I turn back to James. “Okay,” I say softly.

   James looks up at me then at Jake. “Thanks, man. I’ll have her back in a minute. Just one dance.”

   He walks ahead of me toward the dance floor. I look over my shoulder once to see Jake glaring at us, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. I wait while James walks up to the DJ and talks in his ear. When he comes back, he stands in front of me and lightly rests his hands on my hips. I look back at Jake, but he’s no longer watching us. I place my hands on his upper arms, making it clear that this is in no way intimate.

   The DJ changes songs. “Bruno Mars?” I ask James.

   “ ‘When I Was Your Man’ has kind of been my anthem for the last couple of months,” he says, sighing a little.

   That makes sense. “How’s Megan?” I ask.

   “I’m not sure. You’re better off asking her new boyfriend, but you’d have to travel to LA to do that,” he huffs.

   I look at him, bug-eyed, waiting for an explanation.

   “Yeah, whoever was going to be her roommate at UNC brought her brother with her when they met up. I guess they hit it off, because two days later she packed up her life and followed him.” He laughs, but it’s a sad laugh. “I didn’t even know until two days after she left.”

   “Sucks, doesn’t it?” I say, more with understanding than with malice.

   “Not really,” he says, surprising me. “I was never in love with Megan.”

   It’s quiet for the longest time while the song plays. His anthem.

   “I really am sorry, Micky, for what it’s worth. You were the greatest thing that ever happened to me. You were my life.” I start to interrupt, but he stops me. “No, I know I didn’t express that enough to you, and I’ll forever hate myself for that. But you need to know that I loved you so fucking much. I still do. Whenever I thought about my future, it always included you.” He pauses and takes a few breaths.

   I’m crying silent tears, because I know—I know what he’s talking about. I had felt it with him, too.

   “You were the one walking down the aisle toward me,” he continues, “and you were the one raising our kids. I always smiled to myself when I thought how you were going to be there for me every night when I got home from work, in your study writing your books. We’d have a few kids, a decent house. It was perfect in my mind. You were perfect. You are perfect, and I threw it all away, because I’m such a fucking asshole, and I can’t take it back.” He starts sobbing, his head on my shoulder. “I can’t take it back, and I can’t have you back, and none of this . . . this life I have . . . is worth it without you. I fucked it all up . . .” He trails off.

   I pull myself away. “I should get back. They’re probably wondering where I am.”

   He nods, wiping his tears away with the back of his hands. “I’ll walk you back.”

   When we get back to the bonfire, I sit down in my chair, a little emotionally exhausted from the whole thing. Logan takes a seat next to me.

   James eyes him for a second then nods. “Matthews,” he greets him.

   “Asshole,” Logan replies. He turns to face me. “I got a song for you, Micky.” He presses the remote for the speaker dock, and “Everybody Knows” by Dustin Tavella starts playing. I chuckle to myself, because the chorus is about your boyfriend cheating and being a douche bag. Heidi and Lucy get up to dance, and James just shakes his head. “You’re kind of a dick, Matthews,” he grunts.

   Logan sits back in his chair, crosses one foot over his knee, and links his fingers behind his head. Like a boss, he says, “And not a single fuck was given.”

   Everyone except James bursts into laughter. I shouldn’t laugh, but it is funny.

   After a few minutes, I realize Jake isn’t here. I scan the crowd and see him talking to a girl—a ridiculously beautiful girl. My jealousy kicks in and I try not to stare, but I can’t help it.

   They’re standing as close to each other as possible without actually touching. Slowly, he raises his hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She grabs his hand and squeezes it for a second, smiling up at him. When she lets go of his hand, he puts it in his pocket—probably to stop himself from ripping off her clothes and having his way with her.

   He sure isn’t having his way with me.

   I close my eyes and inhale deeply, the buzz from the alcohol slowly making its way to my brain.

   “Hey, Marisa’s here!” the creeper Derek announces.

   Everyone looks at Jake and Marisa. Lucy and Heidi then look at me, and I just shrug—because, really, what can I do?

   “She looks more hot now than ever,” Derek says, “if that’s even possible.”

   The ache in my heart tightens just a little bit. “Who’s Marisa?” I ask. I have to know.

   “His girlfriend,” Derek answers.

   “I wouldn’t say she’s his girlfriend . . . She was . . .” Cam looks at me curiously.

   “They were just starting to get their shit together. What happened?” Derek muses out loud. “They were supposed to go to prom together, right? I remember the whole school talking about it for weeks beforehand.”

   Heidi clears her throat. “She had to go to a modeling thing in New York last minute.” She eyes me with an apologetic look on her face.

   “That’s right!” Derek crows. Asshole. “The star rookie and the supermodel—it’s like a match made in heaven.”

   At that, I stand up and walk away—away from that asshole, away from Jake’s friends, and away from Jake and this whole fucking night.

THIRTY-THREE

MIKAYLA

   I’m sitting on a log in the woods, sobbing like a twelve-year-old girl, because my stupid crush likes the hot chick. What did I expect? Jake Andrews is at a whole other level, so of course he gets supermodels.

   “Hey,” a timid voice greets me. I look up to see Heidi and Lucy walking toward me.

   “So, that’s Jake’s girlfriend, huh? Or ex?” I sniffle.

   Heidi nods. “Ex.”

   “Jesus, she’s not attractive at all. He could have done so much better,” I scoff, my voice laced with sarcasm.

   They giggle a little.

   “At least tell me she’s stupid or horribly mean, or that she used to be fat or something. Anything!” I beg.

   Lucy spits out, “I wish I could, Micky, but that fucking bitch has it all—ten out of ten in everything. She’s super smart—like, Harvard smart. She’s nice to fucking everybody. And she’s always looked like she belongs on the cover of a fucking magazine. I hate it so much! If I could get away with it, I’d fucking cut a bitch for you.”