It was different now—between all of us. We'd said what needed to be said, but that didn’t mean it was resolved. It just meant it was out in the open. The silence was less dangerous, maybe. But the tension still simmered, low and steady like the beat of the bass-line behind us.
People started arriving in trickles at first—Sharon, with her perfect nails and fake laugh. She gave me a too-long look, but I just nodded and turned away. I wasn’t going to get pulled back into that.
Patty showed up in a dress I was sure was chosen specifically to ruin Archie’s night. Judging by the twitch in his smirk, it was working.
“Exes,” Jake muttered under his breath as Maria came through the gate. “Like roaches. They come out for the snacks and the fire.”
“Some of themarethe fire,” Archie quipped.
Laura came next, wrapped around some senior guy I didn’t know, all legs and lip gloss and zero shame.
Coop’s jaw clenched. “Why the hell did you invite her?—”
“I didn’t.” Archie cut him off, voice syrupy. “She’snota senior, remember? Must be her new ride. Hopefully, he noticed that she’s hitched herself on.”
“Oh my god, let it go,” Coop groaned.
“Did you actually break up with her?” Call it morbid curiosity, but Laura looked very attached to Baker? Braden? I couldn’t remember the guy’s name.
“Don’t ask,” Coop muttered.
“She doesn’t look like she’s upset, so maybe you’re off the hook.” Jake shrugged. It was about as philosophical as he was going to get.
Then Rachel Manning walked in.
She wore black, like she was attending a funeral. A one piece with a sarong. Classy, and as far from slut as you could get. Hair up. Lips sharp. Eyes sharper. She clocked Archie immediately.
“Oh good,” she said, strolling in our direction. “The peacocks are in formation.”
“Rachel.” Archie tipped his glass like he was genuinely delighted. “Come to add poison to the punch?”
“No need,” she said. “I brought my own.”
I liked her less than I respected her, and I respected her a lot. Probably more than I wanted to admit.
“What are you doing here?” Jake asked, not even pretending to be polite.
She arched a brow. “Is that any way to speak to the girl who’s been keeping your secrets?”
That shut him up. For a second. Which secrets was she referring to?
Coop gave her a warning look, but Rachel just continued past, plucked a drink off the table, and headed for the deep end of the pool like she, not Archie, ruled here.
“Why do I feel like she’s going to murder someone before the night’s over?” I asked.
“She won’t,” Archie said. “She likes an audience too much.”
“She could always murderhim.” Jake sounded almost cheerful. “I’d help.”
I snorted. “Dude, you have got to chill.”
“Fuck you, Bubba.” There went the cheer.
I took a swallow of the cold beer and just shook my head.
More people arrived. The volume picked up. Football players. Cheerleaders. That weird group from theater who somehow got the invite and were now reenacting Hamilton by the fire pit.
And still—no sign of Frankie.
