Paula Stokes - The Art of Lainey

I’ve been to tons of Chase parties in the past couple years, but I don’t remember them being like this. I don’t remember them much at all, to be honest. Maybe it’s just because I haven’t had anything to drink, but as I look down at my classmates, it’s like I’m viewing the last three years of my life through a magnifying glass. Suddenly I can see everything, and it skeeves me out to the point where I almost leave. Is this what I wanted for my epic summer? Hanging out with my friends, all drunk and oblivious? What am I even doing here?

But then I see Jason, sprawled out on a lounge at the far end of the pool. I think of him picking me up after I scored my goal, of the soft pressure of his hands as he put the soccer jersey back on me. I’m too close to everything I want to turn back now. I adjust the straps of my dress and smooth the feathered skirt before making my way to the stairs leading down onto the lawn. As I get closer, I see he’s talking to the person on the lounge next to him. They have their heads together, laughing. It’s a girl, but it isn’t Alexandra.

“Ohmygod, Kendall!” Flying down the wooden steps, I hurry across the yard and launch myself toward her with open arms. “When did you get home?”

She embraces me lightly. “Laineykins, I missed you so much.”

Jason smiles lazily from the next lounge. “I see you found your surprise,” he says. “I’ll be back. I’m going to go turn Dan on his side so he doesn’t choke to death on his own puke.”

“Nasty.” Kendall waves her brother away and then turns back to me. “I haven’t been home for too long,” she says, maddeningly vague. “I took your advice and quit.”

“But why?” I ask. “I figured you’d want to stay there as long as possible just to avoid your parents.”

“Those people were worse than my parents. They had a million rules. It was like model boot camp, I swear.” Kendall makes a gagging sound. “And my mom will be in Chicago for the next few days. It’ll be almost time to go to Costa Rica by the time she’s back.”

I gave up on going to Costa Rica once Leo stopped pursuing Riley. I pretty much knew I was never going to save enough money. No big deal, though. Things are looking up with Jason, even without a deserted beach. “But what about the prize money?”

“I wasn’t going to win,” Kendall says. “The producers hated me. I’ll figure out something.” She tosses her hair. “I always do.”

Her formerly long-flowing locks have been razored into a shaggy bob. It looks good—very high fashion. “I like your hair,” I say, reaching out to touch it.

She snickers. “Speaking of hair.” She captures my teal streak in between her thumb and first finger and runs her hand down the length of it. “Have you been playing dress-up?”

“A friend did it for me,” I murmur. Leave it to Kendall to make fun of anything different.

Jason walks back up. He hands me a cup of beer and plunks down next to me on the lounge.

“I just remembered something I have to go do,” Kendall says with a wink.

“If it’s Dan, you’d better hurry,” Jason says. “He’s about to pass out.”

Kendall gives her brother the finger and then sashays off toward the other end of the pool.

“Nice dress,” Jay says. His eyes rove over my entire body, lingering on my long, bare legs peeking out beneath my feathered skirt. He’s looking at me the way he used to, and I find that both exciting and terrifying.

“Thanks.” I set the beer down next to my lounge. I need to keep my emotions under control, and getting all wasted isn’t going to help with that. I channel my inner warlord. Exploit your enemy’s weaknesses. I slide my skirt up ever so slightly, letting another inch of tan skin peek out. “Where’s your girlfriend from Beat?” I ask. “The redhead?”

“Who knows?” Jason shrugs. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a girl.” His big hands start to fiddle with my overlapping spaghetti straps, pulling them down one at a time over my shoulder.

His touch feels new and familiar at the same time. She’s just a girl. What does that even mean? They broke up? They’re not exclusive? I want to ask, but I don’t want to ruin the moment. I tell myself it doesn’t matter what happened to her. All that matters is that I’m here and she’s not. Jason finishes pulling down the straps on my left side and moves to the ones on my right.

“Stop,” I say.

“Why?”

“People are staring at us.”

I scan the area around the pool. Partially Topless Girl is now completely topless and the sophomore boys are snapping pictures with their phones. I should go over there and tell them to knock it off, but the damage is unfortunately already done. She is seriously going to regret drinking tomorrow. The rest of the partygoers outside are paired up on lounges or passed out. Pretty sure no one is even looking at Jay or me.

“You’re just saying that so I’ll take you upstairs,” Jason says.

“Uh-uh,” I say. Very convincing, Lainey.

“Yuh-huh,” he says back. He smiles. A real one, with dimples. He slides one more of my spaghetti straps off my shoulder. “Hey. I’ve got a great idea. You want to go upstairs?”

I hesitate. Everything still feels a little off, but it’s probably because I’m the only one who’s sober. Or maybe because I haven’t been alone with Jason in over a month. I’m just nervous. Seize opportunities. Seize opportunities. Seize opportunities. It’s weird. I wouldn’t have imagined I would need to psych myself up for this moment. It’s about as opportune as they can get.

Jason takes my silence as a yes. “Drink your drink. I’m going to fish a couple beer bottles out of the pool and tell those guys to stop taking pictures of that drunk chick. Be right back.”

Ignoring the beer, I watch Jason make rounds and clean up for a few minutes. Then I get up from the lounge. By now, the sophomore boys have scattered and the pool is empty. Jay motions to me. He leads me into the house, through the crush of tangled bodies, some dancing, some standing around, some smoking.

We wind our way up the spiral staircase and then down the long hallway that leads to his room. I feel almost like I’m watching the scene unfold from outside my body. My fingers are interlocked with his as he pulls me toward a moment that’s going to change everything. We are ten steps away. Five steps. I can’t decide. But then I do. I should turn back. I should leave.

But the girl behind Jason keeps walking.

The door opens with a squeak. His room is dark except for a hazy circle of light cast by a halogen lamp in the corner, but I can see plenty. There’s the same queen-sized bed, the same broken frame supported by a couple of old school books that Jason was probably supposed to turn in years ago. The collection of soccer trophies still sits on the upper shelves of his dresser, coated in a layer of dust. Baseball caps hang on a wooden coatrack he made in woodshop, only he has more hats than hooks so the caps are layered two or three deep, some of them having fallen to the floor below.

Dusty trophies. Baseball hats. These are things I would normally not notice, but for some reason I can’t tear my eyes away from Jay’s fitted Cardinals cap, from the stitches that are coming loose on the left side of the logo.

I remember him fiddling with those stitches a few months ago. Last semester: time of the state championships, the Hazelton Forest commercial. Last semester was perfect and it’s all preserved right here. There’s even a picture of us from prom still wedged in the frame of his dresser mirror.

Jason presses me up against the wall and kisses me. “I thought you would never forgive me,” he mumbles into my hair.

His breath reeks of alcohol, but his kisses do all the same things they have always done to me. Tremors. Warmth. My eyes fall shut. I reach out with my mind and try to grab hold of last semester.

He tugs on my teal streak. “You really are trying to become a different person this summer, aren’t you?”

My eyes flick back open. I don’t bother telling him it’s fake. Let him sweat it. “I like my streak,” I say. “It fits me.”

“No it doesn’t.” Jason grins at me—another dimpled smile. “People don’t change, Lainey. You are who you are. We both are.”

I slide out from between him and the wall. “Maybe I’m just now figuring out who I am.”

“Yeah, right.” Jason sits on the edge of his bed and pats the spot next to him. I sit. The dim light reveals his bloodshot eyes. I wonder if he will remember any of this when he wakes up tomorrow. He leans in to kiss me again, and once more I reach out desperately for the past. I go through memory after memory, looking for reassurance that nothing has changed, but it’s like flipping through a book of stories I’ve outgrown.

Everything has changed.

Micah’s face flashes before me. His lips on mine. I push him away, into the darkness. There’s not enough room in my head right now for anyone but Jason and me.

Jays lays me back on the bed. His hands stroke the fabric of my dress as his beard stubble scrapes across my face, almost abrasive enough to draw blood. I clench my jaw. He pulls back, lifts up, looks down at me. The lamp back-lights the curl of his hair, his broad shoulders. Everything that meant so much to me now feels like nothing but outlines and shadows.

“What?” he asks.

“What happened to Alexandra?” What I really mean is: what happened to us? I roll out from under him so we’re lying side by side.