Something in Between by Melissa de La Cruz Page B

living room and I see Kayla with Dylan. They already look like a couple, giggling and whispering in each other’s ear. She drops a half-filled drink in my hand, winks at me, then turns back to him without getting my approval, which I don’t know if I would have given or not. He’s older than her and I hate to see her sidetracked, because I’ve seen her lose focus before, when her grades dropped last year. I worry she’s burying her feelings about her parents’ separation in yet another new guy.
    Kayla can be pretty vulnerable when it comes to looking for affection. She teases me that I’m the only girl on the squad who’s never made out with a guy, let alone hooked up with one. Guys have been interested, but I’ve never been that into anyone before. Which makes me think of Royce again, which is annoying.
    It’s not like my parents let me date either. My mom was a chaperone for her own sister when my auntie Riza was already twenty-three years old. It’s a wonder anyone gets married in the Philippines. They force you to have a chaperone on dates even when you’re an adult, then they ask you why you aren’t married yet.
    I take a big gulp of the drink Kayla handed me. Some kind of punch-and-whatever concoction. I drink it all and set the cup down. Lo returns with a cable for the bass player. The group of boys who were in the front yard come inside too, and the dark-haired one glances at me as they crowd into the room. There are so many people crowding in that I push myself from the chair and move over to a wall. I look at the boys again. Maybe I should make out with one of them, just because. The dark-haired one is sort of cute.
    The music is about to start. Lo takes one of the mics. Kayla is in the front of the room, clapping. Dylan holds a guitar, a sky blue Telecaster. Julian just stands there, and the drummer clicks his sticks together.
    â€œThanks everyone for coming,” Lo says into the mic. She’s holding a basket. “Yes, I’m taking advantage of my parents being gone. We need your support for Bob Marley Lives. They’re going to play a Greenpeace rally in San Francisco and need some travel money. So pass some cash into this basket I’m sending around!”
    I take a few dollar bills from my purse and toss them into the basket. I try not to look at my phone to see if Royce has texted me again, but of course I check. No new texts, probably because I didn’t answer his. I sort of wish I’d invited him to the party now.
    The music starts, and I listen to a few songs. But I can’t relax or escape my thoughts, and so I make my way to Kayla and tell her I want to go home. She downs the last of her drink, shoots a glance at Dylan playing guitar, and sets the bottle down on the bookshelf next to us. “Come on,” she says, taking my hand and leading me away from the crowd of partygoers surrounding the band. “We need to talk.”
    â€œWhat? Why?”
    She leads me to the upstairs bathroom. On the way up, I watch a group of guys pushing each other out the front door. The party is starting to get louder and louder. People are yelling drunkenly over the band.
    Kayla pulls me inside the bathroom, then closes the door, shutting out most of the sound from the party. “What’s up with you?”
    â€œHuh?”
    She lifts up her hair, trying to cool down her neck. It’s stuffy inside the bathroom. “I’m not going to lie. This party is getting a little crazy. But I know you. There’s something else going on. You never go to parties, and suddenly, here you are at a party. You like that guy from the hospital, and you’re never interested in anyone, so that’s a big deal, but then you don’t invite him out tonight. And you’ve been really quiet all day.”
    My parents warned me not to tell anyone. It’s too dangerous. I know I can trust Kayla though, and I start to tell her, but right