Alyson Noël - Saving Zoë

But Teresa’s party is nothing like that. Probably because she only invited her friends from school, which means she’s acting more like her lunch table self — you know, cute, flirty, preppy, and fun, as opposed to her off-campus self — the slutty girl who smokes and drinks, wears low-cut sweaters, and has really bad taste in men. I mean, if “Hot Jason” and “Asshole Tom” were here, I doubt she’d be blasting the indie girl CD, serving snacks and appetizers from a carved, bamboo tray, and dispensing cocktails from her parents’ sleek, well-stocked, mahogany bar.

It’s like everything is so carefully coordinated — the plates match the cups match the napkins match the flowers — heck, even her outfit is in cahoots, with the belt, shoes, and earrings all coordinating with tonight’s color scheme. And it’s kind of bizarre to be hanging with a bunch of kids from school on a Saturday night, at a party that

seems way more like a baby shower.

“I saw this same exact spread in InStyle magazine,” Teresa says after Jenay compliments her on the tiny, matching, sky-blue bud vases she placed in an undulating pattern across the glass-topped coffee table. “It was for someone’s baby shower, I can’t remember who. Jennie Garth? Jennifer Garner?” She scrunches up her face. “No, someone else. Anyway, I clipped it because the second I saw it I knew I wanted my baby shower to be just like that, but then I thought, omigod, what am I waiting for? I mean, getting knocked up is like, at least a decade away. So I just made a few tweaks, and voilar

She says “ voilar like “voy-la!” But I don’t have the heart to correct her. I just stand there, sipping my drink and smiling, wondering if she has any immediate plans to out me.

I gaze over at Abby who’s perched on the edge of the sofa, nodding at Jax’s every word, and trying hard to look interested in whatever it is that he’s saying. And then Parker walks up, slips his arm around my waist, and kisses me on the cheek.

And my eyes dart straight for Teresa, like the second he does that, wondering what she’ll do. But she just smiles even wider and goes, “You guys are way too cute together.” Then she winks at me and walks away.

“Come on, I wanna show you something,” Parker says, tugging on my arm as he leads me upstairs. And when we end up in the guest room, well let’s just say I’m not exactly surprised.

“Parker, I don’t think—” I start, but then he puts his finger over my lips before quickly replacing it with his mouth.

So I let him kiss me. At least while we’re still just standing by the door. But when he tries to pull me toward the bed, I shake my head and go, “No.” Pulling away, attempting to free myself from his grip.

“Come on.” He smiles. “No one’s gonna walk in. It’s just us.”

But it’s not about somebody walking in. It’s about the fact that I just can’t do this anymore. Not after having kissed Marc. Not after having tasted the real thing.

“I just want to go back downstairs and hang out with my friends,” I say. “Come on, let’s go. We can do this later.”

“I’m your friend,” he says in this syrupy voice that totally gets on my nerves. “And I’m right here.”

“I mean my other friends. You know, like Jenay and Abby and everyone else.” I shake my head and roll my eyes, making no attempt to hide it.

“What’s your problem?” He squints at me, his face looking more hurt than angry. “You hardly answer your phone, you’re always running off. It’s like, if you don’t want to be with me, Echo, then just say it.”

I gaze down at the ground, then back at him, wishing I could be the right kind of girl. The kind who wouldn’t just know that she’s lucky to be with him, but actually feel it too. The kind of girl he deserves. But I’ve strayed so far from normal now, I’ll never find my way back. And the truth is, I no longer want to.

“I don’t think we should do this anymore,” I finally whisper, still staring at the ground, yet feeling the weight of his stare upon me.

He stands there for a moment, not saying a word. Then he shakes his head and brushes right past me. “Whatever,” he says, as he heads down the stairs.

By the time I make it back down, it’s pretty clear that everyone knows. I can tell by the way they all look at me, eyes wide, lips parted, voices gone suddenly silent. Believe me, if anyone knows the signs of being the headline, the star of the big juicy story, it’s me.

So I head straight for the door, knowing better than to stay. And just as I grab the handle, Jenay and Abby appear. “Where you going?” they ask, their voices careful, their faces concerned.

“It’s a couples party,” I remind them. “And since I’m no longer a couple…” I shrug, wanting to leave it at that, but knowing I can’t. They’re my best friends, which means they’ve earned the right to hear more. “Listen, don’t worry. I’m fine. Just have fun and call me tomorrow. I’ll explain it all then, okay?”

And before they can even respond, I’m already halfway down the drive. And just as I reach the end I hear Teresa call out, “Hey Echo, be careful out there, okay?”

And I don’t know if she’s referring to the walk home, or what she saw at the park. But either way, I just keep going.

I’ve never felt like this before. It’s like, I thought I knew what it was like to be in love — the first time with Bryan Boxer, back in seventh grade, for one crazy, completely awkward week, and then again freshman year, when I first hooked up with Stephen (when I was young and impressionable and didn’t know any better). But now I know I was wrong.

Dead Smacking Wrong. THIS is love.

Marc is Love.

Me + Marc = love.

I know it sounds crazy since I’m only sixteen, but I just can’t help but believe that we were made to be together. I mean it. I love everything about him. There’s nothing that annoys me or gets on my nerves (a total miracle, I know). And whenever we’re apart for more than a few hours, I feel this major aching loss, like I’m weak and incomplete, until we’re finally back together again.

Okay, I just reread that last part and totally cringed. And to be honest, I’m thinking I should probably just scribble it out and pretend I never wrote it. I mean, WEAK and INCOMPLETE? Get a freaking life already! I know. But still, I’m just gonna leave it there, cuz the truth is, it’s how I really feel. And even though I can’t imagine ever not feeling this way, I still want to write it all down — the good, the bad, and the completely embarrassing — so that I can read it again someday, when we’re both old and gray, swinging in a hammock and listening to our iPods — or whatever old people will do in the future.

Anyway, Marc’s been sneaking into my room practically every night for the last week, but now with Echo coming backsoon, we’re gonna have to find another way. I mean, she probably wouldn’t care if he tiptoed past her bed, since she’s a pretty deep sleeper and it’s not like she’s ever busted me before, but I’m still not one hundred percent positive I even want her to know. I just don’t think it’s such a good idea to involve her in this. So I guess I’ll just have to think a little harder, and find another way.

Yesterday I snuck him into work, and stashed him under my desk. It’s a HUGE wood desk, so trust me, he fit. And we totally made out during one of the fifty-minute sessions. And then right before our time was up he kissed me good-bye and said, 7 better get out of here before the goateed wonder catches us.”