Page 83 of Elusion

Unimpressed by his entrance, she pushes him away. His arm locks around her head, tucking her face into his armpit. She struggles before he lets her go, and he nods to me. “Good to see you again.”

“You too, man.”

We engage in one of those bro handshakes where we both understand what the next move entails. Now that I know the relation, the resemblance between him and Connor is obvious. A similar set to their eyes and square jaw.

Once their tight-knit inner circle assembles, all others in attendance fade to the outskirts. Years of friendship have built bonds unaffected by Callie’s recent absence. Trey, three years older, has been with her since she was born. As I knew, Pete came into the picture in preschool, over the years becoming best friends with Trey. In the fifth grade, Shayna moved to town, and Tony transferred in the next year.

We tour the school with Tony pointing out the more important sights. Most involve the places he hooked up with various girls. Every now and then, Trey and Pete give approving nods or interject their own experiences with the same girls. Small towns lead to a rather shallow dating pool, especially with a class size of twelve until the schools merged.

Fire-breathing moonshine over the barrel entertains everyone for a short time. Then Tony’s sleeve catches on fire. Pete pours a beer on him to extinguish the flame.

He examines his singed sweatshirt. “Maybe we should move on to the sword-swallowing portion of the evening.”

I laugh at his nonchalance about being on fire. “It might be safer.”

“I have a better idea,” Trey says.

He retrieves a spotlight from his cruiser and sets it up in the gym. It leads to a basketball game on a warped court with an underinflated kickball. Luckily, neither Pete nor Trey possesses the slightest athletic prowess because a drunk and stoned Tony makes for a shit ball player. My teammate giggles whenever he catches the ball.

At game point, I pivot to take the final shot, but a hand snaps out and knocks the ball away. The other three players are in front of me, so I spin around to see who owns the hand.

“Stick to lacrosse, Lover Boy,” Connor says, retrieving the ball.

With a cocky grin, he shoots a three-pointer. His friends near the wooden bleachers cheer. Callie’s friends surround him in an enthusiastic greeting. Except for Trey, none of them see him very often. They regard him as if he were their long-lost little brother, shaking him around and slapping him on the back. Someone—Tony—even tries to sneak him the moonshine.

Callie swipes away the bottle before it touches his lips. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He glances back at his friends. “Not drinking?”

The Cate in her comes out full force. She sets her jaw and places her hands on her hips. “No, Connor.”

To keep from smiling, I bite my cheek. Any reaction from me lands me one angry girlfriend, but damn, she’s adorable right now.

“Whatever.” He heads for the door. “We’re leaving anyway. You guys are lame.”

A sputter of laughter from the rest of our group almost makes her lose her stern demeanor, but she maintains. “Go home and text me when you get there.”

Once he and his friends walk out, most of her friends fall to the floor, cracking up. Trey’s the only one brave enough to pop his hip out and mimic her.

She flips him off. “Don’t make me kick your ass.”

He drops into a wrestler’s stance. “I’m ready for you this time.”

Pete attacks him from behind and winks at Callie as they roll around on the floor. She slides her arms around me while watching them, and I kiss her temple, soothing another jab of jealousy. I’ll never get used to that fucking feeling.

After a while, Connor texts Callie that he picked up Cate. He insists we not hurry home—probably because he has a girl over, but I don’t say anything about it to Callie. With both of her siblings taken care of for the night, we agree to venture out to the notorious farm. Each of us grabs a cooler or speaker and slides down the fire escape. The ancient thing should pull away from the building or collapse, but we all land without cuts from rusty bolts or falling to our deaths.

An additional five miles in the middle of nowhere, we turn up a long driveway. An old two-story house with peeling paint sits nestled in the trees. A few outbuildings surround a gravel area where I park next to Trey’s cruiser. He climbs out and hooks an arm around Callie’s neck.

“Let’s get this out of the way right now.” He points to an oak by the house. “Don’t try to climb that.”

He gestures to a red barn in the other direction, but Callie cuts him off, “Let me guess. Don’t crash into it.”

He laughs and passes her off to me. We meet up with the others down a grassy hill near a small pond. Pete’s lighting a bonfire between two tall dirt mounds. A few logs scattered around serve as seats for the rest of us. Callie hides her hands in the sleeves of the sweatshirt again. An excellent excuse to pull her onto my lap to keep her warm.

It doesn’t take long for Pete and Tony to disappear. The roar of engines precedes them tearing around the barn on four-wheelers. They take turns ramping the dirt mounds and jumping over the fire. I no longer wonder how Callie wrecked one into the barn. Their group acts invincible when together.

As the night wears on, my guard remains up with Pete around. He stares at Callie as if she holds his world together. But her presence seems significant to each of her friends. At one time, they were all such a big part of each other’s lives. They’re enjoying a rare reunion of sorts. I can’t help but think the guys and I will be the same way in a few years.

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