Page 29 of Only If You're Lucky
She just pushed back harder, pushed me away.
So maybe that’s the reason I had to get away from her, this kind, quiet girl who not only reminds me of me, but of all my failures. Of everything Ididn’tdo.
Maybe that’s why I’m finding myself oscillating toward the opposite, toward Lucy, a swinging pendulum making my way slowly to the other side.
CHAPTER 25
I wait until Maggie is out of sight before Lucy and I join Sloane and Lucas sitting around a makeshift bonfire out back.
“How are you feeling?” Lucy asks, a smirk on her lips. I’m still a little rattled about the encounter, a little on edge, but the chemical concoction coursing its way through my bloodstream is making it impossible to feel too bad.
“Good,” I say at last. “I feel good.”
And that’s the truth, at the heart of it, despite the guilt still tickling for my attention. I do feel good. And it isn’t just the pill, either. Or the alcohol. Or the fact that I finally got in my apology to Maggie, albeit I can’t quite tell if it was actually accepted or if she was just being nice as always. It isn’t even the way every single person in this circle suddenly feels like family to me, the little shed between us a portal to another world. It’s because I’ve just now realized, whether consciously or not, that I haven’t been looking for Levi this entire time. We’ve spent the last two months tiptoeing around each other, attempting to coexist like two plants repotted into too small a container. Our respective roots trying to branch out, bury deep, but instead getting tangled together in the process.It’s almost felt like a competition between us—like one of us needs to wither in order for the other to thrive—but right now, sitting here, I’m not so sure it has to be that way.
“This is some party,” I say, turning to Lucas. He’s reclining in a lawn chair so ratty and worn he’s practically sitting on the ground, a cowboy hat tipped low over his eyes.
“This is nothing,” he responds, staring into the flames. “Just wait until January.”
“What’s in January?”
“Initiation,” Sloane says on his behalf. “The first party where the pledges aren’t pledges anymore.”
I nod, reminiscing on the last few months. The freshmen are required to spend every free second at the house during their first semester. I’m always seeing them coming over in the mornings and in the evenings after class, cleaning the house and running errands. Sacrificing Friday nights to be the upperclassmen’s designated drivers, chauffeuring them around town with no questions asked.
“There’s this little island a few miles off the coast,” Lucas continues. “An older brother found it years ago and it’s become a tradition, throwing it out there. No neighbors, no cops. Our own little slice of paradise.”
“How do you get there?” I ask. “By boat?”
I watch as Lucas tips a beer back to his lips, takes a long swallow before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. I’ve learned by now that having access to a boat is the highest form of social currency at a coastal college like Rutledge, little skiffs and dinghies cluttering up students’ lawns. Center consoles and speedboats for the locals who are lucky enough to use their parents’.
“Their last task is to drive everyone out there, set up camp,” Lucas says, nodding. “Once we’re settled, their obligations are over. It’s their first real night of freedom.”
I try to imagine it: hordes of students making their way to the water, bow lights bobbing as we venture out and into the night.
“Doesn’t it get cold in the winter?” I ask.
“We have a fire, heaters for the tents. Liquor blankets,” he adds, grinning. “It gets pretty feral.”
Sloane suddenly perks up, twisting around to face the house.
“Where is Nicole?” she asks for the second time tonight, as if this conversation suddenly sparked her memory. I realize, too, that we still haven’t seen her. Not since this morning.
“She’s wasted,” Lucas says. “She’s been here for, like, eight hours.”
“Should we go find her?” I ask, turning around, too. Waving my hand through the air as the wind picks up, pushing smoke from the bonfire directly toward me.
“Trevor has her. She’s fine.”
The circle settles back into a heavy, stoned silence, our limbs light and minds numb. The house is still thumping, still thrumming, still pulsing with the energy of hundreds of people still inside. I can practically feel the sweat dripping, the body heat radiating, and eventually Sloane and Lucas get up to grab another drink, leaving Lucy and me alone again.
I look over at her, blue eyes ablaze as she stares into the flames, feeling another rush of warmth in my chest.
“How was it complicated?”
It takes me a second to realize she’s talking to me. She’s still staring into the fire, completely entranced, her voice barely above a whisper. I look around, checking to see who else she could be directing the question to, but still, we’re alone.
“What?” I ask at last.
