Page 8 of Landon & Shay: Part One

“A reading party?”

“You know, where a group of people get together, sit in a circle, and completely ignore one another for hours as they dive headfirst into a novel of their choosing? Does it happen in a library? Will there be bookmarks?”

I laughed. “Well, no.”

“Oh. Then that’s a hard pass for me.” She went right back to reading. I swore one day, I was going to drag her to a ridiculous high school party, and she was going to have an awful time like the rest of us teenagers.

And who knew? Maybe she’d fall in love. Or heck, even fall inlike. Mom always said the first step of love was falling deeply into like. Then the freefall of love didn’t feel so dangerous. Eleanor never put herself in a position to even like someone, though. My cousin wasn’t into guys that much unless they were fictional, but I really hoped one day someone would sweep her right off her feet. Then again, that might’ve just been the storyteller in my heart. I had a thing for happily ever after in all my scripts, and I wished the same for the people I loved, too.

That said, I had a feeling Eleanor would’ve lived a perfectly content life being locked in a dungeon with five million books surrounding her.

Oh? And how did Eleanor Gable die?

Surrounded by a million happily ever afters and a handful of what-the-hell endings.

While Eleanor dived deeper into her book, I tried to wrap my head around the fact I was going to be attending a party at Landon’s. I was going to walk through the front door of the home of a boy I couldn’t stand and who couldn’t stand me right back.

And I, for one, wasn’t ready for that at all.

3

Shay

I spentmost of Saturday morning trying to calm Tracey’s nerves. If there was anything my friend was good at, it was overthinking every situation tenfold. My mom tried to talk me into staying in and eating Chinese with the family, but I knew Tracey would kill me if I ditched at the last minute.

I would’ve killed to have an eggroll instead of going to Landon’s place, though.

“Oh gosh, I got a belly full of nerves,” Tracey spat out as we stood on Landon’s front porch.

Me.

On Landon’s porch.

Crap.

For a second, I thought about retreating. I considered turning on the heels of my sneakers and waiting for the next party at someone else’s house the following week. I hadn’t been able to shake this weird feeling in my gut since I decided to attend the party. I knew I was overthinking the whole situation, but the fact that my arms had been wrapped around Landon the last time I’d been inside that house was messing with my head.

The intimate moment of our momentary slip in hatred was so vibrant in my mind, I swore it felt as if it had just happened the day before. I saw his deep blue eyes swimming in the sea of his sadness, I felt his body tremble against my touch, and I felt his pain, so raw and unfiltered. He’d been the complete opposite of how Landon presented himself at school. He always seemed so unbothered by the world as if he was in it but not a part of it. He was cockily cool, calm, and collected as if nothing and nobody could or would ever bother him. That night as I sat on his bed with my arms wrapped around him, I saw his heart, his gentle, pained heart, and it bled just like everyone else’s did.

It might’ve even bled a little bit more than most people.

I looked over at my hopeful friend. Tracey hadn’t stopped talking about the party or Reggie since the day she found out there was going to be a party the two of them could attend together. Tracey was convinced she did her best flirting at house parties. She said trying to be flirty at school was too much pressure. She preferred low lighting, and loud music, and tequila.

Tequila mostly.

“I really can’t get rid of the nerves,” she repeated, snapping me from my thoughts of Landon.

“Why? You’re great, and Reggie would be crazy not to notice,” I told her as she applied her lipstick, then handed me the tube to do the same to my lips.

“Yeah? Do you think my outfit is too much? I was going for slutty, but not a slut vibe. Like theyeah, I have boobs, but no you cannot touch themkind of vibe.”

“You could be completely nude, and it still wouldn’t give a guy the right to touch you,” I explained. “Plus, clothes don’t make you a slut. That’s just society’s messed-up judgments.” As the words left my mouth, I swore one day I would become exactly like my mother and grandmother—preaching about a woman’s worth, knowing what I did and didn’t deserve from a man.

She snickered and rolled her eyes. “Okay, Mother Teresa, but all I’m saying is how do my boobs look?”

I laughed. “If I were Reggie, I’d definitely steal a few glances.”

Tracey combed her hair behind her ears before nervously pulling it back out to where it had been originally. She fiddled a lot when she was nervous. “Okay. Okay. He’s just a junior. It’s not like he’s the hottest senior on the block. He’s only like four months older than me—that’s like nothing, right? There’s no need to put this much pressure on the situation, but then again, if I don’t put pressure on it then maybe he’ll think I don’t like him, and well, that’s the complete opposite of the idea I want to give him, and, and, and—”

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