Page 14 of The Hearts We Fumble
Still, I go through the motions, taming my unruly curls with a curling iron, spritzing some texturizing spray, and running my fingers through my hair to give it that perfectly messy look.
Because whether I like it or not, I’m going.
The temperature is expected to drop. And this party? It’s overlooking the beach, practically in the middle of nowhere. I’m not about to show up in boots and nice clothes, so I throw on a cropped crewneck sweatshirt, a pair of denim jeans, and my favorite sneakers—comfortable, casual, nothing that says I put in too much effort.
By the time Tate and Reed pull up outside my house, I already regret this decision.
That feeling only worsens when we pull into the open field at Greencastle, and Reed’s headlights sweep over the sea of cars crammed onto the grass.
This was a bad idea, a really bad idea.
Reed parks toward the back of the lot, keeping his Mustang well away from the chaos—probably to avoid some drunk idiot denting his baby.
Can’t blame him. Hell, if I were him, I wouldn’t have driven out here at all.
The bass-heavy music pulses from the party in the distance, and as I step out of the car, I exhale sharply, bracing myself for whatever the hell tonight brings.
“C’mon.” Tate tugs at my forearm, her grip firm but lighthearted. “It’s gonna be a good time. I promise.”
I arch a brow. “Just so you know, I’m holding you to that.”
She chuckles, looping her arm through mine as Reed leads us through the maze of parked cars toward the party.
I’m ready to breathe a sigh of relief, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I’ll make it through the night without running into him.
But then—
A familiar laugh slices through the air, and my entire body locks up.
How can a sound feel like a flashback?
I’ve heard that laughter more times than I can count. There was a time when making Zane Kinnick laugh felt like an achievement, something that kept me moving forward, especially after my dad died.
Now? Now, it just makes me want to run in the opposite direction.
“Wow,” Zane’s voice cuts through the crowd as we approach, smug and sharp. “I thought Tate was joking when she said you were actually coming.”
Zane steps between us, offering Reed a handshake before clapping him on the shoulder in one of those effortless bro hugs.
Then his attention shifts to me—his mouth curling into that damn smirk, the one that’s always been equal parts cocky and knowing.
“Let me guess—you got lost on your way to Keaton? Or did you finally cave and admit we throw better parties?”
I flash him a fake smile, tilting my head like I’m actually considering it.
“Don’t let it go to your head. I’m only here for the free beer and questionable decisions.”
Zane chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “And? What’s the verdict?”
I match his smirk, tilting my chin up slightly. “Still collecting data.”
His eyes flicker with amusement as I glance around, then meet his gaze again.
“But if it weren’t for Tate, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Ahh, so you got dragged out tonight.” He nods like he understands, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. “Yet… here you are.”
I open my mouth to fire back, ready to wipe that smirk off his face, but that’s when I realize Tate is gone.
