Chapter Text
The Saturday of prom starts out perfectly. The sun is shining, Belly’s actually gotten a good night’s sleep, and she wakes up to a kissy-face emoji from Jere. It’s so different from all the anxiety she had last year. Everything in her life is easier now, without having to try so hard, without having to be better. She’s good as she is, and she smiles, thinking of the romcom she and her mom had watched last night, curled on the couch. She is loved “just as she is.” Getting into modern movies over the last few months with her mom had been a good idea.
She meanders down the stairs thinking about the day ahead. Steven’s at school; he and Taylor had broken up a few months ago, and Belly has a feeling he’s going to stay far away this weekend. She doesn’t blame him. She loves Taylor, but their very messy push and pull had been hard on them both, especially with Steven in his first year at Princeton. Weirdly, even though the distance was further, she and Jere hadn’t had the same problems. They talked on the phone nearly every night, and while her mom wouldn’t really let her go visit him, he came down to visit a few times, and they’d go on dates and hang around her house. All of her friends loved him, thought he was funny and cute and perfect for her, and Belly couldn’t agree more. She didn’t feel that sharp anxiety, that rush to be with him all the time, to worry about him or what he was thinking. He was an open book to her, their ESP working perfectly. Like every modern romantic movie, it wasn’t about the great love; it was about getting to kiss your best friend. And wasn’t that so much better?
She was meeting Taylor at the mall later to get her makeup done, hopefully something very smoky-eyed to go with her slinky silver dress. They’d decided against a limo and were going to go to the senior lock-in afterward. Jere had been psyched, said his high school hadn’t done anything like that, so she figured he’d have fun. He’d mentioned something about a hotel, but Belly was glad that plan had been nixed. They hadn’t had sex yet, and she wasn’t sure she was ready. She realized now that maybe she hadn’t been last year either. Not that she’d been pressured; she’d been the initiator, she knew that. Loving Conrad had been too intense, too consuming; she barely could keep her brain functioning at any time around him, and look how it had ended. Slow, measured, paced, words she’d never have used to describe Jeremiah; but they totally described their relationship. It was like her mom had said that evening years ago: some relationships were meant to be warm and cozy.
The house is silent when she gets downstairs, and there’s a little coffee left in the pot. Belly pours herself a cup and contemplates what she wants to do with her day. She’s thinking about a run, maybe sitting somewhere outside with a book, when her mom gets home.
“Hi, Bean,” she says cheerfully, squeezing her shoulder as she goes by.
Her mom was doing so much better, had been so much more present in the last few months. And any time she hadn’t been, if she’d gone out of town for a book signing or workshops, her dad had arrived and slept in the guest room. They’d both sat her and Steven down at the beginning of last summer, once they had gotten back from Cousins, and apologized, said they were going to be there more. Belly had gone to volleyball camp and then, to her chagrin, to summer school to try and pull up her grades. It had chafed at first, her parents hovering in a way they never had for Steven, but it felt nice too, to just listen to their rules, to have some more structure. Laurel had talked about therapy, but Belly had refused. Susannah had died, but, well, she was good now. It sucked and it was sad, but everything was just so much easier now. She said that to herself sometimes, whispered it in her head.
She smiles at her mom now as she bustles around the kitchen.
“Are you planning to do pictures here?”
“No, Maddie’s parents wanted to do them at her house. They have that big lawn. I think we’ll drive over there.”
Laurel nods in response, still putting away groceries. “And you and Taylor are going to the mall for your makeup?”
“Yup,” Belly responds. She pulls herself up on the counter. “What are you doing today?”
Laurel hums to herself as she thinks. “I think it may be a good day to write,” she says finally. “It’s that kind of day.” She moves to the front door and opens it to grab the mail, noting a small white box sitting on the stoop. “Package for you, Bean,” she says cheerfully, coming back into the kitchen and placing it on the counter next to Belly.
Belly looks at it, surprised; she hasn’t ordered anything. Popping the lid open, it reveals a pale purple hydrangea corsage, a pale pink hydrangea corsage, a smaller green box, and a card. Laurel peers into the box, a smile on her face. “Present from Jere?” she asks.
“I guess so,” Belly says with a surprised chuckle that cuts off when she sees the card.
Two corsages, as promised. Hope you and Jere have a great prom!
—C
“Belly,” Laurel asks, then slides the card out of her hand. Her face falls slightly as she reads it. “Belly,” she says quietly, but Belly ignores her and opens the smaller box. There’s a small charm inside, a miniature hydrangea flower, slightly purple and blue, the exact color of the flowers at Cousins. Belly feels a rush of pleasure looking at the charm—so perfect for her, so thoughtfully chosen—before a wave of sadness runs over her, knowing she hasn’t even spoken to Conrad in nearly a year, does her best to never even think of him, and yet here he is, getting her. And then the anger rolls in, furious, heated rage. She slams the lid back on the charm box, then tosses it into the other box, indignation making her hands shaky.
“What is wrong with him?” she seethes. “Can’t he tell we don’t want him around?”
Laurel sighs, but opens the smaller box to look at the charm. “Belly,” she starts again. “I know we never talked about what went on with you and Conrad and Jeremiah last summer, and I know that is on me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Mom,” Belly says angrily. “I chose Jeremiah. He’s my future.” She says it resolutely, like she does in her mind every night. “He’s who I want.”
“Okay, Bean, I hear you,” Laurel says quietly. “But did the three of you ever talk about what that means for the rest of us?”
Belly shakes her head, still angry. “What’s there to say?”
“Well,” Laurel tries to catch Belly’s eye, then gives up, leaning against the counter next to her. “There’s the fact that you and Conrad had what seemed like a really serious relationship.” Belly snorts and tries to cut her off, but Laurel doesn’t let her. “No, Belly. You’ve had feelings for Conrad for years, and he’s had feelings for you. Beck and I had hoped you’d get together when you were older and things were more stable in both your lives, but here we are.”
“What do you mean he’s had feelings for me?” Belly says. “He barely tolerated me before—”
“Isabel.” Laurel drags her name out like a sigh. “He treats you like you are something precious. We all did, of course, you were the baby, but Conrad, he always took care of you. It’s probably why you started having your crush. And honestly, it doesn’t matter now. You broke up in what unfortunately was an ugly manner, given the scene at the funeral, and you are dating Jeremiah now. You can’t go back. Like you said, you made your choice. But those choices have consequences. Every choice has consequences, but especially these.”
Belly scrunches her nose, unsure what to say. “It wasn’t really a choice, Mom. Jeremiah wants to be with me, and Conrad was never all that interested.”
“He drove five hours here, multiple times over the last year, while his mother was dying, Belly. No nineteen-year-old boy does that unless he is hugely invested in the relationship. Jere hasn’t even come down as many times.” At the furious look on Belly’s face, Laurel puts her hand up. “I’m not comparing them, Belly. I know you love Jeremiah now, and I know the two of you are happy. But that doesn’t diminish the effort and time and love—because yes, Belly, that is what love looks like—that Conrad showed you. You can’t rewrite the past to suit your vision of the world now.”
Belly feels her face grow hot. “Of course you are taking Conrad’s side instead of your own daughter’s.”
“I’m not taking sides! Honestly, Belly, as much as I love Conrad, what the two of you had together was too intense. It was a burning inferno, and neither of you was ready for it.” Laurel cups Belly’s cheek, looking into her eyes. “That kind of love is hard to sit with, even when it’s two people who can communicate.”
Tears well in Belly’s eyes, and she blinks, letting them fall down her face. Her mom wraps her arms around her, squeezing her close, but Belly refuses to let the sob in her chest out. She will not cry for Conrad. She will not think about him. She wants Jere. She chose Jere. The words seem to cement something in her chest, and all of her emotions tamp down. Her mom is brushing her head, still hugging her tight, and Belly pulls back.
“I’m not letting him ruin another prom night,” she says, making sure her voice does not waver.
“Of course,” Laurel says soothingly, her hand still on Belly’s face. “This isn’t a conversation we need to have today.”
Belly nods and hops down from the counter. She doesn’t look back at the box, moving around it.
“But, Bean—” Belly turns around to stare at her mother. “You need to have these conversations. With Conrad, with Jere, maybe even with Steven. You are entitled to your choices, Belly. But I don’t think any of you have thought about the consequences.”
“I don’t think about Conrad, Mom. I told you, Jere is my future.” Belly crosses her arms over her chest and hardens her face.
Laurel shakes her head. “It shouldn’t be all or nothing, sweetie. You’ve known both those boys your whole life, and you will know them your whole life. Conrad is my godson, and they both just lost their mother. I expect we will spend holidays together over the next few years. You cannot stand there and expect to never see or hear from Conrad again, especially given you are dating his brother.” Her face falls with a realization. “Are they not talking at all?”
“A little,” Belly says, uncomfortable. “Jere doesn’t say much, but he thinks that Conrad will just make things harder if he’s around. With his dad, and with me, I guess.”
Laurel shakes her head. “At least that explains why Con has exiled himself to California.”
“Exiled?” Belly asks, incredulous. “He’s happy out there, spending breaks with friends and living his life. Jere said he didn’t even want to come home.”
“Conrad has always had the terrible trait of deciding what’s best for everyone and then going through with that plan, even at his own expense. Especially at his own expense. Case in point was the last summer we had in Cousins.” Laurel’s voice is soft and quiet. “Beck was the only one able to get him out of his head. And his relationship with Adam just deteriorated, and we never knew why.”
Belly feels an uncomfortable rolling sensation in her stomach. She debates for a moment before saying, “He found out about Adam’s affair.”
Laurel’s eyes shoot to hers. “What? When?”
“Before the last summer in Cousins. At the same time that he found out about Susannah’s cancer returning.” Belly feels awful breaking Conrad’s trust, but her mom just nods in understanding.
“Makes all that brooding and drinking and general teenage mayhem make more sense. I never thought it was about some girlfriend.” Laurel places a hand to her face, rubbing at her temples. “Thank you for telling me that, Belly. I need to talk to him. I had no idea he’d been holding onto all of that.” She turns to walk away, then stops and grabs Belly’s hand. “Go. Get your hair done and your makeup and have a fantastic prom, Belly. All of this can keep till later.” She squeezes her hand again and then leaves the room, moving toward her office.
The numbness Belly had been using, had been protecting herself with since last summer, settles over her. Her mom, Steven—they act like she doesn’t understand the consequences of her choices, but she does. Conrad had made things hard. Conrad was difficult to deal with. Conrad had broken up with her and told her he didn’t love her. He would give and then take it away, and she was tired of being pushed and pulled by his whims.
With that sentiment in her chest, she checks her phone. Not too early for a West Coast conversation. She opens their text thread and feels a bit of discomfort at the multiple texts she’d never replied to. They were perfunctory—Happy Birthdays and Merry Christmases—that at best she had just liked. She knew it upset Jere to talk to him, knew it made him feel like a second choice, so she just didn’t. Taylor had talked to her about living in the here and now, and honestly that had helped her more than any other advice. The here and now was to be with Jeremiah.
She contemplates texting him, but with a sudden burst of heat, presses down on the call button.
He answers on the third ring. “Belly?” he asks, surprised, his voice slightly out of breath.
“Hi, Conrad,” she says curtly.
“Hey, I, uh—I guess you got the flowers. They should last a while. The florist said hydrangeas are usually fairly hearty.” His voice is level and kind, and somehow that makes Belly even angrier.
“Can you please just leave us alone?” she snaps. “Like, did you need to insert yourself into my and Jeremiah’s day?”
Conrad is silent on the other end for a long moment. Before he can speak, she snaps, “Your presence at all is like your text messages used to be, triggering.”
Conrad lets out a huff of laughter. “I didn’t realize my text messages were still triggering. I only meant it as a—I made you a promise last year. I’ve never broken a promise to you, and I just couldn’t start now.”
Belly gives a cold chuckle. “You dumped me on prom night, Conrad. All promises broken at once.”
Conrad makes a weird snuffling noise, and then she can hear some movement before the snick of a door shutting. “I didn’t break up with you, Belly. You dumped me.”
Belly scoffs. “You’d been trying to get out of there all night. You had barely been speaking. You didn’t want to dance—”
“I was a shitty date and a shitty boyfriend,” Conrad cuts in. “I don’t blame you for breaking up with me, but you are the one who did it, Belly. You told me it was over, handed me your necklace, and told me to leave before leaving yourself.”
Belly lets out a scream of rage, all prior numbness gone. “I was just breaking up with you before you could break up with me!” she shouts into the phone. “You’d been trying to all night, probably for weeks.”
“Belly.” His voice sounds so sad, so exhausted, that she feels her heart squeeze painfully. He’d rarely let her have this voice, this open version of himself that he’d hidden deeper and deeper. “My mom died less than two weeks later. I was losing my mind at the time. You were the only spot of bright light, but I didn’t know how to be a good date that night.”
The fire in her stomach stops immediately, a sick feeling pouring over her. He’d tried to talk to her weeks before, about his mom’s meds and how he’d been concerned, but she’d been so sure Susannah would get better. She’d forgotten about that, forgotten about his face pressed into her shoulder at their kitchen counter as she had planned and perfected her dream prom.
“You told me you regretted me,” she says finally, her voice slightly quavering.
“You told me you hated me and never wanted to see me again,” he replies, a slight laugh in his voice. “I don’t think either of us was at our best, and I told you that I was having—”
She cuts him off now, not wanting to hear how she’d overreacted at the funeral just after she’s realizing she overreacted at prom. “Yeah, no. We had this conversation already.”
His voice is low suddenly, angry and acrid. “I feel like we had a lot of conversations last summer that didn’t register for me the way they did for you.”
Belly sighs, unable to hold onto her anger. “We cared about each other, but it didn’t work out.” She’s said this to herself hundreds of times in the last year, carved it into her soul, hardened the words until she can practically see them. “Maybe we just need some more space. Maybe I need some more space.”
“Okay,” Conrad says quietly. “I can give you more space. The corsages were meant to be friendly. But I understand if they felt like something else.” She can hear him breathing—slow, steady breaths. She’s getting ready to end the conversation when he speaks again. “I’ve been going to therapy. And my therapist pointed out that I have trouble just voicing my thoughts, being completely frank. So, Belly, we didn’t care about each other. We loved each other. I think some part of me will always love you. But that’s something I have to learn to deal with.”
Belly is frozen, her hand not even able to move, her phone pressed tightly to her ear. She and Jeremiah had shared “I love yous” so easily, before the summer had even ended. It hadn’t felt like the world was ending or beginning when he said it—just a warmth that made her smile as she said it back. This, though, this feels like her chest is caving in, her skin crawling, and she feels like she’s eaten a thousand Sour Patch Kids in that perfect glow when it feels so good, but she knows the nausea is coming, the vomiting in the toilet while feeling so foolish.
“You don’t get to say that to me anymore. I’m with Jeremiah. I chose.” Her voice is scratchy, almost like she can’t get the words out.
“I know,” Conrad says softly. “You chose, and it’s not me, and I’m glad you’re happy.” His voice is genuine, and he enunciates each word clearly. “I’m just working on trying to be more honest, but I apologize if it’s too much.”
“It’s too much,” Belly says coldly.
“Okay,” Conrad replies. Neither of them says anything, and she knows she’s breathing too rapidly, that he can hear it and knows she’s affected. A noise is in the background of Conrad’s phone, and someone is yelling, “Fisher!” The voice is male, but then there’s a female voice yelling as well, “Conrad, let’s go!”
Conrad sighs. “I’ve got to go. But, uh, I already spoke to Jere today. I hope you both have a great prom, Belly. The lock-in sounds fun.” There’s a thud and then a grunt from Conrad, and a jumble of voices.
A woman’s voice comes on the line. “Hi,” she says, then pauses. “Belly? Con, are you talking to someone actually named Belly” she asks with a laugh. Belly can hear murmuring in the background and more shuffling noises. “Well, Belly, Conrad has to go win an intramural football game for the glory of O-chem Team B, so he’s going to have to call you back.” Before Belly can reply, the call ends with a beep.
She stares incredulously at the phone, unsure whether to laugh or cry. A text message comes across.
Conrad: My friends are assholes. Have a great evening, Belly, and if and when you need less space, let me know. I’m always here.
Belly decides to laugh. Therapy is the solution Taylor always said it would be, if instead of being a moody asshole, Conrad Beck Fisher is actually communicating.
Jere is forty-five minutes late, sweeping into the house with a giant grin and a slushie in hand. He kisses Belly easily, and she can taste the cherry flavor on his tongue. “Sorry, Bells, traffic was hell.” He holds her hand and steps back to check her out. She hasn’t put on her dress yet, but her makeup and hair are done, and she’s wearing comfy sweats and a button-down. “You look beautiful, Belly-button,” he says grandiosely, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against hers. She laughs in response.
He pulls her toward the kitchen. “Let me just get something to eat, and then I’ll shower and be dressed super quickly.” Belly smiles in response, pulling herself up on the counter as he moves around, completely comfortable in her family’s kitchen. She loves Jere being so easy around her. He’s pulled the sandwich she’d made him earlier from the fridge and is looking around at what else is there when his eyes catch the white box.
“Cookies?” he asks, shooting her a grin, before opening it. The smile falters on his face as he stares down. “Oh,” he says quietly. “I take it these are from Conrad.”
“Yeah,” Belly says, hopping down and wrapping her arms around Jeremiah, pressing her face into his back. “They don’t even match my dress this year. Way too fussy.”
“Hah,” he says, one of his hands coming to lay over hers. The other reaches in and opens the smaller box. He’s looking at the hydrangea charm, and she can feel him go stiff beneath her.
“I can throw them away,” she offers quietly. “All of it, including the charm.”
“You should have already done that,” Jeremiah says coldly.
Belly hates this version of his voice, when he doesn’t sound like the boy she grew up with, when his voice gets that angry tone she doesn’t know how to solve.
“I will right now,” she says instead, moving around him to grab the box. She pulls open the garbage pail and moves to throw the box in when Laurel walks into the kitchen.
“Laurel,” Jeremiah exclaims, his voice suddenly warm and affectionate, all the things Belly loves.
“Hi, Jere,” Laurel says easily, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. Her eyes move to where Belly is hovering. “What are you doing, Bean?”
“Just throwing these out,” Belly says quietly. “Jere already got me a corsage, right, Jere?”
“Yeah,” Jeremiah says, his voice bright. “One that actually matches her dress and isn’t so old-fashioned. Those look like they’re from the 1940s.” He pulls a package out from one of the bags he’s brought in and hands it to Belly, all his teeth showing. There’s a clear case over a single rose, held at an angle with baby’s breath wrapped around it; there’s an orange sale sticker still stuck to the side, and Jeremiah’s thumb covers it quickly. “Corsages are antiquated. We didn’t even do them at my school.” He smiles at Belly. “But I knew you’d want one. And unlike Conrad, I didn’t forget.” There’s a sharp note to his voice now, but his grin never wavers.
Belly smiles too, the biggest smile she can manage, and leans forward to press a quick kiss to his lips. “It’s perfect, and I agree—it’s much less fussy.” She lets the white box fall into the trash.
“Belly,” Laurel admonishes. “Even if you don’t want the corsages, maybe another girl would. And either way, the flowers are beautiful. Maybe I want to wear it.” She fishes the box out and puts it back on the counter.
“Sounds about right,” Jeremiah laughs. “Conrad getting flowers for Laurel.” There’s something mean, something nasty in his voice that isn’t quite covered, and Laurel shoots him a look.
“I said this to Belly today, and it certainly doesn’t need to happen now or even this weekend, but the two of you and Conrad need to have a conversation. This us-versus-him mentality can’t continue. He’s a major part of both your lives.”
Fury runs across Jeremiah’s eyes before it settles. “I’m just joking, Laur! I spoke to him this morning. He reminded me to pack the corsage. Making sure I’m not making the same mistakes.” He throws his arm around Belly’s shoulders, and she immediately leans in, almost instinctively.
Laurel nods, her eyes studying first Jere’s face, then both of them. “Okay then.” She pats Jeremiah’s shoulder as he goes by. Once she’s behind them, Jeremiah makes a face, his eyes rolling, and Belly suppresses a giggle. His body isn’t taut anymore, and she cuddles into him for a second before stepping away.
“Go get dressed,” she says, shooing him up the stairs. He grabs the sandwich she’d made earlier, blows her a kiss, and bounds up the stairs.
She’s exhausted suddenly, by her smile and her laugh and everything she’s done this evening, and it hasn’t even started yet. I love Jere, she thinks firmly. He is my future. She climbs the stairs as well and goes to get dressed.
Unlike the purple dream dress she’d had last year, she had let Taylor talk her into something sexier to reflect the more serious boyfriend she had now. Taylor had also tried to get her to buy these insane jellyfish earrings, but Belly hadn’t budged on that; she wouldn’t be surprised if Taylor showed up wearing them.
The dress is silver and sleek, with a low back and tiny straps. It’s sexy, and not something she would have normally picked out, but it’s her senior year, and she’s in a serious relationship. She has to look the part.
When she walks down the stairs twenty minutes later, Jeremiah lets out a whistle even as her mother and father look a little surprised.
“Wow, Bean,” her dad says, pressing a light kiss to her cheek. “That is some dress.”
“Yes, it is,” Laurel says dryly, motioning for her to spin so she can see the back. Her parents appear to be having some sort of eye conversation that ends with her father giving her mother a little smirk as her shoulders hunch inward.
“You look gorgeous,” Jeremiah says, smiling, pressing his lips to her cheek. His hand grabs her waist, and given the lack of cloth, his fingers brush her bare back. It sends shivers through her, and she flinches slightly. Jeremiah shoots her a look, and she smiles as brightly as she can. “Sorry, you’re just a little cold.”
He laughs and presses his whole hand into her back. She lets the shiver run through her, her eyes on his, and can see how they warm. She doesn’t let him see the nausea roiling in her.
Belly’s parents take a few photos. Her dad regurgitates the speech he gave Conrad last year, though a much shorter and quieter version. Jeremiah smiles, and Belly can’t help but compare them—Conrad being way too intense, nodding along with her dad like the people-pleaser he is, while Jere is calmer, not taking things seriously, shooting Belly funny little eye movements when her father isn’t looking. It’s lighter and freer, and Belly reminds herself that this is normal teenage behavior.
When they make it to Maddie’s house, there are five other couples there, and everyone is laughing and posing. Jeremiah slides in so easily, chatting with the guys he met last summer, telling funny stories about his frat. Easy is the best way to describe it, the word she keeps coming back to, and she basks in the glow that seems to emanate from him.
She’s chatting with Allison about end-of-the-year senior traditions when she sees the color completely change in Jeremiah’s face, his body going entirely stiff. She steps out of her conversation without another word and moves toward him, sliding an arm around his waist.
His face is frozen in angry lines, and Tess’s boyfriend is looking at him quizzically.
“Wait, so like—you’re dating your brother’s ex? Isn’t that shit kind of weird?”
Jeremiah somehow gets even tauter, his body almost like a rubber band.
Tess tries to defuse the situation, her arm pulling on her boyfriend’s arm as she shakes her head. Belly squeezes Jere’s side and puts on her airiest voice. “Sometimes we make bad decisions, and then we make better ones,” she says, trying to sound like she’s not internally panicking. “You run away from the best things when you’re young and dumb, but I figured it out.” She leans up and presses a kiss to Jeremiah’s face.
He’s still frozen, but she can feel him thawing, feel him calming down.
He lets out a warm rumble of laughter. “I think we’re still young and dumb, Bells.” He squeezes her back, and she can feel the air returning to her lungs, the panic abating.
Tess’s boyfriend still looks skeptical, but he shrugs as if it doesn’t really matter to him. And really, Belly thinks, it probably doesn’t.
“All right, man,” he says. “So like, is your econ TA a hard-ass too? Because mine is a raging dick.”
That warm, sweet Jeremiah laugh that warms everyone in is there, and Jeremiah starts telling a story about his midterms, the people standing around them moving toward him like they always do, his light absolutely pulling them in. Belly tries not to think about the way his fingers are still pushing too hard into her side, the way the nails on his fingers are digging deeper into her skin. She smiles instead and leans her head on his shoulder. She thinks that will loosen his hold, but the grip just gets stronger, like she’s somehow slipping through his fingers.
Prom is amazing. Jeremiah dances every song, twirls her around, and even lifts her up off the ground. So what if she can’t move as easily in this slinky gown? He tells her how hot she is, how she’s hotter than every other girl there, how much he loves her over and over again. She can see other girls staring at them enviously, checking Jeremiah out, his dance moves, his smile.
Everything is utterly perfect as he slow dances with her, his hand dangerously low on the bare skin of her back. Taylor’s eyebrows are dancing around, her grin huge, jellyfish earrings swinging at her ears. She’s been ecstatic the whole time, talking about how much better this year is, how much happier Belly is, how much more fun they’re having. She uses the word easy—Belly’s new watchword—and there’s such a sense of contentment that washes over her.
Belly and Jeremiah. Oh, so easy.
They’re dancing at the end of the night, his hand on her low back, thumb rubbing below the edge of her dress, dragging along her skin. He’s crooning the lyrics to an ancient Savage Garden song, his breath hot on her ear. She wants to be charmed. She is charmed. But there’s this low pit of revulsion deep in her stomach.
He turns them slowly, still singing, and she can see Taylor over his shoulder, a giant smile on her face, big thumbs up in the air. Two other volleyball girls are standing near her, staring with clear envy, and Belly closes her eyes and does her best to savor the moment.