Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Did you bring a date to my party?" I asked, walking up to where Troy was sitting outside on one of the logs Jack had helped me move earlier to form a seating area. Like I'd anticipated, the outdoor area was more popular than inside this year.

"I would never," he said in an exaggerated denial. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"This is Laney," he said, nodding to the girl sitting next to him.

"Nice to meet you," I said. "Pretend like you're not together tonight or my reputation will be ruined."

"Or you could find yourself a guy and turn this into a co-ed party," he said.

"It's already co-ed," I said.

"I meant co-ed as in both singles and couples."

"That's not what co-ed means, but I'll accept your definition."

"We started off at Cassidy's party," Laney said.

My eyes went wide. "Traitor!" I said, shoving Troy's arm.

"You don't accept couples," he whined.

"And then?" I asked, curious how they ended up here.

She shrugged. "People were posting funny, bloody pictures and Troy said yours was better."

"Really?" I asked.

"What can I say?" Troy said. "You've grown on me."

"Plus," Laney added. "Something weird was going on with Micah and Cassidy. It got awkward."

"For real?" I asked. "What?"

"I'm not sure."

Jack walked over, and my whole body buzzed to life when he leaned over and in my ear said, "Should we start the fire?"

I swallowed and nodded my head. "Yes, we should. Do you need help?"

"No, I got it." He squeezed my arm and then was gone.

"I thought you said this was a singles party," Laney said. "But you guys are allowed to be together?"

"We're not together," I said quickly.

She raised her eyebrows like that fact surprised her.

Troy chuckled. "He wishes."

"What?" I asked, my heart racing.

"Nothing," he said.

"No, what did you say?"

"He wishes?" Laney said. "That's what I heard. Does he like her?"

"We're best friends," I said. Jack was the person who, above anyone, had been there for me unconditionally. How could I find out if we had something beyond friendship without the risk of changing everything? And did I want to? Maybe my parents had gotten it all wrong though—their reasons for separating. Maybe friendship was the best thing to have in love. The only way to keep it strong.

Troy just raised his hands in surrender like he'd said too much. Had Jack said something to him? I watched Jack pour some fuel on the wood across the yard. My throat tightened. His once awkward gait had become more confident. Was he noticing things about me he hadn't before? Was he, too, keeping these things to himself for fear of ruining everything?

"He's giving Sage a second chance," I said. I couldn't forget that.

"Is he?" Troy asked like this was the first he'd ever heard of it. Then he held up a box of matches. "He might need these."

"How did you get those?" I asked, then saw Jack pat his pockets and turn a circle, looking at the ground.

Troy gestured to the empty spot on the log next to him. "He left them here earlier." He extended them out to me.

I took them. "Maybe we should play spin the bottle tonight." The words rushed out of my mouth.

Troy jumped up in excitement. "For real?" Then he followed my gaze to Jack. "For real for real?"

"Don't make it so obvious," I said. "And I didn't suggest it."

He pretended to zip his mouth shut.

Was I going to kiss my best friend tonight? On the day we'd dedicated to celebrating singlehood? In the year I'd decided that love might be the biggest disappointment of all? In front of everyone?

I walked across the yard. Why did I suddenly feel nervous? This was Jack. Maybe because I didn't trust anything happening inside of me right now.

I stepped up behind him. He had his phone flashlight on and was shining it on the ground.

"Did you lose something?" I asked.

"Yeah, I—" He stopped when he looked up and saw the matches sitting atop my extended palm. "Where were they?"

"Back by Troy."

He reached for them and I closed my hand around the box before he could grab it. He pulled his hand back and I opened mine again. He, once again, reached for the box and I closed my hand. His brows went down and he met my eyes.

A slow smile spread across his face when he noticed mine. "Why are you being a punk?" he asked.

"Because I am a punk."

"Can't argue there."

I play punched him on the arm and then handed him the matches. He took them, but in the process, closed his hand around mine, his eyes still intent on me.

"Please don't set yourself on fire," I whispered.

"That was my plan, but I guess I won't anymore." He finally released my hand. Then he lit a match and threw it on the logs. Nothing happened. He repeated the process until some of the pine needles and kindling toward the middle caught fire. With a little time and some strategic jabbing with a long stick, the fire grew. And like moths to flames, people began to gather around it. Jack and I continued to stand side by side, my body warmed by the flames, or maybe by his closeness. Either way, it felt nice.

"What's he doing here?" Jack asked. An hour had passed. We'd eaten, pinned knives on hearts, and told dating horror stories around the fire. I had no horror stories to tell. I'd been on a total of two dates in my high school career. One was with a guy who asked me to the school play last year. It was unmemorable—both the date and the play. The second was right after my parents' separation. I'd marched up to Cooper Morris, a guy I'd told Jack was cute a handful of times and asked him out. We'd gotten greasy burgers and drunk way too much soda, but he didn't initiate a second date.

"Who?" I asked, turning to follow Jack's gaze to the patio doors. The smoke from the fire seemed to be blowing directly into my face now. I took several steps closer to the house but the only person I saw coming outside was Sage. My heart sank. I thought she had opted out of my party when I told her she couldn't come as Jack's date. Apparently not.

"This is not a date," she said loudly as she hugged Jack. He hugged her back. I averted my gaze, trying not to register the stab of jealousy that shot through me.

That's when I saw who Jack must've really been talking about, through the smoke: Micah. I walked over to him fast. People were greeting him as if he was a celebrity, patting him on the back and telling him how happy they were to see him.

When he saw me, he said, "So this is the party?"

What was he doing here? He had to know my invite earlier had been a joke.

"Singles only," I said.

"You're in luck, Scar," he said, using the nickname Jack had given me in elementary school. "I am single."

"Does Cassidy know?" came flying out of my mouth without much thought.

He found that amusing. "She does. Broke up with me not even an hour ago."

Why did he seem so unfazed by this? My familiar friend, bitterness, churned to life in my stomach again at his casual delivery of this news. They had been together for four years. That's an eternity when you're only seventeen. Maybe he was eighteen. But still.

"So I told her I was coming here," he said.

"You didn't," I responded. The last thing I needed was Cassidy Dawson showing up at my door somehow blaming me for this. "Leave me out of this."

"I thought this was the place where singles went to celebrate." He threw his arm to the side, as if putting my yard on display. The movement made him stumble.

"Have you been drinking?" I asked. Maybe he wasn't as unfazed as I thought.

"Only after I drove here," he said and then put a finger to his lips in a shushing motion.

"Micah, not cool."

"It's not cool at all." His voice caught with those words and I noticed his eyes were glassy, emotional. "Are you going to beat me up again?"

"I didn't beat you up. It was one shove. Five years ago."

"I should go," he said.

"Come here." I steered him back toward the house by his shoulders. I took him to the nearly empty sitting area, grateful that most of the party was outside this year and sat him in the corner of the couch. "You can't leave until you sober up. I'll get you some water."

I grabbed a bottle from the fridge and brought it back, opening it and placing it in his hand. And even though I didn't want to, I sat down next to him, recognizing brokenness when I saw it.

"Do you think she'll come here?"

"I don't know. I guess you want her to?" I asked.

"She broke up with me, Scar. She's my everything. What am I supposed to do?"

I wasn't sure which I preferred, the casual attitude of before or the close-to-tears one now. Micah wasn't my favorite person, not when he'd hurt my real favorite person, but like Jack had told me all those years ago, he's just insecure; let it go.

I tried to channel Jack's forgiving nature now as I took Micah's hand and said, "You'll be fine. Whatever happens, you can handle it."

His eyes went to our hands, and his thumb traced a pattern across my knuckles. Was he flirting with me in the midst of his breakdown? Or was he a little tipsy and heartbroken and wasn't thinking? I chose to believe the latter.

That's probably not what Jack believed when, from behind me, I heard him say, "What are you doing here, Micah?"

I quickly took my hand back and turned in my seat. Jack and Sage stood there, staring. Sage curious, Jack fuming. I'd never really seen Jack fuming before, and it seemed to be directed at me, not Micah.

"Jack-Jack," Micah said. "You actually speak. But you still haven't locked this one down?" He put a hand on my knee.

I pushed it off. "That's gross, Micah. Don't say stuff like that."

"The thought of being with Jack is gross?"

"You know what I meant," I said. His word choice was gross, saying a person could be locked down.

"I don't think I do."

"I heard you and Cassidy broke up. Is that true?" Sage asked.

"It is. Which is why I'm here, right Scar?"

At that moment, Troy walked inside with a group of about fifteen people. He held up an empty two liter. "Hey, Scarlett. How about a game of spin the bottle?"