Page 32 of XO

“Happy fucking,” I reply, taking Kevin’s hand. I walk away but catch the twitching vein his neck just in time to feel a moment of joyous victory.

What a complete and utter asshole.

I can’t ever believe again that boy has a good side.

All this time he’s been playing me, and I’ve fallen right into it like bear to honey.

Stupid, stupid girl.

~

The party is in full swing by the time Kevin and I make an entrance into the beautiful home that screams luxurious. If I were Andy, I’d be extremely nervous about throwing a party full of drunk teens. I have little time to ponder how the expensive all-white furniture will survive the night when my cheeks start to burn. Stares, some curious, some mocking, by those ‘out of my league’ watch us as we walk hand in hand. It’s likely a combination they never expected to see, and it’s thrown quite a few off-kilter.

What’s a reserved art nerd doing with a high school jock renowned for his partying ways?I agree with them. It is a bizarre combination, and to be honest, can I really call it a combination since I’m not even sure what we are.

Kevin does the typical one-handed clasp, pulling his mates in for a manly hug. They exchange pleasantries, and I awkwardly wait, unsure what to say when they see me. I’ve become that big fat elephant in the room.

“You guys know Rosie, right?” Kevin asks, unperturbed.

“Know of her but never spoken,” one boy replies.

That’s all. None of them say hello or further acknowledge my presence.

Perhaps asshole-Jacob was right, after all. Perhaps I am too odd for these people.

“Are you two like a… thing now?” one of Chelsea’s cheerleading friends asks from across the island counter loaded with red cups and small clear shot glasses. She’s the smallest of the squad, but from what I’ve heard, but her bite is as big as her bark.

“Are we a thing, baby?” Kevin asks, still wearing a wide smile.

Under all their not-so-friendly scrutiny, I’m at a loss on what to say. I can’t humiliate Kevin by saying no, and I don’t want to commit to anything just to appease him either. So, I say nothing.

“We’re a work in progress, some might say,” he jokes, and in return, his friends give weak smiles. My presence makes them uncomfortable because they’ve never taken the time to talk to me in class or the corridor. Some I’ve even done group projects with, yet they see me as an intruder. All except one, who I have no idea his name, but I can certainly feel his eyes roaming the length of my body. His girlfriend, who I have never seen, smacks him on the arm and delivers an abusive response.

“Come on, let’s get a drink,” Kevin says, thankfully steering me away from his friends.

Jacob and Chelsea come into view as they chat animatedly with other students in the living room. He briefly glances over his shoulder before returning to conversation. Putting him out of mind, I concentrate on the task ahead—simply getting through the night. Kevin leads me across the manicured lawn where a group of people have gathered.

“What are they waiting for?” I ask Kevin.

“Dude,” comes sort of familiar voice from the darkness. “You made it.”

A golf buggy suddenly emerges and skids to a halt only two feet away. Andy is all smiles greeting his friend and then after seeing me, shoots Kevin an inquisitive look.

“You sly dog, bro. What have you been getting up to?”

“You know Rosie, right?”

I wish he’d stop introducing me like that. It would save me the embarrassment of everyone admitting they’ve previously and deliberately chosen not to give me the time of day.

“Of course, I do,” Andy announces, leaving me reeling over the admission.

“You do?” I ask, to be certain.

“Yeah.” He’s seemingly confused by the question. “You do wicked art. In fact, my mother bought one of your art pieces at the Clubhouse charity event last summer.”

“She did?”

What the hell is going on?

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