Page 25 of Heartbeat

“I don’t dislike Dean,” I lied. “I don’t even know the guy.”

Telling them why I didn’t like him would mean telling them about the text he’d sent me, which would ultimately turn into me telling my new friends about my familiarity with mental institutions—something I wanted very much to postpone for as long as possible.

“Then come with us,” Blake pleaded.

“First of all, the reason I’m not going has less to do with Dean and more to do with my parents leaving me in charge of my brother—”

“Bring your brother!” Adam suggested, earning himself agreeable nods from the lot.

“I also don’t feel like partying tonight,” I confessed.

It was almost completely true. Let’s say I was 91 percent confident about why I didn’t want to go to the party. Most of which I’d already shared with them; the other 9 percent accounted for the likelihood of running into Ethan and finding myself breathing with a certain degree of newfound difficulty I wasn’t too keen on experiencing on that particular evening.

“But we could use that your parents are out of town to our advantage and get high at your place before going over to Dean’s,” Adam said.

“We can still go to my place and get high,” I told them.

“Ugh, he’s hopeless!” Sam said, throwing both arms up in defeat.

*

“Do you guys want something to drink?” I asked, walking over from the living room to the kitchen to fetch a couple of beers.

“Is this a short-haired Thomas?” a smiley Sam asked as she canvassed the dozens of photos on the piano by the window.

“Where?” I threw Adam a beer can and handed Blake one before joining Sam.

“The hot guy in white speedos.” She picked up the frame and turned it so Blake and Adam could see.

I handed her a beer before rolling my eyes at the photo.

“Ooh!” Blake shot up at once, already reaching her hand out so she could take the frame from Sam. “Let me see!”

“That was, like, two years ago, I think,” I said. “I hate that picture.”

“Why?” Blake asked. “Not all guys can pull off white speedos.”

“She’s right; you should be proud,” Sam said, giving me the once-over.

“I was so baked,” I said. “No amount of chlorine can make your eyes get that red.”

“Nice,” Adam said. “Can I put some music on?”

“Knock yourself out,” I said.

“What are we in the mood for?” he asked, walking over to the speaker and connecting his iPhone.

“The 1975,” Blake said.

“How about some Foo Fighters?” Sam suggested.

“Not in this house,” I said, pointing at the door.

They all chuckled.

“That was a test,” Sam said calmly. “Which you passed.” She pretended to bow.

“What’s the last song you listened to today, Thomas?” Blake asked.

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