Page 13 of The Breakup Artists

As we approach the party, the music gets incrementally louder and I can make out the distinctions between voices and laughter, between the pop of the firewood and the pop of can lids. However, the most pervasive sound is the ocean.

“Two o’clock,” Tiny whispers, nodding at Ella’s boyfriend, Justin, who’s entertaining his friends with exaggerated gestures.

Tiny sighs, as though handling popular dudes is a tiring sport, even though she’s great at it—remarkably so. “Watch and learn, coffee fumbler,” she teases. And not thirty seconds later she has all three guys paying full attention to her.

I continue through the party, searching for Ella and navigating around people sprawled in the sand with bare feet, pants rolled up, bathing suits still on from earlier in the day. I make my way around the bonfire before I spot Ella, Leah, and Amber at the base of the lifeguard tower.

I walk toward the water and right past the girls, careful not to give any indication that I notice them. Instead, I focus on the ocean, staring at the receding white foam from a crashed wave.

“No... not happening,” I hear Ella say behind me with emphasis, probably accented by a drink or two.

I don’t turn around. I just pick up a rock and toss it into the ocean.

Five... four... three... two... one...

A slender finger pokes the back of my shoulder. “What the hell?” Ella says with a confident uptick in her voice.

I turn and give her a puzzled look. “Do I know you?”

Her eyes widen. “Wow.”

I smile, drawing out my silence. “Don’t worry, Scorpio. I know exactly who you are. I may never forget.”

“Likewise. But I was hoping to give it a good try bynever seeing you again,” Ella says with exaggerated frustration, even though she approached me, not the other way around.

“Then don’t follow me to parties,” I say. “That’s one way to solve the problem.”

“Followyouto parties?” She’s really riled up—not a tactic I’ve ever used, and one that would have Tiny calling me every variation of idiot, but there’s no smooth way to gain her trust right now. Besides, she’s in her element, her friends are watching, and she’s got more fire than any of our previous subjects. I suspect that if I show her I’m easy prey, she’ll eat me alive. So instead, I settle for getting her attention and hopefully integrating myself into the social scene at large, which with popular groups means utilizing a bit of brazen confidence. Mainly, I just pretend I’m Tiny and play every banter card I can think of.

“This party is inmy town,” Ella continues. “These aremy friends.” She sweeps her arm behind her.

I look back at the party, then at Leah and Amber specifically, who wear knowing expressions. “Then I guess we’re going to see a lot of each other this summer, because it’s my town now, too.”

She pauses. “Do nottell me you moved here.”

“I didn’t move here,” I say, then add: “ButI amstaying for a few months with my cousin, whodidmove here.”

She groans.

“So how do you want to do this, Scorpio? Divvy up the town? I’ll take the coffee shop; you take the diner?”

“You’re definitely not getting the coffee shop,” she says. “I live here. You don’t. End of story. You can have the park bench, the one covered by trees all the way in the far corner. And that’s it.”

“You’re giving me a make-out spot?” I say with dramatic surprise. “Funny where your mind goes.”

Her cheeks turn pink, but before she can unleash on me, Amber and Leah walk up.

“So this is Mr. Coffee,” Amber says as a statement of fact. “I thought you said he was an überprep?” She gives me a once-over—physically evaluating people out loud is a trademark power move of the rich and popular. Her gaze settles on my feet like she found what she’s looking for. “Boat shoes.”

I glance at Ella. “You told your friends about me, huh?”

Ella scowls. “You dumped coffee over my head. Talking about you was unavoidable.”

“Ah,” I say, nodding. “Describing my outfit was essential information, I see.”

Ella huffs.

Leah laughs. “Wow, you two are like...” She looks back and forth between us.