CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I KIND OF WANT TO KISS YOU
MERIDIAN
There was an obnoxious amount of glitter sprinkled in my hair.
Vienna had entrusted herself with decorating the campus for the New Year's Eve party, even though no one had asked her to, but, secretly, people were glad she was doing it instead of forcing them to worry about it. Finals had come and gone, and everyone was looking for an excuse to have a good time, whatever that was.
Tonight, a good time involved copious amounts of alcohol, shared between a bunch of underage college students and whoever they were inviting to the party, and I couldn't say I was looking forward to it. After a truly miserable holiday season, surrounded by family members who had purposely left an empty seat at the Christmas dinner table, I just wanted to be left alone, but no one would let me have that.
I was downright exhausted. Exam season hadn't been nearly as horrible as dead week, the period of time I had spent not sleeping, studying until I felt like my eyelids were going to fall off, and surviving on coffee, energy drinks, and instant noodles—sometimes I had even treated myself to a grilled cheese sandwich on days I had been more productive.
There hadn't been too many of those, frankly, and I was dreading to see my grades. I didn't want my professors to cut me some slack because I was supposed to be mourning the death of my sister, but I also didn't want to see my grades slip. There was a reason I had gotten into Stanford in the first place, and it hadn't been because people felt bad for me or because my parents had bought my admission; I had earned my place there fair and square and I was determined to keep proving it, even during my junior year.
Vienna, the glitter fairy, shoved a box full of fairy lights into my hands. "Go hang those on the trees, please."
"Why?" I furrowed my brows, examining the plethora of tangled strings and light bulbs. "People will be hanging out inside; they'll barely pay attention to however we decorate the courtyard."
"Because." She playfully punched my shoulder. "It'll show them that we care and that we're trying to be good hosts. We're already lucky no one will be around to check if there are any people under twenty-one juggling cups of beer. Keep up the attitude and maybe Natasha will spill it all over you again."
"Ha-ha."
"Are you always this helpful?"
"I'm tired, Vi. I haven't slept properly in weeks." Her eyes scanned my face, briefly lingering on the dark circles marking the skin under my own eyes. I was pretty darn aware I looked like crap, and definitely didn't need her to point it out. I had looked in the mirror, thank you. "Why don't you go ask Natasha to hang the lights? I thought she was oh so excited to help you with decorating the campus."
Vienna briefly hesitated, lips pursed together into a thin line. "Well . . . I might have sent Natasha to go check on the kegs, just to make sure nothing goes missing before the party starts."
I expected as much. People were scared of Natasha, as she made absolutely no effort to be a pleasant person to hang out with, so I wasn't surprised to hear that Vienna had turned her into a watchdog—especially one that would watch over the alcohol, our most prized possession of the night. She fit the role perfectly well and it came with the added bonus of me not having to be in the same room as her for longer than was absolutely necessary.
Vienna eyed me carefully, the expression on her face softening considerably, as one would do when faced with a small child doing something adorable. It was yet another instance of people treating me as someone much, much younger than I actually was, as someone who needed to be babied out of fear they couldn't face the real world on their one, and I had grown so weary of it it just made me want to scream in frustration.
"Listen," she started. "I can go hang the lights, it's fine. You can go rest for a bit before the party starts; what do you think?"
I held the box tighter when she reached out her hands towards me. "No. I got this."
"Meridian . . ."
"It's okay. Someone has to help you out, right? You don't have to do everything by yourself."
Her lips curved into a sad, small smile. "Right. I just wish you'd apply that same reasoning to yourself, not just to others, but here we are."
She stood on her toes to press a quick kiss to my cheek, then disappeared back inside, ready to boss other people around. Even though her proactivity got on my nerves more often than not, even I had to admit she was a breath of fresh air in a world so loudly messy.
Thankfully, I was tall enough to not need help with hanging the fairy lights. I thought about the stuff June would look at for hours on end, scrolling through apps like Pinterest in search of the new trendy ways to decorate a room, and fulfilled my duties as Vienna's helper with a heavy heart. I didn't really know what I was doing with the lights, but I knew I wasn't supposed to leave some places way too cluttered and others too bare, so I made an effort.
If not for me, if not for Vienna, then for June.
She probably wouldn't have attended tonight's party, as she had never been much of a fan of going out, but I was starting to believe there were plenty of things I didn't know about my sister. Even things I had once assumed to be certain had the possibility of not being true at all, and I could only wonder what else she had hidden from me and from everyone else in her life.
Just how truly unhappy was she?
There had to be a good reason behind her absence from ballet classes. There had to be a good reason for her to send her friends cryptic texts and for her to call me on the night she died. There had to be a fucking good reason she had left Sofia out of it, choosing to communicate with her through a note on a borrowed book.
And what exactly was the deal with San Francisco? What was I missing?
My gut told me it was something so obvious, something lingering right under my nose, and I thought I was inches away from finding out what it was. The other part of my brain insisted I was too blind, too much of an idiot to figure it out; after all, I hadn't even realized there was something going on with her before she died. I hadn't even thought about the possibility that she truly needed me when she called me that night.
That still hadn't made me pick up the phone. She had still died.
I hadn't done anything to save her, even though I could have, and for what? To study for a test I never took, as my professor thought it was too brutal for me to return to a steady routine so soon after a traumatic event?
I finished hanging the last string of fairy lights with my jaw clenched so tight it felt sore. I stepped back to admire my work, slowly turning around to look at the naked branches of the trees surrounding me, then pressed the round button on my hand to turn on the lights.
The campus was engulfed in bright lights, illuminating the gravel pathways, and, for a moment, I almost thought everything was okay. In the middle of a winter wonderland, I almost thought I had a second to breathe with relief, to remind myself I was fine.
I was not fine.
I nearly dropped the button thanks to how horribly I was shaking and decided to retreat into my dorm to finish getting ready. My lungs were drowning in petrol, a substance so thick I couldn't breathe properly, and, by the time I got to my room, I was heaving, hyperventilating. I was forced to lean a shoulder against a wall for support but was saved from the embarrassment of being seen and judged, as there was no one in the hallway.
My dorm room didn't feel like mine. It had been way too long since the last time I had made an effort to call it mine; I was spending most of my nights in the library, returning to the dorm in the morning and crashing on a couch in the lounge. It was certainly easier than climbing the stairs or taking the elevator up to the third floor, and it wasn't like anyone would be suspicious. After all, I wasn't the only person under so much academic stress they constantly felt like throwing up.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, hesitating, knowing it wasn't a text from the person I wanted to hear from.
VIENNA, 6:10 PM: Just saw the lights. They look INCREDIBLEEEEE!!!!
VIENNA, 6:10 PM: Thank you so much. You're an angel.
I could only hope I wasn't getting her hopes up. That wasn't a road I wanted to walk down, and I'd just be hurting her if I did, as we both knew I couldn't possibly give her what she wanted from me. That wasn't where my heart was, even if it lay in all the wrong places.
Sighing, I threw my phone to my bed, not wanting to bother Vienna, and decided to do some last-minute cleaning around the room. I wasn't planning on bringing anyone here tonight—it wouldn't be the first time I had, but my roommate hated it when I did so—but the lack of organization in this place was bothering me.
Something caught my eye halfway while tidying up my desk. I'd pushed all my textbooks aside, including those I should have returned to the library months ago, and found a folded piece of paper sticking out of a used copy of an Economics textbook. I purposefully avoided touching that one, as it reminded me way too much of the future my parents had decided I should have—someone had to inherit the family business and June was no longer around to balance my workload—but I distinctly remembered that I hadn't left it on my desk.
This book used to be back in my bedroom at home.
My heartbeat raced in anticipation as I fumbled with the note to unfold it. I had a feeling I knew exactly what it was, but I knew I wasn't ready for those suspicions to be confirmed or to read whatever was written on the note.
I would recognize June's handwriting anywhere. The note even smelled like her cologne, after so many months, and the corners of my eyes prickled with tears as the all too familiar scent reached my nose and my brain processed it.
I borrowed the lake house.
Go there.
Happy birthday, M. Love you
x June
Something metallic fell from inside the folded note. A key.
SOFIA
"I still can't believe you talked me into this," I told Courtney, shivering in my dress. She stuck her tongue out at me, leaning against Jonah for comfort and warmth, whereas I had no one to do that with. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other while my heart beat impossibly fast against my sternum. "It's so cold out here."
"I'm glad you came," she told me. "It wouldn't be the same without you."
"Good thing I'm here so neither of us is playing the third wheel with the two of you," Xena pointed out.
She had taken full advantage of being the daughter of two fashion designers and had gone all out tonight, in spite of her rigorous curfew. Her usual pastel-colored clothes had given place to tight leather pants, stilettos, and a burgundy lace crop top. Her blonde hair, which she usually wore down, was tied up into a tight bun on the top of her head and I was certain she could cut through diamonds with the sharp wings of her eyeliner.
Meanwhile, I was a goddamn mess.
I had assumed I wouldn't be too cold, as we'd probably spend most of our time inside, but had conveniently neglected that we would have to walk outside. Therefore, I wasn't wearing tights and the wind blasted against my naked legs, nearly knocking me down whenever it hit hard enough, and the hem of my dress danced around my thighs.
I felt like a child who had gone through her mother's wardrobe and borrowed a dress and a pair of heels. Everyone looked so much better, so much older than I did—even though I was technically a year older than Xena and Courtney—and a gnawing voice resting at the back of my head hissed that I stuck out like a sore thumb. Before leaving the house, I thought I looked good, better than usual, even (my hair was so straight thanks to all the hairspray I had used I thought it would never move again), but my crippling self-doubt was beginning to get the best of me.
Xena laced her arm through mine. "So . . . are we doing this or what?"
"I still can't believe your mothers let you out of the house," Courtney commented.
Xena shrugged, a smirk dancing on her red-coated lips. "Neither do I, but what matters is that I'm here." She swung her free arm around Courtney's shoulders, who was so short Xena had no trouble doing so. "What matters is that we're all here and we're going to make the most out of this stupid party."
"Hey," Jonah protested. "First rule of a Stanford party: you don't insult a Stanford party."
Courtney laughed. After what she'd told me a few weeks ago, in my bedroom, hearing that sound was heavenly. "Whatever you say, big guy."
We went inside, with my heart beating horribly quickly just with the thought of running into Meridian, and I decided I wasn't going to let my anxious thoughts and my fears ruin my night or anyone else's. Xena and Courtney wanted to have fun and, even if Courtney decided to disappear with Jonah for a moment alone, away from the crowd, I still had Xena and she still had me. That had to count for something.
I loved what they had done with the place. The student lounge was decorated with tiny fairy lights, much like the courtyard outside, and it looked like something one would see in a coming-of-age movie. There were tables being set for beer pong, kegs of beer being carefully installed (Natasha watched over them like a hawk), and there was even a pool table. Even that made me think of Meridian, who had once tried to teach me how to play, so I decided to steer away from it.
Unfortunately, I knew I wouldn't be able to stay away from him.
He showed up at some point, right when I decided to get up from my seat by one of the intense beer pong matches to go refill my cup. In fact, I nearly ran into him, my cup trembling furiously in my hand and nearly spilling its entire contents all over his t-shirt.
"I'm sorry," I blurted out, refusing to look him in the eyes, and I'd probably burst into tears as soon as I saw a flash of electric blue. "I didn't see you."
"I have to talk to you," he said, as though he hadn't even heard what I said, and I reluctantly looked up. His hair was still wet, fresh out of the shower, and I was so close I could feel the minty scent of his aftershave. "It's important. It's about June." He bowed his head so no one would be able to listen to us. Even if he hadn't done it, the place was so crowded I doubted people would even care. "I found a note."
"What does it say?" He raised a key. "What is that?"
"It's for my grandparents' lake house."
"In San Francisco." Meridian slowly nodded, just in time for someone to bump against my back and push me even closer to him. I clenched my fingers around my red plastic cup, hoping it wouldn't spill, and he pressed a hand against the small of my back so I wouldn't fall on top of him. "I don't think we can talk here."
A muscle in his jaw throbbed. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, though. It's a party—"
"I'm sorry for what I did on Thanksgiving." My chest tightened. I wanted to forgive him—I believed I already had—but there was a lingering feeling in my brain that reminded me of how utterly terrified I had been that day. Terrified, drenched to the bone, with Leon's blood under my fingertips. "I was way out of line and shouldn't have done what I did. It was uncalled for."
"I know, Mer."
He pointed me towards a less busy corner of the lounge, never dropping his hand, and I didn't want him to do it. It was embarrassing how much I had been craving it lately—his smell, his presence, his touch—and my body temperature rose just by thinking about it. My dress had quite an open back, so his skin was touching mine, and I was certain he could feel my heartbeat in his pulse.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"I'm going to San Francisco," Meridian said, spinning the key between the fingers of his free hand. "Not now. On Spring Break, since that's when she wanted to go there. I don't know what will be waiting for me there in that lake house, but I think it's what I'm supposed to do. She left me the key for a reason."
"Will you be going alone?"
His eyes met mine. "I was hoping you'd want to come along."
My heart skipped a beat. "Oh."
"I understand if you don't want to, but—"
"No, I want to. I'll go with you." The crease between his eyebrows disappeared and the tension weighing on his shoulders dissipated. I inched closer, almost imperceptibly. "I told you you weren't alone in this. June was my best friend, but I care about you, too. I'm not doing this just to get closure for myself. I hope you know that." I briefly paused, suddenly aware of how little distance there was between us. "You scared me on Thanksgiving. That's when I realized I was expecting you to express your grief and all your pain the way I wanted you to, and that wasn't fair. I'm not condoning what you did, but I understand it now. That's why I stepped away. I realized I was projecting myself onto you—my fears, my way of mourning—and was expecting you to react in ways that weren't yours, so I was wrongfully disappointed when you decided to be your own person. I'm sorry, Mer. I shouldn't have disappeared without saying a word. Blocking you was unnecessary."
There were ten seconds left until midnight.
I didn't dare to speak up about it, not wanting to overstep the boundaries he had explicitly built, and he didn't say a word either. We just stood there, backs against the wall, and watched as everyone in the lounge counted down those last ten seconds.
Meridian didn't kiss me, and I didn't turn to him to check if he wanted to.
When the clock struck midnight, I burst into tears just as everyone around us cheered so loud they almost ripped through my eardrums. Meridian was there to hold me, not to kiss me, and, as I buried my head in the crook of his neck, holding onto him for dear life, I remembered why I was so upset.
I had just entered the new decade without Juniper Beaumont.
"I'm going to kiss you," I murmured.
"Are you sure?"
I stepped back, barely managing to see him through the tears clouding my eyes, and could only imagine how graceless I looked with mascara running down my cheeks. "Probably not. I look like shit."
Meridian let out a soft sigh, raising a hand to cup my cheek, and his fingers threaded into my hair. "I'd beg to differ."
"I'm freezing cold." He shrugged off his jacket and swung it around my shoulders. "Okay, that helped." I sniffed, suddenly hyper aware of what I had said and of how slurred my voice was after all the beers and the crying. "Can I kiss you? I kind of want to kiss you."
One of the corners of his mouth rose up into a tiny smile. "I'd like that." He held my wrist. "Once you sober up."
I groaned, throwing out my cup. "I want to go home."
"You can, um, crash in my room, if you'd like."
I gasped, faking being offended. "Meridian Beaumont!"
His cheeks flushed crimson. "I meant that in the most innocent way possible!"
"Lead the way. Remind me to text Xena and Court."
He led the way. He didn't leave my side for the rest of the night, even when I crashed like a stone on his bed and curled up against his chest—a clear reminder of what we had done after June died. I didn't want him to leave, fingers curled around his hand, feeling safe with the gentle weight of his arm draped around me.
There was no going back after tonight. Everything had changed—forever.
i am SO SOFT
also, um, i just gotta say: i'm aware of how long this is. i fully blame anha anneesparrow, faria verdensrommet, and sera ladymacbethian for this, since i wrote this while we were sprinting LOL