Page 96 of The Season
Tessa snickers. “Oh, I’m sure Lily can get him to talk.”
The song changes, something with bass that vibrates down my spine, in my brain, thudding with the sluggish pounding of my heart. I take a deep breath, my mind grasping for something to say in response to Tessa’s teasing, but come up empty, the words slipping like water through my fingers.
“Ze snow in France is much better though,” Vivian argues. “Even in ze summer. And you don’t have to speak French—most people speak English on ze mountain. For ze tourists, of course.”
“Je parle…” I start, wanting to tell her that I speak French. That my father’s language is as familiar to me as my mother’s, even if I don’t know all the modern slang. Even if I speak like my grandmother, like someone stuck in the 1960s. But the words feel like lead on my tongue.
I frown, and take another long sip of my drink, hoping to clear my head.
“You guys.” Tessa all but stomps her foot. “I’m trying to convince her to come to Australia, and you’re not helping my case.”
Both Ashley and Vivian laugh, the sound dancing around me and making me smile. Comments about Australian snow drift through the air, mingling with music and laughter, fragmenting like the light around us. For some reason, their gentle teasing makes me think of Summer and Lani, of sunrise surf sessions and lunchtime picnics. I close my eyes against the flashing lights and lean against Tessa, hugging her close to me with one arm.
“You’re the best,” I tell her, but the words don’t sound right when they come out.
“I think you’ve had enough of that, missy,” Tessa says authoritatively, slipping the glass from my hand and depositing it on the nearby bookcase, next to my empty champagne flute. It’s only half-empty, but it must have been strong, whatever Tom made me, because I feel like I did after drinking all Eddie’s whiskey. Worse, maybe.
“I think… bathroom,” I mumble, swiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
The room is spinning, a mixture of blue and red and green and white dancing around me with the lights. I stumble out of Tessa’s grasp, and her face floats before me, full of concern, but then it’s gone, the bright lights of the living room in its place. Someone knocks against my shoulder, and I mutter out an apology, then a barely intelligible question about where the bathroom is.
“Down the hall. Last door on the left.”
I nod my thanks, and then I’m in the hallway, one hand pressed against the wall in an effort to steady myself. Framed artwork, thick heavy doors, soft carpet beneath my feet, deep as a snow drift. I open a door, and someone curses at me, so I shut it again, shaking my head and blinking in an effort to bring my world back into focus.
And then I’m in the bathroom, heated tiles beneath my feet, bright lights buzzing over the sink, marble and glass and the strange flatness of my reflection. My eyes look too big, my cheeks flushed, lips parted and dry. I frown, hand fumbling at the tap as I bend, cupping water to my mouth, drinking, then splashing the rest over my face.
The room spins, and I grip the sink, trying to draw in a steadying breath, but my lungs feel full already, heavy as my limbs.
I turn at the sound of footsteps on tile, at the snig of a door clicking shut.
“Tom?” I ask, my brow knitting at the sight of him standing in the doorway. At least, I think it’s him, but those eyes and that sneering mouth twist and curve, swimming with the spinning lights and gleaming tiles. My eyes drop, and there are his boots, peeking out from the cuffs of his jeans, leather brown and new, with fresh laces I saw him putting on earlier today.
“What…” My eyes drift back up to his face, the question falling off my lips like melting snow off the edge of a roof.Drip. Drip. Drip.
He doesn’t answer.
Chapter30
Eddie
This party sucks.
I plaster on a smile and lift my bourbon and cola in lazy greeting as Jason settles onto the couch beside me. He clears his throat, wiping his palms on crisp jeans, then adjusts the flat bill of the cap he’s wearing.
“Tessa’s dancing with a bunch of chicks in the other room,” I tell him without preamble, tipping back my glass, taking a long drink. I know that’s the only plausible reason that he’s sat down beside me. He certainly hasn’t sat next to me to make small talk.
In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard Jason speak, unless it was about the machines he drives or the snow. Or the pub he’s planning on opening when they get back to Australia. I presume he talks to Tessa about other things, since she’s his girlfriend, but who the fuck knows.
I snort to myself, the bubbles from the cola sharp in my nose.
“Yah. I know.” He lifts his beer to his lips—some imported Australian beer that probably cost him an arm and a leg, and likely tastes like horse piss.
I roll my eyes, but for once, I don’t rip him out about his complete lack of conversation skills or his poor taste in beer. I don’t feel like talking either.
Across the room, Antoine, Liam, Matty, and Seth are huddled together chatting, like they’re the best of friends. When Matty catches me staring at them, he smiles and waves me over. I shake my head. If I go hang out with them, I’ll end up stuck hanging with Lily too when she comes back. Watching them all flirt with her, watching Matty moon at her and Liam smile at her and Antoine cuddle her.
I don’t think I can handle that.
