The wedding was getting closer and closer, which did nothing to improve the moods of anyone involved. Luke and I were finalizing everything—plane tickets, discounted carry-on luggage, the works. Mom now called on a daily basis and demanded to speak to Luke, who took the call and never failed to end it—miraculously—within five minutes of saying "hello". Mom had fallen head-over-heels for him, which was good, because it made for one less complication.
Dad stayed out of all the crazy planning most of the time, occasionally chiming in to make a comment or suggestion. He'd only met Luke over the phone, like Mom, and talked with him briefly about sports and scores and whatnot. Luke seemed to pass the test, so I didn't need to worry about that, which was a relief given the many other things that required immense amounts of worry.
"How about we take some time off from this, Victoria?" Luke asked me at the ice cream shop one day, taking a bite from my cup as I swatted his hand. "There's a party going on tonight—"
"No, thanks," I said immediately, knowing that parties meant the attendance of Rachael Whims and Elle Dunst and the rest of Grayson High, all of which seemed to hate me at the time. "You can go; I'm good."
"Come on," he pressed, persistent. "Honestly, these daily ice-cream-outings are cleaning out my bank account. Parties have free food, and guaranteed fun."
He smiled at me teasingly, but I wasn't in the mood.
"No, thanks," I repeated, firmly. "It's—it just doesn't sound like a good idea. I have to finalize our tickets."
"No, you don't. You did that weeks ago." He said, catching my bluff. There was a pause, and then,
"Look, you don't have to come, but I would really appreciate it if you did. Honestly."
"I might," I said finally, beginning to cave in, "But begging isn't going to get you anywhere."
"It has before," he said, with a laugh, and I shook my head.
"Shut up, Callaway."
"That's the Victoria I know." He answered, his tone jovial, and I caught a glimpse of the ink across his wrist.
"Oh, I forgot to ask you!" I said, pressing a hand to my forehead. "What tattoo did you get? I never saw it after we went to the parlor."
Brows raised, he stretched out his arm, palm facing up, so that I could see.
This tattoo was different from the other—it was just as simple, but somehow, far more interesting. It was a single ridge, a crest that travelled from the bottom of his wrist and curved upwards, into an almost wave-like pattern, until going back down and falling into a straight line once more.
"Is it an ocean wave?" I asked, and he grinned.
"Look at you," he said. "Already a tattoo connoisseur."
"What does it mean?" I asked, knowing that there had to be some special insight to the wave.
"My dad used to take me surfing when I was little," he answered. "We'd drive down to Galveston and get out into the ocean and I he would get me onto a board and tell me to ride the wave. No other advice. Just those three words. So, obviously, I felt like an idiot—falling on my face over and over again while he would surf like an Olympic athlete. Whenever I would ask him to teach me, to help me, he would just keep saying 'ride the wave'. It was incredibly frustrating."
"I can imagine," I said, brows knit.
Luke nodded, continuing with,
"Well, one day, when I was about fifteen, I got out there and fell one too many times. I was so fed up with getting nothing from my dad, getting no help, and always failing. So I took my board out as deep as I could get it, and I swore to God that I was going to get the next one, or else I'd die trying. I was your typical bull-headed, rebellious fifteen-year-old, and I wasn't going to let my dad beat me.
"So I got on the frigging board and watched the wave come, and I just waited, and it felt like my heart was in my throat and I couldn't quite breathe right, and the wave just kept getting bigger and bigger, but then—"
He paused, and I found myself leaning forward, clinging to his every word. Catching myself, I cleared my throat and sat back. It took everything I had not to beg him to finish.
"Then I felt myself getting lifted. And there was this giant rush in my ears, and I felt weightless, and I looked down and around me and there was the water, and I was on top of the wave, and I had finally done it. Dad was laughing as I got back up, and he told me it was the smallest wave that he'd ever seen, but I didn't care. I'd ridden it, and that was all that mattered."
"So the tattoo symbolizes your fear?" I asked, working hard to figure it out, but he shook his head.
"It symbolizes the fear that I thought I had. From a distance, riding the wave seemed like the goddamn hardest thing I would ever have to do, and I didn't want to drown in the middle of the ocean, but I did want to prove my father wrong. But when it came closer, and I got on top of it, it was like all of that fear was completely gone. It's pretty simple, Victoria. Things seem terrifying from a distance, but once you're there in the moment, it's not scary at all."
I nodded, dumbfounded.
"Your tattoos always have to mean something, huh?" I asked jokingly, smiling at him.
He returned the gesture. "Of course they do. Why else would I get them?"
"I'll go to the party," I said, after a beat of silence, and he beamed. "As long as you give me a ride."
"Victoria, I give you a ride everywhere I go. I swear, you're the reason I have to work at The Grey. Gas and ice cream money is all I'm spending these days."
"You know you love me," I said sarcastically, with a laugh, but the look that crossed his face wasn't even close to joking. It was serious, a strange form of passion or empathy or something else. I faltered, but then it was gone, as quickly as it came.
"You know I do," he replied quickly, with a cocky smile, but I couldn't quite get the look on his face out of my mind.
________
This time, the party being held was at Tammy Harrison's house, a pretty, popular girl who I never really talked to, but knew of. The only problem with this was the fact that Tammy Harrison was Elle Dunst's best friend.
"I shouldn't go in," I told Luke, my stomach tying itself in knots as he pulled in front of the house, the sky already dark and cars lining the streets. "Really. This is just—it's looking to be all kinds of trouble."
"Okay." He said cautiously, "If that's what you want; I can turn around."
"No, I can walk," I told him. "I don't want to ruin your fun."
"Don't be stupid, Victoria," he scoffed in return. "Walking alone in the dark is even more trouble than this party. I'll drive you home."
"No," I said then, closing my eyes and releasing a breath. "Let's go in."
He hesitated. "Are you sure?"
"Let's just go, before I change my mind."
He nodded, letting himself out, and I did the same, feeling as if I were about to be sick.
We crossed the lawn and arrived at the front door, where the glass panes were already lit with color and you could hear the loud music and chatter from outside.
"You're sure about this?" Luke asked, "Once we're inside, we kind of have to stay—it's common courtesy."
"Yeah, I'm sure," I said, and I silently wished that I could force myself to sound nonchalant.
"Okay, then. After you," Luke said, and I gulped, opening the door and stepping in.
There were people everywhere; so many people I could hardly breathe. People I knew were mixed with strangers and people of distant recognition—the space was so tight, I was practically pressed against Luke the second we walked inside.
No one seemed to notice our entrance, and for that I couldn't have been more grateful, but I still couldn't force down the anxiety that rose in my chest.
No going back, I told myself. No going back.
So I began to shove through the crowds—not even bothering to excuse myself nor apologize when I knocked someone's beer over, which then proceeded to spill onto my foot. Luke kept a firm hand on my shoulder, pushing me past people, into the living room, where people were dancing and Tammy Harrison was the center of attention, holding a microphone in her hand, dressed in a tight, red dress with matching lipstick.
"Hello, everyone!" She said, and there were a few various cheers sounding from the people surrounding us. Luke's palm was rigid against my shoulder, and I moved slightly sideways, so that he fit into the small space beside me. We both looked up at Tammy, who probably didn't even see us among the sea of other faces as she continued to drawl into the mic.
"So we're gonna start a little game now," she said, with a flirtatious bat of her eyelashes. "And I'm gonna hand this over to Elle, so that she can explain it to us!"
At this, there were wolfwhistles and catcalls, and I felt my throat contract as a dress-clad Elle Dunst took Tammy's place on the slightly-mounted fireplace, her eyes shining under a layer of thick makeup. Suddenly I realized why Luke must have been attracted to her—she just one of those girls. Thin, sexy, and alluring. Luke's kind of girl.
It was like a slap to the face—I wasn't Luke's type. Not at all.
Of course you're not, I told myself. That's why you're not dating him. You're just a stand-in.
And it was true. So I shook the thought from my mind, averting my gaze from Elle as she began to speak, praying that she didn't see me.
"Okay, so here's how it works," she said, her voice a low drawl, "Look at the person directly next to you, on either side."
I glanced up at Luke, who gave a small nod, swallowing hard.
"Now, you're going to tell that person three things about yourself—one of them will be a lie, and two of them will be truths. If they can guess your lie correctly, and you guess theirs correctly, you have to kiss them."
At this, there was a raucous burst of laughter, and I saw several people shift places, cozying up to different people, smiling.
My heart leapt into my throat.
"What did she just say?" I asked, my voice a harsh whisper.
Luke swallowed, shaking his head marginally, and I pinched my eyes closed. Leave it to Elle Dunst.
The girl waited for the noise to die down before she said, "Five seconds minimum. And then we switch—you have to find a completely different person to play the game with. If you refuse, you're out, and you have to face the consequences."
I knew just by the look on her face and the reaction of the crowd that I definitely did not want to face whatever consequence was ahead.
I inhaled sharply. I knew practically everything about Luke; being able to guess correctly with him would be easy enough, but other people? I knew just by the flipping sensation in my gut that I wasn't comfortable with kissing strangers, or anyone else, for that matter.
"We don't have to play, right?" I asked Luke. "I mean, it's not like she's forcing—"
But that's when Elle's voice rang out over the excited talk again, and I flinched at her words.
"Ready, set, go!"
She stepped down, leaving her microphone there and disappearing into the throngs of people. All around us, guys and girls were beginning to swap their truths and lies, and I was more uncomfortable than ever.
"Okay," Luke said finally, turning to me. "Here goes."
"Wait, we're actually going to—"
"Choose the lie," he said, taking over me as he began to rattle them off. "I love juice boxes, apple especially. My favorite band is Queen. And I once jumped off of a bridge into a lake off of a dare."
"Your favorite band isn't Queen; it's Led Zepplin," I corrected him instantly, and he smiled. "Dammit!"
"Your turn," he said, arching a brow. "If I lose, we don't have to do it."
He's not going to lose.
I tried my hardest nevertheless. "My middle name is Lorelai. If I were to star in a movie with anyone, I would want it to be Tom Hanks, and my favorite show is Parks and Recreation."
"Parks and Rec is your second favorite," he cut in, "Friends is your favorite."
"Oh, God, I made them too easy." I said, closing my eyes tight before opening them again.
"Come on, Victoria," Luke teased. "We've done this before."
"Not in front of all these people," I muttered.
"What's the difference?" He asked. "One more fake kiss isn't anything to worry about."
With the words "fake kiss" ringing in my ears, I leaned forward, and he leaned down, and our lips met. Electricity ran through me, and I could hardly think, bliss rushing through my veins, and suddenly I was in my own world again, oblivious to all of these people and the presence of Elle Dunst and the wedding.
But then we broke apart, and Luke said,
"That was five seconds."
He smiled, and I returned it sheepishly, turning around to see all the other couples kissing for far longer than what seemed like five seconds, but I didn't protest.
A moment later, Elle's voice filled my ears, crackling over the microphone.
"Now switch!" She said, and I glanced around wildly, my heart racing.
"I—I don't really want to—"
"You'll be fine," Luke said, smiling. "It's just a game."
Not to someone who is rarely kissed, I thought, but nodded nonchalantly nevertheless.
"Okay. Catch up with you later, then."
He nodded, turning away, and I turned to face the person in front of me, greeting prepared and all.
"Hi," I said, as cheerily as I could, but it came out as a squeak when I realized who I was talking to.
Tanner Hutchinson was in front of me, and he grinned broadly.
"Well, well, well," he said, his voice smooth and gentle. "Look who it is."
"Tanner," I said, breathless. "Um, I don't—I don't think—"
"Come on, Vicki, this is harmless." He told me. "You have a fifty-fifty chance, and even if you get this right, all it is is one little kiss."
"No," I gasped, "I, uh, I don't really want to."
His eyes flashed. "Come on, Vicki. Just play. You might not even get the questions right."
I glanced behind my shoulder, looking for Luke, but he was nowhere in sight. Everyone else was already swapping questions. I released a breath.
"Fine."
He smiled then, and began.
"I once dated a girl named Vicki." He said, and I rolled my eyes. "I left her a voicemail a few weeks back. I was completely sober while I left the voicemail."
As always, he was light and humorous.
"Well, the lie is obvious," I muttered, and he arched a brow, as if urging me to go on.
"You were drunk while leaving the voicemail. Your claim to sobriety is a lie," I told him, and he nodded.
"Good. Your turn."
I really didn't want to kiss him, so I decided to come up with the hardest facts I had, reciting them as if they were out of a textbook or something.
"I know someone who has a pet dog named Marvin. Marvin is a Schnauzer. Marvin is about seven years old."
Tanner looked taken aback for a second, but then he smiled that same old charismatic smile.
"I've met Luke Callaway's dog before, Vicki," he said, as if chastising me. "And he's not a Schnauzer. He's a Border collie."
I swallowed hard, panic settling in as he began to lean in, smirking. My mind started to go back to the weeks before our breakup, the weeks of hardship and trials and his constant taunting before he finally decided to end things—
I couldn't do it. I really couldn't.
"No, Tanner," I told him, and his eyes snapped open. "I'm sorry. But I can't."
"Sure you can," he growled, but I stepped back.
"No, I really can't."
He drew himself back up to full height, brow furrowed.
"Alright then."
And then he disappeared, and I felt a weight lift off my shoulders, my palms sweaty and heart pumping. I started pushing past couples, desperate to find Luke again, wondering if we could leave—
And then I saw him, deep in a passionate kiss with a dark-haired girl in a mini-dress, bound so close to her I could hardly see how he was possibly breathing...
And then realization came crashing in as the girl thrust her hands into his hair, and I gagged as I realized that it was Elle Dunst, that Luke Callaway was making out with Elle Dunst.
My jaw unhinged, I was unable to tear my eyes away from them, and other people began to notice as well, cheering and whooping for the two, who stayed like that for what seemed like ages, and then they broke apart, and I saw Elle's triumphant look and Luke's flustered, oddly pleased expression, and it felt as if someone had just punched me in the gut.
Tears filled in my eyes as I watched him receive high-fives and means of congratulations, and then he turned to where I was, his steel-blue eyes falling on me. They widened immediately, and I choked on the hot tears in the back of my throat, backing away and stumbling over my own feet.
I saw his lips form my name, but I could not hear it, all I could hear was a faint ringing in my ears as I turned, hardly able to breathe, rushing towards the front of the house, towards my escape—
But then someone's nails dug into my shoulder, and I was swiveled around to face Elle Dunst herself, whose eyes flashed menacingly.
"Hello, Vicki," she said, her voice sickly sweet. "I guess I should say I told you so."
I blinked back tears, turning back around before she could gloat anymore, but her grip was firm.
"You can leave once you've faced the consequences," she said, in a sing-song tone. "Someone told me you refused to kiss them, and, well, you know what that means."
I swallowed. I didn't care. Elle could throw anything she wanted at me; I no longer cared. I just felt the anger and sadness boiling up inside of me, and I didn't want to explode, not here, not in front of all of these people—
Elle called someone's name from behind her, and a huge, burly guy showed up almost instantly, carrying the largest keg of beer I'd ever seen.
"It's open," she told me in a scathing whisper. "Hope you're thirsty."
I tried to pull away, but it was too late; I realized what was happening just a second before I was drenched in the warm, foamy liquid. It poured from the keg like an open floodgate, soaking me, filling my senses with the pungent smell, covering the hardwood floor as people screamed and hollered, either in surprise or support, I couldn't tell.
And then it stopped, and I simply stood there, dripping wet with alcohol and coughing. Elle released me, and a hush fell over the partygoers; I felt a thousand pairs of eyes on me.
"You can go now, Vicki. Luke's waiting for me."
And with that, she left, and the music started again, and I ran for my life, slipping on the wood and out the door, not even bothering to look where I was going, out the door and past Luke's truck, the tears that I had held back dripping down my face as I ran, beer-soaked and sobbing, down the road without another thought.