“We’ll need costumes,” I say, and receive a chorus of groans from all three women. “Let’s go raid my mom’s closet.”
My mother’s closet is a treasure trove of vintage clothes. She’s kept everything over the years, and right now, I love her for it. She has everything from her old bell-bottom jeans to tacky dresses to classic pieces I make a note to ask her to borrow. Today, I’m looking for anything with a bright puffy sleeve, and I find four dresses that work. They’re all gaudy jewel-toned monstrosities that are perfect for an ’80s prom theme.
I dole them out between us, and as much as the girls complained about my plan initially, they’ve gotten into the idea now, giggling and squealing as they try on the dresses. We all run through the hall and crowd around the mirror in the bathroom where I keep my hair tools and makeup. A bit of blue eyeshadow and a lot of teasing later, we look equal parts hideous and amazing.
The school parkinglot is busy when we roll up, and I find what seems like the last spot to park the Audi. We allclimb out and approach the main entrance which has been decorated with blue and silver balloons forming an arch way. A sign readsClass of ’15 Reunionwith an arrow pointing through the doors towards the gymnasium.
“Ready to crash a high school reunion, ladies?”
Spencer responds with an “Ow owww!”
Okay, so maybe she’s had a little too much sangria in the sunshine. That may have impacted her decision to participate. Ally isn’t as excited as Spencer is, nor as wasted, and I get the feeling she’s only here to keep Spencer out of trouble.
Arm in arm, the four of us enter the high school, file into the gymnasium, and take a look around at everyone who is dressed … very normally. No one is wearing a tacky suit or a poofy dress. It’s verging on business casual. Some gazes catch on us standing at the door, and a whispers ripple through the crowd. Before long, all eyes are on us, and a nervous laugh bubbles up my throat.
As people turn back around, returning to their conversations, a gap in the throng opens and I lock eyes with Hudson, looking a little too smug, a little too amused.
“Well, this is humiliating,” Ally says, and Spencer lets out a little hiccup beside her.
I unwind my arms from theirs and march off with purpose towards the only person who is childish enough to pull something like this.
CHAPTER 17
HUDSON
Wren is charging towards me.She’s clearly angry. She’s furious. And she’s beautiful. That stupid dress with the puff sleeves is doing something interesting to me. The big kinky hair secured in a messy high ponytail, the deep red on her lips that stands out against the pink polyester. I’ve never seen Wren in pink. It’s a funny contradiction to the evil glare she’s wearing on her face.
“Real mature, Landry,” Wren barks.
“I thought you would have known it was a joke.” I throw my hands up in innocence. “Not my fault you didn’t see the actual invite.” I can’t keep the grin from my face. This is fucking great. It’s exactly the type of thing Wren and I used to do to torture each other as teenagers. Pulling a successful prank on her or beating her at some dumb game always gave me a special thrill, and this might be my best work yet. I’m on top of the world.
It’s even more satisfying because it flies in the face of everything this new version of Wren is. Theimpeccably dressed, stuck-up version I don’t recognize. That version of Wren probably came here tonight hoping it would give her some confidence boost, seeing all the people we went to school with who never grew up and left Heartwood. But throwing some fancy career in people’s faces doesn’t quite have the same effect when you look like … that.
Her blood-red mouth works as she thinks of something to snap back with. She stammers, and then gives up, and to my surprise, she laughs. She throws her head back and laughs, and the sound of it is incredible. Ever since she and I laughed together on her patio, I’ve wanted to hear it again. It still sounds the same as I remember. Because at her core, that’s who she is. Someone who doesn’t care so much about other people’s opinions. Someone who is uninhibited, free, full of joy. And here she is, that version of Wren unlocked.
“You’re fucking insufferable, you know that, Landry?” she says.
“You look fucking incredible, you know that, Miller?” I let out a soft chuckle, and our eyes linger a little longer than usual when she looks up.
“Yo, Landry, beer pong?” One of my old buddies slaps me between the shoulder blades on his way past me, as he jogs over to the table in the corner of the gymnasium. I glance quickly back at Wren.
“I’m gonna go,” I start.
“Sure, fine, whatever. This isn’t over, by the way,” Wren says. “Your little joke tonight?” She points her index finger toward me. “You’re going to pay for it.”
My mouth slides into a cheeky grin.
“Bring it on.”
“Let’s hope you can play under pressure.” I’m not sure what she means by it, but by the time I’m set up on my side of the table, ready to throw my first ball, I do.
She’s gathered Ally, Spencer, and Poppy, and they’re all sitting on the bleachers, watching me intently. I give my head a shake. Having Wren’s eyes on me right now is a little unnerving. It keeps a small part of my attention on the sidelines. She’s distracting.
I pull my hand back and aim, and right as the ball leaves my fingers, one of the girls shouts “Don’t fuck it up!” and my ball goes flying off to the side, missing all the red solo cups. Shit.
“Drink, drink, drink!” Another one of them shouts. I don’t know who it was, and I refuse to look over there. I refuse to let it show how much of an effect Wren has on me.
A ball lands squarely in one of my cups, meaning I drink again. At this rate, I’m going to be smashed by the end of the night. And it’ll be all Wren’s doing, because her eyes on me are all I can focus on.
