Awkward (17 page)

“Yeah. Why don’t we go somewhere quiet to talk.” And before I could screw up the moment, he took my hand and led me to the front door—just like I’d imagined so many times before.

Only when I imagined it, I wasn’t wearing heels that cut off my circulation. Plus I pictured something more along the lines of strolling together instead of being dragged. And in those daydreams I didn’t keep banging into people so that I had to apologize with every step.

Still, it was great. Really.

I could see why he decided to change our venue. The air was refreshingly chilly after the sweltering heat of the house crammed past capacity. We could speak out here without fighting to be heard over music. Not that we were alone. Tons of kids enjoyed the landscaping that must have cost Spencer’s parents a small fortune. There was a fountain. I kid you not, a legit fountain that glowed and gurgled beautifully. It all felt so romantic. The front porch railing had white twisty spindles and was perfect for a girl to put her weight on instead of taking off her heels. So I leaned on it as I looked at Patrick.

Some people are made for moonlight. It brought out the darkness in his brown eyes. Even without a jacket I began to feel warmer.

“Hi,” I said simply. Everything was perfect. Even the whiff of weed that lingered in the air was perfect. “What’s on your mind?”

“You.”

He moved closer and my heart began to beat seriously fast. All I could think was,
It’s going to happen! Patrick’s going to kiss me! Any second now …

“Wh-what about me?”

Why couldn’t I just shut up and let him do it?

“That I’m in love with you.”

I jerked away from him, breaking the spell of the moonlight, as I latched onto the railing to keep myself steady. My legs were wobbling.

“You’re
what?!
” I said in disbelief … and maybe in a bit of horror. It was as if he’d told me, “I’m part alligator” or “I’m an undercover narcotics agent.”

“I said, I’m in love with you,” he repeated defensively.

I should have kept my mouth shut. Just nodded and cooed, “Oh? Why don’t you show me?” Then I should’ve kissed him, but I just couldn’t do it.

“No.” I shook my head and prayed that any second I would wake up and he wouldn’t be looking daggers at me. “No, you’re not.”

“What are you talking about? I think I know how I feel, Mackenzie!”

Oh yeah, no one can kill a romantic moment like me.

“You, just—you
can’t
love me because … you don’t even know me yet!”

And that’s what was missing, I realized as he looked at me with stony coolness. Patrick had never expressed any interest up until a week ago. One lunch conversation and now he supposedly loved me?

Doubtful.

There was a momentary pause while Patrick soaked this in. Then his expression slowly softened, and I thought,
Maybe he gets it now. Maybe he sees that to love someone you have to accept them—quirks included.
I hoped he’d say, “Then let’s fix that. Let’s get to know each other.” Then he’d gently shake my hand as if we were being formally introduced. “I’m Patrick and I’m ready to tell you anything, but first I’d like to hear about you.”

I’d be a goner. I’d be freaking putty in his hands.

Instead he looked soulfully into my eyes. “I know you, Mackenzie.”

Too bad, he had to say
that
.

“That’s a logical fallacy. It’s called ‘begging the question.’ You didn’t actually challenge my premise that you don’t know me. Instead, you just reasserted that you do.” I tried to smile, but I felt sick. “That’s how I think—all the time. Still love me?”

I took his icy silence as one hell of a retraction. “I didn’t think so.”

It hurt. Maybe it shouldn’t have, since I was doing the pulling back, but it stung like a jellyfish. I guess that’s what happens when you discover that you’ve had a gigantic crush on a boy who doesn’t really exist … for years.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it. I was sorry—for both of us. “I wish I were the girl you’re looking for. But I’m just … not.”

Patrick didn’t just shrug and say, “Well, we can always be friends.” Instead his anger flowed. “That’s not it. You think you can do better than me, don’t you?” The disgust in his voice would have made me step back if I hadn’t already been trapped by the porch.

“What? No!”

“You think now that you’re famous, you’re too good for someone in high school.” The way he eyed my dress made me feel exposed. “Or maybe I’m just not rich enough. Is that why you’ve been throwing yourself at Logan and Spencer?”

A hard slap across my face would have felt less painful.

“Wow.” That’s all I could say for a second because really, what else was there? “From love to gold digger in under thirty seconds. That’s … wow. I guess if you had
really
loved me, you would’ve called me a slut.”

I stood up straighter and released the railing. Time to put all the weight on my own two feet.

“If you think I pursue guys based on their bank accounts, then you don’t know me at all.” I studied him carefully. “That’s more
your
style, right? You only started pouring on the charm after Tim said I was cool. You would’ve dumped me if I couldn’t get your photo in the papers.” My stomach clenched viciously. “And I was stupid enough to buy into it. I think you should leave now.”

“You’re going to regret this, Mackenzie.” His voice was steady now. Cold and steady.

“Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But soon and for the rest of my life.” I quoted
Casablanca
but gave the line way more sarcasm than Humphrey Bogart had.

“What?” His stiffness wavered into confusion.

“Nothing … famous movie line. Forget it.”

“You, Mackenzie,” he said slowly, “have a thesaurus where your heart should be.”

And with that he disappeared into the house.

“Encyclopedia,” I corrected as I stared out into the night. It was beautiful and lonesome at the same time, with small lights illuminating the pathway from the fountain to the gazebo. “I have an encyclopedia where my heart should be.”

That’s what I muttered when I saw
exactly
where Logan and Chelsea had gone. They were standing in the center of the gazebo, and if I hadn’t been looking at the structure, willing myself not to cry over Patrick, I never would have seen Chelsea reach up, take Logan’s face in her hands, and kiss him.

So the off again was definitely on again.

And I knew then that Patrick was very wrong about my heart, because if it had actually been an encyclopedia I could have watched it all with perfect composure. Instead, I turned resolutely and marched back into the party.

I figured that alcohol was a heartache and teenage rebellion cliché for a reason. It was time for me to give it a try.

Which, as far as plans go, might have been my worst one yet.

I
drafted Spencer right off. Considering that he was the only person I knew beyond a causal “hey, how’s it going?” in the hallways, that might not be too surprising.

And it seemed to me that it’s a good idea to explore new territory with a guide who’s familiar with the route—kind of like diving with a buddy.

Anyhow, I grabbed his arm, but this time it was to steer him away from a group of girls and toward the makeshift bar.

“Not that I don’t like your aggressive tactics, but …” He paused when he saw the way my eyes focused on the alcohol. “What’s going on?”

I smiled, and for the first time since I’d come to that stupid party, I started to relax. “You are going to pour me a drink.”

His grin widened. “Am I, now?”

“Yep.” I leaned forward and pulled a clean red plastic cup from a stack. “What do you recommend?”

“That depends. What do you like?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea, and I doubt I’ll enjoy any of it.”

“But you still want to drink?”

I handed him the cup. “Fill ’er up.”

“Okay, so we can get you some girly drink that tastes like fruit, or”—he poured liquid into the cup—“you can take this shot of tequila and chase it with some lime.”

“Faulty dilemma,” I muttered.

“What?”

“Faulty dilemma fallacy. You only gave two options, and … just hand it over.”

In a few practiced moves, Spencer had salt on my hand and a slice of lime oozing on the countertop.

“Okay, it’s simple. Salt. Shot. Lime. Got it?”

I ran through it a few times in my head.
Salt, shot, lime. Salt, shot, lime. Oh, my god, have I lost my mind?! This is so
NOT
me!

“Got it.”

“Okay. Go.”

We were starting to generate a small crowd. I guess people wanted to see strait-laced Mackenzie Wellesley take her first shot. Talk about peer pressure, I was surrounded by strangers who were all saying stuff like, “You’ve got this!” and “You can do it!”

I licked the salt in my palm, and tossed back the tequila like I’d seen in the movies.

I very nearly choked.

It felt like I’d been blasted by a furnace. A strange fire cruised down my throat, followed closely by the taste of something sharp—almost acidic. Hastily I sucked on the lime while everyone around me cheered. When I looked up at Spencer, the warmth had seeped to my stomach and pooled there, glowing while the tang of the lime juice coated my mouth.

“I did it!” Even as I held up the empty cup I couldn’t believe it. I don’t know what I expected: divine intervention, a parent storming in, or maybe a concerned friend whisking me away. But I never thought I’d have the guts to do a shot of tequila.

“Did you see that?!” I demanded to Spencer. “I did it!”

“Yeah, downed it like a champ. Want another one?”

The warmth felt really good, especially after Patrick had flash-frozen me. And maybe it was my imagination, but I already felt less tense.

“I’m in!” I decided. Another cheer rose as I smiled at everyone. “Who wants to join me?”

Half an hour later I was in a very happy place. Spencer poured the drinks until a crash from the kitchen forced him to leave his post. Another hockey player named Kevin was more than happy to fill in for him. I felt like I was floating—only connected to my body through a tenuous thread. It would have disconcerted me if it hadn’t been for the fact that I rather enjoyed the sensation.

“This is great!” I told Kevin and his girlfriend, Annie, happily as I sucked on my lime. “You guys are so cool! Isn’t it crazy that we go to the same school and we’ve never really talked?”

They laughed and agreed in the way that people who are tipsy support people who are drunk.

I turned to Annie. “You are really pretty. I bet it’d be fun to be you. Kevin, don’t you think it’d be fun to be Annie?”

Lady Gaga came pounding through the speakers.

“We have to dance!” I declared. “It’s ‘Poker Face.’ You have to dance!” I didn’t give them time to protest. Laughing, the three of us joined the masses on the makeshift dance floor that was formerly a living room. My whole body felt loose, whether from the alcohol or the music I couldn’t be sure, and I never wanted my body to stop absorbing every beat.

“Melanie!” I hollered when I saw her talking to Dylan in a corner away from the action. I raced over. “You have to dance with me! You should meet Kevin and Annie too.”

“Sure,” she said agreeably, but her eyebrows bunched together as she examined me. “Mackenzie, are you okay?”

“I’m great! Well, except for the encyclopedia.”

Dylan followed us to the dance floor, and Melanie turned to him in alarm. “Did you understand that?”

He shook his head and struggled to hold me in place. “Mackenzie, have you taken anything?”

“Salt, shot, lime. Can you believe it!? I don’t know what I expected, but it feels really warm. Heat is just radiating from me—like I’m
nuclear
or something. Like I’m a
nuclear bomb!
I’m the bomb! Has anyone considered alcohol as an energy source?” I concentrated on getting my words out correctly. “Do I look like a bobblehead? Because I can’t stop nodding. I wonder if dashboard hula girls feel like this.”

Dylan started pulling me toward the front door.

“Why is everyone being dragged tonight?” I asked no one in particular. “What’s wrong with walking? I like walking. It’s nice. Rollerblading is better, but you can’t do that here.”

“Dylan, what are we going to do with her?” Melanie asked him urgently. “She’s trashed. We can’t let your mom see her like this.”

I smiled sleepily at Melanie as my energy drained out. I put an arm around Dylan’s shoulder.

“Mom will be okay, but do I have to go back? I’ll just sleep on Dylan.” I let my head rest against his. “You’re a really great brother. I don’t tell you that enough. Oh, and Dad should have asked about you today.”

I felt Dylan stiffen. “Dad called?”

“Yeah. Guess I had to become famous to get us a phone call.” He wrapped an arm around my waist to keep me upright. “He shouldn’t have left you,” I whispered, snuggling closer. “You’re the best.”

“What happened to her?”

My head jerked up at the sound of Logan’s voice. “Oh, hey! Great party. I think the world is spinning now.” I dimly noticed Spencer and Chelsea right next to him. “Hey, buddy. Salt, shot, lime,” I repeated. “Still got it!”

Logan turned on Spencer. “How many shots did she have?”

“About two and a half when I left. I was going to cut her off, Logan. I swear!”

Logan turned up my face so I could look into his eyes. “Okay, Mack. Did you drink after Spencer left?”

“Sure,” I said brightly, getting my second wind. Maybe because the touch of his fingers on my face made me feel like I’d just downed another shot. “With Kevin and Annie.”

“Shit!” was Dylan’s way of summing up the situation.

I nudged him with my elbow.

“Language!” I said in my best imitation of our mom.

“Okay, we need to sober her up. How are you guys getting home?”

“Corey was going to pick us up later,” Melanie told him nervously. “After his date. But I don’t think she’s going to be upright that long.”

Logan nodded. “Okay. Are the two of you sober?” He waited for Dylan’s affirmative before continuing. “Good. Then you can stay here and man my post while I drive her back.”