Chapter 4

The guest house is a small house located on the property line of mine and Spencer’s house. When we were kids, we used to play there, and then as we got older and hit puberty, our parents forbid us from being in there alone. I couldn’t remember the last time the guest house had been used by actual guests.

I open the door, step inside, and flick on the lights. A faint musty smell hangs in the air, masked slightly by the vanilla scented candle I burned last time I was here. I flop down on the couch and stare straight ahead, but my thoughts are empty, and my heart aches. All my friends are going on luxurious vacations, and I’m stuck in this town with nothing to do, with no boyfriend, and two parents who seem to have forgotten they have a daughter.

“Hey.”

The sound of Spencer’s voice snaps me out of my self-induced pity party, and I turn to look at him. He’s standing by the door, hesitating, as if he’s waiting for me to extend an invitation. But I don’t. I do, however, take a long moment to look at him. He’s always been tall, but I swear he must be over six feet now. His blondish-brown hair is a mess, flopping in all different directions like he’d been obsessively running his hand through his thick locks. His soft brown eyes are filled with uncertainty.

“I saw you come in and thought maybe we could talk.” He pushes off the door and crosses the room to sit on the opposite end of the couch.

“Right. Your question.” I nod absently. I really don’t want to talk right now, to anyone, least of all Spencer. But I guess talking to him beats being alone in my misery.

He turns toward me and tilts his head. Concern colors his expression. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I am not going to tell him about the party or Reid or anything else for that matter. “What do you want to ask me?”

He rests his arms on his knees and blows out a breath. “I want to take my dad’s boat out for the summer, but he won’t let me unless…” He averts his gaze.

I narrow my eyes. “Unless what?” Unease spreads through me, and my shoulders tense.

“Unless I ask you to go with me.”

“What?” I stare at him for a second, and then I laugh so hard tears form in the corners of my eyes. “Why the hell would your dad want you to ask me to go with you? He does know we’re not friends anymore, right?”

For some reason, saying those words aloud to him makes me sad. Sadder than I already am, anyway. Spencer never really did anything to me; we’re just in different social circles.

He scowls. “Yeah, he knows.” Spencer stands and paces. “He doesn’t want me to spend the whole summer alone because he thinks I’m too much of a loner.”

“That happens when you don’t have any friends.” I cringe as soon as the words leave my mouth. That was harsh. I open my mouth to apologize, but he speaks before I can.

“I used to have a friend.” He stops pacing and pins me with an accusatory glare. “A best friend. But she’s too obsessed with her popularity to care about anyone or anything other than herself.”

I flinch back involuntarily. I guess I deserve that. Still, in all the years since we’ve stopped being friends, he’s never once spoken to me like that. I don’t know if I should be pissed or impressed.

“Look, do you really think I want to spend my summer with someone who’s going to spend all day every day making fun of me?” He shakes his head. “Believe me, I tried to get out of asking you. But this is the only way I can go, so can you act like a compassionate human being for half a second?”

I cross my arms. “Why me?”

He hesitates. “What?”

“Why me? You said your dad knows we’re not friends, so why would he insist you had to ask me?” I have a feeling all of this is one big lie, but why would Spencer lie about something like this? He doesn’t want to spend the summer with me any more than I want to spend it with him.

“He knows. He doesn’t understand.” He sighs and sits back on the couch.

He opens his mouth then snaps it shut just as quickly. I wait for him to say whatever else is on his mind, but he doesn’t speak. We’re silent for a few moments. I absolutely do not want to be trapped on a boat with Spooky Spence for three months, but I also don’t want to be the reason he can’t go, either. A strange, confusing ball of emotion lands in my stomach, and I’m not going to try to unravel it.

“Maybe there’s a way we can both get what we want.” Exhaustion settles over me, and I yawn. “He said you had to ask me, right?”

Spencer tilts his head in confusion. “Yeah. Why?”

“Well, you asked me. And I said no. Tell your dad that. You did what he wanted, so there’s no reason he shouldn’t let you go.”

He furrows his brow and then breaks into a full-blown smile that makes his brown eyes sparkle. My breath catches, and I force myself not to look at him. For the briefest of moments, I reconsider my answer. If I go with him, maybe I can finally figure out what’s going on with him and why he’s suddenly so different. But I shove the idea away as fast as I can. Hanging out with Spencer is social suicide.

He nods as if he’s tossing the idea around in his head. He stands. “Thanks.” His snarky tone belies his gratitude, though.

And now even Spencer has cool plans for the summer while I’m still stuck here, doing nothing. I frown. He walks to the door and opens it. My heart races, and I’m struck with this sudden fear of being alone.

“Spence?” I say before he can leave.

He stops and turns back to me. “Yeah?”

“Sorry you don’t have any friends.” I try—and fail—to hide my smile.

Without missing a beat, he says, “And I’m sorry your friends are terrible.”

I laugh, and so does he. The sound of his deep laughter fills the room and wraps around me like a familiar, comforting blanket. The weight that had been crushing my chest since I left the party lifts. What on earth is going on with me? Why do I keep reacting to Spencer like this?

He closes the door, walks back toward me, and sits on the coffee table, facing me. His expression is pained but sincere. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”

My eyes widen. He’s not wasting any time, is he? “You want a medal or something?”

“No.” Sighing, he shakes his head and stands. “The invitation is open.”

I let out a short, bitter laugh. “You know I’m not going to change my mind about this.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He stares at me with what can only be described as sad, puppy-dog eyes, and my insides twist with longing, my chest seizes with heartbreak. I lick my dry lips and struggle to fight off these crazy emotions. But I can’t. In fact, they intensify to the point I’m left feeling dizzy and disoriented.

“Please at least consider it,” he says, his tone pleading.

“Why?”

Indecision plays across his features, almost as if he’s struggling to make an impossible decision about something. “Never mind. Have a good summer, Ev.” Then he leaves.

The click of the door latch makes my heart jump, and I press my hand to my chest to calm my erratic heartbeat. I stare at the closed door, willing it to open and Spencer to walk back in. I have this inexplicable desire to reconcile our friendship, but the urge passes as quickly as it arrives. The silence in the guest house is deafening, and when I can’t stand it a moment longer, I leave.

When I walk into my house, my parents’ voices echo from the kitchen. With a frustrated sigh, I slam the front door, hoping the noise will alert them to my presence, and maybe give all of us a reprieve from their constant arguing.

“I’m home,” I shout.

Dad comes out of the kitchen, and Mom is hot on his heels. They’re both red faced and bleary.

“Well, it’s about time,” Mom says.

“Give it a rest, Leslie,” Dad snaps, then he turns his full attention to me. “What’re your plans for the summer?”

I blink with confusion. “I don’t have any plans.”

Mom throws her hands up. “Of course you don’t.” She shakes her head, huffing and mumbling curses under her breath. “The one summer we need you to leave, you decide to stick around.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

What does she mean they need me to leave? Are they kicking me out? Panic seizes me, and I force in a lungful of air.

“I need to leave?” My voice wavers, and the threat of tears burn my throat.

Dad gives Mom a scathing look. “We’ve decided to sell the house, and we’re going to have realtors and handymen here all summer getting it ready to put on the market. So, yeah, it would be better if you had somewhere else to go.”

“Surely you can stay with a friend. You spend more time with them than us anyway,” Mom says, crossing her arms. There’s not even a hint of compassion in her tone.

They can’t be serious. My lips tremble, and I’m seconds away from losing my fight against my tears. “You’re selling the house?”

This is the first I heard of that. I grew up here, and before they decided to start hating each other, we had a lot of happy memories in this house.

“I know this isn’t easy for you, Everleigh,” Dad says. At least he pretends to care how this announcement makes me feel. “Which is why we think it’s best if you find somewhere else to stay for the summer.”

My head spins. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” I whisper.

“Don’t be difficult about this, Everleigh.” Mom gives me a stern look before she walks away.

Dad shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs. He looks as exhausted as I feel, and for a fleeting moment, I actually feel sorry for him. But then I remember he’s kicking me out for the summer. I stomp upstairs and flop face-down on my bed. Where are they going this summer? Why didn’t either of them offer to let me go wherever it is they’re going? What am I going to do?