it on myself. Anyway.” She pokes my arm. “Aren’t you excited? You get to drive Mina’s Lexus.”
“I’m not driving Mina’s Lexus.”
“Okay, well . . . ,” she says, and I start to reply, but she covers my mouth. “No, hear me out. So I know Mina wasn’t going to drink, but we ended up playing Kings, and she’s not drunk, but she’s like a little bit drunk, so we’re just going to play it really safe and crash here. So, if you want to drive it home, you totally can. We just need you to pick us up here tomorrow morning.”
“Okay, that’s not—”
“And park on the street, just so Nadine and Patty don’t get freaked out, okay?”
I look at her. “Cass, I can’t. I had a drink.”
“Okay.” She tilts her head. “Just one drink?”
“Cassie, I’m not driving.”
“I’m just asking.”
“Are you seriously asking me this?” I sit up straight, pulling away from her. “Are you asking me if I’m going to risk my life by driving home after having alcohol for the second time ever, which I’m not even supposed to combine with Zoloft, by the way—”
“Okay.” She laughs, but kind of harshly. “Then why’d you do it?”
“Why did I drink?”
“If you’re not supposed to drink on your meds, why do you keep doing it, Molly?”
“Are you kidding me?” I feel this tightness in my chest and this ache in my cheek, and I realize I’ve been clenching my jaw. “Fuck you.”
It’s the phrase of the night.
Cassie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Whoa.”
“So now you’re going to judge me for drinking? Are you serious? You guys were my ride. And now your big plan is to completely ditch me so you can spend the night making out with your girlfriend, and I get to be your chauffeur?”
Something in her expression seems to snag, and my throat thickens. “And, like, you don’t even care if I’m safe to drive. Just as long as you get your awesome hot night with Mina.”
“Are you joking?” she asks. “You’re seriously going to give me shit for this?”
“Forget it,” I say.
I wish I hadn’t said anything. I don’t want to have this conversation. Not here. Not ever.
“I mean, do you want to talk about this?” Cassie says, scooting closer to me.
“Can we not?” I grip my cup tightly.
“Molly.”
I look up at her, and her eyes are shining. Okay, that throws me. Cassie doesn’t cry. Cassie doesn’t even almost-cry.
“You think I’m ditching you for Mina?”
“What do you think?” It’s something I’d normally never say out loud, but I guess that’s the thing about alcohol.
“Like, you know she’s my girlfriend, right?”
I stare at my knees. I keep picturing Cassie’s lips pressed against Mina’s ear. I can’t stop thinking about that.
“Molly, why are you doing this?”
“You think I’m doing this?” My jaw tightens, because this is what Cassie does. She twists things around and acts like I’m coming at her out of nowhere. As if she hasn’t spent the last few weeks completely absorbed in Mina wonderland.
“Oh my God. Just stop,” she says. “You are so goddamn—”
“Oversensitive, I know.”
She throws her hands up.
And I feel this wave of calmness. I know that’s strange. But even though I hate when she calls me oversensitive, I like that I knew she would. I understand Cassie better than I understand myself. And I don’t think Mina will ever know her like I do.
“I think I’m going to go,” I say.
She leans backward, laughing, hands over her eyes. “So, what? You’re gonna walk to the Metro now?”
I’m suddenly aware that people are looking at us. Not in a blatant way, but there’s some not-so-subtle glancing. People love a shitshow.
I shrug.
“Molly, come on.”
“I mean, what were you thinking?” Now I’m fighting tears. “Like, you just decided to get drunk, and you assumed I’d be able to drive home by myself?”
I cannot cry. I cannot start crying.
“Okay, to be honest? I kind of thought you’d be getting a ride with Will tonight anyway, so . . .”
“Yeah, he’s drunk, too.”
She sighs. “Or crashing here with Will. Molly. Please don’t pretend you don’t understand what I’m talking about.”
“I’m not.” I exhale and rub my forehead. “I’m not hooking up with Will.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Which is why I thought you’d want the fucking Lexus. Look, you want to leave the car? Great. That saves us some hassle tomorrow morning. I just thought you might not want to Metro tonight. Thought I was being nice. But whatever.”
There’s this pause. I look up, and the light seems a little dimmer, and everyone’s a little blurrier around the edges. I catch a glimpse of Max across the room, talking to a girl I don’t recognize, and he’s laughing, and his bangs are clipped back from his face with a plastic barrette.
“And what’s the deal with Reid?” Cassie says, and I almost flinch.
“With Reid?”
She rolls her eyes. “Or not. I don’t know. Just kind of got a vibe the other day on the porch.”
“We’re friends.”
“Look, I just want you to be happy, okay?” She grabs my drink and takes a swig of it. “And I thought you wanted—okay, this is really warm and gross.” She takes another sip. “I mean, it seemed like things were going really well with Will, but then I look over here and he’s totally gone, and it’s like, okay. I don’t know what’s up. But then something seems to be happening with you and Reid, which is great, fine, whatever—”
I swallow. “Yeah, well, apparently Reid’s not the kind of guy you date. Or have sex with.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Mina said that. She said Reid’s the kind of guy you marry . . .”
She laughs. “God, Molly. You shouldn’t give a shit about what Mina thinks. Look how bad her taste is.” She pats her own chest and grins. “Come on. It’s all so subjective. Like, look at that girl. Purple dress.” She gestures with her chin. “Are you sexually attracted to her?”
I shake my head.
“Okay, well, guess what. I think she’s hella cute, and I would totally have sex with her.”
“I’m sure Mina would be thrilled.”
“Oh my God. I’m just making a point. We like who we like. Who cares if someone else doesn’t get it? That’s a good thing. That’s less competition.”
“I don’t know if I—”
“If you talk yourself out of liking Reid because of your goddamn ego, I will punch you.”
My ego. I don’t have an ego. If I had such a giant ego, why would I have such a hard time believing Reid actually likes me?
Except, if I’m totally honest, I do believe it. Reid likes me. And I like that he likes me. But I’m not used to this game. It’s this totally new way of seeing myself. Like I’m some hazily lit dream girl from a movie. I’ve never been that girl before.
I really like being that girl. So, maybe I am some kind of egomaniac.
There’s just something terrifying about admitting you like someone. In a way, it’s actually easier when there’s no chance of anything happening. But there’s this threshold where things suddenly become possible. And then your cards are on the table. And there you are, wanting, right out in the open.
It’s so many things. It’s everyone knowing you’re attracted to a guy who wears electric-white sneakers. It’s that little twinge of shame you feel when someone thinks he’s not cute. Even though he is cute. He’s actually really fucking adorable. I actually really fucking like him, and none of the other stuff should matter.