Текст книги "Fall Into Forever"

Автор книги: Beth Hyland

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

chapter twenty-one

Hey, you need to get your shit together.

~Trent Reznor

Ivy

My heart races as I stare across the street at the orange awning of the Student Counseling Center.

“You’re going to be fine, Ivy,” Jon says, jutting his chin in that direction. “This is going to be fine. Good, even.”

“I…I don’t know.”

“I know it’s scary, babe,” he says, rubbing my back. “But you’ll feel better talking with a professional about what’s been going on.”

“And what if I don’t?”

I feel him shrug. “Then you can decide not to go back. It’s your choice.”

Glancing across the street, I see a normal-looking girl going into the building and a normal-looking boy coming out. I don’t know what I expected. People in straitjackets?

Yes, this is my choice. I need to take charge of my emotional health. After talking to Mom the other day, I know I can’t rely on them to help me.

“I’ll go with you to meet the doctor, if you want,” Jon says. “They said it was okay. And then if you’re comfortable with the situation, I’ll leave, so you can talk.”

I push away from him. “You…you called them?” Panic constricts my airways, making my voice high-pitched and squeaky. “What did you say?”

“I didn’t give them your name…or mine. I only told them that a friend had an appointment and was nervous about coming.”

Somewhat relieved, I exhale and stare over at that orange awning again. Can I really go in there and spill my guts to a stranger? I did it with Dr. Kramer, but that was because my parents forced me to. This is voluntary.

Jon’s words echo in my head. If I don’t like it, I don’t go back. It’s my choice. I’m the one in control. If, after talking with Dr. Mehta, I don’t connect with her or feel comfortable, then I don’t need to keep seeing her. It’s my decision.

The tension in my shoulders eases a little. I straighten up, and Jon gives me a warm smile of encouragement.

“Okay, I’ll go there on one condition. Two, actually.”

“What are they?”

“First, you’re going to need to leave.”

He frowns. “Leave?”

“Everyone knows you. I don’t want people wondering why you’re in the SCC and figure out it’s because you have a fucked-up girlfriend.”

“You’re not fucked up, Ivy,” he says, sliding his hands from my shoulders down to my upper arms and giving me a little shake. “But okay, if you want to do this on your own, I’ll leave. You can call or text me when you’re done. If you want to. What’s the second condition?”

“I want you to tell me who the Olivers are.”

He looks confused. “The Oli—” Realization flickers in his eyes and his expression hardens. “Who?”

“That old couple, the Olivers. They sent you another friend request. I saw it pop up again on your laptop.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “You really want to know who they are?”

“Yes.”

Blowing out a long breath, his eyes get a faraway look. “They’re my father’s parents.”

“Your grandparents?”

“Yeah, I guess you could call them that.”

“So why don’t you want to talk to them?”

“For one thing, I’ve never even met them. Why should I friend them online?”

“Why not?”

Anger gathers behind his eyes as he works his jaw back and forth. “They’ve known about me from the time I was born, and yet they chose to ignore me the whole time. Now that they’re old, are they suddenly feeling guilty that they raised a son who went around fucking lots of women and getting them pregnant? Do they think friending me online is going to make things right with God before they die? Well, I’m sorry. It doesn’t work that way.”

He’s obviously thought about this a lot. “Maybe they didn’t know about you until now,” I say quietly.

He laughs bitterly. “No, they did. They thought my mother was a slut and a gold-digger. Isn’t that what all groupies are? What they didn’t know was that my mom was with my father—their son—for almost a year. She traveled all over the country with him. But he dumped her when she got pregnant because she couldn’t go out on tour with him anymore. So you tell me who was the biggest user in that situation.”

“Jesus, Jon.” From what he told me before, I knew his father was a dick, but this is pathetic. Part of me is curious about who he is, but that’s not important. If I ask, Jon might think it matters to me when it doesn’t. He’ll tell me if he wants me to know.

“She and her friends shouldn’t have gone backstage to meet the band,” he continues. “I mean, everyone knows what happens when a band’s manager starts pulling hot girls out of the crowd, right? But she was fucking seventeen! What seventeen-year-old girl doesn’t have stars in her eyes when given a chance to meet a rock star backstage? And what twenty-five-year-old guy thinks it’s okay to prey on teenage girls? It fucking makes me sick.”

“God, she was younger than we are,” I say almost to myself.

“The Olivers didn’t know shit about my mom. They didn’t know she dreamed of going to college and becoming a nurse, but because their son got her pregnant, kicked her out, and didn’t pay child support, she had to give up on those dreams to raise me. Alone. With no help from my father or his family.”

“He didn’t help her financially at all?” I ask, appalled. His father clearly had the means to support her.

“He did a little at first, but the checks stopped coming after a few months and my mom didn’t pursue it.”

My mind is reeling as I try to make sense of it all. “Your dad’s a jerk. You said so yourself. But what if he only told your mom that he said something to his parents, but he actually never did? What if he was feeding your mom a load of BS to keep her—and you—from disrupting his life? What if they’re just finding out now that they have a grandson? Have you considered that possibility?”

He shrugs, his face a mask of indifference. “I don’t need them, Ivy. I’m managing perfectly fine on my own.”

He’s right. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as hardworking and dedicated as Jon. “But have you thought about the fact that maybe they need you?”

He studies his hands and doesn’t answer.

I grab them and give them a little squeeze. “I don’t know who your dad is and I don’t care to know. But I’ll tell you this. Although I’m sorry you and your mom had a difficult time with things, I’m glad that selfish fuck didn’t raise you. If he’d have been in your life growing up, you might have turned out to be a different person today. And I think you’re awesome just the way you are.”

Even though his expression is hard and his brows are furrowed, moisture wells up in the corner of his eye. As he turns his head and brushes it away, I’m struck with sudden clarity.

I’m in love with him.

Jon Priestly. This gorgeous, sensitive, deeply damaged guy standing in front of me right now. I love him. More than I’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life.

But as my heart feels as if it might explode, a painful lump forms in my throat. I want to tell him how I feel, but I’m afraid. If he learns everything about me—that I may have killed someone—how will he react? Will he leave? I’m not sure I’d want to be around me if I were him.

* * *

I walk into the waiting room at the Student Counseling Center and feel like I’m going to throw up.

Come on, Ivy. You can do this.

A dark-haired woman is sitting on the edge of the receptionist’s desk holding what looks to be a ball. No, it’s not a ball. It’s a skein of yarn that an older woman behind the desk is crocheting. They look up as I approach.

The younger woman pushes up her horn-rimmed glasses and gives me a sheepish smile. “Oops. You caught me. I came out to check my schedule, but Janice and I ended up talking about crocheting and yarn.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Dr. Mehta, a hopeless yarn addict. You must be Ivy.”

I shake her hand and smile, the tension in my shoulders lessening. My gaze lands on Janice’s crochet project. I can’t tell if it’s a scarf or a shawl, but whatever it is, it’s really pretty. She’s doing a really cool lace stitch I haven’t seen before.

“Do you knit or crochet?” Dr. Mehta must’ve noticed my curiosity.

“Um, yeah. Both, actually.”

“Wonderful,” she says, as she shows me back to her office. “We’re going to get along famously then, because I haven’t met a yarn-aholic I didn’t like.”

* * *

It takes me two weeks and four sessions with Dr. Mehta to gather enough courage to talk to Jon.

During that time, she told me about the university’s no-tolerance policy when it comes to stalking and put me in touch with campus security…and didn’t let me blow it off either.

Ha. She figured me out pretty damn fast.

Because Aaron isn’t a student here, there’s not a lot they can do from a legal standpoint, but the IT department is blocking all his incoming email messages to me, so at least that’s a start.

Campus security gave me a pamphlet on all the steps to take when someone is stalking you. I’m supposed to keep a journal of any interactions I have with Aaron, although, if I’m not getting any more emails from him and since I stay off social media, there won’t be much to report. The officer in charge gave me his personal phone number. He actually sat there, making sure I plugged it into my phone, and told me to get in touch with him night or day if I was ever afraid. And when I mumbled, “Okay,” he made me look him straight in the eye and promise to call.

I can’t tell you how much better it feels to have people believe what I’m telling them and truly want to help me. And it’s all because Jon pushed me.

“Do you think the waffle iron is hot enough yet?” I ask him.

We’re standing in his kitchen, and I’ve just finished stirring the batter. Thirty times, to be exact. No more. No less. Who knew Jon was so particular when it came to cooking? But with a recipe called Waffles of Insane Greatness, who am I to question anything?

“Let me check.” He lifts out the last piece of bacon from the frying pan and puts it with the rest to drain on a paper towel. Then he flicks a few drops of water onto the old waffle iron (a gift from Stella), and it sizzles. “I’d say it’s ready.”

A few minutes later, we’re sitting at the table, and although the waffles are insanely good, I can hardly eat. Dr. Mehta’s words keep ringing in my head.

Truth and honesty are the cornerstones of a healthy relationship.

“Jon, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

He looks up from his plate. “You’re joining the circus?”

I laugh. “Do you have a thing with circuses, or what?” Before he says something else funny that will divert me from what I need to say, I take a deep breath. “I haven’t told you why Aaron has been stalking me.”

“There’s a reason other than he’s a troll?”

“He thinks I…killed Chase. That I either grabbed the steering wheel, causing the accident, or that I was the one driving and ran the car off the road on purpose.”

“That’s so fucking ludicrous, it’s not even funny.” Jon takes another bite.

“But what if it’s true? I have no memory of what happened. For all I know, I could’ve been so angry with Chase that I finally decided to do something about it. I knew he rarely wore his seatbelt.”

Jon puts down his fork and stares at me. His expression is dark, unreadable. Is he trying to imagine me doing it? That I reached over and jerked the wheel with the intention of killing someone? My heart is beating so hard that it’s pounding against my eardrums, creating a dull roar in my head.

“Ivy,” he says quietly. “You didn’t kill him.”

“But you weren’t there. What if I did it? What if Aaron’s right?”

“How would Aaron even fucking know? He wasn’t there either.” He pulls me into his arms, and his strength comforts me. “And if you did, then you must’ve been pretty fucking scared out of your mind and did the only thing you could think of to get away.”

My breath catches in my throat. “So, if it turns out I did cause the accident, you won’t think…less of me.”

“Ivy, nothing you do could make me feel less of you. Nothing.”

chapter twenty-two

Love is a serious mental disease.

~ Plato

Jon

We’re in a long line of cars exiting the freeway heading to the Gorge Amphitheater. I grip the steering wheel, hoping I haven’t made a huge mistake. The thing about Ivy is that I’m powerless to resist her when she sets her mind to something. She wanted me here, so, yeah, I caved.

I can’t say I didn’t try, though. Last week when she told me Cassidy wasn’t going to use her Sasquatch tickets and would sell them to us cheap, I said no. I’d seen the line-up. I had zero interest in going.

Ivy looked at me as if I’d sprouted horns. A big group was road-tripping over here and she really wanted to go. James was no help either. I think his exact words were, “There’s no fucking way I’ll miss it again this year.” Way to support your friend, bro.

Ivy kept pressing. God, she was relentless. Listed off a bunch of the bands as if I didn’t already know who was playing. Shit. I’d given away two tickets the last time I was on the air.

But that was last week, and here I am.

I glance over at Ivy in the passenger seat. With her mismatched sock feet on the dash, she’s keeping time to the music while braiding her hair.

“Looks like you’re ready to get down to business,” I tell her.

“I can’t wait!” Excitement lights up her eyes, making me glad I’m here. With her. I can endure anything if it makes her happy. “Do you think the tent will take long to set up?” she asks. “I can’t wait to check out everything.”

“Stella said it’s easy, but obviously, she hasn’t used it in years.”

“You checked it, right? All the stakes and poles are there?”

“Yep. Laid it all out in her backyard and—”

“Ahhhh.” She points to a car trying to squeeze in front of us. “Don’t let him cut between us and the others. We need to go in as a group to get camping spots next to each other.”

Too late. He’s already too far over. I ease up on the gas so I’m not riding his bumper. “That’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” The guy ends up turning into the RV section, so we’re right behind Kelly and Reece again.

The check-in process goes smoothly and soon, with music blaring around us, we’re all setting up our tents. Ivy wastes no time laying out our sleeping bags and zipping them together. This weekend is going to be fun in more ways than one.

Except for Sunday afternoon.

When O-Twist is playing.

Hopefully, I can talk Ivy into heading out before they take the stage. We’ll be tired, right? Besides, a lot of people leave early on Sunday anyway, so it’s not like we’d be the only ones. If not, though, I’ve already got it figured out. I’ll stay back at the campsite. Pretend I’m hungover. Or too tired. Or that I have a stomachache.

One thing’s for sure. I refuse to see my father in person, even from a distance.

As I pull the cooler out of the trunk and dump in one of the bags of ice we bought at the gas station in Vantage, I hear someone coming up behind me.

“Jon!” a female voice shrieks.

Tina?

Before I can turn around, she jumps onto my back, piggyback-style, and wraps her legs around my waist. Even though it can’t be more than sixty degrees and the weather forecast calls for rain tonight, she’s wearing shorts with cowboy boots. Untangling myself from her bare legs, I push her knees down so she has to stand, then I turn to face her. She adjusts her cowboy hat and flashes me a broad smile. Two other girls are with her, including Sara.

“Hello, ladies.”

“I didn’t think you were coming.” Tina puts her hands on her hips. “Why did you change your mind?”

Before I can answer, I hear the tent zipper and Ivy steps out. With her skinny jeans, short boots and a PSU hoodie under her jean jacket, she’s looking pretty damn hot. “Because I twisted his arm,” she says.

“Yeah, it hurt.”

She comes over to us with a funny little smile on her face. At first, it seems like she’s going to rub up against me, staking her claim for Tina and Sara’s benefit, but no. She slides her arm around my waist and then, when my guard is down, she pokes me right in the ribs. Where I’m really ticklish.

“Aaaaah.” I grab her hands, pull them away and lock them behind her.

She laughs. “Baby.”

Tina has a curious expression on her face as she looks Ivy up and down. “Is it just the two of you at this campsite?”

“The White House guys are there,” I say, letting go of Ivy and pointing to two army-sized tents next door. “Kelly and Reece are on the other side of them.”

“And beyond them,” Ivy says, “are some people from my floor.”

“Can we put up our tent next to yours, then?” Tina asks. “The camp host says each site can sleep up to six people.”

I glance at Ivy to see what she thinks, but I can’t read her expression. Is she indifferent about it or pissed?

Since we’re all packed tightly together, it wouldn’t be much different than if they were in an adjacent campsite, so I tell Tina okay. Most likely, we’ll all be hanging out in one big group anyway, eating and partying.

A few hours later, with the campsite as situated as it’s going to get and our alcohol locked in the trunk of Ivy’s car, we’re sitting on our blanket on the grassy hillside overlooking the stage and sharing an outrageously expensive bottle of water that we bought inside, because they wouldn’t let us bring in our own.

“Having your groupies right next to us better not screw things up,” Ivy says.

Screw what things up? I want to ask, although I have a pretty damn good idea what she means. I take a drink and hand the bottle to her. “They’re not my groupies.”

“Ex-girlfriends, then.”

“Girlfriend,” I say, enunciating the d. “Singular. Uno. Besides, Tina and I never dated, so you can’t really classify her as an ex-girlfriend.”

“Ex-fuck-buddy, then?”

I give her a sheepish smile. “I guess you could say that.”

Something mischievous glints in her eye and she comes closer. “You guess? Does that mean you don’t know?”

“Guys can be pretty fucking clueless,” I say, playing along with her.

She climbs onto my lap, facing me, her arms around my neck. I put my hands on her butt and scoot her closer, growing hard as she slides over me.

“Really?” Then she kisses me, slipping her tongue in my mouth.

She tastes like the wine cooler she had back at the campsite. Only a few thin layers of fabric are preventing me from being inside her right now. I grab her hips and– Fuuuuck. She grinds against me. I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t turn me on to be doing this around all these people. This weekend is already shaping up to be better than I expected.

She pulls away from me slightly. “So. Are we just fuck buddies, too?”

“I can’t believe you’d even say that.” A surge of emotion rushes through me. I know she’s just teasing, but I don’t want her to even joke about it.

As I open my mouth to tell her what she means to me, something behind us draws her attention. She lets out a little scream and jumps up. “Dani!”

I crank my head around to see a group of people approaching. I recognize a few of them from her dorm. “Hey,” I say, getting up and moving our blanket over to make room for theirs.

After Ivy hugs them and returns to my side, I pull her close and entwine my fingers in hers. “We’re not fuck buddies, Ives,” I whisper in her ear. “You mean so much more to me than that.”

She squeezes my hands. “I know. I was just kidding.”

The opening band starts playing, and soon we’re clapping along with the lead singer as the bright orange sun sets behind the stage.

Ivy has managed to soften my heart, daring me to dream again.

And it scares the shit out of me.

* * *

Ivy

Jon and I are pretty wasted by the time we stumble to our tent. After the last band finished up, we followed everyone along the trail back to the campground and continued partying at the White House campsite. I don’t know what it is, but the biggest parties always seem to begin and end with them.

After brushing our teeth at one of the communal sinks scattered throughout the campground, I don’t even have the tent zipped shut all the way when Jon grabs me from behind. He’s already naked from the waist down.

“How did you do that so fast?” I ask, laughing.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day.” His words are a little slurred. “I need you.”

“Shhhh. Someone will hear. There are literally a ton of people around us.” Including a couple of girls in the next tent who are probably wishing they were here instead of me.

“You think I give a shit?”

I pull the shirt over my head and slip out of my pajama bottoms, thinking this will distract him and get him to quiet down.

He groans loudly. “I want to fuck you so bad, Ivy, it’s not even funny.”

Someone nearby laughs. It sounds like James.

“Oh my God, Jon,” I whisper-laugh. “You need to shut up.”

I climb into the double sleeping bag and pull him down on top of me. But instead of grabbing one of the condoms we brought, he slides down my stomach.

Oh my God. Oh my God. I know what he’s planning to do.

His long-fingered hands are warm against my knees as he pushes my legs apart.

“I need to taste you.” His breath is hot against my sensitive skin. My whole body quivers in anticipation. Then, spreading my inner folds with his fingers, he licks me. Long and agonizingly slow.

I hiss, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as I arch my back.

“Is this good?” His voice is low and husky, vibrating against me.

“Um, yes,” I manage to say. My knees are trembling on either side of his head. “It’s...it’s perfect.”

“Okay. Because I want more.”

He slips a finger inside me, moving it in and out. My inner muscles tighten around him, and a storm of pressure gathers in my lower belly. I am seriously on the edge right now. I’m not going to last much—

He gently draws my clit between his teeth and begins to suckle. And that’s when I pretty much lose it.

I buck my hips and cry out his name as a massive climax roars through me. It feels like I’m on fire, every inch of me burns.

“Ah, yes!” he groans. “There it is.”

With his tongue against me, I ride out my orgasm, vaguely aware that I need to be quiet. As the tremors echo away, I lie back against the pillows, and Jon slides up my body, kissing me as he goes. My hips. My stomach. My breasts. His tongue swirls around one nipple then the other.

“I want you inside me now,” I tell him.

“That can be arranged,” he says.

Soon, the broad tip of his penis probes my inner thigh. After a few tries, he finds my center. I raise my hips to meet him and with a powerful thrust, he enters me, filling me completely. So completely, in fact, that it seems as if he’s pressing against the inside of my belly button.

“Oh my God,” he says, a little too loudly. “You feel so good.”

Someone laughs again. And then there’s a whistle. But I don’t care. I’m too drunk and numb from that orgasm to really give a crap. Hell, most of the people here are probably doing the exact same thing we are. And those who aren’t are wishing they were.

“Jesus, Ivy,” he groans, rocking his hips back almost to the point of withdrawal.

I dig my nails into his back to keep him from going any further. He needs to stay in me. I’ll die if he doesn’t. He makes a few shallow thrusts, causing the ridge around the tip of him to rub against my sensitive flesh. I’m on the verge of coming again.

Something niggles in the back of my mind, but I can’t think what it is. Something I’m supposed to be doing right now. And then it occurs to me that I didn’t check my exits or make sure I could get away if I needed to. Tears sting the backs of my eyes as the realization hits me. My old fears don’t control me anymore.

Dr. Mehta was right. Telling Jon the truth made all the difference. Not only did he not reject me, but I feel safe with him. He won’t hurt me. I trust him.

I hold him tighter, twine my legs around his.

He thrusts into me with fluid strokes, and then, “Ivy!”

Another intense wave of pleasure rushes through me, starting from where we’re joined and spreading outward like wildfire. Down my arms and legs to my fingers and toes. Jon collapses on top of me, both of us sweaty and breathless. We stay like this for a while, until the world stops spinning around us.

He rolls off me and I hear the snap of latex as he removes the condom.

Holy crap. That’s what I forgot. Birth control. How could I be so careless? Stupid, Ivy. Real stupid. Thank God he had enough sense to use a condom, because I sure as hell didn’t think about it. I started up on the Pill again, but that was less than a month ago, so it’s not effective yet.

Something else tugs at the back of my mind. But like a vivid dream that vanishes when you wake up, it’s not clear enough to retrieve it.

“Ivy?” Jon asks, his lips against my ear.

“Mmmm. Yeah?” I’m so spent I can hardly move.

“Before I fall asleep, I want you to know something.” His words are still slightly slurred from the alcohol.

I nestle into his shoulder. “What’s that, baby?”

“Ahhh,” he says, sighing contentedly. “I fucking love when you call me that. It’s hot.”

I smile into the darkness. “You do?”

“And I love what we just did. All of it.”

My body is still tingling. “Yeah, me too.” Way off in the distance, I can hear some people talking, but everyone around us is quiet. I can tell that’s not what he originally wanted to say, though. “Was there something else?”

His body twitches. He’s obviously on the verge of falling asleep. “What?” he mumbles.

“That’s okay, baby. Go to sleep.”

“No. I need to tell you…something.”

God, he’s both hot and adorable at the same time. How is that even possible? “You do?”

He mumbles a few words, but I can’t understand.

Great. Why is it, when I want him to speak up, he doesn’t, but when I want him to be quiet, the whole campground can hear us?

“What, Jon?”

“Mmmm. I fucking love you, Ivy.” Then he rolls over and leaves me lying here, stunned, in the darkness.

“I love you too, baby,” I whisper, but he’s already asleep.

* * *

The next day, neither of us says the L-word again, but it’s like we’re newlyweds or something. We can’t stop touching each other. When I hand him a yogurt from the cooler, I can’t help myself and stroke my finger along his arm. Grabbing my hand, he presses his lips to the inside of my wrist, then lets go and eats his yogurt. When I take the cup of instant coffee he made me and sit in one of the chairs around the fire pit, he comes up behind me and starts rubbing my shoulders.

He brushes my hair aside and kisses the back of my neck. “That was fun last night,” he whispers.

“You remember?”

“Hell yeah. I wasn’t that drunk, Ives.”

I hear the zip of a tent and look up to see James emerging…along with a gorgeous blond chick I’ve never seen before. He grins at us as she puts on her shoes. After he kisses her and she leaves, he walks past us to the picnic table where the coffee supplies are. A few minutes later, he joins us at the campfire, a cup of coffee sandwiched between his hands.

“Have a good time last night?” Jon asks.

“I sure as hell did.” James takes a sip. “And from what I could tell, you did too.”

We spend the rest of the day going back and forth from the venue to the campsite. I’m glad that we got into the closest campground. Some people have to walk more than a mile each way.

On Sunday, we get up early and trek over to the stage, but both of us are so tired that as soon as we wrap ourselves in our blankets on the grass, we fall asleep. After listening to a few bands, we head back to the campsite for a lunch that consists of peanut butter sandwiches, chips and beer. Tina is talking to some girls I don’t know and Sara is sitting on James’ lap. Kelly tells me about the internship she just got with an accounting firm in Seattle, but she doesn’t know how to break the news to Reece. He’ll be working in Portland for the summer and they were going to rent an apartment together.

She changes the subject when Reece approaches.

I look around for Jon, but don’t see him. “Where’s Jon?”

Reece shrugs. “Haven’t seen him in a while.”

I walk the ten steps over to our campsite and pop my head into the tent. Jon is lying on top of the sleeping bags with his eyes closed. He doesn’t open them even though the tent zipper is really loud.

He’s not sick, is he? I kneel next to him. “Are you ready to head back over? O-Twist will be onstage in about twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I’m not feeling that great. You guys go on without me.”

I lightly rub his arm. “Can I get you anything? Water? Something else to eat? Some Tylenol?” We did party pretty hard again last night. I’m surprised I didn’t wake up with more of a hangover.

“No, I’m fine. I’ll try to rally for the next one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You should go. I’ll be fine. I just need to take a power nap.”

“Okay,” I say, kissing him on the forehead. At least he doesn’t have a fever. “I’ll text you.”

“The cell coverage sucks, though.”

“I’ll try anyway.”

Dani and a few of her friends are waiting for me. I’m glad that both Tina and Sara are coming with us, too. I know it’s silly, because I’m not really a jealous person, but I don’t want them popping in on Jon just to quote unquote see how he’s doing.

We get to the venue and find a good place in the middle of the crowd. When O-Twist takes the stage, everyone surges forward as if the crowd is one solid entity. People seem wilder than they were yesterday. Guys keep hoisting girls onto their shoulders (a few of them are even chicken-fighting), and security keeps telling them to get down. After the second or third song, a group of asshole guys pushes their way through to the front, almost knocking Dani and me over.

“Jerks!” She throws her empty water bottle at the last guy’s back.

After O-Twist plays one of their biggest hits, Sara declares that they’re awesome. “I had no idea this was them.”

They’re pretty retro to be playing Sasquatch—my dad has a few of their early albums from a long time ago—but no one seems to mind.

Someone else jostles us from behind, but this time it’s a group of girls.

Dani spins around, practically shooting daggers from her eyes. “Will you fucking chill out? Geez.”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Back at school, she’s pretty quiet. I didn’t know she could be so bold.

“Stupid bitch,” one of the girls says. “You’re in our way.”

“We were here first,” Dani counters. “Go somewhere else.”

The girl hauls back and seriously is about to punch Dani. I pull Dani away just in time and the chick misses, hitting Tina instead.

“What the fuck!” Tina says, rubbing her arm. She reaches out and yanks the girl’s hair. “Skank.”