The Promise of Amazing (16 page)

The door opened. Andy popped his head out.

“Dude, the girls are threatening to put on Gaga. We have to go back on.”

“Yeah, be right there.”

Andy came out to the laundry room, shutting the door behind him.

“So are you with us again?” he asked me, sliding his hands in his pockets. Then it hit me—being here wasn’t about the drums or hanging out with my friends. They wanted me back, but not really me. They wanted Grayson the playah.

“He’s undecided,” Luke said, stepping back. “But I think we can convince him.”

Andy clapped his hand on my shoulder. A small plastic baggie filled with something dark fell from his pocket and landed with a
thwap
at his feet. I picked it up.

“Dude, really, do you have to travel with that?” I asked, handing it back to him.

“Gray, come on, you have to go to Amsterdam. Just keep thinking . . . legal weed,” he said, shaking the baggie in front of my face like he’d just won a carnival fish. “Fucking Mardi Gras and Christmas all wrapped up into one, man.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m thinking about it.”

“Cool, come on. Let’s go.”

“Give us a minute,” Luke said. Andy grabbed a Stella and went back to the party.

“Here’s the truth,” Luke said, pointing at me with the neck of his beer bottle. “Ava’s got it wrong. Wren Caswell is too good for you. Imagine how she’d react if she ever found out about all the chicks you’ve been with? She has no clue what you’re really like, does she?”

“Stay away from her,” I said. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Well, she’s screwing with your head. And I need you. You know I wouldn’t mind having that conversation with her. Or maybe I could get Ava to do it. She sees her. Every day. You know how chicks can be so catty.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I need my wingman, Grayson. All there is to it.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, knowing this was the only thing that would get him to drop it for now.

“Don’t take too long,” he said, finishing the rest of his beer.
“We need to get our cash flow going again. And Christ, Grayson, lighten up. It’s a party. I can name about ten girls in there who would wrap themselves around you and make you forget all about Wren.”

“Shut up,” I said, heading back into the party with Luke close behind.

I tore across the room to the drums, practically shoving people out of my way. Andy had scribbled a set list. Only one song I wasn’t familiar with, one song I’d have to think about. I smashed the drums, refueling myself from the conversation with Luke. Everything fell away, and I got lost in the sound. Picking up my head now and then. Wishing I could see Wren there.

Instead I saw Ava with that stupid silver flower in her hair. Draped across Luke, but eye-fucking me just the same. I kept my head down after that.

When we finished the set, I was soaking wet and ready to bolt. I found Andy.

“Dude, hey, I gotta cut out, not feeling so well,” I said, putting a hand over my stomach.

“Ya sure, Gray? You can go upstairs and crash for a while if you want. It’s only twelve thirty, my man. Early.”

“Nah, I’ll pick up my kit tomorrow, ’kay?”

I grabbed my jacket from behind the bar.

“Hey, how about one of those acai shots for me?”

Ava stood in my way, Luke right next to her.

“Luke knows how to make them,” I said, maneuvering around them.

“Dude, where you off to?”

I shrugged him off as I darted through the crowd to the door. I took the stairs two at a time and burst out the side door. The cold air hitting my face felt good for about two seconds. Then it went right through me, practically turning my sweat to ice. What was wrong with me? I’d wanted to come. Parties used to be my thing. Now I couldn’t get away fast enough. Luke’s threat had pissed me off, but without Wren . . . the room felt full of strangers. How could I have ever thought this was a good idea?

After brushing the snow off the Chrysler, I drove away, even though I knew I should have footed it home. The adrenaline from the last set counteracted most of my buzz, and I drove extra slow, one destination in mind. Wren’s house. She
had
said to call her, right? I knew where she lived, but this was the first time I’d gone there.

It was a large stone house, decorated with icicle lights for Christmas. A place I’d imagine Wren living. With the snow falling, it looked like a Christmas card. I wondered which window was hers. Was she awake? Sleeping? Thinking of me? I did feel like a stalker. I took out my phone to text her, then paused.

Was Luke right? Was Wren something I had to get out of my system?

No.

I’d never felt like this before.

Something had made her leave though, and if it wasn’t a sick friend then it was me. I’d had such hopes for this night: to kiss her again, to move past friendship . . . wait. She had to know I wanted more, that my intro to Luke was just . . .
Grayson, you effing moron
.

I drove off, heading for home.

Being with Wren meant something to me. I wanted to be serious. Whatever serious meant. Was this what it felt like to fall in love with someone? Was it too soon to know? And after all I’d done—could we ever have a normal relationship?

But when she she’d run her hand through my hair, touched me, asked me,
Did it hurt?
. . . it was like everything else in the room had faded to black. Except her. And me.

And that was too important not to fight for.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

THIRTEEN

WREN

“
WREN, YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED,” JAZZ SAID
, bringing her mug to her lips.

Our hot party personas had quickly returned to their former state—the two of us in flannel jammies sipping hot chocolate with a half-eaten package of double-chocolate Milanos between us on my bedroom floor.

“In my movie Grayson would be outside right now, throwing a snowball at this window to get my attention,” I said, peeking out my bedroom curtain at the sound of a car passing. Two red taillights pierced the falling snow as they disappeared down the street. I let the curtain drop.

“And you’d race downstairs . . .” Jazz continued.

“. . . and throw my arms around him, and he’d take my face in his hands, and we’d have one of those movie kisses
that make you shift in your seat just imagining what it would feel like,” I said, thunking back down on the floor next to her.

“‘Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind,’” Jazz said, tilting back her head, eyes closed, smiling. “
The Princess Bride
. I bet your kiss with Grayson would be more epic than that.”

I sighed. “Yeah, well. I got nothing, not exactly the après-party debrief Mads was hoping for.”

We sat silent, the party ghosts of what might have been dancing around us. The night had started with such . . . promise.

“We’ll call her tomorrow,” I said. “Maybe the Darby details will be enough.”

“How I wish I could unhear that,” Jazz said.

“You really can’t tell me?”

“Nope. What I don’t get is why she told me. Maybe because she was drunk . . . no, wait,
schnockered
. . . off her ass and wanted to shock the science geek. But it’s the way she said it, like she could have been telling me how she ordered her sandwich at Subway.”

“Sandwich?” Maybe some things were better left to my imagination.

“Do guys really want a girl like that?”

“I don’t think so,” I answered, wrestling a Milano out of the bag. “At least not all the time, I guess.” With my track
record, I had no business offering advice.

“Yeah, great, but
sometimes
they do. I’m not like that, Wren. I don’t want to be like that,” she said, leaning on the edge of my bed, her long, dark hair fanning out against the flowered comforter. “And then the whole king’s cup thing . . . I didn’t get it. They called me out for not drinking when I didn’t even know I was supposed to be having one. Logan took the drink for me.”

“Well, that sounds kind of sweet.”

“You’d think after watching all these romance movies I’d have some clue how to talk to a cute guy, but I was completely dumb about it. I couldn’t think of one thing to say, and even if I had it was so freakin’ loud. How could anyone hear anything? I wanted to make Maddie proud of me tonight.
Dare to be great
. . .”

“Jazz, it’s a stupid drinking game.”

“I know, but . . . Logan was cute. Nice. And I was so . . . pathetic around him.”

“Pathetic? There’s no way anyone would use that word about you. Jazz, you have such a clear vision of what you want out of life, and you’re running a freakin’ half marathon, which is about the furthest thing from pathetic I could think of. You blow me away. As corny as it sounds, some guy, someday, will appreciate that. And it won’t involve king’s cup.”

“Well, you’re my friend. You have to say that . . . thanks. But before that elusive perfect boy arrives, I’ll be dateless for prom.”

“You and me both,” I said.

“What are you talking about? You have Grayson,” she said, jabbing me in the shoulder.

“Have?
Yeah, right.”

“Wren, seriously, Grayson is into you. Why can’t you see that?”

“He introduced me to someone as his friend—more specifically ‘not my girl, just a friend.’ What does that sound like to you?”

“Really?” she asked, sitting up straight. “That’s . . . weird. He does
not
act like he wants to be just friends.”

“Well, that’s what he said. Maybe it was the party. One-on-one we’re great, but being around all those people like Ava . . . it just didn’t feel right.”

“You’d better watch out for her,” Jazz said.

“Why?”

“She was next to me during the king’s cup game and kept grilling me about what we were doing there and if you and Grayson had a
thing
. Her words, not mine. She’s morbidly curious about you guys. Seriously, sort of creepy.”

“That’s what I mean—like even though everyone is there having a good time, getting along to each other’s faces—all this other unspoken stuff is going on,” I said, thinking about the way Luke Dobson had acted around me.

Jazz stood up and tightened the drawstring on her pj bottoms. “If I don’t stop eating these cookies, I’ll be dragging
my ass on my long run,” she said, before leaving to go to the bathroom.

I got up and peeked out the window again. Steady snowfall covered the street in a blanket of white. Was Grayson still at the party? I didn’t want to imagine him there, playing the drums, smiling at someone else. Maybe one little text to let him know I was thinking of him wouldn’t hurt.

I grabbed my cell off my nightstand, punched in a text, and pressed Send before I could change my mind.

The text had been simple.

Hey. Sorry I had to leave.

A friendly gesture to make sure Gray and I were “okay,” as he’d said.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Complete. Radio. Silence.

Not that I expected him to drive over to my house to profess his . . . intense like and shower me with a dozen roses. But I expected . . .
something
.

And the expecting something sucked more than the party itself, because Grayson Barrett was the most unexpected something to come along in my semester of discontent. It was never about looking for him, it just . . . was. So I hated the feeling of twisted anticipation. I kept checking my phone and
searching for him after school, hoping to see him leaning on the Chrysler like he had been for the last few weeks.

Nothing.

Both Jazz and Maddie knew enough not to bring it up anymore. We’d exhausted all the party talk by Tuesday. So by Wednesday, at least outwardly, life was back to normal. I thought of texting Grayson again, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. There was a huge wedding booked at the Camelot for Friday, so I knew he’d be working, and I supposed it wouldn’t be out of line to send a “Hey, are you working Friday?” text. So I did.

Crickets.

Which was worse. I tried to reason it away. Maybe he’d lost his phone. Maybe the battery was dead . . . for four days. Maybe he was busy with his dad, or school, or his life in general. But there was no reason for him not to text me. And while I went through the school day, absorbing most of what was taught, having lunch with Mads and Jazz and not bringing up the G-word at all, there was still that niggling little part of my brain analyzing the details to death.

The very last person I expected to discuss Grayson with was Ava.

Ava strolled up to me in Lit, a thick haze of flowery perfume following her. She wore her green blazer with the sleeves pushed to three-quarters, her cuffs peeking out the bottoms, making the Sacred Heart uniform as trendy as anything you’d
see in a
Teen Vogue
fashion spread. She perched on the desk adjacent to mine playing with the silver heart that hung from her necklace as she spoke.

“Could you meet in Mrs. Fiore’s office for lunch, Wren? We have to talk about the Spirit Club Christmas project.”

I stared at her through my too-long bangs, chin in hand, and wondered why she was talking to me about Spirit Club, which I’d completely blown off after she’d dissed me about knowing Grayson.

“Hey, I know I was a complete bitch the other day, but we really need the numbers for this project. And, well, I was just surprised you and Grayson knew each other. Can you blame me?”

Again with the subtle dis. I remained a blank. She sat down, mouth curled in a conspiratorial grin.

“I was wrong, okay? I apologize. You two were so completely into each other at Andy’s party. It was like no one else was there. He left a little while after you did, which is really saying a lot for him. Did you two hook up after the party?”

Suddenly I didn’t care if she was Medusa come to life . . . she’d seen me with Gray. A witness. I caved just a little. Could she possibly be sincere? Jazz’s warning to watch out for her remained in the back of my mind.