Page 9 of Enchanted to Meet You

I guess I could go home and come back. Of course, that required explaining to Mum why I’d left the house dressed like I was going somewhere and then reappeared twenty minutes later still dressed like I was going somewhere, except now more stressed. My mother, who was riding the high of not having to hear my father’s name every day, had taken an interest in my social life lately, and I did not have it in me to survive a conversation that started with oh, are you going out? twice in one evening.

I marched up the driveway before the rational part of my brain could catch up and stop me.

Footsteps—too light and quick to be Justin sounded on the other side after I knocked. Then the door swung open to reveal a woman I didn’t recognize, older, kind-faced, an apron dusted with flour tied loosely around her waist, wiping her hands on a dish towel like I’d caught her mid-task.

“Hi.” My voice came out about an octave too bright. I was a little surprised to see an adult here, since most people hosted parties when their parents were out of town, but I decided to roll with it. I had to assume this was Justin’s mom, and I wanted to make a good impression. “I’m—sorry, I know I’m kind of early.”

“Oh, honey, you’re right on time,” she reassured me.

I looked around her at the empty room, no people, no music, no decorations. I did my best to school my features into neutrality as I righted myself to face her with a smile.

“Technically, I’m late,” I joked, trying to decide my next move from here. The obvious thing to do would be to ask if Justin was home, but that would also be laying all my cards out on the table. My tongue felt swollen in my mouth, like it was stopping me from being able to get any words out. Just as I thought I would have to flee from absolute mortification and never darken this doorstep again, she opened the door wider and stepped aside.

Her face warmed, the opposite of the horrified reaction I’d been bracing myself for. “Why don’t you come on in? I’m sure the boys would love the company.”

I stepped inside, and the door shut behind me with a soft click that felt louder than it had any right to be. The house was deadly quiet. I resisted the urge to shuffle on my feet.

“You go to the dance studio, don’t you?” Justin’s mum said, studying me now with curiosity. “With Leah?”

“Yeah. Leah’s class is right before mine.” I smiled genuinely. “I’m excited to see their performance at the recital in a few weeks.”

“I’ll be sure to look for you at the recital,” she said with a bright, welcoming smile. She studied me, tapping her lip. “Now, am I crazy or do you go to school with Justin as well?”

And this is the part I’ve replayed more times than I’d like to admit, because it’s the part where I could have said something simple and true. We go to the same school. He’s friends with my brother, sort of. I’ve talked to him maybe three times in my life, tops.

Instead, what came out—in a voice I meant to sound breezy and instead sounded like I was confirming a rumor—was, “Yeah, we know each other pretty well, actually.”

She smiled like that settled something for her, and gestured me further inside. “He’s in the den. I think Rhys is in there too, if you don’t mind hanging out with a boy from the rival school.”

She winked in a way that told me it was all in jest, but the words made my stomach feel like it was full of cement anyway. It wasn’t all right, not really. If Sebastian knew that I was going to be in the same room as Rhys, he’d…

Well, maybe it was a good thing he’d said no to coming with me.

“Totally fine,” I said, in the overly cheerful voice I tended to use with adults. One that didn’t make it obvious that I had never once been in a room with Rhys Montgomery that didn’t also contain a soccer field, a referee, and my furious brother. I followed her inside, not entirely sure where the den was. She picked something up from an end table and spun to face me with another warm smile.

“While you’re at it,” she said, “would you mind taking these over?”

And before I could respond, she shoved two piles of red plastic cups into my arms. Then she headed off toward the kitchen, already talking to herself about whether they had enough ice, and I stood alone in the front hall for a second, doing one last mental check of the situation. I was the only guest at this party so far. I had implied to a total stranger that Justin and I knew each other pretty well. And now, to even spend time with Justin, I was going to have to be in the same room as Rhys Montgomery.

I followed the sound of a video game—tinny gunfire, muffled commentary, someone groaning about lag—down a hallway lined with school photos I didn’t have time to look at as closely as I wanted to. I stopped in the doorway of the den long enough to take the scene in before either of them noticed me: Justin sprawled sideways across one end of a big leather couch, controller balanced on his knee, hair falling into his eyes in a way that made something in my chest do its usual embarrassing little lurch. Rhys sat angled toward the TV in an armchair across from him, one leg hooked over the armrest, looking exactly as irritatingly unbothered as he had every single time I’d seen him yell something at Sebastian across a soccer field.

“Hey,” I said, because someone had to say something, and apparently it was going to be me.

Justin glanced over first, and something moved across his face—surprise, I decided, rather than confusion, though if I was honest it could easily have been either. “Oh, uh, hey. What’s up?”

“Your mum let me in. She said to bring you these.” I lifted the cups a little, like that would prove it. “I figured I could help set up if you need it.”

“Cool,” Justin said, distracted, thumbs already back on the controller. “Kitchen’s through there, if you want to, like, put stuff away or whatever.”

I stood there half a second too long, holding the stack of red cups his mum had shoved into my arms on her way past—since you’re here, sweetheart, would you mind?—like they were a prop in a play I hadn’t been given a script for.

“You gonna keep standing there, or...” Rhys said.

I hadn’t even clocked that he’d stopped watching the screen. He was watching me instead, one eyebrow up, one leg still hooked over the arm of the chair.

“I’m helping,” I said.

“With what. The cups?”