17 First Kisses (29 page)

“I love it. You're really talented, you know that?”

Amberly blushes. “Thanks. Some of the junior girls have
already asked me to do their hair and makeup for prom next year. They even offered to pay me. It's crazy, right? This is the thing I love most in the whole world, and people are actually going to pay me to do it. And maybe if I get enough people interested, I could start my own business. Even have my own salon someday. That's the big dream, anyway.”

“That would be so cool.” I'm smiling, but I feel guilty. She's done it again. Spilled out her hopes and dreams to me like it's no big deal. Right after I shut her down like I always do.

I could say something back. But I let the silence grow. And it's the kind of silence that stretches out so long that it would be easy to let it go on just a second longer and avoid the moment completely.

“Hey.” I fidget with my fingernails, unsure where to begin. “That text I got before was from my mom. And I was thinking, since you have such an eye for colors and all . . . well, my mom is finally redoing Timothy's room.”

Her eyes widen at the mention of Timothy.

“And I was wondering if maybe you might want to help us pick the paint colors.”

The idea of inviting someone, on purpose, to be a part of something so personal has me winding my fingers to resemble the knots in my stomach.

Amberly places her hands over mine and stops them. “I would love to.”

Before I can say anything else awkward, Britney heel-walks into the room so as not to disturb her toenails and shuts the door
to the balcony, cutting off the sea breeze.

“Let's get this party started!” she says, pulling five Coronas from the minifridge.

Amberly cracks open a bottle and starts to take a sip.

“Wait!” yells Megan. She leaps over a suitcase to stay Amberly's hand.

Amberly looks up from the bottle in surprise. “What?”

Megan grabs a lime and a paring knife. Only Megan thinks a paring knife is a necessary item for a trip to the beach. She deftly slices the lime, cutting through it so fast it makes me cringe. She slides a slice into the beer bottle and inverts it over her thumb.

“There.” She hands the bottle back to Amberly. “That was close. Limes are critical.”

After we finish our beers, we head to Club La Vela where everyone from our high school and every other high school is partying for teen night. We're close enough to walk, so that's what we do, because traffic on the strip has slowed to a crawl, turning the street itself into an ever-changing club. As soon as we get our hot-pink wristbands, we dance like crazy to hip-hop and techno.

I'm coming back from the bar with a water and checking the door for the eighty billionth time to make sure Luke isn't here, when Megan rushes toward me and clamps a hand over my wrist.

“We need to talk!” she yells over the music. “Now.”

Uh-oh. She already knows about Luke and me. What else could she possibly be this upset about?

We find an upstairs patio where we can actually hear each other talk. It's packed with smokers, but at least it's cooler than
inside, and there's a clear view of the beach. I can smell that delicious salty coconut smell, even through the haze of smoke. I knew the moment where we get everything out in the open had to happen eventually, but I still don't feel ready for a conversation that determines the future of our whole friendship. Plus, I didn't expect her to look so mad.

“I need you to tell me what she did to you,” she says.

“Who?”

“Britney. And probably Amanda too. I had a feeling they were doing stuff, but I pretended they weren't. I didn't ask because I was just so mad at you. And then I was talking to Amberly in the bathroom just now and I guess she confronted Britney about it or something and it sounds like it was a lot worse than a few bitchy comments, so I need to know.”

Oh my gosh, she didn't know. The realization that my best friend didn't turn on me and try to ruin my life nearly sends me into tears. It's so wonderful I can't even believe it. Wait a minute. Do I believe it?

“Claire?” Megan is waiting.

“Um, yeah, so it was pretty bad.” I need to be certain she's telling the truth. So I watch her. I tell her every last vicious thing that's been done to me since Amanda outed me on New Year's, and I watch as the shock registers on her face, and then I know, without a doubt, what the truth is. “You really didn't know, did you?”

And then she's shaking her head, and I'm hugging her like we haven't seen each other in years and crying into her shoulder.

“I'm so sorry they did all that horrible stuff to you,” she says. And then she sits up straight like she's just realized something. “That's why you never apologized to me. I had wondered. I was so pissed because you were with Luke and you weren't even trying to make things right.”

“I really am sorry, though.” My voice comes out all garbled, and I daintily wipe away snot with a bar napkin. “I shouldn't have dated him right after you, or kept it secret. But I promise it didn't happen until after you guys broke up.”

“I know,” says Megan. “I believe you. I shouldn't have dated him either—I still ask myself why I did it.” She stares out at the beach, where a couple of drunken frat boys are setting off Roman candles. “I think I was trying to show Chase I could be as happy as him. And also to prove to myself that I could. Because with Chase, and then again with Luke, I just felt like I had to work so damn hard to be lovable.”

It's crazy that someone as amazing as her could ever think that. “You're lovable, with or without them. I love you. Everyone loves you.”

She shakes her head sadly. “Everyone is afraid of me.”

“That may have been true in tenth grade, but it isn't true anymore.”

“Thanks.” She smiles—the shyest smile I've ever seen from her. And then she looks suddenly serious. “Dating Luke really messed me up. I loved him and I thought he loved me too, but I think maybe he loved you all along. He would always say things about you and compare me to you. He made me feel like being
pretty was my only redeeming quality.”

It never occurred to me that she received the same treatment I did. I remember swelling with hope at Luke's compliments, but I never thought about what those compliments did to her. Now I know exactly how he made her feel.

Something about her story doesn't make sense, though. “I thought the whole reason you liked him was because he made you feel smart.”

“He changed,” she says simply. “He loved you for who you are. If I could have seen that from the beginning, I never would have gone for him.”

“You're wrong. He didn't love me for me.” Megan looks at me in surprise. “I felt the same way, like we were so in love. But then he would talk about how beautiful you are and make me feel like I didn't measure up. The worst was when he made me feel guilty for not having sex with him.”

Megan squeezes my hand. “He knows
exactly
what to say when it comes to sex. When he wouldn't let me kiss him that time I was drunk, I think that was part of his game too. Because it made me feel really safe with him, so then on our second date when he totally switched gears and was really aggressive about taking my clothes off, I just . . . let him.”

“I wish I had known all this sooner. I thought you were trying to get him back from me. That time at prom—”

“At prom? You mean when we were dancing? He came up to me and asked if we could talk. He told me he felt like we never got any closure.”

“That's not what he told me.” I shake my head. “I should have believed you. When he was with me, he wanted you. And when he was with you, he wanted me.”

“So maybe he loved both of us.”

“Or neither of us. You can't treat someone like that if you really love them.”

“You're right. He's an asshole. I can't believe he almost ruined our friendship.”

“I know. He so isn't worth it.”

We swap horror stories about Luke until the sun dips low toward the ocean.

“Oh, I almost forgot. There's something I've been dying to tell you,” says Megan. “I convinced my parents to check out the culinary school at the Art Institute of Atlanta with me, and I showed them the campus, and we met with the faculty, and they changed their minds. They're going to allow me a one-year trial run since it's so close to home, and they're going to pay for it and everything.”

“Megan! That's amazing!”

“I know. And—” Her voice cracks. “And they said they're really proud of me. And you were the only person I wanted to tell, and it sucked.”

“Me too! I mean, there's been so much I wanted to tell you too.” Everything spills out at once. My acceptance letter. Stuff with my mom. Stuff about me trying to be a better, less judgmental version of myself.

“I missed you so much,” she says.

“I missed you too.”

We both go quiet, and I ask the question we're both thinking. “So, where does this leave our friendship?”

“I promise I'm a different person now. I would never let anything like this happen again.”

She's isn't just saying it. She seems different. Is different. It's like being around someone you used to know. She was always confident, but now it's more quiet. Like it's coming from deep inside rather than just a show she's putting on. And it isn't just her. I think about everything that's changed in my life over the past few months. “I'm a different person too.”

“Does that mean we have to become best friends all over again?”

I smile. “That actually sounds like fun.”

That night, Megan and I make another pact. Pact #6: We will never, ever let a boy come between us again. We pinky swear, like always, but then Megan says with a wild look in her eyes, “Let's do something extra to seal this pact.”

“Like what?”

“I don't know. Something symbolic. I'm just so glad we're friends again. And I feel so free now.”

I nod. I feel it too. I look around the deck at the guys in white tank tops smoking cigarettes. “Whatever it is we're going to do, I don't think we're going to find it here.”

“You wanna go back to the hotel?”

“Sure.”

We find the girls so we can let them know.

“We're leaving,” Megan yells to Britney, who is dancing with Buck. I hang back because I don't trust myself to talk to Britney right now, but I can still hear Megan telling her they need to talk later.

“Okay,” Britney yells back. She winces when she sees my face.
That's right. We both know what you did,
I tell her with my eyes.

I'm not going to turn this into a showdown, though. I don't want to make up with her either. Soon we'll be living in different cities and I'll have a whole new life and we can let this friendship fizzle out drama-free.

I don't see Amanda or Amberly, but Sam is nearby standing by himself and half dancing, half rocking in that awkward way guys have.

“Hey! I think Megan and I are leaving now.”

“Okay. So everything is good with you two now, huh?”

I can't believe he noticed. The difference in Megan and me since our talk must be more obvious than I realized.

“Yeah.” I can't help but grin. “I'm so glad we're friends again.”

Sam grins back. “Then I'm happy for you. And I'm happy you dumped Luke. You should hear the way that guy talks about girls. He's such a douche. If he ever starts on you . . .” He gives his head an angry shake.

“Thanks for looking out for me.”

I give him a hug. A hug that doesn't go unnoticed by Amanda, who has just walked up holding two Diet Cokes.

“Hey. I was just coming to tell you we're leaving,” I tell her. For whatever reason, Amanda's involvement in Operation Ruin
Claire's Life hurts a lot less. Probably because I never had any delusions she was my friend to begin with.

“Okay. I'm going to stay with Sam.” She puts emphasis on his name, like it signifies her ownership of him, and latches onto his arm.

It's so beautiful outside Megan and I decide to walk home on the beach. I try to ignore everything I've ever heard about how dangerous that is for two teenage girls at night, but I still think I see muggers and rapists lurking in every dark shadow and behind every trash can. We make it back safely to find something even worse lurking in the hotel lobby: Luke. He's been attempting to burn his way through every girl in school since we broke up.

“Hey.” He seems startled to see us, especially together. “So, you guys are friends again.”

His speech is slurred. He's drunk.

“Yeah, we are.” Megan grabs my hand as she says it. I can't tell if she's offering support or taking it, but it makes me feel stronger either way.

“You know, both you girls are so guh-reat. Sooo beautiful. I know I was a jerk, but you can't blame me for wanting both of you.”

Megan and I glance sideways at each other. We're both annoyed.

“But thash the problem. There's both of you. Hey, I was just gonna go for a swim,” he tells me. “Why don't you come with me?” he says to Megan.

Megan's eyes look like they could set something on fire.

“Which one of us are you even asking?”

“Either of you. Both of you.” He shrugs. “I wanna make it up to you. I feel like we never got any closure.”

My eyes narrow at the word
closure
. Before either of us can tell him we'd rather swim with open wounds during Shark Week, the elevator opens and out walks a girl who is as drunk as or drunker than Luke. Half of her miniskirt is tucked into her bikini bottoms. She stumbles over to him.

“Luke,” she says in his ear, too drunk to realize her whisper is loud enough for us to hear. “Are you ready to go skinny-dipping now?”

“Sure.”

He gives us an arrogant, lopsided smile (stupid freaking dimples) and walks off with his fingers tucked underneath her bikini straps.