I don’t really want to know, because my head is spinning with the possibilities. Plus? I really kind of want to meet up with him. I’m not sure if it was all in my head or not, but for a second, when we were out in that garage, I was almost sure Ashton was going to kiss me. And I really, really, really wanted to kiss him. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I get shivers just thinking about it.
“I don’t want to,” I say.
But Jasper’s already over at the computer. “Wow, look at this,” he says, “Someone was in here writing an essay on The Great Gatsby. At your party.” Great. My mom would love that. ‘Honey, how was the party? Did people get drunk?’ ‘Not really, mom, but someone did write a paper for school in dad’s old office.’ Jasper closes out the word doc, and pulls up the internet.
“Shit,” he says, “His facebook is private.”
“Well, that settles that.” Thank you, Mark Zuckerberg, and your new facebook privacy settings.
But Jasper won’t be foiled. “No, it doesn’t,” he insists. “We’ll just look at hers.” He pulls up Haven’s page. I know we’re in trouble as soon as I see her status, which says, ‘Haven Richardson is brokenhearted and raging.’
“Raging?” I whisper fearfully. “What does that mean?”
“I guess that she’s pissed,” Jasper says. He clicks over to her pictures. About eighty percent of them are of her and Ashton. Her and Ashton at school. Her and Ashton on a ski trip. Her and Ashton near the pool with a bunch of friends, holding up drinks. In a lot of them, Haven is wearing a skimpy bikini or a tight shirt, her ample chest practically falling out of her top. Her skin is perfect, her teeth are perfect, her eyes are perfect, even her nails and eyebrows are perfect.
I run my tongue over my bottom teeth, feeling the slight crookedness. Then I swallow, a weird feeling rising up in my stomach.
“Well, obviously she still likes him,” Jasper says. He turns around and sees the weird look on my face. “But he might not like her still.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. I look at my watch. I’m supposed to be meeting him now. But seeing Haven’s facebook is making me hesitate. What if Ashton’s just looking for a rebound? I mean, it makes sense. We’ve never even talked before tonight. I think about it, and then say finally, “I guess I probably shouldn’t go.”
“Definitely not,” Jasper says. He doesn’t even try to pretend to talk me out of it, and spends the next ten minutes clicking all around facebook, showing me pictures of guys he’s either met, wants to meet, or wouldn’t mind meeting. But I’m not really paying attention. Because all I can think about is Ashton. And so, finally, when I can’t take it any longer, I stand up.
Jasper looks at me, cutting off some story about a guy with the best stomach he’s ever seen. He sighs. “You’re going to meet him, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I say. “Watch the party.”
I walk toward the door, and then turn back around. “And make sure you delete the history on that computer when you’re done. My mom will flip if she thinks I’ve been internet surfing at my own party.”
Ashton
She’s not here. It’s the time we’re supposed to meet, and she’s not here. Could she be standing me up? I’ve never been stood up before. Have I stood anyone up before? I’m a big believer in karma, so if I have, it serves me right. But I can’t think of anyone I’ve stood up.
I wait a couple more minutes, then decide to just go back into the party and find her. Being out here, waiting for her, is almost too much. I need to see her, to be near her, to talk to her. It’s like a weird anticipation thing.
I head back into her house, but after a thorough search, I don’t see her anywhere.
“Hey!” Tucker yells. “Where the hell have you been?” He’s on his way to getting completely fucked up.
“I’m right here,” I say.
“Sorry about your girl.” Tucker puts a fake pout on his face, puffing out his lower lip. “Boo hoo,” he says.
“What are you talking about?” I’m looking over his head, still scanning the crowd for Emily.
“Emily,” Tucker says, “She went in there.” He points to a closed door. “Her bedroom. With Jasper.” He pats me on the back. “Sorry, buddy. Better luck next time.”
Shit. Why the fuck didn’t I kiss her when I had the chance? If I had, maybe she’d be with me right now, instead of in there with that douchebag. The thought of her lips on someone else’s is making me extremely jealous, and I’m about to go over to her bedroom door and if not barge right in, at least knock , but before I can, there’s a voice behind me.
“Ashton!”
I turn around. Haven Richardson is standing there, a smile on her face, but anger in her eyes. She wraps her arms around me. “Helllooo,” she says, all flirty. She’s wearing this ridiculously tight skirt, and I’m positive that if she turned around, you could almost see her thong. Soft, silky blonde hair, perfectly styled, and a pair of hooker shoes complete the look.
“Hi, Haven,” I say. Haven is my ex-girlfriend. We were together for nine months before I caught her cheating on me with Evan Simmons, this guy who graduated a couple of years ago. And now, even though Haven is the one who cheated on me, she can’t let it go. The truth is, we were done even before it happened.
“Ashton,” she says. “I need to talk to you.” Her eyes are on me, and so are a lot of people’s, because everyone thinks we’re like Scarlett and Ryan or something, and they’re obsessed with what’s going on with us. I look one more time at the closed door to Emily’s bedroom. But if I don’t talk to Haven, she might cause a scene. Haven loves to cause a scene.
So I sigh and follow her outside to the backyard, all the way to the back, in case she starts yelling at me. That’s the other thing about Haven, and one of the other reasons we broke up. She’s always the victim.
“What is it?” I ask once we’re standing underneath a willow tree. I look toward the house nervously, wondering if anyone’s watching.
“Did you know I started drinking this afternoon? I don’t even have to drink tonight, because I’m already hungover.” She grins and then leans into me.
“Haven,” I say, catching her, “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I know,” she says. And when she looks at me, her face is streaked with tears. “I just miss you so much.”
“I miss you, too,” I say. It’s true, to an extent. Haven is fun when she wants to be, and kind when she wants to be, and generous when she wants to be. But when she wants to be isn’t all that often, and when she’s not being those things, she’s pretty self-centered. I liked being with her because it was exciting, and there were always fun things to do, and because, I’m sorry to say, she’s hot. But that got old quickly. The thing is, I do still care about her. But any romantic feelings that used to be there are completely gone. Emily’s face flashes through my mind again, and I think about her, in there, and me, out here, maybe missing my chance.
“Then why aren’t we together?” Haven asks.
“Hav,” I say gently, “We’ve talked about this.”
“Because I cheated on you?” she says, sounding incredulous. “Shit happens, Ashton. Grow up. It was just a one time thing.”
It’s a lie, and we both know it. “Haven,” I say, sighing. “Let me take you home.”
“No!” She screams and tries to push me away, and as she does, I can smell the alcohol on her.
“Yes,” I say, “You can’t drive.”
“I’m fine.” She’s walking away from me now, her shoes sliding all around in the grass. She stumbles and then rights herself.
“Haven,” I say, “Let me take you home.”
I run and catch up with her, and finally, she lets me.
Emily
He’s not here. I know I’m late, by like ten minutes, but honestly, who the hell doesn’t wait ten minutes for someone? It’s, like, a rule that people are never on time. Even for my parties, you tell people to come at eight, and no one even shows up unt
il nine. Not that I invite people to my parties anymore. They just kind of know that it’s happening.
But still. Even my mom’s stupid book club doesn’t show up on time! And they’re old. Besides, I’m the girl! I’m supposed to be fashionably late, aren’t I? Boys should know that. Maybe he went inside to look for me. That could happen, couldn’t it? Well, I’m waiting right here, thank you very much. That’s what they always say to do when you’re lost – to stay in one place so that the other person can find you. And obviously I’m not lost, but I am trying to be found.
I look back over my shoulder through the front window, where I can see the party starting to heat up. Jasper’s looking out, and I give him a wave. He waves back, and gives me a rueful look, as if to say, “Where is he, hmmm?”
I turn my back and sit down on my front steps, stretching my legs out in front of me. I’m wearing a white skirt that earlier I thought showed off my tan. But now I’m not so sure. My legs look kind of stumpy. I think about Haven, about how she looked in those pics of her online, how she looked in her bikini.
I wonder what it would feel like to look like that. To be so perfect. Girls like that are always so weird to me. Sometimes I can’t stop staring at them, just wondering, what is it like to know you could have any guy you want? To know you can just go up to anyone and not be worried about getting rejected? To be able to wear anything you want and not worry that it makes you look too fat or too skinny or too wide or too five million other things? Although I guess Haven can’t get any guy she wants, since it seems like she still wants Ashton.
I check my cell. Ten minutes late has turned into fifteen minutes late. I’m staring to wonder if maybe I should go back into the party. I know it’s not good to be chasing him around, but if I want him, if I want to see him, then shouldn’t I go just after it?
But before I can decide, I hear the sound of shuffling feet. Someone’s drunk. This isn’t anything noteworthy – more people have been drunk at my house than I care to count, and a good percentage of them have thrown up. As a result, I know the drunk shuffle when I hear it.
I hear a girl’s voice, saying she’s fine, and then a boy’s voice, saying he doesn’t care, that he’s taking her home. And my heart sinks completely into my stomach, because even though I’ve hardly heard it, the voice is already imprinted on my memory.
And when he comes around from the backyard, following Haven Richardson, I have to swallow the wave of disappointment that flows through me. “You’re not fine,” he says again. “Hav, please.” He takes her arm, and she leans into him, and starts crying, and he wraps his arms around her. “Let me take you home,” he says softly.
She pulls away, and nods, and he puts his hand on her back as he steers her toward his car. He opens the door for her, and she gets in, and then he heads to the driver’s side, and drives away. They don’t see me, and I feel almost sick.
Stop, I tell myself. It’s ridiculous to be upset over some guy I don’t even know. Getting my heart all set on something before it’s even a reality can only lead to a big fall. I’m just glad I found out now, before I was in too deep.
I think about the way it felt when he was close to me in the garage. I touch my lips, wondering what would have happened if we’d kissed. But I force the thoughts out of my head, and I force myself not to cry. A few hours ago, I didn’t even know Ashton Wagner. So there’s no reason to think I shouldn’t be able to forget about him.
Ashton
Haven’s going on and on about who the fuck knows what, and all I can think about is Emily Mulally. She’s going to think I stood her up. After I thought she stood me up, now she’s going to think I stood her up. Unless she was standing me up in the first place. This is turning out to be a very confusing night.
“Are you listening?” Haven yells. She went from being sweet and crying to a raging bitch in about thirty seconds, which is pretty much par for the course with Haven.
“Not really,” I admit.
“Typical.” She doesn’t say anything the rest of the way to her house.
When we pull in the driveway, I turn to her. “Are you going to be okay?”
“No.” She’s looking out the window, not saying anything.
“Look, Hav….I want to be friends, I do.” It’s a half-truth. I’d like to be friendly with her. But as far as being friends… we were never friends in the first place. I think that was our main problem as far as being together. We never had the same sense of humor, we never meshed, we could never just… talk. Our conversations revolved around where we were going, or what new rumor had been started about us, or what kind of trip we wanted to take. There was no substance.
She sighs. “I know I’ll get over it. I think it’s just more wounded pride than anything.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Well, listen. Call me if you need anything, okay?”
She nods, then gets out of the car. And I head back to the party to find Emily Mulally.
The door that Tucker claimed Emily disappeared behind with Jasper is open when I get back to her house, and I look in. Big desk. Filing cabinets. Leather chairs. It’s an office. Not her bedroom like Tucker claimed. At first I’m relieved, but then I realize that might be worse. Jasper probably took her in there and seduced her on the couch.
The thought makes me start to feel like maybe this whole thing is pointless, and then I wonder if maybe she’s already left the party. But then I realize that she couldn’t have left the party, because it’s her stupid party.
So I start looking for her. And I finally I find her in the kitchen, standing in front of the refrigerator, the door open. She’s looking inside like she’s not sure exactly what she’s looking for. It’s somehow poetic, us meeting again in the kitchen, back where it all began.
“Hello,” I say, leaning over her. “Do you need some help cooking?” I survey the contents of the fridge. “I could whip up a Croque Monsieur.”
She looks at me blankly, then slams the fridge. “I don’t even know what that is.”
“Yeah, me neither.” I shrug. “I think it has something to do with ham. I saw it on Barefoot Contessa.” She’s still giving me that same blank look. “You know, the cooking show?”
“Yeah, I know what it is,” she says. “I just didn’t know that guys watched it.”
“They don’t,” I say. “Well, I don’t anyway. But my mom’s a big fan.” God, she’s beautiful. Haven’s beautiful, but Emily… Emily is beautiful in a totally understated way. She doesn’t even know just how gorgeous she is. I need to kiss her. None of this waiting shit. I step closer to her, and whisper into her ear, “Can we get out of here now?” Fuck Jasper. I don’t care about that dude. I’ll make her forget him.
“I don’t know,” she says, pulling away. “Why don’t we ask Haven?”
“Haven?” I’m confused.
“Don’t act confused,” she says. “I saw you leaving with her.”
“I wasn’t leaving with her!” I say. “She needed a ride home.” I lean in close to her again. “Haven has a drinking problem,” I whisper. “Sometimes she needs rides home.”
“That’s not what it looked like to me.”
“What did it look like to you?”
She opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it again. God, she has perfect lips. “It doesn’t matter,” she says.
“It does to me.”
“Well, it doesn’t to me.” She looks over my shoulder, surveying the party. “Anyway, I hope you have a good night.”
“Hey,” I say, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she says, “I just don’t think this is a good idea.”
“You don’t think what’s a good idea?”
“This. Conversing with you.”
“Oh.” I think about it. “Well, it’s probably not, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do it.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but she doesn’t smile. And then I get it. She’s rejecting me. Whoever this Jasper guy is, she feels some kind of loyalty to him. Although she was quick to c
ast him aside when I asked her out to the garage. So I say, “Does this have anything to do with Jasper?”
“Jasper?” She looks like she’s about to say something else, but then she changes her mind. And for a second, I see indecision flash across her face, I can almost see her thinking that maybe she wants to stay with me. But instead, she walks away, leaving me standing in front of the refrigerator by myself.
Emily
If Ashton Wagner thinks he can just waltz back into my house, to my party, and try to.. .to … to seduce me with his sexy smile and his perfect hair and his ice blue eyes, he has another thing coming. I mean, like I’m going to want to hang out with him now? After he just ditched me for Haven Richardson? Maybe he thinks I’m, like, desperate or something.
I might not be Haven Richardson, but nobody puts Baby in the corner. That’s a line from the movie Dirty Dancing. I love that movie. It’s about this totally plain girl named Baby who goes away with her family on this summer vacation and meets a super sexy dance instructor who, like, takes her virginity and makes her fall in love. They cause all these scandals and to make a long story short, the sexy dance instructor Johnny loses his job because he’s been having sex with Baby. But then at the end he shows up and says to Baby’s overprotective father, “Nobody puts Baby in the corner!” and then they go up onstage and dance the final dance of the summer and Baby comes into her own and ends up with Johnny.
It really is an amazing movie. Anyway. The point is, that’s a movie. Not real life. And Ashton Wagner cannot just come walking back in, expecting that I’m going to just listen to what he has to say. Especially since he had the lamest excuse. Haven was drunk? Yeah, right. She couldn’t call a cab? Or walk home? Although now that I think about I, if it really is true, it was pretty nice of him to drive her home. But that’s what he wants me to think. He probably thinks I’m gullible.
Not to mention trying to turn the whole thing around on me, to ask me if this whole thing had to do with Jasper! Ha! The only reason I didn’t tell him that Jasper was gay is because – well, honestly, why should I? He left with Haven, so why shouldn’t I --