I woke up this morning in a daze. I dreamed of him. We were swinging at the park, and he kept telling me to be careful. I kept pumping… pushing, pushing, pushing… until I disappeared into the clouds. He didn’t follow.

I was still half asleep when I texted him this morning. This time, offering to just drop his jacket off when he’s not at The Oak so we won’t have to see each other. The message seemed to go through. I believed him when he said he didn’t actually know how to block someone, but he has his read receipts turned off.

I keep asking myself if I want to hear from him for my own peace of mind or for his sake.

Why do I keep trying? How did I go from wanting to get in his pants to caring deeply about whether he’s okay?

I use one arm to paddle myself toward the stairs, decidedly done with laying out for today. My tan looks awesome, but I need to do something with myself before I go crazy.

That stupid party is tonight, and I’ve never wanted to go to anything less. But Paige is excited. And I know if I back out now, it’ll hurt her chances of getting to spend time with Kyle, and I’m not that kind of friend.

I climb out of the pool and towel off, turning the sound system off with my phone, then checking my messages.

He hasn’t responded to any of my attempts to reach him over the last three days. But I’m still disappointed when I don’t have anything from Dempsey.

I send Paige a text asking if she wants to pregame at my house or hers beforehand, knowing she’ll end up here like always. After all, I have the whole house to myself.

14. Madde

Chapter 14

Madde

Paige parks her car on the side of the road behind the other twenty plus vehicles lining the street. Now that I’m here, I remember this house. Andrew Adley lives on the north side of town, near where Jake grew up. He was a grade ahead of me in school, and he was captain of the boys’ lacrosse team his senior year. His family has a huge historical home, as well as this old, converted barn with a built-in bar, a makeshift stage and dance floor, and a loft filled with beanbag chairs and Jerry Garcia posters.

Groovy, baby.

“I have a feeling tonight is going to be epic,” Paige proclaims as she flips down the visor mirror to reapply her lip gloss.

I try to garner up even a fraction of her excitement as I watch her primp her perfectly made-up face.