Under the Same Stars(7)

Yes, I realized that description suggested I had a thing for him, too.

Or, far more likely, I had a sweet tooth and constantly craved candy.

“What are you doing here?” I asked now.

Marco inspected a wineglass. “Helping out.”

“It’s a Saturday night.”

“I’m aware,” he said lightly. “I own a calendar, believe it or not.”

“So don’t you have something to do?” I teased as the front doorbell rang. Marco and I were sort of friends. We weirdly used to park next to each other at school and hang out by our cars after sports ended. We’d talk, banter, and sometimes bicker about random stuff until he remembered he was supposed to be somewhere or had someone to meet. A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. “There isn’t a party at one of the supper clubs?”

Marco sighed. He played soccer at Princeton now. “They’re called eating clubs,” he said, then gave me a look. “And I bet my Tower membership that you knew that, Catwoman.”

Indeed, I had, since Princeton was recruiting me for field hockey. Their historic “eating clubs” were the exclusive social clubs on campus, absolutely legendary. F. Scott Fitzgerald had been in one when he was a student.

But okay, Catwoman?

“Oh, great.” I resisted the urge to touch my eye makeup. “Does it look that bad?”

“No.” Marco shook his head. “It looks cool, Mads. Goes with the whole witchy thing you have happening.” He winked. “You’re missing the pointy hat, though.”

“It’s at the dry cleaner’s,” I shot back.

Marco tilted his head, clearly holding back a laugh. “Bummer.”

My hands went to my hips. “Okay, you know what,” I began, even though I had no idea where I was heading. “I—”

“Madeline!” My grandmother saved me from fumbling. Nana breezed through the swinging kitchen door, with her silver hair in a chic bob and wearing a sophisticated pink tweed-and-sequined blazer-skirt combo. “I’ve been looking for you,” she said. “Katie is with most of the bridesmaids, and I think it would be nice if—” She cut herself off, and a blink later, was unbraiding my braid. “Darling, no,” she said. “You have such beautiful hair; you should show it off every once in a while…”

Decades ago, Nana had been a hairstylist. She’d worked at one of those fancy salons that served clients champagne while they got their hair done.

Today, she owned the place.

“Okay, wonderful!” She smiled once she was satisfied with her work. There was no mirror in the kitchen, but I knew we had a half-up, half-down situation on our hands. “Doesn’t she look lovely?” she asked Marco.

And dear lord, my face practically burst into flames.

“Yes,” he said, nodding robotically. “She is beauty and she is grace.”

I flipped him off when Nana took me by the shoulders and directed me toward the door.

Marco gave me a thumbs-up, then went back to work. If Nana hadn’t been physically pushing me out of the room, I might’ve asked for his number so we could keep in better touch. I’d only been a sophomore during his senior year; his popularity had intimidated me.

It didn’t now.

***

The party, Da joked, was popping. There were people everywhere. My family, Katie’s family, my parents’ friends, Katie’s parents’ friends, and friends of the bride and groom. Ember & Ash servers skillfully weaved in between everyone, offering hors d’oeuvres.

My stomach growled. I’d gotten a sneak peek at the menu last week and had been looking forward to it since then. The stuffed portobello mushrooms could be skipped, but the beef tenderloin bites with caramelized onions and blue cheese?

Even with Nana at my side, I felt like I was approaching my high school’s tightest clique as I made my way to the bridal party. They had staked out a spot by the keeping room’s crackling fire. “Can we get a drink first?” I whispered to my grandmother. “I don’t know what to do with my hands.” They flopped lifelessly at my sides.

In response, my grandmother rerouted us to the bar in the library, where she ordered a chardonnay for herself and a Coke for me. I inwardly sighed, having pictured myself drinking club soda and cranberry juice with a slice of lime; it would look more cosmopolitan.

But Nana knew me too well. I loved an ice-cold Coca-Cola and would definitely need a serious sugar rush for this.

Armed with my emotional-support beverage, I let Nana lead me into Katie’s clutches. “You have nothing to worry about,” she whispered. “I introduced myself to them earlier—we know Katie’s horrible at that—and they seem like nice women.”

Women.

I was a girl.

Austin, where are you? I thought. He was so good at this stuff.

By the time we reached the bridal circle, my pulse was pounding so hard that I barely heard myself say, “Hey, Katie.”

Then I immediately noticed Nana had ghosted me.

Katie, wearing a white halter dress and wineglass in hand, opened her mouth, but someone beat her to the punch. “Oh my god!” a woman exclaimed. “We were just talking about you! You’re Mads, right? The sister Austin never shuts up about?”

“Well, to be fair, I’m his only one,” I replied.