I twist in my chair to face her, frowning. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Ashton holds a palm up at me. “Just a question, Addy. I’m not implying anything.” Her tone darkens. “No reason to think you’ll turn out like me. It’s not as though Charlie and I were high school sweethearts.”
I blink at her in surprise. I mean, I’ve thought for a while that things weren’t going well between Ashton and Charlie—for one thing, she’s suddenly here a lot, and for another, he was hard-core flirting with a slutty bridesmaid at our cousin’s wedding last month—but Ashton’s never come out and admitted a problem before. “Are things … uh, really bad?”
She shrugs, dropping the magazine and picking at her nails. “It’s complicated. Marriage is way harder than anyone tells you. Be thankful you don’t have to make life decisions yet.” Her mouth tightens. “Don’t let Mom get in your ear and twist everything. Just enjoy being seventeen.”
I can’t. I’m too afraid it’s all going to be ruined. That it’s already ruined.
I wish I could tell Ashton that. It would be such a relief to get it out. I usually tell Jake everything, but I can’t tell him this. And after him, there’s literally not one other person in the world I trust. Not any of my friends, certainly not my mother, and not my sister. Because even though she probably means well, she can be awfully passive-aggressive about Jake.
The doorbell rings, and Ashton’s mouth twists into a half smile. “Must be Mr. Perfect,” she says. Sarcastic, right on schedule.
I ignore her and bound down the stairs, opening the door with the big smile I can’t help when I’m about to see Jake. And there he is, in his football jacket with his chestnut hair tousled by the wind, giving me the exact same smile back. “Hey, baby.” I’m about to kiss him when I catch sight of another figure behind him and freeze. “You don’t mind if we give TJ a ride, do you?”
A nervous laugh bubbles up in my throat and I push it down. “Of course not.” I go in for my kiss, but the moment’s ruined.
TJ flicks his eyes toward me, then at the ground. “Sorry about this. My car broke down and I was gonna stay home, but Jake insisted ….”
Jake shrugs. “You were on the way. No reason to miss a night out because of car trouble.” His eyes travel from my face to my canvas sneakers as he asks, “You wearing that, Ads?”
It’s not a criticism, exactly, but I’m in Ashton’s college sweatshirt and Jake’s never liked me in shapeless clothes. “It’ll be cold at the beach,” I say tentatively, and he grins.
“I’ll keep you warm. Put on something a little cuter, huh?”
I give him a strained smile and go back inside, mounting the stairs with dragging steps because I know I haven’t been gone long enough for Ashton to have left my room. Sure enough she’s still flipping through Us Weekly on my bed, and she knits her brows together as I head for my closet. “Back so soon?”
I pull out a pair of leggings and unbutton my jeans. “I’m changing.”
Ashton closes the magazine and watches me in silence until I exchange her sweatshirt for a formfitting sweater. “You won’t be warm enough in that. It’s chilly tonight.” She snorts out a disbelieving laugh when I slip off my sneakers and step into a pair of strappy sandals with kitten heels. “You’re wearing those to the beach? Is this wardrobe change Jake’s idea?”
I toss my discarded clothes into the hamper, ignoring her. “Bye, Ash.”
“Addy, wait.” The snarky tone’s gone from Ashton’s voice, but I don’t care. I’m down the stairs and out the door before she can stop me, stepping into a breeze that chills me instantly. But Jake gives me an approving smile and wraps an arm around my shoulders for the short walk to the car.
I hate the entire ride. Hate sitting there acting normal when I want to throw up. Hate listening to Jake and TJ talk about tomorrow’s game. Hate when the latest Fall Out Boy song comes on and TJ says, “I love this song,” because now I can’t like it anymore. But mostly, I hate the fact that barely a month after my and Jake’s momentous first time, I got blind drunk and slept with TJ Forrester.
When we get to the beach Cooper and Luis are already building a bonfire, and Jake heaves a frustrated grunt as he shifts into park. “They do it wrong every time,” he complains, launching himself out of the car toward them. “You guys. You’re too close to the water!”
TJ and I get out of the car more slowly, not looking at each other. I’m already freezing, and wrap my arms around my body for warmth. “Do you want my jack—” TJ starts, but I don’t let him finish.
“No.” I cut him off and stalk toward the beach, almost tripping in my stupid shoes when I reach the sand.
TJ’s at my side, arm out to steady me. “Addy, hey.” His voice is low, his minty breath briefly on my cheek. “It doesn’t have to be this awkward, you know? I’m not going to say anything.”
I shouldn’t be mad at him. It’s not his fault. I’m the one who got insecure after Jake and I slept together, and started thinking he was losing interest every time he took too long to answer a text. I’m the one who flirted with TJ when we ran into each other on this exact same beach over the summer while Jake was on vacation. I’m the one who dared TJ to get a bottle of rum, and drank almost half of it with a Diet Coke chaser.
At one point that day I laughed so hard I snorted soda out of my nose, which would have disgusted Jake. TJ just said in this dry way, “Wow, Addy, that was attractive. I’m very turned on by you right now.”
That was when I kissed him. And suggested we go back to his place.
So really, none of this is his fault.
We reach the edge of the beach and watch Jake douse the fire so he can rebuild it where he wants. I sneak a glance at TJ and see dimples flash as he waves to the guys. “Just forget it ever happened,” he says under his breath.
He sounds sincere, and hope sparks in my chest. Maybe we really can keep this to ourselves. Bayview’s a gossipy school, but at least About That isn’t hanging over everybody’s heads anymore.
And if I’m being one hundred percent honest, I have to admit—that’s a relief.
Chapter Six
Cooper
Saturday, September 29, 4:15 p.m.
I squint at the batter. We’re at full count and he’s fouled off the last two pitches. He’s making me work, which isn’t good. In a showcase game like this, facing a right-handed second baseman with so-so stats, I should’ve mowed him down already.
Problem is, I’m distracted. It’s been a hell of a week.
Pop’s in the stands, and I can picture exactly what he’s doing. He’ll have taken his cap off, knotting it between his hands as he stares at the mound. Like burning a hole into me with his eyes is going to help.
I bring the ball into my glove and glance at Luis, who catches for me during regular season. He’s on the Bayview High football team too but got permission to miss today’s game so he could be here. He signals a fastball, but I shake my head. I’ve thrown five already and this guy’s figured every one out. I keep shaking Luis off until he gives me the signal I want. Luis adjusts his crouch slightly, and we’ve played together long enough that I can read his thoughts in the movement. Your funeral, man.
I position my fingers on the ball, tensing myself in preparation to throw. It’s not my most consistent pitch. If I miss, it’ll be a big fat softball and this guy’ll crush it.
I draw back and hurl as hard as I can. My pitch heads straight for the middle of the plate, and the batter takes an eager, triumphant swing. Then the ball breaks, dropping out of the strike zone and into Luis’s glove. The stadium explodes in cheers, and the batter shakes his head like he has no idea what happened.