Change of Hart (Wells Ranch, #3)(66)
Blair
(seventeen years old)
The local hockey arena was jam-packed, with cliché songs about growing up blasting through the stands. And it was hot—so hot—despite the open garage doors and ceiling vents at full blast. I looked around at my classmates: sweaty, happy, hungover, and sad. A swirling thunderstorm of feelings culminated in this moment.
Graduation.
To be truthful, I blacked out most of the ceremony. As somebody who never wore dresses, my primary goal was to not trip over the gown as I walked across the stage with all eyes on me. Then a second time, when I shuffled onto the stage for my valedictorian speech—yet another part of the day that was nothing but a long-winded blur. Months of reciting the speech to anyone who would listen, namely Denver and Chief, it came pouring out without a second thought. Though, based on the lack of reaction, I was drowning in the words.
But my eyes locked on Denver, and he pulled a funny face to get me out of my funk. His fingers pressed to his lips before forming a ball, which he lobbed to me. I stopped mid-sentence to catch his kiss, smiling out at the crowd and taking a deep breath before continuing with soaring confidence and charisma.
Regardless of how the speech, day, or rest of the school year went, I had my person. I was one of the lucky few in this world who found the love of their life at a young age. In a couple months, we’d move to the city together so I could get my nursing degree, and he could study agricultural science. After four years, we’d come back to Wells Canyon, or maybe a different small town. Get married, have careers, buy our own chunk of land, have babies. He and I had spent dozens of nights daydreaming out loud as we lay in my bed.
I stepped off the stage to the sound of applause, with Denver’s raucous cheers the loudest and most distinguishable. I found his face before taking my seat and mouthed “I love you” to him over the row of students.
God, I loved him.
* * *
—
Naturally, Megan Barlow took it upon herself to host the graduation party. Which was fine—she had a pool, after all. After a lengthy lecture from my parents about the dangers of drinking and driving, and approximately four thousand promises from Denver that he would be remaining sober, we pulled up to Megan’s house fashionably late.
“Let’s not stay long,” I said, leaning across the truck bench to kiss him. “There are better ways I want to spend my graduation night with you.”
Sex. By that, I meant sex.
“Just a quick ‘hope we never see ya again’ to these people, yeah?” Denver laughed, hopping out of the truck and walking around to open my door.
I skimmed my palms across my thighs, which were clad in denim despite my mother’s insistence that I should wear a dress to the party. My saving grace was her dresses were too frumpy, and my younger sister’s dresses were too small. Anyway, the only person I was ever trying to impress was Denver, and he told me constantly how much he loved my ass in this particular pair of vintage Levi’s.
Hands clasped, we entered the party house. It was immediately evident that, unlike parties in our younger years, Megan’s parents weren’t around. A group of boys were playing beer pong on the dining table, there was already a questionable substance splattered across one of the living room walls, and empty cans littered every available surface. Wells Canyon had forty-six graduates, and there had to be over a hundred teenagers here.
Spotting Cassidy and Shelby in the far corner, I squeezed Denver’s hand. “I’m going to go see the girls. Come find me in a little while.”
“Okay, baby.” He bent to kiss me, then slowly untangled his fingers from mine and headed for the kitchen.
I wove through drunken bodies in the spacious, open-concept living room until nearly collapsing at my friends’ feet.
“Who needs a house this big? I almost had to stop for a snack and nap halfway to get to you guys.” I grabbed Cassidy’s cup and took a sip of the sugary concoction before handing it back.
“Considering Megan’s parents don’t even speak to each other, having a house so big you never bump into each other is probably useful.” Shelby shrugged.
“I think my entire house could fit into this living room.” Cass held her cup to her lips without drinking, surveying the space. The three of us stood silently for a second, considering whether Cass was right.
“My girls!” Megan barreled toward the three of us. Personally, I hadn’t been invited to any of the parties she’d thrown in years. But okay, apparently we were her girls. “Can you believe we graduated?”
“About time.” Cassidy clinked her plastic cup against Megan’s.
“Blair,” Megan said with a bone-chilling shrillness. “Your speech today was so good.”
“Thanks. It was pretty nerve-wracking, so I’m glad it’s finally over.”
“You deserve a celebratory drink.” Megan grabbed my hand, pulling me away from my friends and toward a group of people I’d never seen before. Shoving our way between two unnaturally tall boys standing at the kitchen island, she instructed one of them to pour us shots.
“Oh, I don’t—” I started to protest, but Megan shoved the shot glass into my hand and clinked it against hers.
Liquor and Blair Hart had never gotten along. A glass of wine, a beer, a cooler—manageable. Hard liquor? One shot and I’d be singing Reba McEntire without music or a karaoke machine. Two shots and I’d start spewing the most embarrassing stories to anyone who would listen. I’d never done three shots before, but I assumed that much alcohol would likely kill me.