Hard lines appeared around Stephen’s nose; he looked like he’d just smelled something foul as he stared down into his whiskey.
“Stephen, who was that guy?”
“Some idiot I knew in college.”
“Oh.” I wondered if Brett had been alluding to the fact that Stephen had had his business idea stolen from under him; that would explain Stephen’s reaction. “What a jerk.”
Stephen worked a muscle in his jaw and glared back at Brett. He muttered darkly under his breath.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. Let’s go.” And he pulled me back onto the dance floor.
After a while, Stephen seemed to shake off the dark mood that seeing Brett had inspired. I was relieved, because it was hard enough to be charming when he was in a normal mood, given how jittery I always felt in his presence; with him pissed off and scowling, it was nearly impossible for me to make it fun. But after a particularly sexy Latin song, a smile crept back onto his face. I noticed the girls were back at the bar—Amy’s dance partner hadn’t stuck around—so we joined them.
Eva and I exchanged thrilled looks behind Jasmine’s back at thefact that Jasmine wasstill there. We were going on two hours since they’d been introduced and she seemed to be thoroughly enjoying Eva’s presence. When Stephen went to the bathroom, I took the opportunity to chat with them, making sure to slip in some anecdotes that made Eva look good. Jasmine ate it all up. Stephen returned and struck up a conversation with Amy, who still looked starstruck. (I didn’t hate the fact that I was dating a guy who had that effect on people.) Glancing over at them, I felt a rush of warmth: Stephen was truly making an effort to get to know my friends. Maybe it would be time to introduce him to my family soon—okay, maybe just Jane; I didn’t think Mom could handle it. After all, no matter how handsome he was, he was no Butkus.
As Jasmine told an amusing story about her sister’s dog, Amy glanced over her shoulder at us. I waved happily. She shifted to one side and I noticed the bright orange of Brett’s shirt nearby; Stephen noticed it too. I saw him pull a face and then shake it off, no doubt attempting to maintain a friendly demeanor for Amy. And then all thought of the weirdness with Brett vanished from my mind when the first notes of an ABBA song blared.
Eva and I shrieked, and—to her everlasting credit—so did Jasmine. We hustled onto the dance floor along with most of Havana’s female population. A mad attempt at disco ensued. A few songs and a bathroom break later, I realized Stephen had disappeared. I found the girls at a table and asked them where he had gone.
“Not sure,” Amy said. “I think he left.”
“Oh.” I was slightly crestfallen. “He was a bit upset earlier. He probably just went home.”
I had been looking forward to ending up at homewithhim—he smelledsogood—but given how tired and sweaty I was, I wasn’t too disappointed.
“I think I’m going to head out.” Amy’s eyes were on her phone.
“Really? Are you sure?” Eva sounded disappointed.
Amy nodded, her lips pressed together. “I’m tired.”
We hugged her goodbye, and she slipped off through the still-crowded dance floor.
“Did she seem weird to you?” Eva asked.
“Probably just tired, like she said.” I didn’t add that I thought being the fifth wheel had bothered her more than she’d let on. I felt a guilty pang, wishing I had spent more time talking to her about Ryan and everything.
The three of us ended the night with burgers and shakes from Dick’s, and then I excused myself, leaving Eva alone with Jasmine. On the bus home, I took out my phone to see if Stephen had sent me any messages. He hadn’t. I had seven texts from Mom asking if I’d started planning Jane’s bachelorette party yet, which I ignored. And I had one new Instagram message. For some reason that I could not account for, my heart sped up as I opened it.
It was from Christopher. “How did your friend do? I hope everything worked out.” With a smiley face.
Something welled up in me—something sad, quite incongruous with the thoughtful message I’d just read. And as my thumb flicked from Instagram over to my text messages with Stephen, I realized that Christopher’s kindness made a harsh juxtaposition with Stephen’s silence.
I typed out a message to Stephen: “You disappeared! Are you okay? It was fun dancing with you tonight. Xoxo.”
He didn’t respond.
CHAPTER 9
STEPHEN EVENTUALLY CALLED MEback. He apologized for leaving without saying goodbye that night, but I still had this feeling that something was up. He was being squirrelly about making plans to hang out. But tonight was Jane and Owen’s engagement party, so I was too busy to dwell on Stephen.
The party was a relatively small affair—not. Mom had invited every person with any possible link to our family, Jane, or Owen. All of her friends. All of Jane’s friends. Our rabbi. Owen’s third cousin once removed, the only family he had in town. Jane’s first grade teacher—ninety-three now, so I don’t think she knew exactly why she was there. Jane’s boss. The Butkuses sent their regrets.
Jane was glowing. We’d gone shopping the previous weekend, and she’d gotten the most angelic dress: a silver midi with spaghetti straps and a slit up one thigh. Her hair was down, sleek and freshly highlighted, and she was wearing a shimmery pink lip gloss with the rest of her makeup minimal and flawless. No jewelry other than her gorgeous new ring, which people asked to see about a thousand times. My sister is goals, as the kids these days would say.
And Owen—well, of course he was perfect. He was so friendly and smiley, the most charming groom-to-be.
