“He went out for a bike ride.”
“Yeah, but I bet he’s not going to be doing that all day. This party will be off the hook! If it sucks, we don’t have to stay, but I doubt it’s going to. Text him now and ask. We can meet up at his shop or whatever, and all go in one car. Come on, Chloe! This is the new you, and the new you is someone who goes to a beach party with the man she’s having sex with!”
“Okay, fine,” I said. “You’ve
convinced me.” I grabbed my phone out of my purse and texted Graham, asking him if he wanted to go.
*****
It was hard to tell how many people were on the beach, but probably at least 60 or 70. There was a bonfire and some sort of club-type music being blasted from someone’s speakers. There was also a row of coolers, with beer, wine, and even some champagne.
“Quite the party,” Graham said as we walked through the soft sand.
“This is a private beach, so we don’t have to worry about the cops bothering us,” Tara said, skipping ahead.
I scanned the faces of some of the people. It was dark, so it was difficult to see anyone too clearly. I recognized a few of the faces, but it wasn’t anyone that I would say I was friends with. I felt a flare of nervousness, but then Graham reached over and took my hand. He wouldn’t know anyone here either, and he seemed completely unbothered by this fact.
“Let’s get something to drink,” Tara said.
Everyone was quite friendly, whether because they were nice people or because they’d been drinking. As we walked over to the coolers, though, who should I happen to catch sight of but Parker.
“Oh, shit,” I said under my breath.
“What?” Tara asked.
I nodded. “Look who’s here.”
She saw him, but shrugged. “So what? There’s enough people here you don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to. What do you want to drink?”
Graham opted for a beer and I took one of the bottles of hard lemonade, figuring that that would be the least gross-tasting of all the choices. And it actually wasn’t that bad. I took a few sips and almost immediately felt myself start to relax a little. So Parker was here. Big deal. Tara was right; there were enough people here that I could easily avoid him. He was talking to a gorgeous girl who looked like she was probably a model or something. If he’d been at all upset about our conversation earlier, he certainly wasn’t showing it now.
*****
As the evening progressed, I had another hard lemonade, and then started playing Frisbee with a few people down near the water’s edge. Sports might not have ever been my forte, but I’d always been good at Frisbee, even in the dark, even a tiny bit tipsy. Graham was talking to a few guys who were interested in getting tattoos. Tara was off somewhere, probably looking for a guy to hook up with. And here I was, at a party, having fun. I couldn’t believe how good I felt.
Eventually, I wandered back over to the coolers, this time looking for water. I found more beer, a few bottles of whiskey, and some more hard lemonades, but no water. I was about to give up when someone brushed up against me as they leaned down to grab a beer out of the cooler.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, before realizing it was Parker.
“Hey there, you,” he said. He had a goofy smile on his face and was slurring his words, just a little bit. He came over and gave me a hug. “Wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”
“Hi, Parker.”
He wagged a finger at me. “Now listen, I just want you to know that there’s no hard feelings, okay? None at all, and I mean that.”
I smiled. “That’s good ... I’m glad to hear it.”
“Yes.” He held up his beer bottle as if to make a toast. “No hard feelings at all. You know, you’re right ... I’m not the kind of guy who’s used to getting turned down. Not that I’m saying I’m perfect or anything, but ... girls don’t usually turn me down. So it was a little surprising. But it also doesn’t count, I don’t think now, does it?”
He took a big swig of his beer and then looked at me expectantly.
“Um ... I don’t know?” I said finally.
“Well, if you don’t know, let me tell you: it doesn’t count. Because for it to count, the person who turned me down would have to be someone that I was actually interested in. Someone that I was actually attracted to.” He leaned closer. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Not that you aren’t pretty. You are. But I’m just not attracted to you. You and I ... we just don’t have that je ne sais quoi.”
I took a step back. “Okay, Parker,” I said. “We don’t have to talk about it. It’s fine. I really wasn’t trying to insult you or anything, I just—”
“You didn’t insult me!” he shouted. “This is what I’m trying to tell you: I was never interested in you. So the fact that you are not interested in me is not insulting. That’s what I’m trying to explain to you.”