Page 93 of The Season
Tom: (string of party-related emoji)
I lift my gaze to the rearview mirror to see Liam glaring at Antoine in the back seat.
“Putain.” Antoine drops his phone to his lap, then covers his face with his palms. “Je suis tellement désolé.” He shakes his head, dropping his hands to give me an apologetic grimace. “I didn’t even think about him being on the group chat.”
“It’s fine.” I turn in my seat to give Antoine a reassuring smile. “I promise. It’s not a big deal if he comes.”
I mean, I might have intentionally not told Tom about Tessa’s party. Partially because I can’t stand being in his presence for long enough to form a coherent sentence. But it won’t really matter if he’s there. It’s not like I’ll have to hang out with him or anything.
“What’s not a big deal?” Matty asks from the front passenger seat, my car creaking ominously as he pivots to look between us. “What happened?”
“Oh, nothing,” Liam quips. “Just Antoine told Tom about the party tonight.”
A few days ago, those words would have carried enough bite to have the rest of us cringing in sympathy for Antoine. Now, Liam’s scowl has been replaced by an indulgent smirk as he gazes at Antoine, their knees pressed together in the back seat of the car.
Matty’s eyebrows lift, then dip. “He didn’t know?”
“It’s fine,” I say again. “Honestly. I don’t care if he comes along.”
“Hmm.” Liam’s hand reaches over, settling on Antoine’s thigh. “You might not care, but I’m pretty sure Seth will.”
At the mention of Seth, I turn back to the brick front of the liquor store, squinting as if that will somehow give me the ability to see through the thick double doors. To where Seth is currently buying alcohol to take along to Tessa’s party.
“Seth? Why would he care?” I muse.
I thought Seth and Tom were… not friends, exactly, but okay. Cordial. In the way that two people who have to work together and live together are.
“Seth was the one who invited Tom to live with us in the first place,” Matty points out, sounding strangely annoyed.
“Well…” Antoine presses his lips together in grim smile. “I’m guessing he probably regrets that now. Especially after…”
The back passenger door cranks open, and Antoine falls silent, everyone turning expectantly to watch Seth slide in.
He’s wearing one of those leather and fur hats with earflaps. It’s probably meant to be ironic, but somehow it actually looks good on him, and he’s smiling widely over the collar of his parka. “I got champagne for Tessa,” he says. “Sorry if that’s not what you guys said, but I had to put my phone away. The guy working behind the counter was giving me that look, you know what I mean?”
Bottles clank in paper bags as he settles them onto the floor, and then he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone.
His smile falls as he flicks through his messages, lips flattening and shoulders tensing. “Oh. Right. The group chat, eh?” He plasters on a smile, dropping his phone to his lap as he shuffles to buckle himself in. “I guess Tom can give Eddie a ride to the party then. Since there aren’t enough seats in Lily’s car.”
No one says anything in reply, and for a long moment, the only sound is the crackle of the radio, and the tapping of Matty’s feet on the floorboards.
* * *
“I love your nails.”Tessa grips my fingertips in her own, beaming down at my pink fingernails, like my home manicure is some work of art. She looks up, giving me what can only be described as a shit-eating grin before turning to Liam. “Don’t you think they look good, Liam?”
Liam grunts into his beer, scowling at Tessa from across the brightly lit kitchen, but his cheeks pinken, and there’s a hint of reluctant softness in his gray eyes as they dip to my hands. I bite back a smile.
Tessa has been convinced since she met me that Liam was interested in me. Until two days ago, I didn’t believe her. Now…
I shoot Liam and Antoine what I hope is a surreptitious glance beneath my lashes. They’re standing close together around a gleaming marble kitchen island, their heads bent toward each other like flowers bending to the sun, oblivious to the people moving around them.
Unlike most of the other ski and snowboard types who have arrived at Tessa’s party, Liam and Antoine both look like they belong here. Like they were born to inhabit houses with chandeliers and multiple living rooms, with floor-to-ceiling liquor cabinets, with indoor gyms and in-home theaters.
As if feeling me watching him, Antoine looks up, a broad smile lighting up his features when his eyes meet mine. The sight of it has heat rushing down my spine, my toes curling with pleasure against the heated tiles.
“Bubbles or beer?” Tessa asks, knocking her shoulder against mine. “Or maybe one of each? Why choose, right?”
I jolt at her words, a flush of embarrassment stinging my ears because I somehow suspect she isn’t just talking about beverage choices.
