Текст книги "Icing on the Lake"

Автор книги: Catherine Clark

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

“That’s cool.”

“What have you been up to?” Sean asked.

Spending time with your brother. And completely alienating him, I thought.

“Not much,” I said. “The time went by kind of quickly, actually.”

“Oh yeah? That’s good.”

And then we awkwardly looked at each other for a few seconds. Sometimes I wondered what he was doing with me, when we had these lulls in conversation and not that much to talk about. Then again, what was I doing with him? Half the reason I was dating him was to win some stupid challenge with my friends, and myself, to not go the entire senior year without a date. To have a romantic weekend just because.

“So do you want to hang out by the fire for a while? Maybe have some hot chocolate?” Sean asked.

“With our chocolate chips?” I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t know. I don’t actually want any hot chocolate. I don’t think.”

“No?” He seemed disappointed.

I shook my head. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” Sean asked.

“I…I don’t know. Just sleepy, I guess.” I stretched my arms over my head and yawned, for effect.

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone.” He smiled and gave me a little kiss on the cheek. “Snow Ball in two days, are you ready?”

“Not yet.” I pictured the latte Conor had made, with the special foamed milk snowball on top. “But I will be,” I said with a faint smile. “Now would you let me go back to sleep?”

“Okay, okay. See you later!” Sean leaned down to kiss me goodnight, but I turned at the last second so that he kissed my cheek instead.

Chapter 17

“You what?”

“I asked Conor to deliver Brett’s birthday cake today. I figured we’d be too busy blowing up balloons and so forth.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” Gretchen said.

“You asked Conor to deliver it here?” I nearly shrieked. “Gretchen! I could kill you right now.”

“Why?” she asked.

That’s when I remembered that she didn’t know about the whole Conor situation. All she knew was that I was going to the Snow Ball with Sean, and she was beside herself with excitement about that.

Wait until I told her we were going away for the weekend together. I hadn’t told her yet, because I was dreading her reaction. She knew I had plans to go on a trip with my friends that weekend, because I’d arranged that as soon as I got to her house.

“Why are you going to kill me?” she asked. “I was trying to do you a favor by not asking you to go pick up the cake. I figured you’d be busy enough getting ready for tomorrow night.”

“Well!” I cleared my throat. “That’s just it. I mean, first of all, you’re taking over this whole thing and acting like it’s your party, not mine.”

Gretchen had been jumping for joy—almost literally, almost bouncing off her crutches—ever since I told her that Sean had invited me to the Snow Ball. She’d read about the party in the newspaper’s society sightings page and had been curious about it ever since.

“I knew he’d ask you. This is so perfect! This is great!” she kept crying when I finally told her about it.

I had to tell her to back off. “Gretchen! I’m not like your protégé. You’re living through me or something weird like that.”

“Can’t I be excited for my little sister?” She looked very hurt.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I’m a little stressed out about all this.”

So today, we’d spent the morning at a few malls, searching for the perfect dress for me. Finally we’d found something we both liked: it was strapless, a cool gold color, very classic and wintry looking. And according to Gretchen and the saleswoman (basically clones of each other), it looked great with my hair and slightly golden skin.

Whatever.

Gretchen had sprung for the gown, to thank me for everything I’d done to help her out over the past few weeks. But of course she’d also sprung for new shoes to match it, and a wispy scarf to wear over my shoulders, and some new gold nail polish that would match it.

And of course, a gown for herself. She’d lost ten pounds and was pretty excited about it, not to mention the fact she couldn’t go shopping without buying something for herself.

“Come on, forget about Brett’s silly birthday cake. Let’s talk about the party some more. Right now I’m going to teach you how to waltz,” she announced.

“What?” I cried. “I’m not going to have to waltz!”

“Yes, you are,” she said.

“How would you know, you’ve never gone to this thing,” I snapped. “Sorry. I’m just feeling a little, um, stressed. I won’t know anyone else there, you know?”

“Don’t worry about it. But that’s why you should learn to dance, because it never hurts to be ready for any situation. Emily Post, page 341.”

“Seriously?” I asked.

“Well, it’s in there somewhere.” Gretchen put on a CD of classical music. Then she hopped over to me, swinging on one crutch. “Come on, take my hands,” she said.

“Gretchen, they’re going to have a band. Like, a band that we’d all actually want to dance to,” I told her. “Music from the twenty-first century. I’m not waltzing with my sister, on crutches no less.”

“Do you want to look silly, or don’t you?” she asked.

“Hello? Look at us right now,” I said, laughing.

“Come on. Follow my lead,” she urged. “One-two-three, one-two-three…”

Suddenly Gretchen’s eyes widened.

“What? Did I step on your toe?” I said. “Did I hurt your broken leg? Oh no.”

She shook her head, still staring over my shoulder.

I turned around and saw Conor standing in the doorway, large white bakery box in hand. “Sorry. I knocked. But no one answered, so…”

“It’s okay!” I said. “Gretchen was, uh, imparting some of her dancing wisdom.”

“Where should I put this?” He skillfully closed the door behind him with his foot.

“In the kitchen,” I said. “Come on, I’ll, uh, help you.”

“It’s all right, I’ve got it,” he said as I trailed him down the hall to the kitchen.

I didn’t care if he had it, or not, I wanted to talk to him for a second. “So. How have you been?” I asked.

“Busy,” he said. “You know.” He carefully set the cake box on the counter, sliding it toward the wall so it couldn’t be knocked off by a small child or a dog. Or a very klutzy eighteen-year-old named Kirsten.

“Can I look at it?” I asked.

“It’s nothing special.” He shrugged. “Kids’ birthday cakes, you put a big number on them, decorate a little…”

“Did you do the decorating?” I asked.

He nodded. “Check it out after I leave,” he said.

“Why—”

I heard Brett’s shrieking before I heard his footsteps thundering down the stairs. He was chasing Bear. And my new golden dress was draped over Bear’s back, and my scarf was wrapped around his neck tightly, like a fancy collar.

Brett, of course, was wearing one of my new shoes.

“Connnnnnoooorrrrrr!” he screamed, right before he slammed into Conor’s legs.

“Hey, buddy. How’s it going?” Conor asked.

“Let’s make a snowman!” Brett cried.

“I can’t today. I don’t have time. Sorry,” Conor said.

“Please?” Brett begged.

“Brett, I have to get back to work,” Conor said. “Anyway, aren’t all your friends coming over soon? For your birthday party? That’s why I brought the cake.”

Bear was still racing around with my gown on his back. Gretchen was hopping around after him on her good leg, trying to pull it off with one of her crutches.

“Bear. Bear,” I said. “Come here. Bear!”

Conor grabbed Bear’s collar on his way back down the hall. He got Bear to stand still, and removed the dress and scarf. He held them out to me. “Yours?”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” I was standing there, doing nothing, completely stupefied.

“Sure. Hope it’s still wearable. Well, good luck with the dancing. Rock on.” He tipped his baseball cap to me and Gretchen, and went out the door.

“How embarrassing,” I said as I peeked out the window to watch him drive off in the bakery’s delivery van.

“Who cares? It’s only Conor.”

Only Conor.

I walked back into the kitchen and went over to investigate the birthday cake. We hadn’t had cake in the house since I got here. If Brett’s friends didn’t show up on time, there would be a piece missing.

I opened the box. To my surprise, inside were two boxes: one large, and one small. I opened the large one first. It was a large layer cake with strawberry frosting and a snowman saying, “Happy Birthday, Brett!” and a giant number 4. It was perfectly decorated.

Then I opened the small box. Inside was a chocolate cupcake, with chocolate icing, and chocolate sprinkles on top. And a note that said:

Here’s your favorite, and Brett’s favorite.

See you at the party tomorrow night?

–Conor

I smiled and felt this incredibly happy glow come to my face. He didn’t hate me anymore. He was going to the Snow Ball, without me, but he was still going. So I’d know someone else—I’d have a friend there.

Or maybe more than a friend.

I quickly grabbed the little box and took it upstairs to my room without showing Brett and Gretchen, where I could gaze at—and eat—the cupcake later, while I reread Conor’s note a few more times.

“How does the cake look?” Gretchen asked when I walked back down into the living room. She was perched on the sofa, watching a video of her wedding.

“The cake looks…wonderful,” I said. Especially the little cupcake in my favorite flavor.

As I sat down beside her on the sofa, I wondered what to do next. Should I cancel my date with Sean? Probably. But it was so last minute—that seemed mean, even if Conor had assured me that Sean would get over it.

I wasn’t sure what to do. I couldn’t talk it over with my sister. If I broke the date with Sean, nobody would be more upset about it than Gretchen. But it wasn’t as if the shoes and the dress would go to waste…though the waltz lessons definitely would.

So I’d go to the dance with Sean. I’d have as nice a time as I could, but at some point during the night, I’d have to tell him that things had changed. That we wouldn’t be going away for the weekend after all, because, as Conor pointed out, I couldn’t have it both ways. I wasn’t sure how to tell him that I might be falling for his brother. That wouldn’t go over well. But I wouldn’t be fake about things, either.

“Look at you.” She pointed to me and Jones on the TV screen. We were jumping around the dance floor, doing the mashed potato, pumping our arms up and down. “All I ask is, tomorrow night?”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“You dance a little better than you did at my wedding.”

We both laughed, and then Gretchen reached for a tissue, because she was starting to cry. “God. I haven’t been able to look at this video in a long time. It makes me sad—but it’s sort of fun, too.”

I’d hardly ever seen her cry. It was strange. She was usually so tough, acting like she didn’t care.

“I know you’re in love with Sean and everything, but promise me you won’t get married until you’re older,” Gretchen said.

“Oh, don’t worry,” I told her, dropping onto the sofa beside her. “I’m not getting married anytime soon.”

And another thing, I could have added. I’m not in love with Sean.

Chapter 18

I’d forgotten to ask Sean how we would get over to St. Paul for the Snow Ball. I could take the minivan, though I didn’t really want to drive. I wondered if Conor was going to drive the three of us again, but that would be beyond awkward. Besides, it was hard to imagine the three of us crammed into the pickup in our dressy clothes.

My hair was blown and brushed out straight, falling on my shoulders. Gretchen had helped me put some small sprinkles of ice-like glitter in my hair and on my bare shoulders. She’d also done my makeup, again, which she was getting pretty good at doing.

I shifted by the doorway in my high heels, and glanced at my watch. It was almost eight-fifteen, and Sean had said he’d pick me up at eight.

The night wasn’t exactly off to the best possible start, but oh well. “Being fashionably late—that’s something Emily Post recommends, right?” I asked Gretchen as I came back from the front hallway, where I’d been pacing.

“I don’t know. But I think anything over ten minutes is rude.” She frowned, then reached for the telephone. “I think I’ll call over there, see what happened to him—”

“No. Don’t!” I cried. “I mean, if anyone should call, it’s me, but I’m giving him five more minutes.”

“I don’t approve,” Gretchen said. “For the record. He should be here on time.”

I walked back over and peered out the window. A long, black station wagon was pulling up at the curb. It wasn’t a limo, but it was close. “Hey! That might be him,” I said. Don’t tell me he rented a car for this, I thought.

Gretchen limped over to me and gave my makeup a final check. “You’re going to be cold,” she said. “Take this.” She reached into the closet and pulled out her long, maroon down coat—the one that looked like a sleeping bag.

“Thanks, Mom, but I’ll just take this instead.” I didn’t have a long coat with me, so I just put my puffy jacket over my shoulders. I didn’t plan to wear it, much.

“That doesn’t go with your dress!” she protested.

“Well, neither does that.” I pointed to her coat.

“You’re impossible. You don’t wear a short jacket with a gown,” she said.

“It’s not a gown. It’s a dress.” Gretchen rolled her eyes when I said that. “And I’ll just carry it, if you’re so concerned.” I balled up the jacket under one arm, and held my miniature purse with the other.

“You look silly,” Gretchen said. “But cute.”

“Thank you.” I bowed.

I looked out the window at the car idling by the curb. Was Sean going to come in, or did I have to run out there myself?

But there he was, coming up the walk. I took a deep breath and braced myself. Tonight wasn’t going to be easy. At least not at the beginning. First I had to tell Sean that I’d fallen for his brother. Then I had to tell Conor that I wanted to be with him.

Very possibly, I should have done all this before right now.

Gretchen opened the door, and I stood behind her, feeling like it was too eager to be caught looking out the window for your date.

“Wow,” Sean said as I stepped out from behind Gretchen. “You look gorgeous.”

I smiled at Sean, who was standing in the open doorway, a bit stunned. “Thanks,” I said. “You look pretty good yourself.”

Sean was wearing a dark blue suit, and he looked a little like Ashton Kutcher. In other words, very, very good.

“Picture time. Picture time!” Gretchen cried.

I could have killed her. Literally. “You are so like Mom. So like her,” I said.

“Don’t say that. Say cheese,” she replied.

Sean and I posed in the doorway, then we posed by the fireplace, then we posed with Brett.

Finally we convinced her that we really did have to get going. I gave Brett a good-night kiss, arranged the little scarf on my shoulders, and Sean took my hand and guided me over the doorstep and down the front walk.

I walked around to the other side of the car with Sean, and saw a camera flash go off on the front walk.

“Gretchen. Do you really need a shot of us getting into the car?” I asked.

“Yes. Now be quiet and smile and wave.”

I doubted that she caught my smile, because as soon as Sean opened the car door, I saw who was in the car: five other people, including what’s-her-name from the lake. I think I would have rather gone in the old pickup, rust and Conor and all.

Sean and I slid into the front seat next to one of the seven hockey players, Duke, who was driving the car. The other four people were crowded into the backseat. Sean introduced me to everyone, and although I didn’t catch everyone’s names or figure out who had come with whom, I did get her name again: Melissa. She was wearing a sexy, white strapless dress, and she had olive brown skin and looked amazing, a shoo-in contestant for the upcoming “America’s Next Top Model” season.

The fact that she was there didn’t bother me the way it would have a few weeks ago, though it did seem a little tactless on Sean’s part for us to all ride in the same car.

Me? I stuffed my down jacket at my feet and then sat back and tried to relax. We drove past Sean’s house and I looked to see whether Conor’s truck was parked outside. It was. My heart sank. Wasn’t he going to the party?

“We should go out to eat first,” Sean said.

“Aren’t they having food at the party?” I asked.

“Yeah, but I’m starving,” Sean said. “Come on, it’ll be hilarious. We’ll go somewhere cheap, and sit there in our suits.”

“We’re late, though. Let’s just get there,” Melissa said.

I turned around and gave her a half-smile. “I agree.”

“Okay. You guys are probably right,” Sean said. “I still think it’d be fun.”

He reached over and turned up the car stereo’s volume, and the music was sort of blaring. This wasn’t really me, I thought. Also, the music was so loud that I couldn’t talk to Sean then, the way I wanted to. I hadn’t realized we were going to the party in a group.

The song stopped just as I was saying, “I need to talk to you!” in a loud voice.

“Uh oh, sounds serious,” his friend Philip said.

“You’re in trouble, dude,” Duke added.

Everyone started laughing and pushing Sean’s shoulders from the back seat and flicking the top of his head.

“Uh, later. At the party. That would be fine,” I said, smiling at him.

He rested his hand on my leg. “No problem.” Then the next song started to play, and we went screaming down the highway on-ramp at top speed.

The house was breathtakingly beautiful, with white lights strung across the arched portico. A gigantic white wreath hung on the front door, and a snowman held a sign that said “Enter here—Valet parking” in fancy script. We turned over the car to the valet and headed for the entrance, me still clutching my down jacket, Melissa still looking fantastic. I thought she might be there with Philip, but I couldn’t tell. We were all sort of traveling as a pack.

There was a guest list that the doorman checked our names against, then all the girls were each handed a white rose. In the front entryway, which was as big as our entire house at home, there was a large ice sculpture of a king and queen, representing the Winter Carnival royalty. This was without question the fanciest, most elegant party I’d ever attended.

“What do Kevin’s parents do for a living, exactly?” I asked Sean as I gazed around the luxurious mansion, like a little kid seeing Disney World for the first time.

“I have no idea,” he said.

“Well, whatever it is, they should keep doing it,” I said, and we both laughed.

The gigantic room where the party was being held was more like a ballroom than a living room. The lights were set low, and the setting was very romantic, if crowded. There was a cart in the corner, serving Sno-Cones; caterers circled with trays of fancy, homemade versions of Hostess Sno-Balls and glasses of ice water and punch—and fake snow was sprinkled here and there, on top of small, potted pine trees, on skis that were hung on the wall, beside two pairs of old-fashioned skates. Winter Carnival buttons were hanging from silver ribbons dangling from the ceiling, along with silver icicles.

“Wow,” I said as we walked around the room, looking at everything and everyone. “This is so cool.”

“Yeah,” Sean said, nodding. “It was like this last year, too.”

“How many people do you think are here?” I asked.

“About a hundred?” Sean guessed.

“At least,” I said. “More like two hundred, maybe.”

We stood there people-watching for a minute or two. It was sort of weird that we didn’t have anything much to talk about.

“Good band,” I commented.

“Yeah.” Sean nodded.

We were both still standing there surveying the scene, and the crowd. It was like we barely knew each other, we had so little to talk about.

I had to tell him that I’d changed my mind, that I didn’t think we should go away for the weekend after all. Why was this so hard? I didn’t think he’d be crushed, exactly, but it was something I’d never had to do before.

“You want to dance?” Sean asked as a new song started.

“Sure,” I said.

I’d left my jacket at the coat check, and I set my tiny purse on a table, along with the white rose. For some reason this seemed like a crowd you could trust not to take your stuff.

We moved to the center of the dance floor, where about fifty other people were dancing. The band was playing covers of popular songs. Sean and I looked at each other a couple of times as we danced. Suddenly, out of nowhere, all of his friends descended onto the dance floor, surrounding us. It was actually kind of fun, except for the way Melissa kept trying to get close to Sean and bump his hips with hers.

After a couple of songs I decided to take a little break, so I moved off the dance floor. I walked around for a bit to check out the rest of the house, and as I was going past the front entryway, suddenly I saw Conor walk into the house.

The most surprising thing wasn’t that he was wearing a cool, retro suit, with a skinny tie, and suede sneakers. It wasn’t that he didn’t see me right off.

It was that he had walked in with a girl on his arm. A petite, dark-haired girl with light brown skin and a very cool black-and-white wool checkered coat.

I couldn’t believe it. What was he doing with a date? Then again, why shouldn’t he be allowed to bring someone? Just because we’d hung out together and had a good time, that didn’t mean he was banned from seeing someone else.

I kept sneaking glances at them as they checked her coat, and walked into the big room. Every time I did, they were laughing.

I walked back over to Sean, who was hanging out by the Sno-Cone cart with his friends and the other girls. He didn’t even seem to notice that I was back, or that I’d been gone.

“So I just saw Conor,” I said, sidling up beside Sean.

“Oh, yeah? You want a cone?” Sean asked.

I shook my head. “No thanks. I’m holding out for a snowball,” I said. “So, uh. Conor. He has a date for tonight?”

“Yeah. Guess so.” Sean nodded.

“Really,” I muttered.

A minute later, Conor and the girl he’d come in with walked past us and gave us a small wave. I waved back, my arm completely lifeless. His date gave me a friendly smile.

Yeah, I’d be happy, too, I thought, as I listened to Sean and his friends go on and on about how great the season was going to be, and whether they’d make it to the tournament, and where they wanted to play college hockey…. If I were with Conor.

About half an hour later, after dancing to a few more songs and making some more small talk, I was sitting on a window seat, looking out at the snow that had begun to fall, and wondering how long I’d have to stay. Because we had come to the party with other people, I’d have to wait for them to want to leave. It didn’t look as if I was going to get a chance to actually talk to Sean about things, and it didn’t seem like I would see Conor much, either. The night wasn’t exactly going my way, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it.

A waiter walked past with a tray of the round snowball-shaped cakes, and I jumped up, nearly knocking him down. “Oh. Excuse me,” I said.

“No problem,” he replied.

“I just kind of wanted one of those,” I said, feeling my face turn red.

He held the tray out to me and I lifted up one of the snowball cakes on a napkin. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks.” I took a bite of the coconut-covered cake, wondering why they’d serve something that was so difficult to eat without making a mess. There must be some etiquette about how to eat something this crumbly at a party. But if there was, I didn’t know it. No doubt Gretchen would.

I was taking another very delicate bite when suddenly Conor was standing beside me. “Wouldn’t these be great for a snowball fight?” he asked.

I was so surprised to see him that I nearly choked on a coconut flake that went down the wrong way.

“I could totally see this place breaking into mayhem,” Conor added.

I brushed my mouth with a napkin. “Food fight, you mean?”

“Yeah.” Conor grinned. “Should we do it?”

“No,” I said, looking around at everyone, all dressed up. “I don’t think we’d be very popular.”

“Do we care? Anyway, you’re leaving soon, and nobody here really knows who you are anyway.” He nudged me with his elbow. “Do it. Show ’em that pitching arm.”

I didn’t appreciate how close he was standing to me. It was really hard to have finally realized how I felt about him, and then see him walk in with someone else.

“It’s not a pitching arm,” I said, trying to move away a little. “First base, remember?”

Conor put his fingers around my arm, completely encircling it. “Definitely not a pitcher’s arm. A little too skinny for that.”

“Not skinny,” I said, brushing at a crumb on my wrist. “Toned.”

“Right. Toned.” He grinned. “You’re all about the toned. Or is it tonedness?”

“I think it’s tone-ocity,” I said. I finished the snowball and dabbed at my mouth.

“Tenacity, maybe. Look out, you missed a couple.” Conor reached out and brushed a coconut flake off my mouth. He was standing really close to me.

I thought, No fair. No fair doing that to me. Didn’t you come with someone else?

But for that matter, didn’t I?

“Thanks,” I said. I flagged down the server who was passing us and managed to get a glass of punch. Conor took one, as well.

I felt like I should make a toast. It wasn’t New Year’s Eve, but this party felt as if we’d all start singing “Auld Lang Syne” at the drop of a hat. Or a glass of punch.

“Well, cheers,” I said as I tapped my glass against Conor’s.

“What are we toasting?” he asked.

I adjusted the wrap on my shoulders, which had slipped a little. “To spring?”

He laughed. “Why would you want spring?”

“I don’t know.” I gazed around the room, looking for Sean. I couldn’t believe we’d come together; I hadn’t seen him in at least twenty minutes. I wondered if it was the same for Conor and his date. “Maybe I’ve been here long enough,” I said.

“I disagree,” Conor said. “Respectfully and all, but still.”

“Respectfully? That’s not like you.” I looked over at him and smiled.

“Well, on second thought, maybe you have been here long enough,” Conor said, frowning.

I was about to ask him what he meant by that when two things happened. One, Sean appeared at my side, sliding his arm around my waist. Two, about three girls came over and said, “Hey Conor, want to dance? Come on. You’re dancing.”

“Sounds great,” Conor said loudly as they pulled him out onto the dance floor.

“Where have you been?” Sean asked.

“Uh…right here?” I said as I watched Conor and the girls laughing and dancing together and my stomach did somersaults. “What about you?”

“I’ve been here the whole time,” Sean said. “Well, some of the guys went outside for a while. And then Kevin was showing us around the place.”

It’s called a date, I thought, irritated. Look into it! Didn’t he realize that I would know nobody here, and therefore he should look after me?

Then again, had I really missed him? Would I have been any happier if we’d spent the whole night standing side by side and not talking? At least this way one of us was having a good time.

“Anyway,” Sean said, “do you want to dance?”

“Not really, thanks,” I said.

“Come on, Kirsten. You have to,” Sean said. “We’ve hardly danced together at all.”

And whose fault is that? I thought. “Okay, sure. Let’s dance.”

As soon as we got out onto the dance floor, though, someone in the band decided it would be funny to play a slow ballad. So I awkwardly put my hands on Sean’s shoulders, and we started moving slowly around the dance floor. I wouldn’t call it dancing, exactly. Gretchen would go berserk if she could see this, I thought with a smile. All my waltzing practice gone to waste.

As we turned around, I saw Conor dancing with someone else—not the girl he came with, and not the three girls who’d pulled him onto the dance floor, but still another. What was it about these brothers? Conor was just as bad as Sean. They were chick magnets! And I for one didn’t want to end up on the family refrigerator.

“So, Sean,” I began. “You know the weekend we’re going away together? That ski trip, up north?”

“Which weekend was that again?” he asked.

We circled again, and I exchanged glances with Conor. “It’s next weekend,” I said.

“Oh. Sorry,” Sean said. “I kind of forgot.”

“No, don’t be sorry—it’s okay. It doesn’t matter if you remember. I—we’re not going,” I said.

“We’re not? Oh. Well, cool.” He waited a second and then said, “Why not?”

I hadn’t thought this through very well yet. Should I tell him the truth, or lie? He might not be my idea of the perfect guy anymore, but he’d been pretty nice to me since I got here. He should at least know how I felt.

“Well, see—”

“Excuse me. May I cut in?” Melissa tapped Sean on the shoulder.

“By all means.” I smiled at her. “Go right ahead.”

Okay, part one of the night accomplished. I’d told Sean about the weekend and he wasn’t completely heartbroken. Maybe I should be depressed about that, but I wasn’t going to bother. He’d never really been able to commit to the idea of going, anyway, and he was obviously happiest around all his friends and potential girlfriends. Maybe he wasn’t ready for just one girl yet—and if he was, it wasn’t me, because I wasn’t the girl for him, anymore than he was the guy for me. I felt badly about it, but I guess that sometimes you have to spend a lot of time with someone to find that out.

Now, for part two: Find Conor and talk to him and tell him he was right. That I couldn’t spend all the time in the world with both of them. That I had to choose. That you didn’t hang around a ton with one guy, but go away for the weekend with someone else (much less his younger brother).

I didn’t see Conor on the dance floor, but it was pretty crowded, so I waited a minute or two until the song was over. Sean and Melissa were dancing, and they looked sort of cute because he was so tall and she was so short.

When the song ended, I looked around for Conor again. Nope.

I walked around the outside of the room, past the Sno-Cone cart and all the chairs, and the clumps of people talking and laughing. I went out into the entryway, wondering if he’d left. Then I headed down the hallway toward the bathrooms, thinking I might as well fix my hair and redo my lipstick before I made my big confession. (Living with Gretchen for a month was definitely having an effect on me.)

On the way down the hall, I stopped to peek into another large room. It was a den, with tall bookshelves, dim green lights, and—

Conor.

Conor was in there talking to the girl he’d come with, and they were leaning against the desk, deep in what must be a very private conversation. Their heads couldn’t have been more than two inches apart. I was trying to decide just how bad it was when Conor turned in my direction; he must have sensed someone in the doorway.