Jase nods.
“Yeah, well, I had never been to one, and I couldn’t wait to go, but I came down with a fever earlier that week. By the time Friday rolled around, I was feeling better and kept pleading with my parents to go, but my temperature was still a little too high. It pretty much broke my little four-year-old heart. When my mom pulled up to the front of the school the following Monday, Vanessa and I got out of the car, but my mom called me back over.
“I felt fine, but she still put a hand to my forehead and told me to get back in the car. I remember her calling the school and telling them I was still under the weather, but instead of returning to our house, she turned onto the highway. At first, I was terrified she was taking me to the doctor, only to find her pulling into the parking lot of the zoo a half hour later.”
“And that’s where you got Hubert.” Jase chuckles in understanding, the warmth of his breath rustling my hair. “It was the name of the lead penguin at the exhibit.”
“My mom and I spent the entire day there seeing every last animal they had, but he was my favorite. Hence, the beginning of my plushy collection.” Only a few tears escape my lashes, but there’s a comfort in it. A cleansing. And damn it, it feels good being able to talk openly about her without feeling like I’m walking on paper-thin ice. “Adults tend to forget what it’s like being a kid, knowing that our ‘silly’ problems don’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, but my mom always treated them like they did. Even when she couldn’t give Vanessa or Derek or me what we needed, she always did her hardest to find us the best substitute. And that’s what this place feels like. I may not be allowed to have ‘normal’ teenage experiences, like going out with friends on Friday night to watch the football game or joining everybody and getting drunk on the beach, but at least there’s one thing I have that no one else does. It makes things…less lonely somehow.”
I don’t know what I expect him to say or what could possibly be going through his mind, but the look he gives me certainly isn’t it. I can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he studies my face.
“What?”
The warmth in Jase’s smile doesn’t peter, but a dash of mischief makes its way in there too. “What are your plans for the Fourth?”
CHAPTER 16
INTO YOU
JULY, 4 YEARS AGO
This is so stupid.
“We’re going to get caught,” I whisper, but it falls on deaf ears. Jase is already ducking into the men’s restroom to get changed.
The Fourth of July celebration at the country club is kind of a big deal. It holds a massive fundraiser, giving the vacationing politicians, celebrities, and business moguls the perfect excuse for a photo op to show off their quote-unquote humanitarian side before getting shitfaced once the cameras go away. Sadly, the celebrities showing up aren’t hot new rock stars or boy bands or hunky actors. They’re the people whose greatest achievements are at least a decade or two behind them, who coast through life now by name recognition and residuals, who think they can fight the clock by pumping their faces full of fillers and plastic. They’re the people you really don’t want to be around. Seriously, they seem to despise teenagers, especially their own.
It’s exactly why I’ve spent the last hour hugging the wall and nibbling on an occasional cracker—it’s the only normal food they’re serving right now. Yep, you read that correctly. They’re serving only banquet standards. No hot dogs, hamburgers, ormacaroni salad here. It’s all caviar, stuffed grape leaves, and herbed squash confit.
Since Jase suspected this party would be as much of a bore as it has proven to be, he prepared ahead of time…with a plan that will likely leave me grounded until I’m thirty.
I point this out to Jase when he reemerges into the hallway, but he still pulls out the plastic grocery bag I had given him earlier from his backpack and directs me to the women’s restroom.
“You’ll only get groundedifwe get caught, so I suggest you move fast.”
We’re using the restrooms as far away from the party as possible, but there is still some foot traffic, and Jase’s clothes aren’t exactly up to country club standards at the moment. Having changed out of the preppy monstrosity his father had forced him to wear, he now stands in the hallway donned in black board shorts, a white linen button-up, and flip-flops. My new attire won’t be any better.
I’m grateful to hear the only other occupants leave the bathroom as I finish changing in my own stall, because I know I need a mirror. All the clothes I own are either bought by Blythe or handed down from my sister, and I usually only get the articles that my stepmom deems suitable.
Vanessa had just cleaned out her closet, and when Jase suggested his plans for tonight, Imayhave snuck into the basement and pilfered a few items out of the clothing donation bags. My sister’s casual outfits when hanging out with her friends are always cute, so this seemed like a safe bet. Looking down at myself, however, everything seemssmall.
I’m already small, in every sense of the word, so I figured wearing some of Vanessa’s old summer clothes would fit the same way the rest of her closet does on me: slightly baggy. That doesn’t seem to be the case here. Easing the stall door open,I dare to steal a glance at my reflection in the large mirror positioned above the communal sinks.
It’s just as bad as I feared. This outfit must have been sitting in my sister’s closet for at least five years, because there’s no way in hell she could wear it now. Even for how slender she is, Vanessa still has a feminine frame and is easily four inches taller than me. On her, these clothes would be scraps of fabric. Hell, onme, they’re scraps of fabric. The black tank top hugs my nonexistent curves, and the hem of the frayed denim shorts comes up so high that I may as well be in my underwear. I’ve never shown off this much skin in years, even at a beach or pool.
I don’t know how long I stand there yanking on the hem of my clothes, as if I can somehow stretch out the denim a good five inches, but I must waste enough time to warrant Jase’s concern. A knock comes from the other side of the main door, and I have no choice but to answer.
When I confirm I’m the only one in here, Jase slips in between the door and wall with the grace of a 007 agent evading enemy detection, hearing voices make their way down the hall. “Ready?”
Before self-preservation can convince me to dive back into the stall, he sees me in all my bony glory as I continue yanking fruitlessly at the hem of the shorts.
“Well, don’t you look nice.” He smiles, and I want to bury my head in the garbage can just to not see it.
“I lookstupid.” I whirl around to the stall, ready to change back into the dress Blythe made me wear, but Jase anticipates the move, blocking my path.
“No way in hell. You look great, and you already said how uncomfortable you were in this,” he says, plucking up the plastic bag I had shoved my dress and shoes into.
He’s not wrong. I don’t know what exactly either is made of, though I suspect they’re part tree bark and part sandpaper. Still,I make a move to snatch the bag away from Jase, but he easily holds it out of my reach even as I resort to practically climbing him. He shoves it into his backpack, and there’s a definitive click as he sets the lockable zipper into place.
