Page 32 of Leave Before I Love You
Beau’s mom and dad, Neil and Diane, are holding court with the middle-aged crowd by the back patio doors, and a group of goblins stands at the kitchen island picking at the expensive grazing table full of finger foods, fancy cheeses, and processed meats. Because of the open concept floor plan, you can see almost the entirety of the living area at once, save the main entrance and grand staircase that leads up to the bedrooms and the half bathand utility rooms in the back, and that makes for one hell of a party house—which is exactly how this family uses it.
Beau and I have been friends since we were kids, the Bankses have lived in this house for as long as I’ve known them, and I’ve attended at least three parties a year in this very space.
I have memories in every room, and coming here always strikes me with the warmest sense of nostalgia. I spent nearly as many days here, surfing and paddleboarding and generally fucking off, as I did at home, and because of that and Neil and Diane’s unbelievably welcoming nature, I’ll always feel comfortable here.
I swing by the kitchen for a beer and then head into the foyer to check out another sector of the crowd, spotting Beau’s little sister Avery as she comes out of the half bath down the hall.
She’s wearing a saloon-style red dress that cuts up to the top of her thigh, and her long brown hair is curled and hanging down around her shoulders. Ronnie sneaks up behind her and pokes her in the side, and she squeals in terror as he runs away to high-five Mav, who’s waiting at the front door so the two of them can duck outside. If I had to guess, they’re headed for the tall trees by the front gate to light up a blunt away from all the Bankses’ carefully placed security cameras.
Weed’s never been my thing, but Ronnie and Mav will smoke the shit out of it, especially when they’re drinking.
“My God, it’s likeAnimal House,” Avery remarks to a random girl beside her, garnering a smile and a laugh, and moving my attention fully back to her.
She pulls at the red silk gloves that reach up to her elbows, looking down in concentration as she walks toward me, so I post up on a spot against the wall, leaning my shoulders into the surface and crossing my arms over my chest. She looks up again—and even glances toward me—but doesn’t immediately recognize me because of my mask. I whistle to grab her attention, and she jerks to a stop right in front of me.
“Oh my God, Henry?”
I laugh. “That’s Zorro to you.”
“Holy shit! Zorro?” she keens. “I wanted my date to be Zorro to go with my Elena De la Vega, but he’s a stupid idiot and thought it wasn’t cool enough!”
“What’s not cool about a sword and Catherine Zeta-Jones?” I ask incredulously.
“Right?” She laughs. “I mean, hello!”
“Where’s this tragic excuse for a man now?” I ask, looking behind her but not seeing an obvious companion anywhere.
She chuffs. “I got rid of him. He came as Hulk, and he kept getting green body paint everywhere.”
“So, now you’re alone?” I ask, tsking.
“Oh, Henry. I’mneveralone.” She flashes a sexy wink. “Just reopened to possibilities.”
Her perspective is cute and makes me laugh. “Well, I can’t seem to find Beau, and Ronnie and Mav just left to get high with some chick in a Hello Kitty costume, so if you want, you can hang out with me.”
“We do look like we match,” she hums thoughtfully, looking around at the same time. “You know, I haven’t seen June in forever either. I wonder where the hell she went.”
I shrug. “Want to get a drink?”
“Always,” Avery agrees.
“What’s your poison?”
“Prosecco. Tonight is a night of lots and lots of prosecco.”
I laugh. “That’s easy enough.”
Avery leads the way, walking back to the kitchen in front of me, and I put a soft hand to the small of her back to guide her there. She smiles and waves at dozens of people on the way—all of whom have been friends of her family for years—and I jerk my chin when it’s someone I recognize too.
Bottles of prosecco are lined up on the counter by the sink, so I skirt by to pour her a glass and then come back to join herby the kitchen island. It’s crowded, though, and I feel surprisingly claustrophobic.
“Let’s go out back,” she suggests, obviously feeling the same way.
“Good idea.”
Music pounds softly from the patio speakers, but the overall din of noise is much more tolerable. I find a spot to stand in the corner by the built-in grill, leaning my hip into the counter and inviting Avery to stand in front of me.
She leans in close, always flirting, no matter the occasion.
