Under the Same Stars(68)
“I’m trying my best, yeah,” I told her. “Being a high schooler in a group of twentysomethings isn’t my natural environment, but I’m trying, Katie.”
“Well, you’re not trying hard enough!” Katie screeched, and it felt like she’d slapped me in the fucking face.
So I bit back; in fact, I might’ve even sunken my teeth into her. “I could say the same about you,” I said, trying to keep my voice somewhat level. “You don’t make me feel welcome or included at all—you barely spoke to me on the drive up here, you spoke to me even less today—even though you asked me to be your freaking bridesmaid!”
Tears swam in Katie’s eyes, but her lips didn’t quiver. They curled into a sneer. “I don’t regret asking you to be a bridesmaid,” she said. “You’re Austin’s sister.”
“And I don’t regret accepting,” I said, even though I totally did right now. “It was the right thing to do, but I never should’ve let myself sink so deep to please you.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I agreed to Ready-Set-Date because I naively thought that even if no guy grew to like me, the bride would.” I forced myself to laugh. “My mistake.”
“And mine,” Katie said, her face as white as her nightdress. “Because I thought asking Marco to keep an eye on you would have a happier ending.”
Wait, what? I froze. Did Katie ask Marco to chaperone me this summer?
She’d seemed shocked yesterday when I’d told her about his guest appearances in my dating life.
But it was too late to clarify; in the span of five seconds, Katie had dry-heaved before spinning around and fleeing for the bathroom.
Heart suddenly hammering and alcohol twisting and twirling through my veins, I needed to get out of the house. No one chased after me, too busy crowded outside the bathroom, where Meredith was probably holding Katie’s long hair back as she purged her soul of all her sins. My guess was it would be a while.
We’d been having too much fun to notice the downpour happening outside, but I let myself get soaked as I unlatched the Defender’s trunk and climbed into the back of the car. Heavy raindrops pounded against the soft roof, and I was woozy after heaving myself over the back seat. You are drunk, I thought. Soooooo drunk.
Hands shaking, I pulled my phone from my pocket and fumbled to unlock it. I had several messages from Marco, but he’d accidentally switched to his Spanish keyboard.
Spanish wasn’t my top subject, and I didn’t have enough control over my fingers to tap a text back, so I called him. “Hello?” he picked up on the fourth ring, voice breathless like he’d raced to catch me. “Mads?”
I opened my mouth; not even a hiccup came out.
“Mads, are you there?” he asked, and when I didn’t respond, he said, “I don’t know if you’ve seen my texts or been on Instagram tonight, but—”
“It’s you!” I shouted over the rain. “Marco, it’s you!”
And…nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
The line was silent long enough for salty tears to spill from my eyes.
“It’s me?” Marco eventually whispered, and I could hear the wince in his voice—a wince that told me he understood. I had a crush on him, one so massive it amazingly hadn’t hit me until now.
“Yes,” I said, then tried swallowing the sudden lump in my throat, wishing I could take the words back.
Because my confession had sealed our fate.
Nineteen
I woke up early the next morning, convinced that an anvil had fallen on my head because it hurt so badly. My eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from crying myself to sleep, and it felt like someone was stirring sludge in my stomach.
I decided to pack up my stuff and head home, using my spare set of keys since Meredith still had mine. About an hour into the drive, I felt so nauseous that I had to pull over on the side of the highway to blow some chunks. Where was Rose ?lvarez’s magic preventive hangover potion when I needed it?
Then, I called my parents. They were furious that I’d left with such a hangover.
And somehow, they beat me home from Newport. “We’re going to discuss this at length,” Dad emphasized. “But first, you need to drink about a gallon of Gatorade and then get to bed…”
I slept for fourteen hours but felt sick all over again when Reese sent the bridesmaid chat a compiled video of everyone’s first and last Saturday drink. I watched myself, all sunshine and smiles, take a sip of wine before the clip cut to that night. Reese had caught me in the kitchen, soaked from the rain. I looked rough. “Yeah, I’m Mads,” I said, tipping melted daiquiri over the sink. “You know I’m a bridesmaid, and I’m dumping my final drink of this super enlightening evening.”
Meredith had texted me to ask if I was okay, and I told her I was alive but not exactly thriving. You were right. I overdid it.
It seemed like everyone needed a break from one another, because the chat went silent for a while. Amanda wrote to say our bridesmaid dresses had arrived at long last, but that was it.
I did miss the group a little; in a way, the bridesmaids felt like another team I’d played for this year, but high school field hockey started in a few days. It would fill the void.
***
I didn’t block Marco again, but I declined his calls and ignored his texts, so either he would get the message and stop trying to contact me, or he’d get the message and show up in person to have it out. Because that’s what I planned on doing if/when he eventually knocked on my door. The whole drive home from the Finger Lakes, I’d kept replaying our conversation.