Chapter 15

Adelaide

“That’s the last of it,” I tell my mom as I wipe my glitter covered hands on my jeans. “How do I forget every year that glitter is the herpes of the craft world?”

Renee chuckles. She’s barely been able to keep her potty mouth in check all week while we’ve been helping out with vacation bible school, yet I’m the one getting the frown from my mother.

“Really, Adelaide? You should at least step out of the sanctuary before you spout that kind of nasty stuff.”

“Sorry,” I mutter as I shove Renee, who’s covering her face with the best affronted look she can manage.

“So disappointing,” Renee jabs. “It’s awful when the young ones fly the nest and come back filthy after the world changed them into Satan’s children.”

Even my mom chuckles at her ridiculousness. “You’re one to talk, Renee. I’ve seen your Facebook statuses. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“I’m not that bad,” she objects.

My mom’s eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. “You were the topic of conversation at the men’s lunch your father hosted last week.”

“I think those old men need to worry more about the Word than my words on Facebook.”

“I think,” my mom begins, “you need to stop using phrases like ‘cherry popping’ and ‘curing his virginity’ for all the world to see.”

“She’s talking about that Elijah guy from your study group,” Mandy says, leaning in to whisper in my ear, and I shake my head.

“She’s the female Jason,” I mumble. “It’s kind of disgusting.”

“I never looked at it like that,” Mandy says, watching our oldest sister as she takes her chastisement like a champ.

She should be used to it by now. I’m honestly surprised she even comes back home knowing they’re going to get on to her for it. The easier remedy would be not to post stuff like that to begin with.

“We’re going out tonight,” Mandy says when Renee huffs and walks out of the church.

“Y’all may be going out. I’m staying home.”

“School is out for the summer, Addi. You need a little fun,” Mandy argues.

“That didn’t work out so well last time,” I counter.

“You need to be able to see him without it ruining your life or forcing you to sit in the house for weeks at a time.” She gives me a soft smile. “Immersion is the best way for that to happen.”

“No thanks.”

“It’s my birthday month. You don’t get to say no during birthday month.”

“We made that pact when we were kids,” I remind her. “And I do remember the ‘you can say no if it’s harmful.’ Seeing him is harmful.”

“Is he still calling?”

“And texting, more when he’s been drinking.”

“I thought you stopped following his social media. How do you know he’s drunk?”

I frown. When is he not drunk these past couple weeks?

“It’s always super late. So late, I usually don’t get them until the next morning. No sane texts come at three in the morning.”

We watch my mom as she wipes down the last table, smiling as she grumbles under her breath when the glitter from our last art project of the week doesn’t wipe up completely.

“Are you girls staying the night again?” My mom tosses the last paper towel in the trash and ties the bag.

“We’re going out tonight,” Mandy says. “There’s a small get together. Like a mid-summer shindig.”

Shindig? I raise a brow. She’s getting as bad at evasiveness as Renee.

“You’re actually going to socialize?” my mom asks me, and Mandy covers her mouth, hiding a laugh.

“Not you too?” I sigh. One minute, she wants me to stay home, and the next, she’s busting my chops for doing just that. She shrugs. “Yes, we’re going out,” I mutter.

“Okay. Have fun, be safe, and don’t stay up too late.” She kisses us both on the cheeks. “Make sure to tell your daddy bye before you head out. See you Sunday morning. Gabriel will be there, so wear something nice.”

Grabbing the final bag of trash, she carries it out, and it isn’t until she’s gone—more than likely back to the parsonage where my dad is getting ready for his sermon on Sunday—that Renee pokes her head back in.

“We’re going out?” Of course she was in the other room listening the whole time. I roll my eyes and shake my head to the negative. “Uh-uh. You just told Mom you were. Are you so far gone you’ll lie in a church?”

“You shouldn’t lie,” Mandy adds, egging Renee on. “Plus, you need to make Mom and Dad think you’re dating someone or they’re going to shove Gabe down your throat.”

My shoulders slump forward in defeat as I leave the church and go say goodbye to my dad. Renee doesn’t. She waits near the car knowing she’ll catch an earful for the way she’s been acting away from home if she sees him.

“That’s Marcus,” Renee singsongs in my ear as we walk up to the same bonfire Axton sang to me at weeks and weeks ago. “He’s one of Elijah’s friends.”

“He’s cute,” I placate, smiling at him when his eyes make their way in our direction not for the first time tonight.

“He’s one of the good ones. I have no idea why those boys keep coming to these parties. Look, he’s drinking water, just like you.”

I noticed before she pointed it out. Kind of hard to miss amongst all the people with red Solo cups and beer bottles.

“I can introduce you. You may hit it off.”

“Huh?” I’m distracted, waiting for Axton to show up, both excited at potentially seeing him and praying he doesn’t make an appearance. Before what she said registers, she’s waving them over.

“I don’t need you playing matchmaker,” I groan under my breath as they close the distance.

“Of course you do. I fucked up with pushing you in Axton’s direction, and I think this guy—” She stops short when they’re only a few feet from us.

“What about Axton?” Marcus asks.

“Nothing,” Renee lies. “We were just wondering if he was going to be here tonight. I heard he’s written a new song.”

That’s news to my ears, but everything about Axton Lane is news to me since I’ve avoided every aspect of what he’s been up to.

“He won’t be here,” Marcus says. “They posted online that he was invited to some huge celebration in town. You won’t find him playing in the dirt with us, but there’s another party next week.”

“There’s always a party,” I mutter, more to myself than our new companions.

“Are you not a fan?” Marcus asks. I tilt my head, an eyebrow quirking up at all of his questions. Is this a bonfire or a 20/20 interview? “I don’t think I’ve met a girl in town who doesn’t swoon when he walks near them.”

Mandy snorts, and Renee, of all people, jabs her with an elbow. “We all like Axton. He’s got a great voice.”

Very diplomatic, big sister.

“Hey,” Elijah says, taking Renee’s hand and kissing the back.

So sweet. The mild annoyance at Marcus slips away as I watch some of my oldest sister’s hard shell crack and fall away at our feet.

Pulling him against her chest, she plants a sloppy kiss on his lips. Even in the firelight, I can see the heat in his cheeks. I watch mesmerized by the only guy who didn’t just walk up and grab her butt while making obscene comments.

Leaning in, he whispers something in her ear, and a sweet smile crosses her lips for a split second before she catches herself and transforms it into something more salacious.

“I think she’s breaking him down,” Mandy whispers so low, no one else can hear.

I shake my head, my eyes glued to the way her thumb rubs delicate circles on top of the hand still holding hers. “I think it’s the other way around.”

“Can I get you another bottle of water?” Marcus asks, pulling my attention from my sister. “We have a small cooler in my car.”

“You should go with him. Wouldn’t want something bad to happen to him in the dark,” Renee teases. And she’s back. Whatever sensitivity she may have felt a minute ago is gone as fast as it showed up.

“I think I’ll be fine, but I wouldn’t mind the company.” Marcus holds his arm out like a true southern gentleman, and Mandy shoves me forward, not giving me a choice. I stumble forward, nearly splattering against this guy’s chest, and spin around to glare at her before turning back to him.

“I’d love another bottle of water,” I say, my tone sweet even though I’m plotting ways to murder my sisters.

Turns out, Marcus is actually really funny without being mean about others, which is hard to find in a world full of people who think making fun of others for comic relief is the best idea. He’s charming and not pushy—another thing you don’t find often in a pasture full of drunk, horny college students.

He just graduated with a degree in something to do with computers, and doesn’t laugh when I tell him I’m a senior who’s still undecided for all intents and purposes.

“So,” he begins, and I can already feel the conversation shifting. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as worry gnaws at my gut. This is where the night turns from him being a gentleman into him asking for or suggesting we find somewhere we can go to be alone.

“It didn’t work out with Axton?”

I cringe at him bringing Axton up for the second time tonight. Not where I thought he was heading, but it’s a huge splash of cold water nonetheless.

“I wasn’t dating Axton,” I hedge.

“I just saw some posts online.”

I throw my hands up in exasperation. Can I go anywhere without Axton Lane interfering in my life?

“I didn’t make any posts. I don’t get on social media.”

“Others…it’s not important.” He has the humility to look embarrassed for bringing it up, gaining a few points in my book. “I just know I can’t compete against someone like him.”

“He’s not competition.” His smile grows. “I’m not dating anyone.”

“Good to hear.”

I give him a weak smile and pray for a topic change.

The night carries on, full of nice conversation without any sexual innuendo. We talk over the explosion of small fireworks, joking about an escape route when some drunk person catches the field on fire. When my eyes start to grow heavy, Marcus helps me find Mandy, who’s standing in a small cluster of girls she graduated with a year ago. Renee and Elijah are nowhere to be found, so we head to the car without her.

Marcus and I swap numbers, and he’s polite enough not to say anything when Axton’s name lights up my screen from an incoming text before I’m able to enter his into my phone.

“I’ll call you,” he promises, kissing my cheek and squeezing my hand.

“He seems really nice,” Mandy says as he walks away.

“A little too nice,” I counter, feeling bad. He’s been nothing but nice all night long. I can see myself dating someone like Marcus.

“You’re only suspicious of the nice guys because you’re hung up on an asshole.”

I ignore her, refusing to let her words sink in.

“Have you been drinking?” I ask.

“Not a drop.”

“Good,” I say, handing her the keys. “I’m too tired to drive.”

I resist looking at my phone for as long as I can, but finally cave when I climb into the passenger seat.

Axton: Thinking of you.

Along with the text is a Spotify link to Chris Young’s “Sober Saturday Night.”

I’ve heard the song more times than I can count, and as heartfelt as I know the lyrics are, the sentiment falls flat. Honesty doesn’t come at one in the morning, especially when I know he’s performing at another party—a party surrounded by women catering to his every need.

I don’t know whether it’s the peace I felt talking to Marcus tonight or the realization that he’s never going to be the man I need, but I respond for the first time since he said those ugly things in the park before summer started.

I don’t send a text, just the link to a song equally as heartfelt. When we get home, I torture myself by listening to words that lament the inability to get over someone, the need to let them go, but not having the strength to see it through. I wake up crying a couple hours later, my dream-turned-nightmare leaving me in wracking sobs as Katelyn Tarver’s “You Don’t Know” still plays through my headphones.