Page 55 of The Fangirl Project
More…
Moresomething,anyway, and it triggers a flurry of butterflies in my stomach that I point-blank refuse to acknowledge.
They’re just because of Jake, because he’s giving me a hug, that’s all.
And definitelynotbecause of how good Max looks in his soccer uniform.
Besides, no matter how flattering the uniform is, itcannotmake up for such a heinous personality.
“Cerys!” Jake exclaims, setting me back down. “What’re you doing here?”
“Oh, you know. I thought I’d come see the match. A little like old times.”
I bump my shoulder to his and give him a smile that—I hope—borders between cheeky and flirtatious. By now, though, Max has joined us, with hisimpeccabletiming as always.
My smile turns rigid, but I face him anyway. “Hi.”
“This is…a surprise,” he says.
Oh, I’m sorry, Max, do you think I’mintrudingon your quality time with your best friend? Tough luck, pal. This is what it feels like.
Not, of course, that I’m here to spite Max. I really am here for Jake. But it’s an unexpectedly good side effect, which might be vindictive of me, but I can’t bring myself to care too much. Max just has a way of bringing out that side of me.
“I just thought it’s been ages since I saw you,” I say, which is half in response to Max, though I direct it to Jake. “I’ve missedyou.”
Jake sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry, Cer. Things have just been…intense, lately. And I’m sorry about skipping out on the Wednesday watch parties, but sounds like you’re enjoying the show?”
Max gives a short breath of laughter, shooting me a pointed look I can’t distinguish. It doesn’t feel like his usual judgment and accusation, but whatever it is, I’m not getting it. Aware that I’m staring back at him now, I say, “Thanks for putting me onto the audiobooks, by the way.”
“Sure thing.” He nods once, then scuffs the toe of his cleat against the grass.
God, am Ireallythat awful to talk to? Is itsucha chore for him to be halfway polite?
Fine. Whatever.
Jake is as oblivious as ever to the tension between the two ofus, and clasps Max’s arm before saying to me, “Hey, actually, now that you’re here—I’ve been meaning to tell you! One of the guys at school is throwing a house party for Bonfire Night next week. You should come!”
“Are…Bonfire Night parties a thing now? Are we not doing Halloween parties anymore?” I ask, glancing between the pair of them, feeling like I’ve missed something. Is this a guy thing? A Jake’s school thing? Have Halloween parties looped back around from being cool to childish once more?
They both share a look; Max scoffs, and Jake rolls his eyes.
“We tried,” Max says. “But most people decided they couldn’t be bothered with costumes. Nobody cared enough.”
Costumes.I bet he was going to show up in hisOWARcosplay.
Thank God it’snota dress-up party, I think suddenly. They might’ve expected me to wear my Lady diSilver outfit. I don’t know how I would’ve explained that to a group of total strangers.
Jake tells me, “The guy’s parents are away that weekend, and some of the year above are coming, too; they’re old enough to buy fireworks, and they’re going to bring some drinks.”
“Right. Yeah! Sounds…”
Oh God. This changes things. Aproperno-adults, boozy house party.
I mean, it’s not like we haven’t had a few drinks at a party before. Ginny was always great about slipping us a bottle of wine to share around, and someone had usually gotten their hands on a few ciders, but never enough for things to getproperlymessy. And whoever was hosting usually had their parents down the road at thepub or shut away upstairs out of the way, so it wasn’t like things were completely unsupervised…
This sounds like arealhouse party.
My mind suddenly fills with images from American teen rom-coms: red Solo cups and beer pong at dining tables, couples kissing on sofas and in bedrooms, maybe doingmorethan kissing in bedrooms, vodka shots and rowdy games of Truth or Dare and Never Have I Ever…
