“It’s OK to like him.” She looked at me for a few seconds, narrowing her eyes a little like she was trying to read something on my face. Then she nodded, took a sip of her drink, and set it down dramatically. “That’s your party goal,” she said. “It’s decided.”
“No thanks,” I said. “I don’t want a goal for the party. I just want to have a good time.” (Look, would I have stopped him if he tried to kiss me? No. But I just thought he was beautiful and rare, like a hoodie-wearing peacock. Any feelings I thought I was catching weren’t real. And the last thing I had time for with the Showcase looming was a boy to distract me. Or so I thought.)
“And what would be your definition of a good time?” Liv pressed, smirking. “I know you won’t get drunk, or smoke, or even dance, which makes no sense.”
“I dance all day!” I protested. “And if I want to grind up against some wack people in a confined space I’ll just take the subway.”
Liv let out an exasperated sigh. “You know I love you, but you honestly make it so hard sometimes.”
“You forgot the Guatemalan nipple bowl,” I said, nodding at a piece of pottery covered in pink and brown concentric circles, which had been prominently displayed on the entry table since we were nine and had been making us laugh for just as long.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Liv said, grabbing the bowl and stalking off down the hallway to her room.
“I have fun!” I yelled.
“Standing in a corner with the Tostitos!” she called back.
I opened my mouth and then shut it again. She had a point—I generally liked to hang back with the snacks and avoid the foolishness, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy myself.
Liv reemerged, reaching into her neckline to adjust her bra. “When was the last time you even hooked up with anyone?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, like I couldn’t remember, even though of course I knew, since there had only been one person in the entire past year, Caleb Cooper, who I’d dated for a hot second after the junior semiformal. And even then, all it amounted to was some kissing and awkward fondling in the orchestra pit that had abruptly ended when I sat on Caleb’s clarinet. Not a euphemism.
“All I’m saying,” Liv said, reaching up to unhook a mask, revealing a perfect circle of emptiness three shades lighter than the rest of the wall, “Is that you could get Dave if you wanted him.”
“Yeah, looking a mess, like I just climbed Mount Everest,” I said, gesturing to my outfit. “And besides, how do you even know he’ll be here?”
“He is definitely coming,” she said. “I talked him into it. There was a lot of down time while Ethan, you know . . . orated. Most of the other girls were being so embarrassing, getting all up in his face, so I think he appreciated that I was just being normal.” She took the last mask off the wall and gathered them in her arms. “He’s really chill, actually,” she said, shuffling back down the hallway. “Not at all what you’d think.”
“Oh,” I said. “Great.” I’ll admit it bothered me, the fact that Liv had already bonded with Dave. It made it seem like she was gifting him to me, but in a backhanded way, like someone handing you a jelly bean and telling you they didn’t like that flavor, anyway. Liv didn’t really date other actors—her boyfriends were always visual arts majors who did shit like graffiti abstract paintings on found pieces of plywood and hosted pot-brownie bake-offs—but I’d been with her the day we found out Dave was transferring, and she’d lost her damn mind. We’d spent an hour googling him. Something was up.
“You really don’t care if I talk to him?” I asked when Liv finally reappeared, staring down at her phone.
“Huh?” she asked. “Sorry, let me just finish . . .” She typed something quickly and then flashed me a smile. “I think I found a hookup!”
“For you?” I asked. If Liv already had someone lined up for her “party goal,” it made more sense that she would relinquish the chance to get with someone famous enough to have been featured in a Huffington Post slideshow called “Child Stars Who Grew Up Gorgeous!”
“No, for weed,” she said, rolling her eyes and drawing out the word into a singsong. “Jasper can eat a bag of dicks.”
“Did Shakespeare write that?” I asked, and she laughed the way she had always laughed, since first grade, with her little nose wrinkled up like a rabbit.
“Fuck you,” she said, and I started to relax. Whatever she was doing, I decided, it was probably good-hearted. And even if the setup with Dave ended up being horrible and awkward, it was better than competing with her for his attention.
I’d learned over the years that there was no competing with Liv. When she wanted something, she just took it. She didn’t wait around for a starting gun.
Chapter Four
January 6
127 days left