I pushed open the door and stepped inside the party, smoothing my hair down and looking around. Topher had told me he would be here later—a friend of his from school was throwing this party. He’d neglected to inform me the friend’s name, just dropped a pin on the address, so I was hoping that nobody would ask me what I was doing there before I could find him. Topher’s “later” could mean many things, and he never seemed to get any more specific—in fact, usually the opposite—when you pressed him for clarification. So I’d gotten ready, then stalled for an hour before heading over, hoping I’d waited long enough, but not really caring all that much if I hadn’t. Even though this party looked just like dozens of parties I’d been to, I was out of the house, which was enough for me at the moment. I didn’t see Topher—or anyone I recognized—but I wasn’t worried about that, not yet. If Topher still hadn’t shown up in an hour, it would be a different story, but I could cross that bridge when I came to it.
I caught my reflection in a hall mirror as I headed back to the kitchen, and smoothed down my skirt. It had just felt wrong, getting ready to come here tonight in silence, with no video commentary, no Palmer sprawled across my bed vetoing outfits, no text chains about what I should wear. And it was equally strange to walk in with no group around me, trying to pretend I belonged there and knew where I was going. I found myself looking around for my friends automatically, even though I knew they probably wouldn’t be here and wouldn’t be talking to me if they were.
I made my way into the kitchen, where an array of bottles and red cups were scattered along the countertop, and pulled the Diet Coke bottle out of my bag. Now that I was pretty sure my dad was running again, I figured I couldn’t be too careful. It was also, I realized as I opened the bottle and took a long drink, not a bad idea for me to just stick to soda, since I was at a party, for maybe the first time ever, with no backup.
My eyes drifted out to the back patio, where there was a pool half-filled with people and what looked like a guy passed out on the diving board. And there, sitting in an Adirondack chair, was Topher. For a second I thought about trying to catch his eye, wait for him to notice me, do this same routine we always did. But only for a second before I left the kitchen and headed outside.
I walked up to his Adirondack chair, where he was leaning back, a bottle of Sprite in one hand, listening with a faint smile on his face as the guy in the chair next to him was leaning forward, saying something about galaxies.
“For years, man,” he was saying, gesturing vaguely up to the sky and spilling some beer on his own arm, “they’ve thought the galaxies were just fixed, done, boom, that’s it. These perfect orderly systems, right?”
“Who’s ‘they’?” Topher asked, in a way I knew from experience meant he didn’t really want to know but had just seen a flaw in an argument.
“Astronomers!” the guy said, gesturing again, sending more beer flying. At this rate, he’d be out before he was done talking. “NASA people. You know. They weren’t even studying some of them any longer because they thought all that was done eight billion light-years ago. But then they started noticing stuff.”
“Really.” Topher was looking away, not even listening to the guy anymore, but that didn’t seem to be stopping him.
“Yeah,” the guy said. “Galaxies don’t start perfect. They start crazy disorganized, and they change over time.” He looked at Topher, waiting a beat, clearly expecting more of a reaction. “Doesn’t that, like, blow your mind?”
“Sorry,” Topher said, finally noticing me, or at least acknowledging that he noticed me. “My friend just got here.”
“Hi,” I said, giving the guy a halfhearted wave.
“Want to hear this crazy thing about galaxies?” the guy asked, leaning forward again, clearly glad to have found a potential new audience.
“She’s good,” Topher said, giving him a nod. “Thanks, though.” The guy seemed to notice then that he’d lost most of his beer while gesticulating, pushed himself up, and headed off toward the keg, still murmuring under his breath about star formations.
“Hey,” I said, adjusting my purse on my shoulder, then folding and unfolding my arms.
“You made it,” Topher said, looking up at me. “I was getting worried.”
I nodded, starting to feel weird standing while he was sitting and making no move to get up, so I took the galaxy guy’s seat, settling back into it and looking over at Topher. “Really,” I said, not phrasing it as a question.
Topher gave me a sleepy smile. “Sure,” he said, in a way that was designed to let me know he was lying and that this was supposed to be funny, that he’d forgotten about me. I gave him a half smile as I crossed my legs. I could feel it happening, this pattern we always fell back into, but for some reason it didn’t feel like it normally did. It was feeling more like the time Bri accidentally took my shoes after a sleepover and I had to wear hers all day, aware with every step of how they didn’t fit me right. I took a drink of my Diet Coke, waiting for this feeling to pass. It had just been a while since I’d seen Topher, that was all. Things would go back to normal soon.
“So what’s been happening?” I asked, after we’d sat in silence for a few moments. I somehow knew that Topher wouldn’t be the first to break it, that he’d wait for me to get the conversation rolling. Once, these kinds of games had made every interaction with him feel somehow exciting, but tonight they were exhausting me, and I was struggling to remember what the point of them was.
“You know,” Topher said with a tiny shrug. “Doing the intern thing. Beyond thrilling.” He looked over at me and frowned. “Wait—what did you end up doing again?”