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“Fresh blood?” I murmured to Will.
“Everyone knows everyone,” he told me. “Everyone knows about everyone. Everyone’s fucked everyone.”
“Seriously?” I crossed my legs, acutely aware of his gaze, hoping for material for my article. “Or are you just trying to shock me?”
Will only smiled.
The rest of the guests were polite to me, though not friendly. With each other, the laughter flowed and the smiles were bright, but there was an undercurrent to their conversation, a casual callousness. They gossiped about everybody who wasn’t there, and everybody who was there but out of earshot, and swiped knowing digs at each other that seemed to constitute an ongoing game of one-upmanship.
But their stories sparkled, like the pool and the air and the subtle, glinting jewelry that the girls wore with their swimsuits.
“Lemonade?” Will put an icy glass in my hand. The sun was setting, flooding the sky with hot pink and fiery orange. People were retreating from the pool, heading inside to change for the evening.
“Thanks.” My throat was dry. I took a sip and spluttered, coughing at the tart burn. “More like vodka with a squeeze of lemon.”
“Too much for you, little cousin?” His voice was a caress. His fingers curled around the glass below mine, warm from the run.
“I like to know what I’m drinking before I taste it.” I pushed my hair back, feeling too hot with Will standing only inches away. “Why do you keep calling me little cousin?”
“Because you’re little,” he said softly. “And you’re my cousin.”
“But you’re not telling anyone we’re related. Is it a secret?”
“Mmm.” He smiled slightly, his eyes dipping down. He was staring. At my lips. My throat. My breasts, the swells slight but apparent in my dark blue swimsuit.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because.” His eyes met mine. “I want to.”
I stepped back quickly, letting go of the glass of lemony vodka. Will had been holding it too, but not tightly. It smashed on the patio, shards of glass and ice and liquid spreading out.
“Oh no.” I covered my mouth. “I’ll get a mop — and paper towels — do you know where…?”
“Don’t touch it.” When Will’s eyes met mine, they were dark as wet stones, the green almost gone as the sun slipped below the horizon. “The staff will clean it up.”
“But—”
“Go get changed, Andie. Don’t worry. I’ll see you soon.”
I fled inside and upstairs, squeezing past a knot of girls who were rushing down, chattering a mile a minute. They flowed around me like the tide around a rock. Their dresses were pale and simple, whispers of Easter egg colors, showing bronzed shoulders and legs, tasteful in what they covered.
I thought of the dress I’d brought, and panic bloomed in my belly.
Material, I told myself as I found a softly glowing bathroom and shut the door. It’s all material for your article. The care and feeding of the rich.
Digging in my bag, I pulled out the dress. The shiny purple satin rustled. The dress was cocktail-length, low-cut and ruched, with twinkling rhinestones lining the straps.
I took a deep breath. I’d dreamed of going to prom in this dress, like a princess, even if I didn’t have a date. Here, it was all wrong. Too much, too loud, too cheap-looking. Worst of all, it was a size too small. I was petite, but this was the only size left on the rack, and the dress had seemed too beautiful, the price too right, to pass up.
The deep breath wasn’t just for courage; it was so I could zip the dress up. The zipper stuck before I reached the top. I couldn’t close the last few inches. My small breasts spilled out of the cups in the bodice, my pink nipples almost peeking above the soft satin. The fabric was tight around my hips, the hem ending well above my knees.
I could barely breathe.
Why had I thought this dress was a good idea? I never showed off my body. I lived in loose clothes, peasant blouses and jeans, thrift-store finds.
The bathroom had a large, high window that looked out onto the rolling backyard, like it gave the owner satisfaction to see without being seen, to do their private business while observing others. I couldn’t stand to look at myself in the mirror, so I pressed my face to the glass.
Girls filled the backyard, dressed all alike, dots of light that flitted like fireflies. Backing away, I buried my face in my hands, trying to find the courage to go out there.
