Chapter Sixteen

I should stay home. My brain says, stay home. Don't do this to yourself. You're going to feel so pathetic. You're going to show up, extra-wheeling-it, and sit alone at the table while they're all dancing and Kate's rubbing her ass on Adam.

My brain makes good decisions. The rest of my body not so much.

Play it cool, I remind my gooey insides as they picture Adam's wide, strong hands running along the fabric of my slinky, favorite Autumnal dress. A scene that will not play out, no matter how badly my skin craves it.

"How much have you had to drink?" Francesca asks.

I set my glass on the kitchen counter. "Like…one glass of wine."

"Uh huh." She puts her earring in. "You're staring off into the abyss like you do when you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk." I touch my pointer fingers to my nose and rub my head and pat my belly. " See ."

Just mildly in control of my mental processes.

David comes through the front door and holds a stuffed squirrel out. "Is this it?" he wonders before Alice runs though the hallway and snatches it from his outstretched hand. She scampers up the stairs calling for Caroline.

"Pregaming?" he asks me, clocking my glass.

"Home wine is cheaper," I answer. I check his shirt and tie and her green cocktail dress. "I'm glad I brought this emergency dress. Do people really dress like this at The Wayfarer now?"

David rubs his chin. "They've gone through a – what are you calling it now?"

"A glow up," Francesca responds without looking up.

"Right." He laughs. "They've redone the inside. It's a little more upscale. Although people still dressed nicer than we did. We thought jeans and a polo was high class."

"Dark jeans and a going out top." Fran kisses her fingers. "We thought we were hot stuff."

I swing my hair back dramatically and raise my shoulder. "Speak for yourself. I was and will always be hot stuff ."

"Your fingertips are stained with food coloring," she says.

David smooths back his hair and says, always coming to my defense, "I think that's the look now."

I walk into the hallway and comb my clean, curled hair with the fingers of my non-injured hand. My mother's gold hoops sparkle. Layers of hair fall around the square neck of my tight auburn knit midi dress. I collect the leather clutch I keep in my purse and add some lipstick and hand sanitizer.

I ask, "Where's Katie?"

Francesca buckles the strap of her shoe. "She's riding with the neighbors."

"Oh." I shudder to think what the twenty-three-year-old is wearing in the backseat of the car. Adam wouldn't apologize if their knees touch or keep staring out of the window to avoid her eye. He'll be jovial and charismatic to her, not me, because he thinks I'm boring.

He doesn't care about me anymore, so I don't have to care about him. That's why I'm going tonight, brain be damned. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of thinking I'm a wet blanket who would rather play dress up with her niece than go out. I'll take the discomfort of watching him feel up another female over slinking into a corner without my pride.

Even though home wine is cheaper, and I spill on myself in public.

"Caroline, we're heading out!" Francesca calls. "Nuggets are on the counter. Chips in the pantry. Vienna made apple crumble with her bloody hands. It's in the microwave."

"How did you know that?" I ask. "I got rid of all the evidence."

"You bake every day." She shrugs. "I searched."

I pick up my keys from the hook just as David goes to collect his. I toss them at his chest. "I'm not sitting on dried play-doh in this dress."

We get to Loxley and David parks my car in an angled spot in front of an ivy-covered historic building. Flames burn inside copper lanterns. Brass handles shine from the glossy, heavy doors that have replaced the old, wooden ones that had names and dates and profanity etched into them with car keys.

David says, "You know, my uncle Ben used to co-own this place."

"I didn't know that," Fran replies. "How did I not know that?"

"That's why he let sixteen-year-olds in."

" Oh . And let us drink, too. What a great uncle," she says. "We should send him a fruitcake for Christmas."

We climb out of the car and hurry inside quickly, since Francesca and I refuse to wear coats over nice outfits. The building is just as I remembered, moody and colorful and bustling, but with a more sophisticated clientele than I recall. At eighteen, we booked it straight for a dim booth tucked by the bar.

A hand goes in the air. "Over here!" Maggie calls out.

They're sitting at a round table glowing with battery- powered votive candles. She wears a burgundy sweater dress and beaded earrings, her hair sprayed high, and her red lipstick complements Diego's bright vest and polka dotted shirt.

Kate beams at me and pats the chair beside her. Her wavy hair falls over one smokey eye and her cleavage pins together at the low point of her mustard halter dress.

She gushes, "Vee, sit here! I ordered you a bourbon cocktail."

"Oh thanks," I say.

"That dress is hot ." She clutches my wrist. "I'm borrowing it."

"Just don't stretch out the chest," I joke.

Adam sits opposite her, and his eyes flicker once on my standing body. Then, again, this time a tad longer. He holds his assessment, on my legs, then my torso. His throat bounces, he flinches.

He's brushed his hair and shaved his beard. He looks like the picture I've seen of him with Selena Gomez at the VMAs. Sharp, dark and clean, like he smells good and drinks hard liquor without needing to chase it down with a loaf of bread.

I don't imagine this or dream it up, but his eyes drag once more along my body. He casts them over my hair. I think of his fingers twirling in the ends of it. His nose pressing into my scalp. His breath hot beneath my jawbone.

We meet at the eye. He looks away and I do the same, fast.

I take the offered seat.

Kate begins to tell me about townie friends she knows who work here. She gossips about the minute details of their love lives, high school behaviors, and asks me what color Stacy put in my highlights.

I pull the lighter strands across my nose. "Um, I don't remember, but I know it's on her Instagram. I'll send you the post."

"Thanks! She's really skilled. That balayage is blended so nicely."

I twirl the straw in my drink and reply, "Yeah, she's great."

The vapid conversation does nothing to stop me from thinking about Adam two seats over. The way he sits quietly, leaned back in his chair, blurred from my peripheral vision except for the fingers he taps along a square napkin.

My brain would like a moment to say, I told you so.

Adam breaks the silence, asking, "How's your leg?" He's not talking to his drink, but I could be mistaken for thinking so.

"Oh fine," I answer. "Alice gave me ten Bluey Band-Aids. I hope they hold up."

"We have Neosporin if you need it."

"We have some, thanks." The fake plastic flames seem like a good place to keep my attention.

Adam grunts and hoists himself higher in his seat. "I'm surprised you were able to keep the leg. With all that first aid training you've got, I assume you made a tourniquet with a belt?"

He's joking, but it doesn't feel like a joke. I feel like I'm being made fun of. There's a bite to his tone.

I say, "I did think of slicing the bone, a la Civil War style, but figured I'd let it heal naturally. This time ."

"You keep your hacksaw close?"

"In my bra. Like a serial killer."

Adam tilts his head. "I hope you keep your passport and a stack of hundreds close by, too. I know how fond you are of making a quick getaway."

The others don't hear this dig. Kate makes a face, but she doesn't ask questions.

"That's because I don't like being unprepared ," I say slowly. " Or caught off guard."

His eyes land on my drink, close enough to me that he would be focused on my eyes if we were alone or either of us had the bravado. We're speaking in code. He's wondering what I had to feel off guard about.

When you're eighteen and a boy you've known for two months asks you to marry him, you're caught off guard.

Kate takes a sip of her orange drink. She says, "If I get deserted on an island, I want Vienna with me. She's little miss prepared."

"In the way a doomsday prepper is prepared?" Adam mocks, taking my shift to watch the candles.

I know what he's insinuating. "I'm not afraid," I defend. "I just like to have things that I might need, like a sewing kit in my purse and extra toilet paper in the closet."

He raises a brow. "And on this island, are you weaving palm frond door mats for your tree house or making an S.O.S. sign with sticks?"

"Neither," I reply sharply. "I'm clubbing her to death with a coconut and drowning myself in the sea to save us from dying of starvation on a deserted island."

Adam sputters on his drink.

Meanwhile, Kate, oblivious to our conversation, raises a hand and waves at someone across the room. "I haven't seen Natalie is years, I'll be right back!"

She's about to drop the famous-musician-is-my-date card to a friend from high school and receive the same look I project when something unexpectedly rings half-price at Target.

Adam wipes a dribble off his chin.

David also stands. "I'm going to chat with Freddy Potter, he owns the place. I'll see if I can get some free food. He and my mom dated in high school. There's a chance he's my real dad and owes me one."

Francesca complains about how Kate didn't order her a drink and motions for the waitress. Behind me, the open dance floor collects a few more bodies.

Older teens huddled together like they're at a school dance. A well-dressed couple showing off their ball room dancing lessons. Date night dancing for parents and new couples.

The lights change colors every thirty seconds and the DJ switches to a slow song.

"Adam," Francesca begins, "We only came here, like, once that summer, didn't we? Do you remember?"

He nods thoughtfully. "Uh, yeah, I remember. We came a few times."

She shakes her head. "I swear it was only once." To Maggie and Diego, she explains, "Heddy didn't like us coming here because she knew we were getting alcohol. David was always so afraid she had her minions from the psychic shop spying on us and that they would go tell his parents." She cranes her neck. "You know, they have great crab dip here. I'm going to get Dave to order us some free crab dip. David!"

She gets up, and Adam also excuses himself to use the bathroom. I notice two young girls in the crowd looking at him and pointing, covering their mouths, and squealing. Diego asks Maggie to dance, and I assure them that I'm fine here alone. Which, I'm not for long.

"Vienna?" Ashton Potter leans over my chair. I'd recognize her anywhere. Her sister, Brooke, and I were summer friends. We took the same art classes at the rec center every July.

"Hi!" I say, giving Ashton a hug, getting a mouthful of her dark curly hair.

"It's good to see you!" she says, crinkling her eyes into a smile. She wipes a hand flat against her black button-down dress. "Welcome to my establishment. Now that we're not teenagers anymore, feel free to drink all the cocktails you want."

I glance around. "Oh! You're working with your dad now?"

"We're mutual owners. I bought my share from David's uncle."

"Awesome! It's looks great in here. According to Davey the bar had a ‘glow-up' – his words, he's very hip and cool – and I guess you had a hand in that."

"Well, a small town will turn anything into gossip," she admits. "But we've gotten so many more locals in now that the toilets get regularly cleaned."

"Don't tell me you mop the floors too and I'm not going to get stuck on my way to the bathroom," I plead.

She laughs. "We do have a 99 rating on our latest health inspection."

"Good for you!" I say. "It's so nice to be here. I know Fran and I were just summer people, but with Dave's friends we always felt like a part of the town. Kind of feels like being back home."

"You are!" She nods her head backward. "Just ask your sister. She's over there angling for free food."

I grimace. "Sorry about her."

"Trust me, we're glad to have you guys," she smiles. "First round's on us, okay?" She drops her voice. "Also, that is Adam Kent with y'all, right?"

I freeze. "Uh huh." A certain recollection pops into my mind.

Ashton nods, slowly. " Love his music. Saw him in concert last year! Whenever I saw him on Instagram or TV, there was always something so familiar about him and I couldn't ever figure it out."

My smile strains. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

She continues, "It totally didn't dawn on me until he was on stage and I was half drunk that I remembered. I totally even yelled it out loud – that's Vienna's boyfriend!"

She's yelling it out loud right now, too.

I glance around to make sure no one in my party heard that. I clutch her hand. "Ashton, he's not my boyfriend," I explain quickly. "And he wasn't then either."

She frowns. "It was like a scene from Dirty Dancing every time you two came in here."

"It wasn't that graphic," I argue. I notice a body returning from the direction of the bathroom. "Hey, remember how I asked you to keep quiet about he and I that summer?"

She studies my face. Her attentions flies to Adam's approaching form. Her eyes widen. " Ah . Say no more. A discreet waitress is now a discreet owner slash manager."

I mouth, thank you, as she pats my shoulder and walks off.

Her tall, imposing father then joins the table with David and a collection of waitresses holding trays of appetizers.

Francesca comes up behind them, her arms spread wide. "Behold! We have crab dip!"