“Oh yeah,” I say, trying to downplay myself. “That was my majorly emo stage.”
“No way. It was amazing how you could see all these tiny reflections of your face in the glass. Felt like I got to know you just by looking at the painting.”
Zach has this look on his face like he’s probably said too much and should just shut up. “I’m craving sugar,” he says. “I can’t eat any while we’re filming, but the season just ended and Cristina’s nonna made some amazing Italian desserts for the party. Want some?”
I shake my head and ask for a drink instead.
“I can do that,” he says. “Anything else?”
“Actually...” I pause. “That guy with the glasses you were talking to earlier? With Felicity? Did that happen to be Geoff LeFeber?”
“Who’s that?” Zach seems confused.
“He’s an artist whose work I admire. I overheard Felicity saying he might be here...”
“Oh,” Zach says, gently pushing my arm. “LeFeber. Yeah. She was talking him up earlier this week saying that one of our producers invited him, but I don’t think he’s coming. She would have already been trying to become best friends with him.”
Part of me feels relief, knowing that the man laughing at me wasn’t LeFeber, but the other part feels pretty disappointed. I really wanted to talk to him about his art.
“I’ll go get those drinks then.”
He’s about to enter the crowd when I grab his arm to stop him. There’s something I have to know. “Zach?” I hesitate. He turns around and lingers next to me. He’s so close that I can smell his cologne. “This is kind of an awkward question, but I have to ask.”
You’re strong. You can do this. This is easy.
He looks down at me through his long eyelashes as I stare up at his prominent Adam’s apple. I wish I could reach up and touch his neck, pulling him closer to me.
“Are you and Cristina dating?” I finally ask.
Suddenly, I don’t want to know the answer. I’ve waited so long for this moment. To be this physically close to him. To practically feel his breath on my hair.
“It’s...” He looks away at the boats gliding across the harbor for a moment. “Cristina and I have history together, but... We’re not together. It looks that way sometimes. I know. We were really close. I still try to be a good friend. The breakup was hard on her.”
“I didn’t mean to bring up bad feelings,” I say, feeling stupid for asking the question in the first place. I just don’t want to be played.
“It’s cool. I like being up-front with you,” Zach says. “I’ll get a couple drinks. Then can we keep talking?”
I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. Being up-front with me? I can barely believe that, of all the people on this boat, he wants to spend his time talking to me.
I’m watching him walk across the room when I see Cristina come out of nowhere and latch on to him like a crab. Guess I better kiss that drink away. After he’s done ordering at the bar, Cristina takes the second drink—my drink—from his hand, and I’m forgotten like an ugly stray. Don’t even kick a bowl of milk my way.
I head upstairs and grab a drink from the bar on my own.
I just want to drink. I’ve lost Antonia. I can’t seem to find LeFeber—if that’s even him. Cristina not only totally caught me purging, she’s practically claimed Zach for the night. And I can’t manage to work up the social skills to mingle with anyone either.
Two champagnes and a vodka tonic later, I find myself in a corner of the aft deck with Jackson. He starts twirling my hair like he did this afternoon at the front of the school. “I didn’t know you showed up,” he said. “I saw your friend, but every time I went to ask her about you, she was dancing with someone else. Who dances that much?”
“She does,” I say. “She’s on the dance team. She’s got endless dance in her.”
“Do you have endless dance in you? Judging by those legs and that ass, I’d say you probably do your fair share of dancing,” Jackson says.
I don’t like the way he says that. I’m not his sleaze toy.
“Didn’t you come here with someone?” I ask. He shakes his head.
“Naw, I was hoping to hook up,” he says.
“Hook up,” I echo.
“You know, meet someone. Meet you. See if you want to hang out.”
“Hang out?”
I’m feeling light-headed from the champagne. It’s not helping my stomach, so it’s not the kind of buzz I was hoping for. And now that Jackson is half drooling on my dress, I just want to leave. I could like him. But not like this. Not when I have this tiny chance with Zach. Not when Jackson’s being a creeper. I just can’t. Why are boys so complicated? Why do they all expect so much from you?
“Do you want a ride to my house?” Jackson laughs. “I mean, home?” He slips an arm to the wall behind me, as if I need his hulky body over mine. He really thinks he’s funny. Jackson might have the muscles of a superhero, but he obviously has none of Zach’s gentlemanly charm. “I have to be honest,” he continues. “You look way different from freshman year. You got super hot, Liv. I never would have guessed.”
“Have you thought about mouthwash?” I say and duck under his arm.
“My breath doesn’t stink,” he says.
“Something does,” I say just as Antonia returns.
“What did I miss?” she asks, eyeballing the situation.
We instantly communicate telepathically, and I don’t know whether that’s a good idea or not, because she walks up to Jackson.
“Hey...” Jackson says, trying to remember her name.
“Jackson Conti,” she says. “You don’t remember my name.”
“I do,” he says, thinking.
“I’m taking her home,” she says and grabs my arm. We leave Jackson deep in drunken thought.
“I didn’t even have to say anything to make an ass out of him,” she says. “He just stood there like an idiot.”
As she leads me off the boat, I catch Cristina’s eye. She’s standing close to Zach like a fierce cheetah protecting her young. We each share a secret now.
I just hope she forgets by tomorrow.
“How hollow to have no secrets left;
you shake yourself and nothing rattles.”
—Andrew Sean Greer
“If people behaved like the particles inside an atom,” Sam says, drawing a picture of an atom on his notebook, “then most of the time you wouldn’t know where they were.” He brushes his wavy blond surfer hair out of his face. It’s still bleached from him spending so much time outside this summer working as a counselor at a surf camp.
Those are the two things Sam talks about all the time. Science, and the water. Sam spends most of his time outside of school either surfing or sailing, though I don’t really go with him anymore. He’s needed more time to himself since James died and I’m so busy between schoolwork and helping my parents that I never seem to have the time. Sam’s a good student too, which frustrates me sometimes because he barely has to study.
“What’s that supposed