Solving for Ex (17 page)

The doorbell rang, and even though I was expecting it, I jumped half a foot. I swiped on one more coat of lip gloss and felt my stomach flip as I imagined the look on Brendan’s face when he saw me. Wow, Ash, he’d joke. You clean up nice. And I’d roll my eyes like I didn’t care what he thought.

I skipped down the stairs, feeling jittery all over. When I reached out for the door handle, I realized my whole arm was shaking. Get it together, Price.

Vincent wore dark jeans, a simple brown button-down with cream stripes, and the most gorgeous-smelling cologne I’d ever smelled on anyone. I seriously fought the urge to lean into him and press my nose into his neck, and my lips to his Adam’s apple.

It felt foreign to me that I didn’t know anything about where Brendan’s parents were or what they were doing this weekend. It was amazing how seven weeks of not hanging out all the time could change my relationship with the people next door. I craned my neck out the front door and looked at the Thomas house.

Oh, my God. How had I not noticed the prep going on all day? The porch was covered in pink streamers, and every single light in every single room shone bright against the darkening night. Dozens of paper lanterns lined the walkway. Music thumped and crashed from the living room, coming from what sounded like a live band—had Vincent really hired a live band?—and through the side window I could see tables filled with food and at least three fancy cakes.

My mouth formed an “o.” “Wow. That is…wow,” I said, setting my teeth in a weird half-shock, half-smile expression. Vincent held out his arm for me, and I took it, telling myself to enjoy the way his bicep felt beneath my fingers. Birthday princess. Think birthday princess. Try to be special, Ashley. Try to act like you think you are.

I took a deep breath and smiled up at Vincent. “So, I guess we can just walk over?”

We crossed the lawn and had almost made it to Brendan’s porch when Vincent stopped and held me out at arm’s length. “Thank you,” he said, grinning down at me.

“For what?” I asked. “Thank you. This is very sweet.”

“I know it’s not your thing. I guess I just wanted to do something awesome for you, and parties are how we do awesome in Hollywood.”

“No, this is great. Really. I’m…I’m doing what you said. Trying new things. Exploring my options.” And for the first time when I said it, when I talked to him and looked him in the eye, instead of my stomach turning, my heart fluttered a little. This felt exciting. Nice. Certainly, gorgeous Vincent looking at me like I was a supermodel didn’t hurt.

“Well,” he said, turning and holding his arm out to me again, “let’s get in there.”

Ω

A car door slammed behind us before we made it, and three lacrosse players stepped out of their Lexus, popping the trunk and hoisting out something huge, metal, and heavy. . It took two of them to carry it and the other one to shut the trunk behind him.

“Is that what I…”

“Hey, guys!” Vincent called. “Thanks. It can just go in the kitchen.”

“Is that a…keg?”

“Yep,” Vincent said, looking pleased with himself. “Is everything okay?”

I tried to keep my face calm. “Yeah. Yeah, totally. Just, when you said ‘chill party,’ I thought…”

“Yep. Everyone can have a little something to drink, get nice and relaxed, have a good time. Everything will be quiet. And very, very chill.”

“Chill,” I repeated, a bit numbly.

“Hey, you aren’t worried, are you? It’ll all be fine. Trust me.”

We climbed the steps and the music started to drown out his voice already. If the level of chill was related to volume of the band, this party was going to be the exact opposite of chill. Vincent swung his arm around my neck, just like he’d done the last week, resting his forearm on my shoulder. “Birthday girl’s here!” he crowed to the room full of kids from Mansfield Prep already filling Brendan’s living room, which at least someone had had the good sense to move most of the furniture out of.

The smell was the first thing I noticed. Pungent, rank, and sharp, alcohol was definitely in the air. Even though I almost never went to parties, I still recognized the scent. And ever since that night at Sadie, when the alcohol made Brendan do and say things he probably wouldn’t have otherwise, I was pretty sure I didn’t want that smell near me again.

The band, complete with guitar, bass, drums and horns, struck up a version of “Happy Birthday.” Everyone in the room joined in the singing and applauded for five seconds before the band launched into another song.

Everyone went back to dancing, and the room felt sweatier by the second. Vincent let his fingers trail along my upper arm. I wanted to feel excited about something like that, attracted to him, happy that he was paying attention to me. But the horns screamed in my ears and the drums vibrated through my body in place of the attraction I desperately wanted to be there.

Why couldn’t I happily join the crush of sweaty bodies on the dance floor? Why couldn’t I smile and scream and dance and hold onto Vincent’s hand? Was it because it was too hot, or because the room reeked of alcohol? Or was it something else?

“I think I need some fresh air,” I yelled in Vincent’s ear, and he walked me back to the kitchen, where a bunch of kids were examining bottles of alcohol and digging through the cupboards for shot glasses.

Hal, one of the asshole kids on the lacrosse team, squirted a dollop of whipped cream from a can onto his wrist. “Hey, Vince! We’re starting whipped cream popping in the living room in five. These rich bitches love it,” he said, giving me a sideways wink. Gross.

He slapped his forearm at the elbow. The little pile of whipped cream went sailing in the air in a narrow arc above his head, and he caught it expertly in his mouth.

“Gettin’ better, man!” One of the other guys clapped him on the back and looked up at the ceiling. I followed his line of sight to see at least six dollops of whipped cream stuck to the ceiling.

“Oh my God,” I breathed. If this is what the kitchen looked like, I could only imagine how the rest of the house was doing. I just hoped Brendan and Julia had enough notice to prep all the expensive antiques in the house in the same way as they had prepped the furniture. All the Thomas’s poor couches and chairs were probably huddled together in one of the back rooms, covered in plastic tarps and utterly terrified.

“Hey, hey, guys. What are you doing?” Vincent dropped my arm and strode over to the counter where two girls were mixing some combination of liquids in a pitcher.

“For the shots, Vincent, duh. Hal missed six times and he’s gonna miss a lot more when we change locations.”

“Shit, you guys, just…just be careful, okay?” Vincent scratched at his jaw and looked around nervously. At least he seemed mildly concerned about Brendan’s house.

Vincent turned to me. “Ashley, I don’t want you to worry about any of this.”

“But I…”

“No, seriously. Seriously. It’s your birthday, okay? Pretend you didn’t see this, go sit out by the pool. I’ll deal with it and bring you a drink in a second.”

I looked him and the guys eyeing the bottles again. “Just a pop. Okay? No vodka or whipped cream or…whatever.”

“Of course. Whatever you want,” he said, flashing me that smile that I knew was designed to calm me, but didn’t.

I let my gaze drop and headed out to the back.

her curiosity was all awake

The backyard was strewn with the same magical paper lanterns as the front , but the scene out there wasn’t quite as magical. The beautiful blue pool had a couple kids bent over it, throwing up. All around the pool, there were couples stretched out on chairs, in various stages of making out and undress. From the deck, I could see and hear it all, and smell a little of it too. Not a pretty sight.

I was getting ready to turn to go back inside, maybe find Julia and figure out how to deal with this mess, when a voice startled the hell out of me from the side of the deck. “Hey Ash!”

Brendan.

“Hey, where have you been?” I asked, crossing over to the deck and looking down over the side, where Brendan was fumbling around in an outdoor storage bin for something.

“Just trying to find some stuff to clean up this mess. But since they don’t have anything called ‘Puke-Be-Gone’ for the pool, I think we’re just gonna be stuck calling the professional cleaners for that, too.”

“Too?”

“Yeah. We already have the carpet guys coming tomorrow.” He shook his head as he climbed up the deck and wrapped his arms around me, enfolding me in a big, sweet bear hug.

For a second, I froze. Brendan hadn’t hugged me like that since before I’d left for the summer. Since before he’d met Sofia. He drew back and spoke, looking me right in the eye. “Happy birthday, Ashley. I’m sorry this party is so…you know… high school.” As soon as his breath hit my face, I realized where warm, fuzzy Brendan had come from—the air between us now had the same weird musky-pungent scent as that inside the house. He’d been drinking, too.

He must have known the look on my face, because he said, “Just had one shot. It’s like the price of admission through the kitchen. But I swear that’s all I had. Okay?” I nodded.

“Sit with me?” I asked. “Make our stupid high school classmates getting out of hand and ruining this party not suck?”

He laughed and followed me to the chairs on the deck. One girl was still throwing up, and I winced.

“So you’re not mad at Vincent?” I asked cautiously.

“Not really. I mean, it sucks that he did this, I guess. But I assume you said it was okay. Besides, I don’t think one guy can really control the force of that many kids with alcohol on the brain. But I heard they were bringing the keg. I even had carpet cleaners rented and ready to go for tomorrow.”

“So what are you stressed about? You’re the one who let Sofia talk you into doing the party here.” And the one who let Sofia ruin the perfect balance of our friendship and made me agree to this whole thing anyway.

“Sofia, yeah. And Vincent, and Julia. Anyway. I didn’t know they’d bust into Mom’s cabinet.” He blew out a breath, raking his fingers back through his hair. “I….have no idea how I’m going to deal with that.”

“Well…how much can it be? Maybe I can grab a few bottles of Kristin and Bruce’s…” I trailed off. They never had more than a bottle of vodka, and maybe one of bourbon lying around. They would definitely notice if one went missing.

Brendan looked up at me, his eyes suddenly seeming very tired. Old. “It’s…a lot. Mom drinks a lot, Ashley.”

“Like…like enough that you’re worried about her?” I found myself choked up. I knew what he was going to tell me, what I should have known and was too dense until now to put the pieces together to figure out.

“Yeah. It’s bad. A lot more than she used to last year. I don’t know if Julia notices, because it’s mostly me taking care of her. It got a lot worse this summer, when Dad was gone on so much business. Maybe because he was gone, I don’t know. But he’s still always gone, and I’m pretty sure he has no idea how bad it is. He’s only home on nights they would normally party anyway, you know?”

“How bad is it?” I asked quietly. A lump rose in my throat. Not so much because I was worried for Brendan’s mom—she’d never been around much and I wasn’t close to her—but because no kid should have to take care of their parent. Not for that reason.

“It’s…she needs a drink to get out of bed some mornings.”

“Oh, shit. Like most people need coffee.”

He nodded, staring down at his hands, which were folded together in front of him.

“Shit,” I repeated. He nodded. It seemed like the only thing we could really say that would accurately sum up the situation. “Shit, Brendan.” The lump in my throat hadn’t gone away, but I didn’t want to cry. Didn’t even really know why I would. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He buried his face in his hands and leaned forward for thirty seconds, a minute. He didn’t say a word, and every second of his silence was excruciating.

He sniffed hard, once, then sat up again. “I don’t know. I didn’t want you to worry about it? I still wanted you to be my friend, I guess? I didn’t want to lose you. You’re…you’re my best friend, you know? I didn’t want to lose you.”

I leaned into him, resting my chin on his shoulder from behind, without even thinking. Close but not smothering. Letting him know I was there for him. Because if there was anything I knew about who I was in this place, it was that I had been miserable here eight months ago, and Brendan had been here for me. Wherever, however he was miserable, I wanted to be there for him, too.

“Shit, Brendan, you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

He started to laugh, and then all of a sudden, he sat forward and turned back to look at me. His breath warmed my cheek, and if he hadn’t just told me his mom was an alcoholic and he was basically taking care of her and his whole house all the time, it would have been the perfect time to kiss him. But it wasn’t. It so wasn’t. I sat up straight again, and breaking contact with him was excruciating.

“What do you do? When that happens, I mean?”

“Sometimes I bring her a drink. Sometimes I don’t. I bring it to her more often than not. What can I do? A lot of times she throws things at me if I don’t. Or cries. Or both. If I don’t, she comes downstairs and messes shit up looking for more to drink anyway. And then I get myself and Julia out of the house every morning.” He hung his head. “Plus, I make plans to go to CMU instead of Harvard, so Julia’s not left here all by herself to deal with it.”