Page 10 of Tiny Fractures

“This is quite the party,” Vada says a little too enthusiastically.

Shane’s mom smiles, not picking up on Vada’s sarcasm. “Oh, yeah, just a little something I threw together last minute. You look very nice, Vada! And who is this?” she continues, smiling at me.

“This is my friend Cat,” Vada says.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. O’Connor. Thank you for having me,” I say, extending my hand.

“Please, girls, call me Nora,” she says, taking my hand gently into hers. “Goodness, you are gorgeous. And tall. Do you model?” She gives me a skilled once-over.

“Oh, no,” I say, shaking my head with conviction.

“Well, maybe you should,” she says, smiling.

I keep shaking my head uncomfortably, and Vada picks up on the shift in my energy.

“So, where’s Shane, Mrs. O’Connor? I don’t see him anywhere.” Vada pops her head up, trying to make out Shane or any of her friends in the crowd of adults who are drinking wine and eating hors d’oeuvres offered to them by a handful of young waiters roaming the large kitchen and sitting room.

“You know, I haven’t seen him in about half an hour. That’s just like him. Here I am wanting to show off my handsome boy and he goes and hides somewhere. Well, if you find him, tell him to make a showing, would you?” Mrs. O’Connor frowns. She spots someone or something in the adjacent room, turns around, and skillfully struts away from us, leaving us standing in the kitchen.

“Wow,” I say, confounded. “Who are all these people?”

“I have no idea.” Vada’s phone beeps, and she reads her text message. “The boys are down by the beach. Let’s go.”

Vada takes my hand and leads me out to the back deck where a narrow staircase leads to an equally narrow sandy path and, finally, a private stretch of beach. Halfway down the stairs we’re met by Steve making his way up toward us. His eyes find Vada, and his smile is instantaneous. Vada lets go of my hand and bounds toward Steve, planting a kiss on his lips while he lifts her in the air.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Vada exclaims, her arms wrapped tightly around Steve’s neck.

“Thank you, babe. I’m glad you’re here,” he says, then kisses her deeply before lowering her back to the ground.

“Me too,” she says breathily, looking up at him with a love-struck expression, and I smile.

“Everyone is down by the beach,” Steve explains, then picks up Vada and carries her piggyback as we walk down the remaining stairs and along the sandy beach path. “Shane wasn’t feeling the vibe at the house, so we’ve just been hanging out by the water,” he explains as I trudge behind him and Vada.

Walking down the beach, I spot Zack’s girlfriend, Summer, and Summer’s best friend, Cheyenne, sitting in the sand, and I wave to them.

Summer’s name suits her well. She’s pure sunshine—upbeat, good-natured, and always happy. She’s pixie-like both in stature and personality.

Summer’s best friend is Cheyenne—Summer’s polar opposite. Where Summer is chatty, Cheyenne is quiet. But not quiet as in shy; she’s calculating and analytical. I can tell she’s smart, but I haven’t received the warmest reception from her the few times we’ve interacted. Cheyenne’s wavy hair is chin length and dyed bright red with black streaks. She has a small, sparkly stud in her right nostril and several ear piercings. She’s beautiful but intimidating.

Drew’s sitting in the sand next to them. He thankfully stopped calling me “gorgeous” after I eventually told him I didn’t enjoy the nickname. I’ve come to learn that Drew has been playing on the varsity hockey team the past couple of years. He’s shorter and burlier than Shane and Steve, which I guess is what makes him a pretty good goalie. He has buzzed black hair, brown eyes, and a thick Jersey accent. He talks loudly and laughs even louder. I hear Drew make some joke with a sexual innuendo, and both Summer and Cheyenne roll their eyes—hard.

Twenty feet farther down the beach, Zack and Shane stand by a still-small bonfire. Shane holds a bottle of beer in one hand while the other is draped around Tori’s hip. Zack’s holding his small GoPro—obviously memorializing the occasion—and I walk by a separate camera set up on a tripod. Always filming the goings-on, I think to myself, trying to avoid the camera’s lens, though I know it’s useless. As we approach Zack, Shane, and Tori, I feel as though someone is looking at me, and, sure enough, I notice a boy I haven’t yet met but whose features look remarkably familiar. And, holy cow, he's gorgeous.

Ronan

"You look like you could use one. Or maybe you just need to get laid," Shane says with a chuckle as he holds a freshly-opened bottle of beer out to me. "I'm sure Cheyenne would be down for it," he adds and winks at me. I just grin at him while Zack and Tori laugh.

I made the mistake of hooking up with Cheyenne before. Twice. I’m an idiot for doing it because I know Cheyenne is looking for more than just casual sex. I, on the other hand, am just not interested. She’s nice enough and certainly cute, but I don’t want a relationship with her, or anyone for that matter. The idea of letting someone in scares the shit out of me. The less people know about my life, the better. But I also don’t want to play games with Cheyenne. “I think I’ll just stick with beer for tonight,” I pronounce, laughing. I bring the bottle to my lips and tip it up to drink.

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s see what you say four beers from now,” Zack prods with a chuckle. “I’m sure some chick will end up dropping her panties for you tonight. This camera witnesses everything,” he says, pointing at his GoPro. That damn thing is like a third hand to Zack. When he first started recording nonstop roughly a year and a half ago, it annoyed the hell out of everyone, but at this point we hardly even notice it anymore. “In fact, I bet Shane’s mom would drop her—”

“Watch what you say, dude,” Shane growls at Zack, who chuckles. “That’s my mom you’re talking about here.”

“I’m just sayin’,” Zack says, oblivious to Shane’s darkening expression, “your mom definitely likes Ran the most out of all of us. Didn’t you notice how long she hugged him the other day?”

“That’s because she’s known me since I was a kid,” I say, desperate to defuse the rising tension.

“She’s known me just as long, and she most definitely doesn’t hug me like that—all sweet and inhaling me and stuff,” Zack continues.

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