Page 37 of Like You Know

The girls had gotten ready with me at the Meads’ place, but I hadn’t seen the guys yet. Hendrix came up first to give me a hug and a happy birthday. Turner was right behind him with a warm hug and warmer wishes.

Harlow’s boyfriend, Easton, looked awkward as he stepped forward next. He gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek, then quickly backed off with a murmured birthday wish. Harlow took his hand and squeezed it, beaming up at him.

Was it weird to have my former English teacher at my birthday party? A little, but it helped that he wasn’t in one of his uptight suits, instead sporting a more casual shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his tattoos.

“How’s it feel being at a party with your students, Easton?” Turner asked. He was the most casual with Easton, as he went to another school and had only ever met him as Harlow’s boyfriend.

“Well, my eye is twitching a little at all the underage drinking.” He chuckled. “But it’s not too bad. They’re not my students anymore.”

“Got you a GlenDronach.” Easton’s brother, Ford, joined us and handed him a glass with amber liquid in it. His own drink was some kind of orange fruity cocktail with a pineapple garnish and an umbrella. “Hey, birthday girl!”

He dashed forward as soon as he spotted me, and the hug he gave lasted longer than any hug with a guy you weren’t even really friends with should last. He pressed his whole body flush with mine and whispered “happy birthday” into my ear.

“Thanks, Ford.” I gave him a smile as I pulled away. Reluctantly, he let me go.

“Save me a dance?” He flashed me that flirtatious smile before wrapping his lips around the colorful paper straw in his drink. It wasn’t the first time Ford had flirted with me. I’d only met him a few times, and he’d managed to come onto me during most of them.

My initial knee-jerk reaction was to turn my nose up and tell him “you wish”—like I had all the other times. But I wondered if maybe I should dance with him, let him flirt, flirt a little back.

Because the person I actually wanted to do all those things with wasn’t here.

Jet had ghosted me after that frightening incident at his apartment building.

His violent words, on reflection, had been a bit disturbing. But the neglected, abandoned, sad girl inside me perversely reveled in how fiercely he’d been ready to protect me.

A week had passed since then, and he’d almost dropped off the face of the earth. He’d been at school on Monday and Tuesday—I’d seen him rushing through the halls—but he hadn’t been at lunch, and I could’ve sworn he was avoiding me. Then he didn’t even show up at school for the rest of the week. Nicola told me he was out sick, but I didn’t believe that for one second.

I still texted him to say I’d heard he was sick and hoped he was OK. Then I texted him to say thank you for stepping in with those creeps again. Then I invited him to my birthday party. He ignored all my messages, but I knew he was talking to Drew (he’d mentioned as much at lunch on Friday), so I wasn’t worried about him. I was pissed.

By the end of the day on Friday, I sent him one last text, telling him he wasuninvited from my party and from my life in general.

“You know what? I’m in a good mood, so sure, I’ll dance with you.” I gave Ford an easy smile, and he winked at me. Winked! This guy ...

The girls gave me knowing looks but didn’t say anything. They were determined to make this night fun and carefree for me, but they knew everything. Since that day at the juice bar when I’d told them what a mess my life was, I’d been keeping them updated.

They were appropriately reproachful when I told them I’d gone to his apartment, totally horrified when I told them about being attacked, then grudgingly forgiving when I told them Jet had come to my rescue. Plus, Harlow had dug further into him, even though I’d told her to leave it, because of course she had. She’d decided he was a walking red flag because he had barely any online presence. His school records were sparse, and even her shadiest contacts couldn’t dig up anything about his parents or his life before coming to Devilbend.

It was a little odd, but whatever. I was never speaking to him again anyway. I’d flirt with Ford, maybe hook up with him for a bit of birthday fun, and forget all aboutJethro.

“You better not be giving away dances to any of these inferior peasants!” Drew appeared and handed me my champagne before slinging an arm around my neck. “Your ass is mine tonight, A.”

“I belong to no man. Especially not tonight.” I cocked an eyebrow at him and took a delicate sip of my drink.

Maybe I could hook up with Drew. He was always up for some fun. Plus, he was a genuinely good friend and wouldn’t hurt me. Maybe I could talk Drew and Ford into some group fun. It was my birthday, after all.

“Come on, let’s dance!” Donna pulled me out of my dirty fantasies just before I let my mind acknowledge that I’d rather have one night with Jet than multiple nights with any number of dudes I didn’t feel as strongly about.

We made our way to the dance floor area near the pool, where I greeted some more friends and let the music chase my thoughts away. For the next several hours, I danced, drank expensive champagne, ate the best hors d’oeuvres money could buy, talked to my friends, and forgot about all my worries.

Donna made a speech with assistance from Harlow and even Mena—though her cheeks went so red it was visible under her makeup. They almost made me cry. Then a giant cake was brought out. Donna demanded no one sing “Happy Birthday” until the clock struck midnight, since it was technically my actual birthday tomorrow. She was going to make us do a countdown as if it were New Year’s Eve. It was ridiculously over the top, and I loved it!

The cake was cut up and distributed, and we got back to dancing. They were playing all my favorite songs.

“I believe I was promised a dance,” a deep, teasing voice said behind me, and I turned to find a smiling Ford. He lifted his eyebrows and held his hands out in something between an invitation and a request.

With a carefree laugh, I stepped into him and draped one arm over his shoulder. He gripped my hips, and we started swaying to the music. Between the alcohol, the attention from all my friends, and the thumping bass, I was riding an almost euphoric high.

Ford’s body moved incrementally closer to mine, and I leaned into him until we were chest to chest. One of his hands went to my lower back just as the music changed to some nasty song that was impossible not to grind your hips to. He was a surprisingly good dancer and we moved in sync, our hips rolling.

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