THE MINUTE CAMILA arrives on the lawn of Victor Koskov's house, she gets a phone call from Isaac Ayama. Showing her phone screen to Jeremy, her eyebrows knit and answers the call.
"Isaac?" she asks.
Elle motions for her to put it on speaker. Camila shakes her head no.
"Are you here? Koskov's?" Isaac's voice crackles through. Camila can hear laughing in the background.
"I just pulled up," she says.
"Good," he seems to breathe out a bit more. "I-I want to talk."
"About? We're talking now, aren't we?" Camila replies.
Jeremy's whispering low and fast into Elle's ear, who's drinking it up and grinning—the only time that seems to unite them is when Camila runs into people who want second chances. As certified pessimists, they don't hand out their trust, or their numbers.
"About us."
It's getting painful for Camila to hold up her phone and she starts kicking at the grass with her canvas sneakers. Her ankle bracelet swings across her bare skin and she takes it off and hands it to Elle, who keeps it in her jacket pocket.
"Are you drunk?" she asks.
"No. I'm not going to be caught on camera with a drink in my hands," Isaac says.
"We can talk but...you know I won't take you back, right?"
She hears a sigh and Isaac replies, "Okay. Okay then. Well, if I see you can we speak a bit?"
"Only if I see you," Camila says, knowing full well she'll be subconsciously avoiding him. Post breakup talks are almost the worst—full of questions asking why or why not and maybe, all the reason Camila ever needed to dump him was the fact that he didn't like animals or something.
There's a brief pause in the atmosphere when she does, and all three of them start grinning before heading to the backyard of Koskov's house. The slip-like top Elle has on is quite literally, slipping down her shoulders and Jeremy adjusts it for her before heading over to his teammates.
"Okay, I'll go get us something. Any preference?" Camila volunteers.
"Grey Goose for me. Jeremy probably wants something pretentious like whiskey but get him like, a Breezer, or something."
"Do you want me dead?" Camila laughs but walks into the house anyways.
There's a large group playing pool but another crowd holding a contest on how many fruits they can juggle. She walks the practiced plank into Victor's kitchen, only to find the host himself. He's wrapped up and occupied by a girl and Camila doesn't recognize her so Victor introduces them.
"So this section is available for all guests." Victor gives her a tour of his parents' liquor cabinet. "And this, is for the family. Which I extend this privilege to you."
"How many people do you tell this to? It's not going to work on me Koskov."
"Only four! I swear," he insists but winks and resumes his conversation with his friend.
After grabbing what's on her checklist, Camila stumbles through to the back and locates Elle, who's sitting by the patio. Camila inserts herself next to her and Jeremy joins them soon enough. Taking a sip of her Coke, Camila cranes her head up. The skies are bright, the moon covering the ground, with large clouds floating by.
It's not long before Camila ends up back in the house, too hot and unbearable to cope outside. Elle disappears into the Koskov estate so Camila wanders around and makes smalltalk.
"Oops," a low voice says in her ear, a split second before she feels a lukewarm liquid snake its way down the middle of her back.
She spins around in disgust and sees, once again, gray skies embedded in river beds. Shocking gray and deep blue, a human condition that was written in the very first books.
Laurent King.
"Okay, you did that on purpose," Camila says and starts heading to the stairs, so she can use the restrooms upstairs.
"I didn't," Laurent says. "I don't need to go that low to get a girl."
She laughs. "Like you could ever get me. What is this? Beer?"
"Ginger ale."
"I'm surprised. You look like the type to appear at a party every two months to get wasted, then swear off alcohol for life until another big event comes up."
"That's specific. Seems like you're quite familiar with that pattern." He follows her up the stairs, lagging behind so he can stare at the pictures on the walls. If Camila can remember correctly, he and Koskov have been tight since middle school.
"Also, I'm an athlete," he says. "I can't afford to lose this physique."
"If you want to keep your shape, I'd suggest tonic water next time."
"Tonic water tastes like shit."
Before she reaches the top stair, Camila pauses and spins around. "What are you doing?"
A brow raises up. They're almost the same height on these steps but he still has a slight downwards tilt to his chin, hair falling into his eyes.
"Following me," she says. "Don't do that."
"I'm not even touching you."
"You don't need to touch me to make me uncomfortable."
"But are you?"
"I could be."
"So you're not."
"I could be."
"But you're not."
And this is the first person with whom Camila didn't get along with from the get-go but they continue this back and forth in the bathroom, where he helps her rinse out her white shirt and keeps her company as she waits for it to dry.