Tell Me It’s Right (Sweetspire #1)

Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

GRACIE

By some miracle, I sleep off the rest of the migraine. And by the time I wake, Liam is gone.

Not just from my bed. He all but disappears for the next few days, aside from a text letting me know the shop won’t be open. When I replied asking why, he never messaged back. And when I asked Leo about it, he shrugged it off. Since asking more than once would be weird—or worse, he tells Liam I kept asking about him—I figure most of my work can be done from home anyway, and the sooner I finish, the sooner I can show off the results.

Carson snorts from across the table, and when I peek at her over the top of my laptop, she doesn’t even try to hide her smirk.

“What?” I demand.

She lifts the gigantic neon mug housing her latte and takes a sip. “You’re beating those poor keys like you’re trying to get everyone in here to look at you.”

My fingers freeze midword as I take in the coffee shop around us. People are, indeed, staring. I slip my headphones playing my Classical Focus playlist down and let them hang around my neck.

Since running into each other, Carson and I have started texting here and there. When I told her I was checking out a new coffee shop in Edgewater because it looked like a cozy place to get some work done, she offered to tag along, though she’s sitting there flipping through gossip magazines while I chug enough caffeine to have me vibrating as I tackle my to-do list. But growing the social accounts could take some time. Getting them all set up and ready to go is only the first step. I figure if I can knock those and the website out before seeing Liam again, we can hit the ground running.

This place has better chairs than any of the Sweetspire shops—thick cushions, and wide enough to sit cross-legged—but the coffee itself isn’t nearly as good. Of everywhere I’ve tried, Milano’s still reigns supreme.

My phone screen lights up on the table, and I let out a groan through my teeth as I scan the text notification.

“Liam?” Carson asks, feigning innocence.

“Leo,” I correct, snatching the phone off the table. He let me borrow his car to drive out here, but he underestimated how long I can hunker down in a coffee shop.

“Do you ever…let off steam?”

I peer at Carson again, and she’s watching me with a scrunched brow and a look in her eyes like I’m an exhibit at a zoo.

“What do you mean? I’m fine. I’m completely steam-free.” I go to take a sip of my coffee, but I’m already at the bottom. Of my second cup.

“You have no neck left.” She gestures to her shoulders, and I realize mine are, indeed, hunched all the way up to my ears. When I relax them down, my muscles ache in protest.

She folds her hands together on the table and leans forward. “You should come to my place tonight. We’re having a few people over. You can meet my roommates. It’ll be fun!”

I wince. “I’m not really great at parties. And it’s a Wednesday.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not a party. And you’ll be with me! And you could bring someone with, if you want. You said yourself you haven’t been out much since you’ve been back. Live a little!”

Why are people always telling me that?

“Oh, come on.” She reaches across the table and latches on to my arm. “Tell me you’ll come. Please. Please. Pretty please?”

People are definitely starting to look at us again.

“Okay—okay!” I whisper-scream and swat her hand away. “Stop causing a scene or we’ll never be able to come back here.”

She snorts. “I think that ship has already sailed.”

Talking Leo into letting me borrow his car again tonight is no easy feat, but all it takes is Keava reminding him it’ll probably be dark by the time I head back for him to relent. She gives me an amused, knowing smile from behind the kitchen counter as Leo drops the keys into my waiting palm.

“There aren’t going to be drugs at this party, are there?” Leo asks.

I roll my eyes. “No, Dad.”

“And you know not to drink and drive.”

“Leo. Who are you talking to?”

“And no boys!” he adds as I head for the door. “Definitely no boys!”

“Unless they’re really hot!” calls Keava as I slip outside.

The address Carson texted me is about an eight-minute drive from Leo’s, and my pulse skyrockets as I turn the corner and find the block lined with parked cars. It’s easy to tell which house is Carson’s from the lights, noise, and people lingering on the porch.

This is a party party. Not some get together.

I park a block away on the corner and stare at myself in the rearview mirror. I hadn’t thought to change out of what I’ve been wearing all day—cut-off jean shorts, a flowy halter top, and sneakers. I quickly undo my pigtail braids and let my curls spill over my shoulders, then fish around in my purse until I find some light pink lip gloss.

“Oh, this is such a bad idea,” I mutter under my breath. It’s not too late. I could start the car again and get out of here.

But then I’d have to face Leo and Keava with my walk of shame back into the house.

“Hey! Gracie!”

I jump at a knock on my window. I squint against the streetlights as a familiar face peers in at me. Liam’s brother, the one about the same age as me. Another guy stands behind Asher, but I can’t see his face.

“Hey, Asher.”

He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “You coming to this party?”

Slowly, I nod.

“Want an escort?” he offers as he opens my car door.

Now would be the time for a witty reply, but having none, I give him a tight smile, grab my purse, and climb out.

“Oh, hey,” says his companion.

“Miles, right?” I tug my purse onto my shoulder just to give me something to do with my hands. “From the shop?”

“Yeah.” He flashes a stupidly perfect grin. “You remembered.”

“I didn’t know you were friends with Luna and Raquel,” says Asher as he takes my other side and gestures for us to walk ahead.

Those must be the roommates.

“Actually, I’m friends with their roommate, Carson.”

“Oh, that’s right!”

He says every sentence so cheerfully, like he’s genuinely delighted by everything. It’s…odd. Maybe because it’s such a contrast to Liam, who’s so unreadable most of the time, given away only by the occasional eyebrow raise or smirk.

Despite him being only a year older, I haven’t spent nearly as much time around Asher—or any of the other Brookses, for that matter. They all went to private school, and to say we ran in different circles would be an understatement.

“How do you know them?” I offer.

“Ash’s been trying to convince Luna to go out with him,” Miles whispers to me conspiratorially. “She’s been running him around like a dog.”

“She’s just playing hard to get,” says Asher. “And I’ll chase her all she wants as long as she lets me catch her in the end.”

“And you’re, what? The wingman?” I ask Miles.

He chuckles. “Hardly. I’m here to get the crash and burn on video so it’ll go viral.”

Asher smacks him in the back of the head as he surges ahead onto the porch steps.

“See you around, Gracie,” says Miles, his eyes holding mine for a beat longer before the two of them slip inside.

I text Carson to let her know I’m here before forcing myself to step through the door. There are a handful of people I don’t know on the couch in the living room, and I pass a few more as I make my way to the kitchen at the back of the house. It’s nice, if a little old. Reminds me of a lot of the places people rented in college—squeaky floorboards, minimal furniture, empty alcohol bottles used as décor.

It seems more like the first breaths of a party, not one that’s well underway. As suspected, bottles and cups are lined up on the counter, and I quickly make myself a drink—mostly orange juice, but with enough vodka to hopefully take the edge off.

“You’re hereeee!” squeals Carson as she hurries through the kitchen door with a beer bottle in each hand.

“You didn’t think I’d actually show up, did you?” I ask as she tugs me into a suffocating hug. I grunt in surprise and awkwardly pat her back a few times until she lets me go.

“I had my doubts,” she admits, then sways on her feet. I reach out a hand, but she manages to steady herself against the opposite counter.

“You good?”

“Oh, grand.” She flashes a smile full of teeth, then throws back the rest of one of her beers.

“You look cute,” I offer.

“Oh, this?” She does a little spin in her strapless black dress, then pops one of her combat boots out to the side. “You too. Very effortlessly boho chic. The Converse really tie the whole thing together. Or maybe it’s the hair.”

She must be even drunker than she looks.

“ Anyway , come, come.”

I clutch my drink to my chest as she grabs my hand and leads me up the stairs.

The door to the primary bedroom is wide open with two other girls inside. They’re both sitting on the ground in front of a floor-length mirror, their makeup spread around them.

“Girls, this is Gracie, my friend I was telling you about. This is Luna.” She gestures to the little redhead in a lacy dress covered in tiny red strawberries. “And Raquel.” The second dark-haired girl pauses applying her bright red lipstick and waves.

Luna finishes adding butterfly clips to her hair and stands. I know I’m staring at bit, but I can’t help it. Not after that talk with Asher on the way in. She’s just…not at all what I pictured. The smile she offers is polite but not overly warm.

“See you down there,” she says, then slips from the room.

Raquel and Carson exchange a glance I don’t understand, then Carson shrugs and lounges on the bed.

“You grew up around here like Carson, right?” asks Raquel as she turns to the mirror and dabs some fake freckles along her nose.

“Yeah. What about you?”

“I moved up here from Delaware a few years ago.”

“Why’d you move here?” I ask.

“Yeah,” chimes in Carson. “Why would you willingly move to Jersey?”

Raquel gives her an unimpressed look. “I was supposed to move here because my girlfriend got a new job.”

“Supposed to…?”

“They broke up less than a month after she moved,” whispers Carson.

“I can still hear you.”

Carson raises her palms like she’s at gunpoint. “It’s true!”

“Hence being desperate enough to room with her.” Raquel points her eyeliner at Carson before dropping it into her makeup bag.

Carson just smiles and bats her eyelashes.

“Are you guys coming or what?” shouts a voice from downstairs.

“All your chatting is gonna make me miss the game!” Raquel jumps up, grabs a red Solo cup from the windowsill, then takes off toward the stairs at a run.

I glance sideways at Carson. “Game…?”

“Oh yeah!” She hooks her arm through mine and practically skips after Raquel. “I didn’t mention that?”

“Mention what?—”

When we reach the bottom of the stairs, the living room looks entirely different than it did when I walked in. All of the furniture is pushed to the outskirts of the room, leaving a circle of eight folding chairs propped in the middle with their backs to each other.

Is this fucking musical chairs?

“You bet your ass it is!” calls Raquel, and I blush when I realize I said that aloud. “Here’s how the game works.” She claps her hands and waits as people drift closer from other areas of the house. “There will be two teams of four. The trick is, you want to stay in the game, but you also have to work together. If you eliminate a teammate, you finish your drink. If you’re a member of the losing team, you finish your drink. Any questions?”

“And no excessive violence!” calls Carson beside me. “If you draw blood—or break any of our things—you’re streaking on the beach! We’ll have three judges watching everything very closely, so behave yourselves!”

“Boys versus girls?” offers Miles from the kitchen doorway.

A girl in denim shorts, a bikini top, and a cowboy hat snorts beside him. “What a boy thing to suggest.”

“I don’t care what team I’m on as long as I’m playing!” Carson announces and plops herself in one of the chairs for emphasis.

“I’m in,” says Asher, taking the seat beside her, followed by Miles, Bikini Girl, Luna, and a few others I don’t know.

Once there’s four girls and four guys standing around the chairs, Raquel removes one and points to the beefy guy sitting by a Bluetooth speaker in the corner. “DJ?”

“You’ve got it.”

A rap song bursts through the speakers, and the players scramble to position themselves so they’re not standing beside teammates as the game begins.

“Gracie!” calls Carson. “You’re a judge. Keep an eye on those two for sure.” She points at Asher and Miles.

Fine by me. Better than being in the thick of it. I drift a step closer with my arms crossed over my chest.

The music cuts off abruptly, and chairs screech across the floor as everyone dives for a seat. Miles and Asher grab ones easily, but the other two guys are bodychecked by Carson and Luna.

I wince, and the room lets out a collective Oooo as they hit the floor. The tall guy with glasses pushes to his feet first, and he grimaces as he takes his seat.

“He eliminated a teammate!” calls Raquel.

“Drink! Drink! Drink!”

“Fuck you guys,” he mumbles, then takes the red Solo cup someone hands him and gets to chugging. The beer spills down the sides of his mouth and over his chin, but after a few moments, he lowers the cup, gasps for air, and shakes his head like a dog coming out from the rain.

“We let you guys have that one,” says Asher. “Chivalry and all.”

“You’re just making it even more embarrassing for yourselves,” quips Luna.

Asher beams like he’s just thrilled she’s acknowledging his existence.

The next several rounds pass in a blur of squeals, thuds, and chants as people chug their drinks. Then it’s down to Miles and Carson, and a hush falls over the room as the final song starts to play—the Macarena.

“Who the fuck picked this?” calls Raquel.

Miles grins, showing off his dimples, and does the dance as they circle the chairs.

“Don’t you dare be a gentleman and give it to her!” yells Asher.

The music cuts off, and even though Miles is on the opposite side of the seat, he slides around in a fluid motion, grabbing the chair a millisecond before Carson lands on top of him.

She stares at herself in his lap as if not comprehending what she’s seeing, and all the guys in the room erupt in cheers and applause.

Miles smiles and meets my eyes across the room. And before I realize it, I find myself smiling back.

If you angle your head just right through the line of houses and trees, you can see the ocean from their front porch. The house vibrates with music and laughter behind me as they start up round two. I sip my drink, hoping no one will notice I escaped for a moment of peace and fresh air. And truthfully, if they roped me into playing, there’s no way I’d be able to drive home after a round of that game. And I’m not putting myself in that position in a house full of basically strangers, especially not when the one person I do know is absolutely trashed.

“Oh, you need a way better hiding spot than this if you don’t want them to find you.”

Miles grins as he steps onto the porch and closes the door behind him. I’m beginning to think that grin is his default expression. I mean, if I had those teeth and dimples, I’d probably be showing them off as much as possible too.

“I believe congratulations are in order.”

He bows his head and leans against the railing beside me. “Not quite your crowd, huh?”

“Oh, no! No, they’re—it’s just—I just needed a minute.”

His smile turns knowing, but softens. “Not mine either.”

An incredulous laugh gets caught in my throat.

“What? You don’t believe me?”

“No,” I admit. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen someone look more in their element. Life of the party, some might say.”

“Oh? Some?”

I take a sip of my drink.

“So what I’m hearing is, you’ve been watching me tonight.”

Thankfully it’s too dark for him to see how red my face must be.

“Go on a date with me.”

I freeze with my cup a few inches from my face.

“Tomorrow night,” he continues, voice perfectly casual. “I can pick you up at seven. Dinner. Somewhere nice.”

Slowly, I turn to look at him. He stares back, hands casually in his pockets, head tilted to the side as he waits for my answer. The moonlight falls perfectly on his profile. A little too perfectly. Maybe I’m hallucinating. That would make a whole lot more sense.

“Why?” is the only word I manage to get out.

His eyebrow lifts. “Why?”

“Why me, I mean.”

That gets him to smile. “Because I’ve been watching you tonight too.”

“ There you are, man!” Asher stumbles through the door and shoots me a nod when he notices me standing there.

“No luck with Luna?” asks Miles.

“The night is still young,” Asher insists, then glances both ways down the street before fishing something out of his pocket.

Miles stiffens beside me. “Ash…”

“You want some?” he murmurs as he prepares a line of white powder on the railing.

Is that coke ?

Miles glances at me sideways.

“Gracie?” offers Asher.

“I’m good,” I say immediately.

Asher’s eyes flick to Miles, and Miles gives a single shake of his head.

Asher shrugs, leans forward, and snorts the powder in one go. He stands up straight with renewed light in his eyes, then grabs Miles by the elbow. “Come on. I need a wingman.”

“I really doubt that’ll help,” mutters Miles, but he lets Asher pull him toward the door. He hesitates before stepping inside and glances at me over his shoulder. “Tomorrow? Say yes, Gracie.”

Every insecurity inside of me is screaming This is a bad idea , but somehow I find myself uttering a breathy “Yes.”