Page 21 of Backslide
Damien leans back against the wooden railing. Not a care in the world. The dress code was described as casual. And I followed instructions in my favorite denim button-down and army-green slacks. But he’s wearing one of his signature looks—like some kind of Boyz II Men throwback in baggy chinos and a vest. Like maybe he and Travis Kelce share a stylist. I have never understood his taste, but he does him. And women don’t seem to mind. I’ll give him that.
“Dude. This is a trip,” he says, eyeing the crowd. Ben and Cara have not invited family since this is notactuallytheir wedding. I sort of hoped they might as a buffer. I’ve always liked Ben’s parents and sister.
“No way, man,” Ben told me over the phone last week when I asked. “We’re hoping to actuallyenjoythis trip.”
Instead, they have convened a group of close friends. Some I recognize from other events throughout the years, ones that Nell missed since there was an unspoken rule that only one of us attended (usually based on whether it was more of a Ben or a Cara thing). Ben’s college buddies, his work friends. Some people who I assume belong to Cara in the same capacity. I imagine there’s a parent friend or two—couples they met on the playground or at preschool pickup. But I figure I’ll spend most of this trip chilling with D. We talk occasionally, text off and on, but I don’t get to see him that often since he still lives in New York. So hanging with him sounds just fine.
Or it did. Before he started ogling Nell like a hot fudge sundae with all the toppings—except nuts. Nobody wants nuts.
His eyes bulge suddenly, and I finally can’t help but turn around to follow his gaze. But it’s not Nell he’s looking at now. It’s Lydia.Fucking Lydia. Walking up the steps and onto the deck, her red hair as ablaze as ever, and instantly I know this situation has gone from bad to worse.
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath, whipping back around to face the trees. Maybe if I stand really still, she won’t notice me. I glance around for somewhere to hide—behind a giant redwood or, better yet, back in my room.
Nope. My room is not a safe space either.
Damn. I’m not used to stressing like this. It’s not how I roll.
Damien grins. He lives for this shit. The ultimate drama queen.
If I make it through this trip alive, I will count myself lucky. I rub a hand over my hair, gulp down more wine.
And then Damien is waving and gesturing someone over and I can’t even bring myself to turn and see who it is because it can only be bad news.
“Hey! Whattup guys?” Cara says, landing beside me. And I heave a sigh of relief as I open our circle to include her… and,dammit, Nell too. Relief null and void.
Nell glances up at me, nods curtly. I guess this is her trying for Cara.
I am instantly buzzing from head to toe, as I try to ignore the effect her closeness has on me.
“Not much,” Damien says, waving his hand to reference the surroundings. “Except this place is fucking next level. So dope.”
“It is, right?” Cara agrees. She’s beaming and it’s a little contagious, even to me, mid–stress spiral. She seems so happy, her eyes shining. “I’m so glad this is finally really happening! It feels like we’ve been planning forever—and now we’re really all together!”
Cara throws an arm over Nell’s shoulder and squeezes, and I watch Nell wince, even as she shoots her best friend a pained smile. Her shoulder hurts. And it’s obvious.
Is that why I heard cries from her room earlier?
“We are!” says Nell, toasting the air with her full glass in the other hand. “We are definitely together!”
I can’t tell if she’s doing a poor performance of happy or if I just still know her well enough to see she’s actually peak miserable.
Maybe like recognizes like.
Damien focuses his gaze on her—again. Tips his chin up. I know this look. It’s his Ryan Gosling special. “Hey, Nellie,” he says, his tone smooth and velvety. “It’s been too long.”
“It has!” she says, as they exchange kisses hello on the cheek. “It’s good to see you.”
A wave of irrational jealousy crashes over me. On what planet is she sweet to Damien and a fucking demon to me?
He gets a peck and I get a middle finger.
“You look exactly the same,” he’s saying.
“Well,” she smiles, despite herself. “Not exactly.”
“You’re right,” he says, his eyes raking down her body. “You look even better.”
And then she blushes. She actually fuckingblushes. All pretty and demure. And I can’t fucking believe what I’m seeing because Nell never fell for Damien’s game back in the day. She was the first one to call bullshit—even to his face. She complained about him to me all the time. And now she’s aglow under his gaze while she avoids mine?
