"So—you're doing it."
"I don't think I have much of a choice, Spence," I reply, tossing yet another shirt that I have decided will look absolutely horrid in the context of Noel's party on top of the bed, and snorting in amusement as Spencer flinches while the material sails past her cheek, "I kind of made a big deal out of going with him if he won the football game."
"Yeah, but he didn't win it all by himself, did he?"
"I don't think that kind of loophole is going to work, here."
"Can't blame a girl for trying," Spencer says, a small groan escaping her before she can stop it, and causing me to turn away from the mirror for a moment to regard her more closely. In truth, she has been nearly silent for the entire evening, choosing to stare at the screen of her laptop while her fingers work angrily at the keyboard instead of participating in much of a conversation despite the fact that it is now almost eleven o'clock at night, and we both would be better suited by relaxing for a bit, rather than remaining mired in homework. But regardless of that reality, we both seem to be a bit too focused on our current endeavors to give up now—something that, curiously enough, steels my resolve as I move to perch on the edge of the bed so that I can reach out to place my hand on my sister's arm to secure her attention before I speak.
"Hey—are you okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because you've been glued to that computer ever since we got home from school, and you're still not looking at me now."
"I'm glued to my computer because I haven't even started that Russian History essay, and that's just the tip of the iceberg in terms of the homework situation."
"That's never stopped you from talking my ear off, before," I persist, stifling my relief that such a remark has Spencer finally, finally looking at me, instead of at her computer screen, and glancing down at where my hand still rests upon her arm for a moment before going on, "What's going on?"
"Oh, the usual," Spencer begins, closing her laptop, and shoving it half-heartedly away from her before flopping onto her back and flinging an arm across her eyes to elaborate further, "Melissa hates me, Mom hates me, Dad probably hates me too, and my worrying about all of that is making it absolutely impossible for me to make any headway on this paper—"
"Forget the paper, Spence. I'm more concerned about your feelings than your homework."
"My feelings are an absolute mess."
"How about you try to tell me about them, anyway."
I am not surprised when my insistence appears to provoke a sigh of exasperation from Spencer, both her hands dragging through already tousled hair before she looks at me with an expression that has a frown almost immediately creeping across my face. It's rare for me to see her like this—so completely lost and dejected, as compared to her usual aura of confidence used to mask the underlying stress she always experiences at baseline. And although I know that she is not likely to respond well to being poked and prodded, so to speak, I cannot help but want to persist in my line of questioning, regardless.
If she hates me for that, I suppose I'll just have to handle it as it comes.
"Spence, come on—you have to give me something, here."
"This isn't the first time I've come between Melissa and one of her boyfriends," Spencer states, her tone nothing short of dejected, despite the reassuring squeeze I attempt to give her shoulder in response, "You know how she is, Ava. She's never going to let me forget it."
"And you know I've got your back if she decides to be a pain in the ass, right?"
"Ava—"
"I'm serious, Spencer," I interject, frowning as my sister seems to flinch in response to my interruption, though I press on, regardless, "If she wants to have a go at you, she's going to have to go through me."
"What about Mom and Dad?"
"They'll have to go through me, too."
"You're sure about that?" Spencer inquires, one brow lifting as though she truly believes she has reason to doubt me, "Because they can be pretty persistent."
"I don't care."
"It'll be three on two—"
"And I still don't care."
"Will you be saying the same thing when they start coming down on you, too?"
"Absolutely," I confirm, regarding Spencer with a look that all but dares her to disagree, while simultaneously reaching forward to brush a stray lock of hair away from her face before she has the chance to do it herself, "How many times have you done the same for me?"
"A fair few," Spencer replies, finally giving me a faint smile, while simultaneously reaching for my hand so that she can give it a squeeze before going on, "But I wish we could have moved into the barn even more so, now."
"You and me both, Spence. You and me both," I agree, turning back to the closet in hopes of finally finding a suitable outfit for Noel's party this weekend, and finding myself more than a little pleased at the realization that Spencer appears to have abandoned her laptop in favor of helping me to make a choice. For now, at least, my attempts at providing reassurance seem to have worked, if the way that Spencer gently bumps my shoulder so that she can get past me and have access to the closet, herself is any indication. And although I would be a liar if I were to pretend I was not concerned over the potential repercussions of my sister's actions as far as they relate to kissing Wren, I do what I can to force myself to focus on the simple pleasure of the moment, my expression rather quickly turning incredulous as I take note of the outfit Spencer has just pulled from the back of the closet.
If the expression on her face is any indication, I will be wearing this ridiculously low-cut dress to the party whether I truly want to, or not…
…...
True to form, Saturday evening finds me standing before the mirror in my bedroom, clad in the dress that Spencer had selected for me the evening prior, my hands tugging at the hem of the skirt in an effort to pull it down just a bit despite the fact that I am ninety-nine percent certain the act will be futile. If I remember correctly, it was a hand me down from Melissa, after her party days in college were through—but no matter the dress' origin, I cannot persuade myself to feel entirely comfortable in it, a frown pursing my lips as I tug at the material once again while Spencer steps up behind me and places both hands on my shoulders.
"Stop pulling at it, Ava. You look great."
"I look like someone who's trying too hard," I correct, chewing at my lower lip for a moment before turning away from the mirror, and heading back to my dresser to grab a hair tie so that I can get the weight of my hair away from my neck, "Why can't I just do the t-shirt and jeans thing like always?"
"Because this time we both know it's a date," Spencer says, following me to the dresser, and snatching the hair tie away from me so that she can pull my hair into a lazy up-do herself, "And besides, I think we both know you deserve it."
"And you don't?"
"Ava, if I go to Noel's party looking like this, Melissa and our parents will lose their mind."
Unable to resist the urge to laugh at that remark, I settle instead for allowing my amusement free reign, the fact that Spencer is laughing as well giving me some relief that my reaction is not that far out of place. After she has settled my unruly hair in the style she envisions, she turns her attention to my makeup, no matter how often I have already told her that what I already have on is perfectly fine. But in spite of the fact that I honestly could have predicted her insistence on getting me ready herself, regardless of any protest I chose to make, what I could not have foreseen is the sudden manner in which she stops her efforts entirely, her expression suddenly turning serious before she breaks the silence between us to ask me a question I honestly did not anticipate.
"Are you moving on?"
"Moving on—"
"From Jason," Spencer clarifies, sympathy apparent upon her features as she registers my obvious flinch in response to the question, despite my knowledge that she has no intention of hurting me by asking, "I'm only asking because you're going to this thing with Noel, and after what you told me happened when the two of you were at the Grille—"
"I don't really know that there's anything to move on from."
"I'd beg to differ on that one."
"Why?"
"Because the two of you had something more than what Noel tried to tear apart in the course of a single afternoon."
"Yeah. We did. But I think the past tense is the key in this scenario, Spence," I begin, allowing my eyes to close so that my sister can brush more eye shadow on my eyelids, and exhaling in a huff as I register the almost immediate scoff she gives me to show her disbelief over what I have just said, "We don't—whatever we had, I think it's gone."
"And now you're moving on with the guy that caused that to happen?" Spencer persists, stepping back from me so that she can replace the eyeshadow on top of the dresser, and likely in hopes of giving her some means of avoiding looking me in the eye, "I'm sorry, Ava, but that doesn't seem to be the smartest plan you've ever had."
"You're the one who picked out the dress!"
"Just because I want my sister to look good doesn't mean I approve of what she's doing."
"So, what do you think I should do?" I inquire, stepping back towards the mirror, and inspecting my appearance with an expression that is nothing less than skeptical, despite the fact that I get the sense that my sister is about as adrift as I am.
"I think you should be careful with Noel. But if you're ready to move on—"
"Do it?"
"Only if you're ready."
"And if I'm not?"
For a moment, I almost believe that Spencer is going to remain silent, in lieu of giving me an answer, my anxiousness over that fact, and all that this night might entail spiking such that I can feel my heart practically jumping around in my chest. But before I can become too discouraged by her lack of response, I realize she has come to stand at my side before the mirror so that she can loop her arm through my own, a half-hearted smile tugging at the corners of her lips before she finally decides to reply.
"Then just be safe. And make sure Noel knows where you are with the whole thing before it turns into something you regret."
"And you'll show up at the party later, right?" I persist, somehow knowing that if I am truly going to this thing alone, the outcome will not be nearly as favorable as it would be with her there.
"I'll be there, Ava. I just need to make some headway on this paper, first."
Reassured more than I truly have any right to be by her promise, I settle for managing a simple nod of acknowledgement before heading to the door, and stooping to pick up the heels that match the dress Spencer chose for me, my apprehension at least for the moment quieting down in favor of the need to simply move forward, no matter how uncertain I may be. I would be lying if I were to pretend that my thoughts were not occasionally drifting back to Jason, no matter how hard I try to avoid it. But regardless of that reality, I am almost eerily determined to get on with the evening in spite of it, my shoulders squaring as I straighten once more, and head into the hallway and towards the stairs.
Whether I end up regretting my decision to do this or not, I am committed, now…
…
Much to my relief, by the time I arrive at Noel's, I am not the first one there, the sight of both Ben's and Sean's cars already in the driveway providing more relief than I care to admit. Of course, I did not truly believe he would do anything that untoward—not really, no matter how much Spencer may appear to think otherwise. But despite that belief, it is still at least somewhat promising that we will not be left entirely to our own devices, at least in the beginning, and that is what allows me to walk through the door that has been left propped part of the way open, and manage a faint smile by way of greeting when Noel looks up from the game of foosball he is currently engaged in, and begins to head my way before I can stop it.
"You came," He enthuses, his arms almost immediately winding about my waist so that he can pick me up and spin me in a half-circle before my feet are back on the ground, and I am able to manage a reply.
"Did you really have that many doubts?"
"Maybe."
"Well I think it's safe to say you can put those to rest," I tell him, aware of the fact that he is keeping one arm looped about my waist, despite the fact that both Ben and Sean are eyeing us with some amount of skeptical intrigue to say the least, "I'm here."
"Yeah you are. Want something to drink?"
"You ask as though you don't already know the answer."
"Hey—just wanted to make sure," Noel replies, abandoning his hold on my waist in favor of moving towards the cooler that stands at the opposite end of the room, and offering me a beer, instead. For a moment, I am tempted to decline the offer, in spite of the fact that I was more than willing to partake not five seconds prior. But before that temptation can get in my way I find that I am reaching out and taking the beer with perhaps a bit more enthusiasm than is wise, a half-smile crossing my features as I open the bottle, and end up almost choking on the sip I am taking when Sean chooses to question me from his position beside the foosball table.
"Hanna told me that the cop that's been harassing her came after you too—" He begins, leaning against the table while he regards me with an expression that is equal parts curious, and concerned, "What'd he want from you?"
"You mean aside from trying to accuse me of killing one of my best friends?" I quip, pausing just long enough to register both Sean's nod of response to my inquiry, and to take another sip of my beer before going on, "Just basic harassment, or at least that's what it seems like right now."
"Does your mom know about it?"
"God, no. I don't think she'd let me leave the house if she did."
"Well we can't have that," Noel interjects, clearly picking up on some of my displeasure over talking about Wilden, and his persistence at picking apart nearly every single thing that both Hanna and I have done both now, and in the days that led up to Ali's disappearance, and choosing to stand close by my side once again as though he thinks that in doing so, he will provide the reassurance that I so clearly need, "You can't come to parties if you're under house arrest."
"And I'll lose my mind if I'm under house arrest—" I add, managing a laugh in spite of the nervousness that resurfaces almost immediately in the wake of any talk of Wilden at all, and finding that through Noel's apparent intervention, the topic of conversation appears to have shifted, at least for the time-being, "Always assuming, of course, that I had much of a mind to start with."
"Trust me, Ava. You do."
"Well thank you, Sean."
"Any time."
"What do you say we get this party going, then?" Noel asks, the smile he gives me proving to be far more reassuring than I think it really should be, while he simultaneously loops an arm around my waist once again while I take another swig of beer and nod my agreement before my mind can catch up with me and cause me to pull away. I am still not entirely sure what I am doing here, or if I would be better suited at home, without the buzz that I am already starting to feel from the beer in my hand. But no matter what my doubt may do to prevent me from simply letting go, and living in the moment, I am determined to overcome it, some sort of instinct that I did not even know I possessed prompting me to take another sip of beer, and settle against Noel's side as though I truly belong there.
Maybe the more I think of it like that, the more I will start to feel comfortable, instead of feeling like I am about to crawl out of my own skin.
…
Some unknown amount of time later, I find myself standing on the deck that looks out over Noel's backyard, the steady thump of bass emanating from the speakers inside the den thrumming through my veins while I lean against the railing with yet another beer in hand. On some level, I know that I have over-indulged, though I am not entirely capable of bringing myself to stop. And even with the awareness lingering at the back of my mind telling me that allowing myself to get so inebriated will not remove the stress I feel over Wilden's interrogation, 'A', and any number of other factors at play in my life, I find that I am readily draining the beer I have in my hand, regardless, a smile stealing over my features as I register another presence coming to stand directly behind me with hands placed upon my hips.
"How's it going, Aviator?"
"Mmm—good."
"Good," Noel replies, using the hold he has on my hips to pull me backwards until I am flush against his chest, and stooping down to rest his chin upon my shoulder. With such close proximity, I can smell the scent of alcohol on his breath, mingled with his cologne in such a way that only serves to relax me further, no matter how ridiculous that fact may be, in reality. But before I can fully wrap my mind around the implications of that very realization, I find that Noel is leading me over towards the bench at the outer edge of the deck, my feet stumbling over themselves until I am forced to simply kick off my heels and pad along after him with my bare feet.
"You feel like sitting down?"
"You read my mind," I murmur, allowing my hand to drop into his own so that he is able to pull me into his lap, and choosing to simply give in to the desire to lean against his sturdy frame, rather than sitting upright on my own.
"Comfortable?"
"I think so."
"Good," Noel says, one of his hands taking up the task of rubbing haphazard little patterns up and down my spine, and causing me to shiver a bit in response while he tilts his head just a bit to speak against the skin of my neck, "It's nice to see you this relaxed, for once."
"I'm always relaxed."
"And I'm the president of the United States."
"You are not," I protest, making a half-hearted attempt at swatting my hand against Noel's shoulder, and finding myself distracted by the fact that he has intercepted the gesture and used the opportunity to thread his fingers through my own while I attempt to distract myself from that reality by speaking once again, "Don't you have—guests to take care of?"
"I'm taking care of one of them right now."
"I'm not the only one you've got—"
"You're the only one I'm worried about," Noel insists, his expression unreadable as he regards me for a moment in silence. Of course, I am still aware of the bass throbbing through the speakers, and out onto the deck through the partially opened sliding glass door, each beat seeming to move in time with my heartbeat as I struggle to reconcile my current position with how I came to be here to begin with. But in spite of the fact that I know I really ought to be more concerned with the haze that is stealing through my mind bit by bit the more I remain outside, and alone with Noel, I find that I am near to powerless to get myself out of the situation as a whole.
Perhaps that is why when Noel finally leans in to kiss me, I do not resist, some sort of desperation to continue in the acts that have led to the haze prompting my movements despite the fact that I know on some level that this is not what I truly want.
For a time, the sensation of his lips moving against mine while I shift until I am all but straddling him does serve as some sort of distraction, my arms winding around his neck as I seek to press myself as close to his warmth as I can. In the back of my mind, I can practically hear my subconscious urging me not to do this—demanding that I stop, before I reach the point of no return. But in spite of that awareness, I persist in simply going with the moment as it comes, the heady sense of relief that I am feeling something besides the crippling anxiousness and uncertainty giving me leave to accept the feel of Noel's hands skimming up and down my sides without shying away.
Whether or not my current actions are wise, or even logical, I cannot seem to give up the feeling that comes along with them no matter how hard I try, my nerves all but singing with each and every second that Noel's hands roam across my skin. In this moment, it doesn't even matter to me that anyone could walk out onto the deck and see exactly what it is that we are doing. And although I know it is foolish, particularly in light of the fact that I know Spencer was right in asking me if I was ready to move on from Jason, I barely even flinch when Noel breaks the kiss in favor of beginning to trail his lips from my jawline to the skin of my neck, a gasp escaping as my fingers move instinctively to card through his hair and scratch against his scalp.
I am so lost in the moment—in the haze of alcohol zinging through my veins, and the sensation of Noel's mouth and hands moving against my skin—that I do not even realize something is wrong until the sharp sound of a cracking twig reaches my ears. In spite of the fact that I almost immediately tense once my mind catches up with the implications of what that sound might mean, Noel appears to remain oblivious, a low groan vibrating through him as the sharp nip that he delivers to the base of my neck causes me to flinch. But the sound of another sharp crack coming from somewhere in the backyard, coupled with a faint rustling of leaves soon has me pushing Noel away, and struggling to extricate myself from his arms so that I can stand on my own two feet, one hand lifting to tuck an errant lock of hair behind my ear before I find the words to speak.
"Did you—did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"That sound," I press, yanking my hand away as Noel reaches out to try and pull me back towards him, and retracing the steps that led me out onto the deck to begin with so that I can make a grab for my discarded heels, "I think—I think someone was watching us."
"It was probably just the wind, Ava—" Noel states, his tone rather clearly indicating how my reaction has caught him off guard, just as it all but pleads for me to allow us to return to how we had been, just moments before, "Come on, just relax."
"Relax? Easier said than done."
"Well—where do you think you're going?"
"Inside."
"Ava, come on—"
Ignoring Noel in favor of hurrying back towards the house, I push through the sliding glass door and allow my eyes to begin the task of scanning the room for any sign of where Spencer might have taken herself in the amount of time since I first saw her arrive. Although the alcohol-induced haze is still prevalent in my mind, I seem to recall seeing her with Hanna and Emily the last time I was actually indoors. But before I can put too much effort into seeking her out once again, I am distracted by the sudden realization that nearly everyone in the room leading off from the deck has allowed their attention to fixate upon me, my heart dropping to rest near my stomach as I realize nearly everyone has their phones clutched tightly in their hands.
Oh god—no—no—
"Ava—Ava, come on!" A voice exclaims, the sudden sensation of a hand latching onto my forearm effectively startling me out of my reverie, and prompting me to look at my would-be rescuer, only to find that the frantic tugging on my arm has come from none other than Hanna, herself. I do not see Spencer with her, or Emily either for that matter, though I try my best to jolt my mind out of its fog so that I can locate my friends one by one. But something in the way Hanna's eyes search my face for a moment, despite the fact that I can tell she has been crying jolts me out of my paralysis enough for me to allow her to cart me through the throngs that are still staring at us both, despite the fact that I am almost immediately forced to the realization that she is about to drag me out the front door and onto the driveway even though I am still only carrying my heels.
"Han—Hanna, can you wait up a second?"
"No. We need to go. Now," She persists, continuing to tug on my arm even in the face of the fact that I am following her willingly enough, though I do pause to ensure that the front door closes securely in our wake. In truth, whatever buzz I had from the beers I consumed appears to have fizzled away rapidly in light of the gnawing sense of dread at what on earth might have appeared on the phones of every single person at this party to make them look at me like they did. And although I want to question Hanna on exactly what had transpired, particularly as it seems to be at least part of the reason behind our hasty departure I find that I am entirely distracted by the discovery that we are heading towards a car that does not belong to her, at all.
"This is—Hanna, this is Sean's car," I begin, ignoring the stinging sensation that has taken root in the soles of my feet as I come to a stop and watch in surprise as Hanna unlocks the driver's side door before whirling on me, and giving me a look that clearly indicates if I do not get in, she will simply leave me behind if I choose to respond in the negative to her next directive.
"Get in, Ava. Please."
Deciding that I would be better served by listening to her, rather than resisting her plea, I move around the front end of the vehicle and clamber into the passenger seat while Hanna turns the key in the ignition, whatever it is that is aggravating her clearly causing her to only just give me the time to shut the door before she is peeling towards the end of the driveway without a second thought. It is only then that I realize I have left my purse behind somewhere in the depths of Noel's kitchen, my teeth worrying at my lower lip for a moment while I send a silent prayer skyward that Spencer will have the forethought to come across it, and bring it home with her. But like always, Hanna seems to sense my desire even though I have never spoken of it aloud, one of her hands moving from the steering wheel, to dig through her purse that rests between us until she finds her cell phone and can hand it to me with the evidence of the need for our departure resting clearly before my eyes.
It is a picture of Noel and I, wrapped up in one another out on the deck, my head tilted back to allow him free range of my neck, while one strap of my dress slips off of my shoulder…
A picture that was, rather predictably, captioned with a text from the mystery person that has chosen to make it their job to torment both me, and my friends, for no apparent reason at all.
Looks like some people have no trouble moving on. Gotta love a girl who just wants to have fun—A
…
Hellooooooooo there, darlings! Welcome to chapter fourteen! I have to say, I am very excited to have managed another chapter (and a longer one at that) so quickly, given my penchant for long time delays between updates. But I'm still a bit apprehensive about it, since a few things turned out rather differently than when I initially sat down and thought about where this chapter would go. I decided to give the muses free reign though, instead of trying to force things down their original path. So hopefully even with that reality, the chapter was an enjoyable read? If not, I can always try for taking it down and reworking it a bit. So, either way, please don't hesitate to let me know! I am quite anxious to see what you think!
As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you who have taken the time out of your busy lives to read, follow, favorite, and review this story so far (and special thanks to my reviewers: Ineveryfandom, Hope10, Loving Liar, Princess1, Warriorqueen, Lady Bird, and Guest)! I would be nowhere without your continued kind words of support, and I truly do hope that you continue to enjoy where this story takes us!
Until next time, dolls…
MOMM