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LIV: Are you and Jas fighting?
He doesn’t answer. Or doesn’t want to answer the question.
I can barely remember what life was like before her. I do remember that being the only girl in the family was definitely no fun. I love Jasmine. He’d be stupid to do anything to lose her. I’ve always looked up to her, ever since Royce started dating her during their senior year of high school. She’s practically my older sister, with the benefit of not having the same parents.
She’s always encouraging me to pursue art even when my parents tell me they would rather I become a lawyer. “If your parents don’t love your career choice now,” she says, “that doesn’t mean they won’t later. Believe me. My parents haven’t always agreed with my decisions, but they support me. Keep being yourself. Keep dreaming.”
I don’t even know why he’s texting me about this. What do I know about love? It’s not like I’ve been in a long-term relationship—a years-long relationship—like him and Jasmine. I don’t really talk to either of them about their relationship. My heart sinks. I’m finally realizing that maybe that was because they never needed to until now.
Royce still hasn’t answered.
I text Jas, trying to say something that won’t make her think Royce is talking to me about their relationship problems. That would be pretty weird.
LIV: What’s up? We haven’t talked in forever!
JAS: Just studying. Gotta get into med school ;-)
LIV: Always so responsible :-)
JAS: What’s going on? You need something?
LIV: Just your presence! When are we going to hang out?
JAS: Idk. Maybe Christmas?
LIV: That’s so far away!
JAS: It’s my only big break. Can you come up here?
LIV: I’ll ask <3 xoxox
I can’t tell what’s going on. She doesn’t seem any different from normal. If they’re fighting, that’s none of my business anyway. Though the fact that they might be fighting is totally scandalous. They are the perfect couple. Not kidding.
I glance at my phone again for a text from Royce.
Nothing.
Now I’m really starting to worry. What if he’s rallying the troops? Is he going to turn this into a family emergency?
Then I have a worse thought. Maybe Royce came home to talk to our parents—and they’re trying to get him to figure out where I am.
They would kill me if they found out that I was at a high-profile party without permission. I’m trying hard enough to please them with good grades and this whole responsibility act to get them off my back so I have at least a teensy chance of getting them to let me apply to art school instead of a regular university.
I think about texting Antonia to ask her to take me home. I can’t breathe. I mean, seriously, everything is just not right. My hair is pulled back too tight. My dress is uncomfortable.
I’m starting to feel bloated. Fat. Ugly.
Then I see Zach.
He’s wearing a shiny navy suit with a crisp white shirt and thin black tie and talking to a middle-aged gentleman with hip Coke-bottle glasses drinking a highball. Cristina is standing right next to him as she chats with Felicity. Is that Guy LeFeber?
Goose pimples spread up my arms from excitement. If that’s really him, I can’t believe my luck. I have to find a way to talk to him without seeming weird—and without drawing the attention of Cristina and Felicity. But then I have to figure out how to not be awkward around Zach either. How will I figure out whether that’s him or not? Should I walk right up to them? What should I say? Even though I kind of am one, I don’t want to come off like an obsessive fangirl right away.
I don’t even realize I’m staring until Zach looks over and smiles.
Not just in my general direction. At me.
Part of me wants to scream from excitement. The other part of me wants to climb into a deep, dark hole to never be seen again. Keep it together, Liv. You got this.
Trying not to blush, I return his gaze before he looks away to talk to the man again. Wishing Antonia would come back so I can look busy, I watch Zach and try to figure out whether they’re talking to LeFeber or not. Each time I glance at Zach, Cristina, with her dark hair and doe-like eyes, is hanging on to him. More people are starting to dance around them, and I can’t hear what they’re saying. I’m feeling suffocated, staring at my phone then glancing up, trying not to let Cristina notice. Zach’s still glancing back at me, eyes lingering a little too long for it to be chance.
I pretend to be a little embarrassed even though I really feel like I’m going to explode. I want to go up and talk to them, especially to find out whether that’s LeFeber, but I can’t bring myself to approach Zach when he’s standing next to Cristina. She’s started staring me down whenever Zach glances away to talk to someone else.
Cristina says something to the man with the glasses, then he looks at me and laughs. I’m mortified. What are they saying? Is LeFeber laughing at me?
Cristina’s not dumb. She knows Zach’s turned his head my way too many times to be a coincidence. I’m excited—more than I have been in years about any boy—but I’m also nervous. God, where’s Antonia? Or that drink she was supposed to bring?
I could use a rescue right about now.
I shouldn’t have eaten that food with her. I need a release. A burning sensation is creeping up my throat. My insides are trapped, swirling in a storm that I can’t control.
Not now. Not now. Not now.
My plea to my insides isn’t working.
I hold my purse to my stomach to make it feel like there’s a wall between stomach, skin and dress, and I start searching for a staircase, hoping to find an empty bathroom. My stomach cramps become nearly unbearable. I can’t ride out the pain. I need to find a bathroom on this boat. Now.
I finally find the staircase and walk into what feels like a living room. There’s a fireplace, big orange chairs, a couch, doors leading to hallways.
There are people all over down here and they stare at me, thinking I’m drunk, but I don’t care. I just say, “Bathroom?” to the nearest girl.
She points to the left. “That way, honey. You gonna make it?”
The whole ship is caught in a whirlpool, spiraling downward into a tiny hole. Whatever is in me has become a spinning mass that desperately needs out.
I enter one of the stalls, lock the door and dry heave over the toilet. I stick my finger in my throat and gag to make myself throw up. The food comes up easily. A wave of relief washes over me.
When I’m done, I realize someone else has come into the bathroom. I think about waiting her out, but I’ve already flushed and that would just be awkward.
As I open the stall door, I’m mortified to see Cristina. She slips something into her purse and looks into the mirror, wiping her nose. Her gaze flits over to me.
I can’t keep staring like some kind of creep.
I definitely can’t hide back in the stall.
As I exit the stall, Cristina gives me one of those fake smiles, the kind that means I know what you’re doing and you know what I’m doing. Then she pushes past me and leaves the bathroom before I can wash my hands or completely catch my breath.
I might not be able to catch my breath.
This might be one of those moments where I completely lose control over my stomach. It’s not about to heave again, but the swirling down there hasn’t stopped. It’s as if my anxiety has turned into a ball that’s slowly growing and spinning. I’m hoping Cristina thought I was puking from drinking, but I suspect otherwise—that look on her face said everything. Though she’s probably skipped a meal or two herself.
I need to get off this boat.
I decide to explore the deck, looking for the man that might be LeFeber, but I can’t seem to find him again. How many places could he be? I start down a hallway, then enter another room with music blaring and people dancing. I’m making my way through the crowd when I literally bump into Zach, almost knocking over the drink he’s holding. How does he manage to be everywhere at once?
“Liv,” he says as if I’d been missing for a year.
“Zach!” My voice involuntarily squeaks. So embarrassing. “Have you seen Antonia?” I stammer. My nerves are on fire. I wish I could touch him again.
“Yeah, she’s right over there.” He points.
I’m an idiot. She’s in the middle of the dance floor owning it. Should’ve known. I want to run to her but stop myself because of who’s next to me, and also who’s not here.
No Cristina in sight. I think about mentioning what I saw her doing, but really it’s none of my business and I’d die if she told him I was just puking in the bathroom.
Zach turns to me from watching the dance floor. “Want to dance?” he asks.
“I’d rather talk,” I say. “I need fresh air.”
He smiles. “I wanted to talk to you earlier but it was kind of awkward with Cristina following me.”
“Oh. Yeah,” I say, hiding the welling knot in my gut, suddenly acting like I have everything together because the last thing I want to do is screw things up with him.
I smile into his eyes. They’re green and soft even in the dark. He’s so handsome. No wonder he was cast on Sisters & Mothers as a love interest. He could be on posters around America. Wanted man. Love interest at large.
“Must be nice to be around so many people from your show,” I say, thinking it’s a stupid thing to say even as the words leave my mouth. Though I’ve said worse. “They seem really nice.”
“Eh,” he says. “The only real friend I have here is Jackson. The rest are just coworkers. It’s different. You always feel like you’re competing with each other.”
“Really?” I say. “I didn’t realize...”
“Honestly I’m getting pretty bored with that show. I know Michael is too.”
“I kind of talked to him about that,” I admit.
“It’s hard when you get on one of these shows. There are all these expectations and once you act a certain way, people not only think that’s really you, but they expect you to behave just like your character in real life.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s crazy to think people are that oblivious, but it’s true.”
“That must be kind of...” I begin, but he speaks over me.
“I don’t even know why my father wanted me to throw this party in the first place. It’s a stupid way to get the attention of a director.”
“I can imagine this part of your life is pretty lonely,” I say, trying again. “Being in the spotlight and all. But at least you’ve made a name for yourself.”
“You’ve always seemed pretty cool.” He nudges my arm with the hand holding his drink. “Artsy.”
“How’d you know that I like art?” I ask.
I didn’t think Zach knew anything about me except my name.
“I saw your painting hanging in a show at the library last year. The self-portrait you did? The one where you’re staring at yourself in a shattered mirror.”
“Oh yeah,” I say, trying to downplay myself. “That was my majorly emo stage.”
“No way. It was amazing how you could see all these tiny reflections of your face in the glass. Felt like I got to know you just by looking at the painting.”
Zach has this look on his face like he’s probably said too much and should just shut up. “I’m craving sugar,” he says. “I can’t eat any while we’re filming, but the season just ended and Cristina’s nonna made some amazing Italian desserts for the party. Want some?”
I shake my head and ask for a drink instead.
“I can do that,” he says. “Anything else?”
“Actually...” I pause. “That guy with the glasses you were talking to earlier? With Felicity? Did that happen to be Geoff LeFeber?”
“Who’s that?” Zach seems confused.
“He’s an artist whose work I admire. I overheard Felicity saying he might be here...”
“Oh,” Zach says, gently pushing my arm. “LeFeber. Yeah. She was talking him up earlier this week saying that one of our producers invited him, but I don’t think he’s coming. She would have already been trying to become best friends with him.”
Part of me feels relief, knowing that the man laughing at me wasn’t LeFeber, but the other part feels pretty disappointed. I really wanted to talk to him about his art.
“I’ll go get those drinks then.”
He’s about to enter the crowd when I grab his arm to stop him. There’s something I have to know. “Zach?” I hesitate. He turns around and lingers next to me. He’s so close that I can smell his cologne. “This is kind of an awkward question, but I have to ask.”
You’re strong. You can do this. This is easy.
He looks down at me through his long eyelashes as I stare up at his prominent Adam’s apple. I wish I could reach up and touch his neck, pulling him closer to me.
“Are you and Cristina dating?” I finally ask.
Suddenly, I don’t want to know the answer. I’ve waited so long for this moment. To be this physically close to him. To practically feel his breath on my hair.
“It’s...” He looks away at the boats gliding across the harbor for a moment. “Cristina and I have history together, but... We’re not together. It looks that way sometimes. I know. We were really close. I still try to be a good friend. The breakup was hard on her.”
“I didn’t mean to bring up bad feelings,” I say, feeling stupid for asking the question in the first place. I just don’t want to be played.
“It’s cool. I like being up-front with you,” Zach says. “I’ll get a couple drinks. Then can we keep talking?”
I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. Being up-front with me? I can barely believe that, of all the people on this boat, he wants to spend his time talking to me.
I’m watching him walk across the room when I see Cristina come out of nowhere and latch on to him like a crab. Guess I better kiss that drink away. After he’s done ordering at the bar, Cristina takes the second drink—my drink—from his hand, and I’m forgotten like an ugly stray. Don’t even kick a bowl of milk my way.
I head upstairs and grab a drink from the bar on my own.
I just want to drink. I’ve lost Antonia. I can’t seem to find LeFeber—if that’s even him. Cristina not only totally caught me purging, she’s practically claimed Zach for the night. And I can’t manage to work up the social skills to mingle with anyone either.
Two champagnes and a vodka tonic later, I find myself in a corner of the aft deck with Jackson. He starts twirling my hair like he did this afternoon at the front of the school. “I didn’t know you showed up,” he said. “I saw your friend, but every time I went to ask her about you, she was dancing with someone else. Who dances that much?”
