8. Wes

EIGHT

There isnothing I hate more than traditions changing.

Ever since I've known the Baileys, they've spent their birthday together. Not only is it on the greatest night of the year – Halloween – but there's two of them, which means twice the fun. They always have a big blow-out party where I can get pissed drunk and not have to worry about anything else for the next few days. It was perfect last year. I got to spend the day at the party dressed up in a Sven costume from Frozen, and then I spent the night getting a manicure from Nora.

Best.

Birthday.

Ever.

I think I've always loved their birthday more than my own because who wants to celebrate someone"s birthday in the middle of summer? Being born in June fucking sucks, and everyone is too hot and bothered to have a party.

This year, I was expecting them to have an even bigger party since they're turning twenty-one, but nope. Instead, Connor decided to spend the entire day with his girlfriend since she planned a scavenger hunt or some shit. I guess that's cute. Or whatever. But it sucks ass for me.

Even Nora didn't want to do anything. She spent the whole day shopping for books with Elle and then spent the night watching movies until Cat came back and hung out with them. Nora not having a party on her birthday is a crime against humanity. She might look like a good girl, but she's got sin written all over her. She causes trouble and chaos everywhere that she goes, and I love to get in on the action. But for one of the first times, I was NFI: Not Fucking Invited.

Not being able to hang out with my friends on their actual birthday was the worst, but at least we still have the morning-after ritual, which I hope will never die out. Every year, the day after their birthday, Emma and Mark Bailey prepare a brunch for us so we can get rid of our hangovers and debrief about the night before. For once, I'm not hungover, and the birthday boy is. Has Hell frozen over?

I raise my orange juice glass to my lips, shaking my head at Cat and Connor, who both have on a pair of sunglasses. Cat's head is nestled into his shoulder, and he rests his head on top of hers lazily. "Ah, how the tables have turned."

"I can hear myself breathing. I hate it," Connor grumbles.

"Awh, does the Princess finally know how it feels to be hungover?" Nora coos from beside me. I give her my hand as a secret high-five, and she clasps her hand in mine.

"Nice one," I mutter.

"Thanks," she says, grinning. Torturing Connor just happens to be one of the many things Nora and I have in common, and I'd be lying if I said we didn't use it to our own advantage sometimes. "How does it feel, Connie Wonnie? Do you finally know what it's like to live on the wild side?"

"Yes, and I hate it," he says, nuzzling his face into Catherine's hair. Elle laughs from the other side of the table. "Worst birthday present ever."

My eyes light up with the perfect segway. "Speaking of birthday presents…" I pull out the badly wrapped gift from under the table and drop it in front of Nora. She eyes the funky wrapping paper, and she can see exactly what kind of box it is.

I'm an awful gift-giver. That's just a fact. The Baileys have had an array of gifts from me over the years, and I thought that would never change. Unfortunately for Connor, I completely forgot about getting him a gift, so he gave me the whole ‘I'm older and wiser, and I don't care about gifts but the people I spend time with' speech. Luckily, Nora's gift came just in time because the look on her face was priceless.

This girl has endured way too much shit these last few months to have a shitty birthday. It's the least I could do. I know who is winning the Friend of the Year award, and it's not Cat or Elle.

When she uncovers the wrapping, spotting the logo on the box but not opening it, she turns to me. "Wesley." She says my name and nothing else, treating it like a bad word that she's not allowed to say.

"Nora," I say slowly. I immediately frown, knowing that it doesn't have the same taunt the way she says my name. "It doesn't have the same effect when I do it. I wish you had a longer name."

"Don't change the subject," she warns. "What the fuck is this?"

"Shoes," I answer simply, nodding towards the Converse box in front of her.

"I can see they're shoes, Wes. Why are they in front of me?"

"Because it's your birthday, and you like shoes?" I spell it out to her. She doesn't give up scrutinizing me. "Why are you making this so hard? Just accept the damn present."

"Wes, you never get me gifts for my birthday. You write hand-written messages on the back of a cereal box or on a card you make. I mean, one year, you gave me a half-eaten pack of gum from your car and said, ‘Happy Birthday, I guess.' I've never seen you spend this much money on yourself. The last thing I want to do is open this box and find a cute pair of shoes in there."

Yeah, right.

This girl loves presents. She likes feeling special and looking pretty. She likes feeling needed and cared for. I've spent so long watching her beat herself up, going back and forth between hating herself and hating Ryan and what he did to her, that I knew she needed something to cheer her up like this.

"Just shut up and open them, will you?" Slowly – so fucking slowly – she opens the lid of the box to find a pair of pink Converse All Stars with tiny, embroidered stars on them and an ‘N' on the heel. It might have cost me more money than I spend on a weekly grocery shop, but the look on her face is fucking priceless.

There are only three types of smiles that Nora gives. There's the one she uses on stage or when she's thanking someone for opening the door for her. She uses it when she's not fully there but there enough to want to smile. Those ones are painful.

There's the regular smile that she gives when she's happy or excited about something or when she's listening to her favorite song. Those ones are cute.

Then there"s the smile that she only reserves for special occasions. The smile that pulls her dimples right in. The smile that causes her eyes to light up like a fucking galaxy.

The first time she smiled at me like that, I almost died.

We were six years old, and we went to a carnival with our first-grade class. After scouring all the games, we spent all the money our parents gave us on the ring toss. We thought we had better odds that way, and as we made our way through the change, Nora won a goldfish. She had the biggest smile on her face, and I felt like I was getting dizzy just looking at her. I didn't know what to do with myself.

When we moved on to the balloon darts, and I also won a goldfish, I noticed that hers was upside down. I tried to explain to her that hers was just sleeping, but the whole day, she had this heartbreakingly sad look on her face like she didn't believe me. I mean, who would? Her parents clearly hadn't had The Talk with her, and I wasn't about to be the one to ruin that for her.

When we got home, I asked Emma for a favor. The next morning, she ran straight over to my house, her goldfish in a makeshift tank, and she was screaming about how it woke up. When she asked to see mine, I told her he was having a sleepover at my grandparents' house. We both sat down and stared at her goldfish and for the short time the fish lived, she never asked me where mine went.

I shrug innocently. "See, I know a thing or two about giving good gifts."

She almost knocks me out when she wraps her arms around me, melting right into me. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. This is the best present ever." She leans up off me, her whole face radiating with the joy I've missed seeing. She rolls her lips in and then back out before leaving a long kiss on my cheeks with a smack. "You're the best."

Connor pushes his sunglasses off his head, winking at me since I managed to distract her enough for the main event. "That's not the only surprise you've got," he whispers.

I sling my arm around her shoulder, leaning into her enough to get the sweet smell of her perfume as I whisper, "Turn around, Stargirl."

We all turn at the same time, looking into the living room through the large window where Mark and Emma walk outside with a banner that says, ‘Arrivals Here,' t-shirts that read ‘I ?? New York,' two tickets in Mark's hand as Taylor Swift's ‘Welcome to New York' blasts from Elle's speaker.

I wish I could bottle the sound of Nora's hysterical scream when she understands what's going on. Well, I also don't because it's fucking terrifying. She's out of the seat and into her parent"s arms before I can blink, and before I know it, we're all singing along to the song.

"Holy shit, Dad. Is this for real? You're not pranking me, right?" she asks Mark for the third time, still jumping around in front of him. "Like, this is– This is–"

"Yes, it's for real. So, totally, for real," he responds, winking at us. Connor shakes his head, and I give him a double thumbs up. You'd think they'd be better with the Gen-Z lingo, but he's still getting a hang of it. "Me, you, and the Empire State Building. I told you I'd take you there. I've just been waiting for the right time."

"God, I love you so much!" Nora jumps into her dad's arms as if she's a baby, and Mark doesn't stumble. I'm pretty sure Emma is crying, but it's hard to tell. Nora has been dreaming about this trip since she could speak. Her parents didn't have the money when they were growing up, and she always told me that she didn't want to go when she was a kid because she knew how bad her memory was. Now, she's got the perfect opportunity. New York City won't know what hit it.

A strange pang of something washes through me as I watch the family in front of me. I hate the uncomfortable ache in my heart. The hole that feels too big to fill. It's fucking impossible to feel good when you're constantly reminded of something you know you'll never have.

Elle sneaks up beside me. "Feeling like the odd one out, too?"

I shrug. "A little."

"We'll be fine, Wesley. Besides, this is the first time I've seen Nora really smile in months, and I'm taking that as a win," she says, laughing at her friend, and she continues bouncing up and down, chanting about New York. "What do you say? Do you think that's a real Nora smile?"

Before I can respond, as if she could sense us talking about her, she turns around, her cheeks puffy, her hair a mess as she grins at me. She's panting now, walking towards me. I look down to see the new shoes I got her on her feet. When the fuck did she put those on?

"Hey, Wes?" She's grinning ear-to-ear, and my heart feels like it's fucking soaring. Is that a real thing? Because I don't think I can even breathe normally right now.

"Hey, Nora."

"Guess where I'm going?"

I scan around the room with all the New York decorations, deciding if I should play her little game or not. Who am I kidding? It's always going to be a yes when it comes to her.

I can't help but brush the stray strand of her that's fallen in her eye, tucking it behind her ear. My fingertips tingle, and I don't know what to do with my hands.

"Where are you going, Nor?" I whisper.

"I'm going to New York." She tells me as if it's a secret. As if it's the kind of thing that she waits all day to tell you about. Like it's just for me, even when I know it's not. Her entire face is glowing, and I have the strangest — and I mean, strangest – urge to kiss her. To say fuck it and take her face between my hands and finally get to taste her. I bet she tastes like strawberry ice cream, smiles, sunshine, and everything good. Every good thing in the world belongs to her, and I'm selfish enough to want some of that.

Instead, I shake my head and repeat her words back to her. "You're going to New York."

And when she looks up at me, her face exploding like sunlight, I know for a fact what kind of smile that is. It's a real Nora Bailey smile. The kind of smile I crave. And she's smiling like that.

At.

Me.