My eyes widen, and a small laugh escapes me.

   Heidi shakes her head. “She’s a mean drunk.”

   “And a profane one, too,” I add.

   Quiet fills the air for a few minutes.

   “Look,” Heidi says. “Lucy is right—she’s actually a really nice girl. But he doesn’t like her in the way he likes you.”

   I think for a minute. He has never mentioned her—not even once. If she hadn’t been out of town that night, and she’d been his date to prom, then where would that have left me?

   “You should get back to the party,” I tell them. “I’ll be fine. I just need a few minutes to clear my head.”

   “You sure, bitch? It’s our last time to party before we’re all thrown into the real world. Don’t let fucking stupid shit get you down . . .”

   I love drunk Lucy. I laugh and nod, and they leave.

   Five minutes later, I walk back through the clearing toward our bonfire. Jake is in his seat, and Marisa is there with him—not with him, but she’s sitting in the circle, while Derek drools over her.

   Great.

   I sit on the bed of the truck. I don’t take my spot next to Jake or on his lap, because it just doesn’t feel right anymore. Logan hands me a beer. I see Jake eyeing me, but I don’t care. He never mentioned her—not once in the last three months. All I am to him is some stupid girl he took pity on and now can’t get rid of.

   And he has a supermodel ex-girlfriend. I need more beer.

   Logan cuts me off after my third in ten minutes.

   Valid.

   I’ve been sitting in the back of the truck for I don’t know how long, and I can see James watching me. His friends, who were also my friends, are about twenty yards from us. He can see me, and I can see him. But he’s watching me, and I’ve seen him get up and grab no less than fifteen beers in the last hour. He must be wasted—and he never gets wasted, ever. His head dropped forward between his shoulders, he can barely sit up straight. This is not like him at all. He’s going to pass out, and none of his drunk friends are going to take care of him when he does.

   I jump down from the truck and head toward him. Even an asshole like him deserves to get home safely. As I walk past Jake, he grabs my hand. I turn and see his confused face, but I shrug his hand off and march forward. I don’t really know why I’m pissed at him, but I do know that if she were his date that night, there is no way I would even know who Jake Andrews is.

   I stand in front of James and kick his shin gently. He looks up at me, his bloodshot eyes almost fully closed. When he sees it’s me, he straightens up a bit and tries to act less drunk.

   “Mikayla,” he slurs and gets up from his chair. Surprisingly, he doesn’t act as drunk as he looks. “Have you come back for me, baby? Have you forgiven me? Please say yes.”

   “No, James, I just—”

   “I’m so glad, baby, so fucking glad,” he interrupts, throwing his arms around me and lifting me, spinning me around.

   “James, put me down, shit!” I yell. He does, and I start walking away, back to my group.

   He follows. “Mick, I’m sorry. I don’t know what the fuck—just wait, please.”

   I make it halfway before he catches up to me and grabs my arm, forcing me to turn around. “I’m sorry, Mikayla. I’m so fucking sorry.” Tears are running down his face faster than he can wipe them away. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful, I just love you so much.” His voice is strained.

   And then . . .

   He reaches into his pocket . . .

   Pulls out a little black velvet box . . .

   And starts to get down on one knee.

   The second I see the box, my eyes snap shut—I can’t watch this happen.

   Not when I hear him get down on the ground.

   Not when I feel his hand take mine.

   And not when I hear him say, “I asked your dad and everything, so I got this for you the day before prom.”

THIRTY-FOUR

JAKE

           Logan and Cam are holding me back as I watch that asshole get down on one knee, with a fucking ring in his hand, and ask the girl I love to marry him.

           And I can’t do shit about it.

       Kayla’s eyes are shut, and when she opens them, she says something to him. James stands up, wiping his face. She says something else, and he looks at the ground, nodding. Then they leave.

   They walk away from this party and leave.

   And I have no idea what the fuck just happened.

   It’s three in the goddamn morning, and Kayla’s still not in her room. I should know, because that’s where I am, waiting for her.

   Like an abandoned fucking puppy.

   Finally, I hear a car door slam and rush to look outside. It’s Kayla. She pays the cabdriver and starts to walk upstairs. She has to know I’m here, because the lights are on.

   She opens the door and pauses when she sees me. She then walks past me, like I’m not even fucking here. She gets in the shower. Five minutes later, she’s dressed in pajamas and crawls into bed.

   “Are you going to marry that asshole?” I ask, because I need to prepare myself for the moment when she breaks my heart.

   “No, Jake, I’m not.”

   Thank God.

   “So what the fuck? You just leave and don’t bother calling? You didn’t bring your phone with you. Where were you all night, Kayla? Did you fuck him for old times’ sake? Just one last hurrah?”

   She starts crying, and I know I’m being a dick. I calm myself down a little. “I really want to feel okay about all of this. But I don’t know what’s going on. You have to tell me.”

   “What? Like you tell me?” Kayla spits out.

   “What do you mean?”

   “Marisa?”

   Fuck.

   “You didn’t tell me you had a supermodel girlfriend who was supposed to be your prom date. Instead you end up with me, the stupid girl whose boyfriend had been screwing her best friend for two years and was too fucking clueless to know. You take pity on me and hang out with me. Then my family is murdered, and I have no one, so now you’re stuck with some strange girl sleeping in your fucking bed, taking over your fucking life, and you can’t get fucking rid of me.” She wants to yell, but she’s keeping it together.

   “She wasn’t my girlfriend,” I whisper.

   She laughs. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”