Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"Seriously, Troy?" Jack said. "We're not playing spin the bottle. How many times does she—"

"I'm game," I blurted even though this had now probably become the worst idea ever. Apparently, there was still hope left somewhere in me that this could give me the answers I needed about me and Jack without ruining everything.

The look Jack shot me after my outburst made me think this was pointless, though.

The group Troy brought in—mostly people who had been coming to our party since the beginning—cheered.

"Good choice," Troy said, shifting the coffee table in front of the couch so it was perfectly centered in the semicircle of seats. And then people sat. Too many for the space, smooshing me against Micah's side. People even sat on the floor, in front of the television stand, to create a true circle.

Jack didn't sit. His eyes shot between me and Micah and then he looked at Sage and they turned to walk away. I started to panic when Troy hopped up, grabbed Jack by the arm and directed him into the circle. "Oh no you don't. You have to play."

I could've hugged Troy right now. Sage followed. Not as ideal.

It wasn't until Troy handed me the empty two-liter saying, "Host first," that I really thought about the logistics of this game. What were the odds that this landed on Jack? What were the odds that it landed on me again after this first spin?

I should've told Troy to shove us in the closet again. But then the kiss would have to be purposeful; I couldn't use the excuse that a game made me do it. I took a deep breath. This was still the best option.

I placed the bottle on the coffee table and spun. It turned quickly at first, nearly spinning off the table. Was there a way I could make it stop when I wanted it to without being obvious? My eyes darted to Jack who was sitting on the floor in front of the love seat. He was still fuming. I wanted to go hug him, tell him I was sorry for agreeing to this game. Tell him why I had agreed, but I was terrified. I'd already relied on him so much this year. Would this revelation be the one that drove him away?

The bottle slowed to a stop and I followed the line from the cap to the person. It was a girl I'd never met before.

She laughed. "Come get it."

I chuckled and walked to her, placing a small peck on her lips, then went back to my empty seat. Micah pulled me down by the arm, like we were now a couple or something. I sat but tugged my arm away from him. "I know how to sit," I said under my breath.

He laughed. "You always were stubborn."

The girl I'd kissed got up and took her turn with the bottle. And so it went, on and on. Oohs and ahhs sounded after each bottle stop. More after each kiss. And the game became monotonous. Or maybe it just became that way to me because I wanted... needed... a certain outcome and it wasn't happening. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Many more spins and kisses later and the bottle teetered to a stop on Jack. My breath stopped in my throat as I watched one of my friends, Lydia, smile and walk her way to him. Even though everyone had been keeping the kisses pretty tame, I looked away when their lips met.

And then it was Jack's turn.

I watched his shoulders rise and fall as he put the bottle on the table and spun it. It was a perfect spin, the bottle staying centered on the table as it made its rotations. I watched it, unblinking, until my eyes watered. Then I blinked the blur away. Finally, the bottle was slowing, stopping. And I caught my breath when I realized where it was pointing, straight to me.

Someone let out a little moan of disappointment. Sage? I wasn't sure, I didn't look away. Jack in all his tall, perfect hair, beautiful eyes glory, looked my way. Then he was moving toward me, his confidence carrying him. I wanted to kiss him, I realized. And not just to see what it would feel like, but because I liked him. As more than a friend.

He reached the couch where I sat, sandwiched between Micah and a girl I didn't really know. I still hadn't released my breath. The air in my lungs was burning now and I let it out slowly as he leaned forward. I waited for his lips to meet mine but then I heard the girl on my right giggle and my eyes flew open. I hadn't realized I'd closed them.

Jack's lips were on hers.

My eyes blurred and my lungs were on fire again. For a different reason this time.

Then he straightened up, not even looking at me, and walked back to his place on the carpet. Troy let out a loud disappointed grunt. Sage, hooked her arm through Jack's and laid her head on his shoulder, obviously happy about that development. I just sat there and stared at the bottle that was still, obvious to everyone in the room, pointing straight at me. I tried not to cry.

It was fine. That was my answer, I told myself. I wanted to know how he felt about me and he let me know, loud and clear. I wasn't going to let this ruin things. He was still my best friend, and I should've been grateful that he'd let me know in a subtle way how he felt. Well, subtle in that now the whole room knew. I tried not to let the embarrassment cloud my thinking. I was grateful I knew. I just had to tell my stinging eyes and my aching chest that.

The girl next to me, who Jack had kissed, got up, and as she went to take her turn, I hopped up as well, mumbling something about using the bathroom. At least I thought that's what I said.

I found my mom upstairs in the living room and sat next to her. I just needed a minute. Needed someone to tell me everything was going to be okay.

"I'm fine," she said.

"What?"

"Go back to your party, you don't need to worry about me."

That's when I saw the large manila envelope sitting on the coffee table, papers on top and a pen nearby. "Is that...?" It was divorce papers. I didn't need to say the words out loud.

She let out a breathy laugh. "On Valentine's Day and everything."

I swallowed through the lump in my throat. That was his idea of a grand gesture? "I'm sorry."

"I told you, I'm fine. I mean it. It's for the better. He went on a date tonight. Now I can start dating."

He went on a date tonight and told my mom about it? I held in my rage. "Right," I said. "Glad you're fine. Love you."

Once again, I fled. I just wanted my best friend. Not the guy I recently discovered I had stronger feelings for. My best friend. The one who could talk me off any ledge. He was right, I just needed to ask for help when I needed it. And I needed it right now more than ever.

Downstairs the game had dispersed and people were doing their own things again. The music seemed louder. The laughter more obnoxious. I wanted a quiet night on a couch listening to a terrible band or watching an anime. The way I spent the rest of the year. I wasn't a party girl, and I didn't know why I had tried to turn myself into one.

I found Jack refilling the carrot sticks at the counter. "Hey," I said. "Can we talk upstairs?"

"I'm in the middle of something," he said.

"Right." I took a step closer, opening the bag of celery sticks he'd pulled out and adding a few to the tray. "My mom got her divorce papers today. Do you believe that? On Valentine's Day."

He sighed. "Another reason for you to hate it, right?"

"What? I don't. I mean, I didn't. Now, I kind of do."

"You've been this mopey, bitter version of yourself for a year. You're going to have to decide if you always want to be her, because..." He trailed off, not finishing his thought.

"No, please, go on. Because what? You hate her? You're tired of her?"

"Yeah, maybe I'm over it."

"I don't believe that out of everyone in your life, you're choosing me to stand up to?"

"Yep, you're right, I'm weak and pathetic and have never stood up to anyone until now."

I blinked, staring at him.

"It's been a year, Scarlett. Get over it."

"You don't understand because you wouldn't care if your parents got a divorce. Their marriage sucks." My mean-spirited words hit their mark. I could see it on his face. But I didn't care, because his words had sliced right through my heart.

We must've gotten loud because suddenly Troy was next to us. Micah as well. "Mommy and Daddy need a time out in the closet," Troy said. "Micah help me."

"Not right now, Troy," I said as Micah practically carried me to the closet.

Next to me, Troy was doing the same to Jack, who was struggling and protesting, saying things like, "This isn't funny," and, "Knock it off."

The closet door was pulled open, and just as Micah carried me inside, Jack must've gotten himself freed, because he pushed the door shut without him in it.

"Are you an idiot?" I heard Troy say from the outside.

Micah still had his arms tight around my waist, my toes barely touching the floor. My hands were holding a shelf in front of me so that it didn't hit my face.

"You can put me down now," I said.

He did and I readjusted myself as far away from him as possible. I pushed my palms into my eyes, not caring about my mascara, but hoping the act would stop the inevitable tears.

"Should we make out?" Micah asked.

"Please don't touch me," I said.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked.

"Everything," I said to the darkness. I wiped beneath my eyes, not sure if that was going to fix the racoon makeup that I was sure I'd created, but it was the best I could do. I stared up at the dark ceiling, barely keeping the tears at bay.

"The fact that Jack's a douche?" he asked.

"No," I said. "He's not. I mean, tonight he kind of is, but, I don't know..."

"He's just jealous you were sitting next to me."

Was that the reason he was acting like this? Had jealousy caused his outburst? Had jealousy made him shove me in a closet with our enemy? Made him kiss the girl next to me during spin the bottle? "If we're going to talk about douches, Micah, add yourself to the list. You were so mean to him in elementary school."

"He hasn't let that go?"

"He has. I haven't."

"He obviously hasn't if this is how he reacted to me being here. To you talking to me."

"Either way, you should still apologize to him."

"Yeah, maybe," he said. "But in the meantime, do you want to pretend to kiss to make him jealous? You can put your back to the shelves." He stepped in front of me, his back to the door and sure enough, mine pressed against the shelves. "I can put my hands here." His hands were on either side of my head, where I assumed they were holding onto the wood or pressed against a couple games or something.

"No, Micah, I don't. Please stop."

The sound of the handle turning had me attempting to back up farther, but I couldn't. Instead, like I was becoming used to, light made me temporarily unable to see. I waited to hear who had opened the door because I knew what seven minutes felt like by now and that wasn't it.

The voice that spoke wasn't one I was expecting. "Micah! What are you doing?"

He wasn't expecting it either because he whirled around. "Cassidy?"

Her eyes narrowed in on me. "How dare you!"

"I didn't—" I started to say but she was already lunging toward me.

Micah caught her around the waist. "Babe, she means nothing to me. It's you."

She shoved his chest. "I hate you!"

"Please don't hate me. You're my world."

And then she was kissing him, and I was still stuck in the closet, forced to watch.

I pushed by them. Jack was standing behind the couch his arms crossed, his brow dipped. Unable to control myself, I flipped him off and left the party. And then the tears came.