Page 158 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“Just people in general. My Grandpa Jamison used to call meLikable Lila.At first, I thought it was great. That I was so good at making people happy. But then I went through this phase in high school where I worried that beinglikablereally just meant being a doormat. For about six months, I becameveryopinionated.”
“How did that go for you?”
“It was horrible. Turns out, when my friends would ask me where I wanted to grab dinner, I wasn’t saying I was happy eating anywhere because I didn’twantto assert myself by having an opinion. It was because I was genuinely happy eating anywhere. Most of the time, I just didn’t care. Trying to make myself care was so much more stressful.”
“I can’t even wrap my head around what that must feel like.”
“What didyousay whenever your friends wanted to go get food?” she asks.
I look toward James. “Hey. Where did we eat whenever we went out after football games?”
James immediately rolls his eyes. “Like you ever gave us a choice. Tiny’s Tacos every single week.”
Lila laughs. “Why did you guys put up with him?”
“Nah, it wasn’t like that,” James says. “You want a friend who’s got your back? Perry’s got you.”
Loud laughter erupts across the room, and I look up, recognizing the sound.
Jocelyn is at the bar getting another drink, fawning over the bartender. Which isn’t like her. The fawning or the drinking. When she’s in charge of something—which happened a lot during the seven years we were married—she never drank until the event was over, and she no longer had to be her poised and polished self.
A shot of alarm races through me.
This is my fault. Showing up, flaunting a relationship when she had no idea I’d even started dating againwas too much. Not that I owe her updates. But Silver Creek is a small town. Even without really wanting to know, I’ve stayed pretty up to date on Jocelyn’s romantic life.
I keep my eyes on her as she tosses back a shot, then motions for the bartender to give her another.
Lila's gaze follows mine and settles on Jocelyn. “Do you think she’s okay?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t look like it.”
Lila reaches over, her hand resting on my forearm. “Perry, it isn’t your fault,” she whispers.
Even distracted by Jocelyn, I still notice the burst of warmth that fills me over Lila reading my emotions so accurately. “I sprung our relationship on her,” I whisper back. “One that isn’t even real.”
“And she sent you half a dozen manipulative emails.”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I have to stoop to her level.”
Lila squeezes my arm. “See? You really are a nice guy.”
We watch as Jocelyn downs another shot and leaves the bar, walking over to the stage. I hold my breath as she climbs the stairs and makes her way to the microphone. “Good evening,Silver Creek High School Class of two thousand seven!” she practically yells.
A cheer erupts around the room before Jocelyn continues. “Now that we’ve had a nice, civilized, adult dinner, it’s time to really have some fun. Is everyone having fun?”
On the surface, there isn’t really anything wrong with what Jocelyn is saying. The crowd is responding, cheering whenever she wants them to cheer. But I know her too well not to sense how close she is to teetering over the edge.
“This isn’t good,” I say under my breath, and Lila slips her hand into mine.
“Okay!” Jocelyn yells. “Warm up those vocal chords, grab some liquid courage from the bar, and get ready for some karaoke!” She draws out the syllables ofkaraokeso it’s almost a song itself, and the crowd goes wild, likely motivated by their clearly drunk emcee. “But not yet,” Jocelyn says, holding up a finger. “Because I’m going to sing a song first.” She laughs. “Bet you guys can’t guess who I’m singing about.”
“Oh no,” Lila says as Jocelyn walks over to the deejay, leaning down as if to whisper in his ear. Seconds later, Jocelyn’s back at the microphone, the opening strains of a song I only recognize because of Brody’s crush on Taylor Swift blasting through the speakers.
“I guess she didn’t want to go for subtle,” I say under my breath.
James leans over and claps me on the back, but he doesn’t say anything. What could he possibly say? Every person in the entire room has to know Jocelyn would only sing “We are Never Ever Getting Back Together”to me.
Jocelyn doesn’t have a terrible voice, but she’s obviously drunk and emotional, and the performance quickly shifts from bad to worse. She keeps losing the lyrics, jumping in at the wrong moment, jumbling her words together.
