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Authors: J.A. DeRouen

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Wings Over Poppies (Over #2) (4 page)

BOOK: Wings Over Poppies (Over #2)
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Holly and I have been best friends since early childhood. Our mothers have been best friends for years, and Holly and I were born five days apart. I swear we started scheming before we left the womb.

What Holly and I lack in similarities, we more than make up for in solidarity and camaraderie. She embraces this privileged, sheltered life we both lead. She smiles and curtsies like the debutante she’s been bred to be, and I buck the system at every turn. I hug trees while she hugs Louis Vuitton bags. She’s been wearing Tulane garb since she could shout “Go Green Wave,” and I can’t keep off the NYU website. It’s not that Holly is a rule follower—her wants and needs have just miraculously lined up with her parents expectations. Me? Not so much. She keeps hoping it’s a phase I’ll grow out of … I’m hoping the same about her.

I continue the clothes hunt and call out over my shoulder. “He didn’t stand me up. His sister, Lucy, was in the hospital. She had a really bad asthma attack and had to be admitted for observation,” I explain. West even called me to explain what happened and apologize. Of course, I told him there was absolutely nothing to be sorry for. It broke my heart to hear the worry and helplessness in his cracking voice as he told me about his sister.

Lucy was born prematurely, and her lungs were severely underdeveloped. Because of this, West explained she needs breathing treatments and lots of different medications. She gets sick often, and when she does, a minor cold can turn into a hospital stay. Lucy’s health is a constant struggle.

West adores Lucy, and he would do anything to make her as comfortable as possible. If he puts me on a pedestal, then he places Lucy in a glass box. He constantly worries that she’s doing too much and overexerting herself. I can’t say that I blame him. I don’t know what’s worse—watching someone you love fight for air, or being the one who’s drowning. West would gladly trade lungs with her if he could. That’s just who he is, how deep he loves.

“Ooh, wear that skirt. I’m so glad I brought it for you to borrow. It looks so much better on you, ya bitch. Hell, I think
I
want to hump you. West won’t stand a chance.”

I must admit—the skirt looks smoking hot. Deep, slate gray, tight, mid-thigh … perfect. And when I say
tight
, I mean to say that my spleen is on full display. Lucky for me, my spleen is pretty cute. I pair this with a vintage, black crochet sweater that hangs lazily off my shoulder. A tiny black camisole is keeping my unmentionables hidden. I think my black Mary-Jane pumps, silver locket, and an arm of bangles will round out this
come hither
ensemble nicely.

“I hope you’re right. He’s never seen me dressed like this, so maybe he’ll look at me in a different light. If I’m being honest, I don’t think
I’ve
ever seen me dressed this way. Is it too much?” I tug nervously at the skirt and try to pull the sweater onto my shoulder for more coverage.

“Stop fidgeting. You look freaking amazing.”

Holly walks across the room and pulls my hands away, placing them at my sides. She’s quiet for a moment and then looks at me with a mixture of sympathy and concern.

“He doesn’t know you’re going tonight, does he?”

My gaze quickly shifts to the floor, and I keep silent. Jason and Will, a couple of guys from the CRCC golf team mentioned they were having a party while I was helping out in the pro shop. It was almost too easy to get an invite. The students of CRCC are celebrating the end of midterms and “everybody” is going to be there. From what the guys told me, “everybody” means all the members of the golf team, including West.

“Okay, it’s time to be straight with me, Alex. What the hell is it about this guy? Is he hot? Lickable? Absolutely. But you’ve got four or five hot, lickable guys from Riverside Prep salivating to take you out. Four or five guys who wouldn’t push you away. Four or five guys who your parents would approve of.” I roll my eyes at that statement. As if that would be a plus in my book.

“And I’m just gonna address the pink elephant in the room—”

“There’s no pink elephant, Holly.” I narrow my eyes in warning. She needs to catch my hint, and quick.

“Sorry babe, but there is definitely a pink elephant. You can hate me for saying it, but here it is. There are four or five guys dying to be with you who don’t have to fish the bottom of golf course ponds to make ends meet.”

It’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is to fall in love with a poor man, Alexandra. One is just infinitely more satisfying.
I sigh heavily as my mother’s words haunt me.

Holly at least has the decency to lower her voice and act like she’s ashamed. This is one of those topics where our opinions differ greatly.

“You need to stop right now, Holly. Not. Another. Word. Do you have any idea why West needs extra money? Have you ever asked?” I wait for her answer and shake my head in disappointment. “He helps his mom with Lucy’s medical bills. She has medical insurance with her job, but there are still deductibles for doctors and medications, not to mention the treatments that the insurance company rejects payment on. He’s being
honorable
. He loves his family, and he’s dedicated to doing his part to take care of them. Don’t ever compare him to a bunch of silver-spoon-fed assholes from Riverside.”

Holly comes closer and grabs my hand before I can walk away, giving me an apologetic smile. “I didn’t know, Alex, I’m sorry. That was really shitty of me.”

“You’re a fine one to throw stones, ya know. I’m getting a little tired of watching Tripp walk all over my best friend. You keep waiting patiently for him to ask you out, and in the meantime, he can’t keep his whatchamacallit out of everyone else’s whowhatsits!”

She shocks the shit out of me by throwing her head back in laughter. I cross my arms across my chest and wait for her to catch her breath.

“Whew! That’s hilarious, Alex. I know we’re supposed to be fighting, but I lost all the anger I was holding in at the mention of Tripp’s whatchamacallit. I don’t think he’d take kindly to you naming his dick a whatchamacallit. Why not just call it his pee-pee?” Her bright smile and infectious laughter soothe my anger, and I grab her for a quick hug. It’s always this easy between the two of us. That’s one of the many reasons I love Holly’s face.

“Okay, bitch, fight over. But I do have one request. Before you ever let Tripp touch you with his whatchamacallit, pee-pee, willy, rooster, or whatever you want to call it, make sure he dips that shit in bleach. Some of those whowhatsits he’s frequented are downright frightening.”

 

 

Music blares through the windows, and people are milling in the road and front yard. The front door of the house is wide open, and Eminem welcomes us to our first college party. I fight the urge to turn and run, and I sense the same energy rolling off Holly.

Riverside Prep parties are in no way tame, but we’ve been hanging with the same people for over a decade. We’d see familiar faces at a Riverside party and be stopped numerous times to talk before we ever made it inside. By the time we hit the front door, I’ve yet to see anyone I know, and it leaves me feeling exposed. But I’m tired of West seeing me as a sheltered princess, so I’m determined to power through.

Red solo cups litter the brown shag carpet. The air is thick with smoke, stale beer, and a tangy, rancid smell I’d rather leave unidentified. A rickety card table is set up in the corner, a lively game of beer pong happening. The wood paneled walls are lined with couples who obviously have no qualms about exhibitionism, and the dance floor in the center of the room follows suit.

One thing is painfully clear as I survey the room. These people aren’t pretending. They aren’t playing dress up, stealing from their parents’ liquor cabinet, and drinking from brandy snifters while said parents are on an extended business trip in Europe. Absent is the pretentious and entitled vibe that has been ingrained into my friends and me from birth. This is
their
party, they are living their own lives, and I’m infinitely jealous.

“Look who made it. Alex! Holls! Y’all decided to slum it tonight, huh? Will, break out the fine china, man!”

“Fuck off, Jason!” Holly shouts, giggling.

She shoves Jason playfully, and he wraps his arm around her neck for an affectionate hug. Will joins us, looking a little glassy-eyed, considering the night is still young.

“You have already seen our illustrious foy-yay, ladies. It would be my distinct honor to give you a tour. You should see the butler’s pantry, wine cellar, and the bidet is not to be missed!” Will jokes with his best hoity-toity, British tour guide impression.

Holly waves her hand flippantly in Will’s direction. “Whatever dude. Let’s just skip straight to the tour of the outhouse and the junker car you probably have up on blocks in the backyard.”

Will grabs his chest and dramatically falls backward. “Holly, you wound me!”

Will and Jason rent this house with a couple of other guys from the golf team. I know they’ve asked West to move in with them several times, but he doesn’t want to spend the extra money. His mom doesn’t live very far from the college, so he says he can’t justify the rent and utilities. I know he hangs out here a lot, and I’m counting on that tonight. I wonder if he’s made it here yet…

“Seriously ladies, can I interest you in a cup of warm beer? It’s two notches above hot piss, but I promise it does the trick.”

“Ugh, gross, Jason. As appetizing as that sounds, I think I’ll have to pass,” I say, just as a girl wearing a red tube dress, Tammy Faye Baker makeup, and bad extensions sidles up next to Will.

“Willie, baby, have you seen Stacey? I can’t find her anywhere.”

If the whine in her voice hadn’t already irked me, the way she sizes up Holly and me would have surely sent me over the edge. I’m resisting the hip pop and eye narrow with everything in me, but I see in my peripheral vision that Holly hasn’t refrained.

“I’m sure she has her tentacles wrapped around West somewhere around here. God knows she’s like a vulture, and poor West is her meal.” Will’s wearing an expression of obvious disgust.

I feel Holly grab hold of my arm. I feel burning behind my eyes and a throbbing in my ears. The music becomes a low hum as the sound of my unsteady breath is magnified tenfold. My eyes sweep the room and pay closer attention to the faces of the groping couples lining the walls.

That’s when I see him. My eyes are blurred with tears, and he’s partially shielded by her scantily-clad body, but I see what I need to see. He should have just slapped me in the face, stabbed me in the heart, pushed me off the cliff. It would hurt much less than this.

His hands are on her hips, and I can see the indent of his fingers as he squeezes tightly. He looks down at her with a smile, and she pushes up on her toes and meets him halfway. But he doesn’t turn his head and chuckle. He doesn’t pull her hair and joke like she’s his little sister.

He inhales her. He fucking devours her. And he crushes my heart in the same breath.

I can’t look away. I try with everything I have to divert my eyes, but the punch to my chest leaves me paralyzed. I feel Holly pulling my arm and softly whispering in my ear, but everything is white noise as the truth rears its ugly head.

West never wanted me at all.

“I think I’ll take that hot beer now, Jason.”

 


Realize
” by Colbie Caillat

 

 

“OKAY ALEX, I’M all about drowning your sorrows, babe, but I think you need to slow your roll. I’d hate for things to get sloppy,” Holly pleads as I grab another beer from the guy working the keg.

“What? I’m just having a good time. You should try it,” I sing-song playfully as I sashay to the dance floor and half my beer splashes out of my cup and onto the carpet.

“Somebody’s got to drive your drunk ass home. Look, let’s get out of here. A bunch of people from Riverside are hanging out at Tripp’s house. His parents are out of town. Let’s go crash.” She gently pulls my arm in an attempt to get me out the door. She also confiscates my beer, and I roll my eyes in protest.

“Great idea, Holly. I’m sure we’ll have a much better time watching Tripp bag another skank. Don’t you think one broken heart is enough for the evening?”

BOOK: Wings Over Poppies (Over #2)
2.01Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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