20

Blair

Age 18

Somewhere along the line in high school, I made a crucial error in my social life. I should have hung out with the arty kids or the band geeks—anyone who wouldn’t have expected me to go to house party ragers every weekend.

“Blaaaair!” Mackenzie yells as she appears from the crowd, throwing her arms around me and spilling sticky pink liquid from her red Solo cup down my arm.

“Shit, sorry!” she giggles.

“It’s okay.”

“Josh is looking for you,” Leigh says, shooting a knowing glance at Mackenzie.

“Nothing’s going to happen with him,” I insist.

“Okay, then how about one of the hundred other boys at this party? You don’t want to go to college still a virgin.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t care about being a virgin or not.”

The world seems to divide every girl into the categories of virgin or slut, and it always seemed stupid to me.

“It’s not just Huntington boys here tonight,” Mackenzie says. “There are some freaky guys who might be more your type.”

I roll my eyes and force a laugh, though my throat feels tight. I don’t want other guys. There’s only one I’m still thinking of, and it’s not Josh.

“I need a drink,” I mutter. “Be right back.”

I turn the corner into the kitchen, searching for the drinks table. I need vodka. No, tequila. The music is pounding, making my head ache. I don’t usually drink much, but tonight feels like the perfect opportunity to obliterate all the stupid thoughts that won’t leave my head.

But I don’t even make it to the drinks table. Instead, I stop dead in my tracks like I’ve walked into a wall. Except there’s nothing in my way—nothing except Asher Stone leaning against the kitchen wall.

It’s like the breath is ripped from my lungs. Asher’s arms are wrapped around a girl. They’re up against the wall, making out. His hands trace the delicate dark lace of her shirt while the other hand grips her jet-black hair.

My heart stops. It feels as though it’s been sliced open, a flood of ice cubes poured inside. My brain screams in frustration at my body’s reaction.

Stupid, ugly words ricochet in my head: She’s kissing Asher. My Asher .

I’d been praying he’d been waiting for me, even after I was cornered into disappearing from his life. I’d been hoping I’d been haunting his mind just as much as he’s haunted mine.

But I haven’t been.

The realization sears me with humiliation.

What’s worse is that this girl is the polar opposite of me. She’s tall, dressed in black lace and leather. And it kills me that the image looks right ; this is the cool, edgy kind of girl Asher should be with—not me, the repressed little princess with no future of my own.

Asher pulls away from the girl, his eyes locking onto mine, and for a moment, it feels like the world narrows to just the two of us.

“What are you doing here, Blair?” His voice laced with venom.

“I could ask you the same,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tightness in my chest. “Seems like you’re having a good time.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he shoots back. He whispers something in the girl’s ear, and she walks over to get a drink, smirking darkly at me.

“I guess everyone moves on eventually,” I say. The words taste bitter in my mouth.

He laughs coldly. “You would know something about that.”

I frown, confused. “What? You’re here with some other girl like everything we had meant nothing .”

Asher’s eyes glint darkly. “I know about you and that football player. Jim or whatever.”

“Josh?” I say, baffled.

“I should’ve seen it coming. You decided to drop me and fuck some rich boy instead.”

I bite my lip, my mind racing. He’s standing here, judging me for something I didn’t even do. If I could just explain myself—

“I didn’t—I didn’t drop you—”

Asher’s voice grows louder and darker as he cuts me off. “Cut the shit, Blair. You’re a stuck up little rich girl. You only care about yourself.”

My voice shakes with anger. “Me? You don’t care about anything , Asher. I should’ve seen that sooner.”

It feels like a war is raging in my mind. My heart, already shattered, feels as if it’s been ground to dust beneath his heel. I don’t want to feel this anymore.

I recite ballet steps in my head: plié, tendu, dégagé. Plié, tendu, dégagé—

But it’s not working. Sadness, grief, and anger bubble to the surface.

Then I remember we’re in the middle of a party. Sugar. If any of my gossip-hungry so-called friends see me talking to Asher, it’ll get back to my parents. Then Asher’s life will be ruined.

“I have to go,” I mutter.

As I rush away back through the party, it feels like a gaping wound has opened inside me. How can I stitch it shut?

I don’t realize I’m about to walk straight into Josh until we collide.

“Whoa, slow down there, girl,” he laughs.

“Sorry,” I mutter, not looking up. I just want to get out of here. I need air.

“Hey,” he murmurs, cupping my face in his hands. “What’s wrong? Are you crying, Blair?”

“No,” I lie, stifling a sob.

I force myself to meet his gaze. Josh. All the girls at school rave about how handsome he is—soft eyes and floppy hair. He’s one of the star football players.

“No,” I say more firmly now. I lean in closer and whispering into his ear, “Hey, you want to get out of here?”

He grins. “Sure.”

“My parents aren’t home right now,” I add, letting my meaning hang in the air.

His eyes widen, and I can see the gears turning in his head. After years of chasing, he finally senses he might get what he wants.

Because if I don’t do something to forget Asher, I think I’ll completely break apart. I want him to feel even a fraction of the hurt I’m carrying.

Two can play this game, right?

I don’t feel like myself. I’m angry. Reckless. Tonight, I need to discover who I am without Asher Stone, and this is my first move.

The lights are off when we get to my house. I lead Josh up the stairs to my room, leaving the lights off. I’m sober but I feel drunk on fury.

So, this is my first time.

I always thought it would be with Asher—

No. Stop it, Blair. Stop thinking about him.

Josh is sweet, kind, and gentle. We fumble around in the dark. I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling, my thoughts lingering on the boy who shattered my heart.

Josh wants to cuddle afterward.

“Hey,” he whispers. “You okay?”

“Yep,” I mutter.

“Was it… okay for you?”

“Sure,” I reply softly. “It was great.”

It isn’t true. It was fine . Underwhelming. Is that what everyone raves about when they discuss sex? All the movies, songs, and my friends’ whispered secrets?

I guess so.

But it’s nothing like what it felt like making out with Asher.

Physically, it was pretty boring. Yet I’m filled with a sick sense of satisfaction. I don’t care about Asher, because if I did, I wouldn’t have done this. Right? He moved on, and now so have I.

So why does it feel so horrible?

“Blair?”

My mom’s voice echoes up the stairs, slicing through the moment.

I freeze, gripping Josh’s wrist.

“My parents can’t see you here. You have to go.”

Josh leaps out of bed, hopping on one foot as he struggles to pull his pants back on.

“I thought you said they were out this evening.”

“They were. They must’ve come home early.” I point to the window. “Climb down the trellis.”

He kisses me on the way out. Even through the panic, I can’t help but notice that a full-on kiss with Josh doesn’t spark half the butterflies Asher used to with just a brush of his hand.

He opens the window and climbs halfway out. I breathe a quick sigh of relief.

But my relief is short-lived.

The door to my bedroom flings open, and the light turns on. My mom and dad stand at the door, their faces wearing matching expressions of shock. Josh freezes at the window.

Mom crosses the room and grips my wrist hard.

“This is it, Blair. First that disgusting boy. Now this.”

“Josh is just a boy from school, Mom,” I say. “He’s… he’s not like Asher.”

But I wish he was.

“If you slept with him, I don’t care who he is.”

“I was upset, and… and it just happened.”

“You’ve had your chances. This is so shameful. When the other mothers hear about this…”

She closes her eyes. When she opens them, only disgust remains.

“You’re cut off, Blair. That’s all there is to it. If you’d shown you could make good decisions, it might be different. But I’m not paying for dance school so you can go and ruin your life. You’ll stay here instead.”

I’m reeling from the shock, panic flooding me. “Just because I dated a boy?”

“You can date,” she says coldly. “Your father and I will find a suitable boy for you—someone who actually has a future. Someone respectable, from a good family.”

I watch as my parents march Josh down the stairs and out the front door. A sinking feeling settles in my stomach.

I’ve lost my future. I’ve lost Asher.

And now I’m trapped.