Page 126 of Faking Forever 1
“Youneed to get off my ass. Everything was fine before you came over here. Stop playing mediator and ease up, would you?” Beau clicks his teeth, pushing Josh out of the way to reach into a cooler.
It was strange. I don’t remember drunk Beau being so wretched and mean. Obnoxious, yes, but never like this. We were off limits to the nasty parts of his binges. Now, that was no more.
“I’m trying to help you—you’re ruining everything you worked for, Beau.” Josh takes a step back from him.
“Stick to helping the fucking city, Josh. Let me know when you’re done. And that includes obsessing over your Barbie doll.” Beau digs a finger into Josh’s chest.
“Chill. She didn’t do anything, man.” Josh pushes his finger away, but Beau persists.
“No way. You wanted to know how I felt, bro? Here it is!”
Beau’s arms fly out, drawing attention from everyone around us. “You two got together from fake dating and you think it’s gonna work out like a fairytale?!”
Fuck. I pray the music played right through that.
I step between them and push Josh’s chest. “Okay, enough—
Josh, let’s go. He can have the party.”
“No, Paisley, this party was foryou. He’s out of his mind right now,” he says, ignoring my hand gestures.
He had already seen red. The haunting hysteria he’d gotten so much help with had re-lit its flame behind his eyes. He moves me to the side, walking right into Beau, chest first.
“Beer down. Now, Beau.” He raises his voice sternly, taking the glass by the neck and accidentally splashing it on himself as it flies. He loses it in the sand when Beau pushes him back.
“Grow up a little bit, how about that?” Josh shakes out his 305
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arms, fuming still.
“Let’s go.” I march to him, grabbing his damp and now sticky arm.
“Hey—yeah, go be with your wife, that’s real rich.” Beau lets his voice match the power of Josh’s. “Have fun in London, Barbie. I hope you don’t mind sharing more of your sloppy seconds with Darcy.”
My eyes jump back and forth between them, making me dizzy. I remove his arm from my hand and curl my fingers into my palms, carrying every ounce of hatred at my fingertips.
Snapping my body around, I drop my arms like I was holding heavy baggage.
“What does he mean—what doesthatmean?”
My heart was already trying to barter with my brain about whether or not I should let him answer. We could walk away right now and pretend we never heard a thing. Except that wouldn’t be enough for me to cope.
“Nothing—it means nothing at all. He’s drunk and talking out of his ass, Paisley.”
I know he tells Beau everything now because heisn’ttelling me. I would love it if this were an honest fabrication of his drunken mind. The downside is knowing Darcy and being aware that she does want Josh. It’s in how she looks at him, talks to him, and everything she exerts when she enters his space. By the look on his face, too, it was appropriate to be pissed the hell off. And I had an entire crowd to watch it for free. Every single person’s eyes were enjoying the show.
The same way my professors look at me when I mess up in the kitchen, or I move a second too slowly. The look is vile and holds no validity. It makes you the one to stand out in a harrowing and offensive way. It makes me sick. Humiliation.
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And I always seem to be at the hands of it.
I won’t sit in it when I know I can run. In school I can’t, but here? Nobody can stop me.
“Paisley! Wait!”
