Fullepub 
Chapter 15
15
The party is at some hip, boxy monster of a house with floor-to-ceiling windows and decor straight out of Mad Men. It’s the epitome of Candlehawk taste. I can just imagine what my friends and sisters would say if they walked in here. Danielle would give me that side-eye look she learned from her mom. Thora would wrinkle her nose like she was smelling a fart. And Irene would—
“Welcome,” says a tall, brooding guy with a craft beer in his hand. I recognize him instantly. His chambray button-down looks intentionally wrinkled and his hair is deliberately windswept, held in place with some brand of fuckboy mousse. “I don’t know you. I’m Prescott. This is my house.”
He doesn’t shake my hand, almost like our introduction hinges on what I can offer in return. I know you don’t know me. I’m Scottie. This is my ex-girlfriend.
“Scottie,” I say, giving him a nod.
“You go to Candlehawk?”
“No. Grandma Earl.”
He laughs. Flat out laughs. Tally glances at me, puts her hand on my arm like I might say something—
“Aren’t you dating a Grandma Earl girl?” I ask pointedly. “Or do you just block that part out when you’re sucking face?”
“Scottie,” Tally hisses.
Prescott regards me like a funny pet that just pissed on his rug. His eyes are bleary; he’s already had a lot to drink. But then he starts to laugh again, tipping his beer in my direction.
“You’re saucy,” he says. “You can stay.”
I have no idea what to say to that, but Tally drags me away before it matters.
In the center of the house, next to a fireplace that belongs in a fancy ski lodge, Candlehawk kids are waiting in line. I can’t figure out why until I see a wall of vines with tiny candles and cacti dotting the shelves. It’s a selfie backdrop. They’re waiting in line to take pictures.
“So cool,” Tally says. “It’s, like, the perfect aesthetic.”
A group of friends hand off their phones and gather in front of the selfie wall. One of the guys musses his hair, keeping his hand there like he’s mid-movement. The girl next to him opens her mouth to laugh, but she doesn’t actually laugh. She just holds the pose like she might. I feel like I’m in the twilight zone.
“We can get a picture later,” Tally says, oblivious to my bafflement. “Drinks first.”
She grabs my hand and I let her. We migrate to the kitchen, where several people do an obvious once-over of our outfits. Tally pretends not to notice, but she smooths her shirt beneath her leather jacket. She leads me to a counter full of liquor bottles and White Claws.
“Here,” she says, pressing a can into my hands. It’s not a suggestion. I think of Irene attending these Candlehawk parties with Charlotte last year, and I can understand why she wanted to get drunk during them. But I also know where that led.
“I’m okay, actually,” I tell Tally. “Um. My throat’s been kinda sore. I’ll just get some water.”
Tally looks surprised, but she doesn’t push me on it. She makes herself a mixed drink and takes a big gulp.
I’m pouring water from the sink when none other than Charlotte Pascal slithers up beside me. I feel her eyes on me like a laser beam.
“We have Pellegrino, you know,” she drawls.
I take a pointed sip from my tap water. “I’m fine with this, thanks.”
She narrows her eyes. “Why are you here?”
“Wanted to see how the other half lives.”
She stares at me, unamused. “I can’t imagine your girlfriend is happy to know you’re here with Tally Gibson.”
It suddenly occurs to me how dangerous it is for Charlotte to see me here with Tally. She could spin this any way she wants. How did I think I could justify this?
“Irene knows I’m here,” I lie. “I agreed to be Tally’s designated driver.”
Charlotte snorts. “That girl needs more than a designated driver.”
“Who are you to judge?” I say pointedly, alluding to the DUI she and Prescott nearly got last year.
Charlotte’s cheeks tinge with color. Her nostrils flare. “Why are you really here?”
“I just told you.”
“Oh, don’t be cute, Scottie,” she hisses. She throws a contemptuous glance in Tally’s direction. “You’re here with the biggest wannabe I’ve ever seen, and you’re telling me the queen bee doesn’t care? Tell me, why are you ‘dating’ her anyway, especially after she pulled that shit with the tow truck last year? Or are you also so desperate for a ride to the top that you’ve blocked it out?”
My cheeks burn. I can’t think of anything to say.
Charlotte gives me a haughty smirk. She dumps my water in the sink and slinks away.
Tally is drinking hard in a way that suggests she does this regularly. She’s chatting with some girls I recognize from her team, but their eyes don’t shine on her the way they used to. They seem to be looking for a way out of the conversation. When one of them changes the subject to her ski vacation, Tally goes quiet and steps closer to me.
“Why were you talking to Charlotte?” she asks. I can hear that yearning in her voice, that desperate need to be worthy. A combination of resenting me and living vicariously through me. Is that what I’ve been doing to her, too?
“She was talking to me. Listen, can we get out of here?”
“But we just got here,” Tally says. She sounds drunk all of a sudden. “Don’t you wanna meet my friends? Aren’t you having fun?”
I look around. The basketball girls have ditched us. Everyone else is oblivious to our presence; one guy literally knocks Tally’s shoulder and keeps walking. Is this how it’s been for her lately? If I had known a week ago, it would have given me a sick validation. Now I just feel bad for her.
“How about we take a break, just for a minute?”
Tally looks around, too. I can tell the exact moment she realizes we’ve been shut out, because she adjusts her leather jacket and avoids my eyes.
“Come on,” I say gently. “Let’s find somewhere quiet and talk.”
Upstairs, we find an open loft that serves as some kind of TV room. I guide Tally to sit on the couch with me, our knees barely bumping through our jeans. We face the bay window that looks over the dark backyard. Tally takes another swig from her drink. I study the expression on her face, the dullness in those once-bright eyes.
“Are you sure you’re happy, Tal?” For once, I’m not asking for myself. I’m genuinely concerned about her.
“No. I feel like shit,” she mumbles. “I don’t like any of these people. I don’t trust any of them the way I trust you.”
That feeling of compassion comes over me again. I want to comfort her. I can’t remember why I ever resented her.
“I hated watching that video,” Tally continues. “You and Irene kissing at the Emporium. Felt like someone clawed my organs out. I couldn’t stop watching even though it made me sick.”
I breathe and take her hand to comfort her. “I know. I felt the same way watching you kiss that girl at Charlotte’s party. It’s been hard for both of us.”
“I don’t know how you moved on so fast. One second I’m talking to you after the demo game, and the next, you’re dating this total bitch.”
I flinch. My hand goes cold in hers.
“You became someone I don’t know anymore.” She swallows and wipes her eyes. “I thought I knew you. I thought we loved each other.”
I have a sudden, strange sensation that I’m outside my own body. I’ve had nothing to drink, but my brain feels foggy and detached. How did I get to this place, sitting on the leather couch of this elaborate mansion in Candlehawk, actively trying to hurt the girl I loved and sacrificing my own integrity in the process?
“Tally … I should go. I don’t belong here.”
Tally shakes her head. Her drink sloshes onto the carpet. “No, Scottie, please stay. You’re the only person I care about.”
“No, listen, we should leave. This party isn’t a good place for you.” I give her hand a small tug, but she doesn’t move.
Tally sniffles. She’s legitimately crying now. “Do you still love me?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
“Please, Scottie?” she begs, her drunken eyes on mine. And then, before I can react, she pushes into me and kisses me. Hard.
At first I’m frozen. Then my body wakes up. I’ve fantasized about this moment a million times. One last chance. One last kiss. She tastes like liquor, but her lips are warm and familiar beneath mine. I press back against them. She opens her mouth and brushes her tongue against mine.
No. Stop. This isn’t what you want anymore.
“Tally, I can’t,” I say, pushing her away. I wipe my mouth with a shaking hand. What the hell am I doing? Why am I still sitting here? I’m desperate to go home, but I can’t leave her. Not when she’s this drunk. Not when she’s this alone.
“Come on, Tal,” I say, pulling her off the couch.
Downstairs, everything is rowdier than it was before, louder and less controlled. In the shadowy parlor, a group of people is bent over a coffee table, no doubt snorting something. In the main room, some guy is pissing on the vine wall as his friends laugh like hyenas.
I help Tally into her coat, guide her out the back door, and settle her in my car. She falls asleep immediately, and I feel a bittersweet pang when I glance at her in the passenger seat, the way I’ve done a million times before. I drive her home and nudge her awake on the street outside her house. She blinks awake, bleary-eyed and confused. She doesn’t hug me; she merely nods and clambers out of my car.
