Kody Keplinger - Lying Out Loud

I laughed, despite myself. “You can say that again.” I got to my feet. “Okay. How do I look?”

“Adorable,” Amy said. “Love the blue turtleneck. Is that mine?”

“Yep. Don’t tell, but I had to stuff my bra a little bit to make it look right on me. I like to think that if I look nice enough, Ryder might be like, ‘Yeah, I’m super pissed, but you’re hot, so all is forgiven.’”

“Seems totally plausible to me,” Amy said. “But if that doesn’t work out, I’ll be waiting here with ice cream and Audrey Hepburn movies.”

“You know I’m more of a Marilyn girl.”

“We’re not having this fight again.”

“Another time,” I assured her. “But now, I’m off to my doom. Enjoy your evening.”

I exited the bedroom with dramatic flair, which was somewhat undercut by Amy following me downstairs.

“Hey,” she said as I slid on my coat by the front door. “Can I say just one more thing?”

“You never have to ask me that.”

“He’s probably going to be mad at first,” she said. “But if he doesn’t realize how great you are, despite this little kerfuffle —”

“ ‘Kerfuffle’? Oh my God, you’ve been around me too long.”

“Shut up and listen.” But her lips twitched toward a smile. “Despite this kerfuffle, if he doesn’t see how awesome you are, Sonny, it’s his loss.”

“Thank you,” I said, accepting another hug that I definitely did not deserve.

She was wrong, though. If — when — Ryder rejected me and refused to speak to me again, the loss would be entirely my own. The guilt twisted in my stomach, and I wished, not for the first time, that I’d found a way to tell him the truth earlier, when the lie first began as just an accident. But now, it had gone way too far.

“See you later,” I said, opening the front door and stepping out onto the porch.

“Good luck,” Amy called.

I dragged my feet down the driveway. When I finally reached Gert, I pulled out my keys and sighed. “It’s gonna be a long night, girl,” I said, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Let’s get it over with.”

Chris Lawson wasn’t one of those popular jock types. But man, he wanted to be. He was constantly trying to be the cool guy, seemingly unaware that cool people were cool because they didn’t try.

And Chris’s party was kind of a reflection of himself.

It wasn’t bad as far as parties go. It was just trying too hard.

The speakers were blasting loud rap music when I walked in. People were milling about the living room, red Solo cups in hand, though no one seemed quite as enthusiastic about the party as Chris, who darted over to greet me.

“Sonny!” he shouted. “Awesome! Glad you came!”

“Thanks, Chris.”

“You should go dance! Everyone’s dancing!”

No one — not a single person — was dancing.

“Maybe later,” I said.

“Wanna watch me do a keg stand?”

“Sure, but not right now. I’m actually looking for someone. Is Ryder here yet?”

“Who?”

“Ryder Cross.”

“The new kid?” Chris asked.

Ryder had been in Hamilton for more than a semester, so I wasn’t sure “the new kid” was still an appropriate title, but I nodded nonetheless. “Yeah. Is he here yet?”

“Yep. Saw him walk back into the kitchen a few minutes ago.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said. “Enjoy the party, Sonny! We’re gonna blow this place up!”

“Uh-huh. Definitely.”

As promised, I found Ryder in the kitchen, a red cup in his hand.

“You drink?” I asked, a little surprised.

He looked up and smiled when he saw me. “Sometimes,” he said. “But not tonight. This is water. I don’t have enough friends here to know I’ll have a ride home.”

Damn. I was sort of hoping to get him inebriated before the truth came out. Why did he have to be so mature and responsible?

“You can drink, though,” Ryder said. “I know Amy isn’t with you, but I can give you a ride home later if you wanted.”

“And leave Gert here? Where anyone might steal her?”

He snorted. “I have the feeling no one wants to steal your car.”

“Hey, don’t dis Gert. She’s vintage.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

The truth was, I would have loved for Ryder to drive me home. To maybe, possibly, go through with that almost-kiss from a couple of weeks ago. But I knew that, after what I was about to tell him, there was no way he’d want to be stuck in a car with me. In fact, he’d probably be more than happy to strand me here at Chris’s party.

Ryder finished his water and tossed the cup into the recycling. “It’s for the best,” he said. “I’m sure the beer here is no good.”

“Oh, great. Are you a beer snob, too?”

“No,” he said defensively. “I just prefer PBR.”

I snorted. “Of course you do. I should’ve known.”

Ryder looked a little sheepish.

“You know,” I said, “this is something you and I may have in common. Pabst Blue Ribbon might be the drink of hipsters, but it’s also the drink of my people — poor white trash. It was always my dad’s favorite beer.”

“Don’t call yourself white trash,” he said. He was suddenly very serious, and looking at me in a way that he hadn’t before. In a way that made me catch my breath.

Now was the time to tell him. Get it over with and go home. I opened my mouth to begin the confession, to finally tell him the truth, but the words that came out weren’t at all the ones I’d intended to say.

“Do you wanna dance?”

Ryder blinked at me. “What was that?”

Take it back, I thought. That’s not why you’re here. My mouth and my brain seemed to be at war with each other.

“Let’s dance,” I said, already trying to justify it. I had a few hours. Might as well have a little fun before I broke the news, right?

“But … no one else is dancing.”

“Perfect. Then you can be a hipster about it later. We were dancing before dancing was cool,” I said, doing a fake Ryder voice.

“I do not sound like that.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.” I grabbed his arm and started pulling him into the living room. “Come on. Be spontaneous.”

“The last time you said that to me, I ended up in a bright orange hunting jacket in the middle of the mall.”

“And wasn’t that fun?”

The answer must have been yes, because Ryder didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed my other hand and spun me into the living room. The heavy bass hip-hop wasn’t exactly the right jam for spinning and dipping a girl, but Ryder didn’t seem to care. He twirled me like a ballroom dancer, and somehow managed to keep us in rhythm with the music.

“Wow,” I said when he swung me back into his arms, his hand resting on my hip. We were so close, closer than we’d ever been before. And I felt like I was on fire. And then there was the fact that everyone was staring. “This is how you dance at parties?”

“My mom made me take ballroom classes in middle school,” he confessed. “It’s the only way I know how to dance. Sorry. It’s pretty embarrassing.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s the opposite of embarrassing. It’s fantastic. These idiots wish they could be us right now.”

Ryder smiled and gave me another spin.

We danced until we couldn’t anymore. Until our feet hurt and we were short of breath, either from the exertion or from standing so close to each other. For me, it was definitely the latter.

“Do you want some water?” Ryder asked.

I nodded, and we made our way back to the kitchen, stumbling despite our sobriety.

Ryder grabbed us each a red cup and began to fill them with tap water. I hopped up onto the counter, taking some of the pressure off my feet. “Damn. That was —”

“That. Was. Awesome!” Chris announced as he charged into the living room. “You two killed it out there! Everyone’s talking about it!”

“The same way everyone was dancing earlier?” I asked as Ryder handed me my cup.

Chris didn’t seem to hear me. “Ryder, dude, that was wicked! I thought dancing was lame, but all the girls out there ate it up! You’ve gotta teach me your moves!”

I snorted into my water as I imagined Chris trying to dance the way Ryder did. He’d probably get a little too into it and end up giving some poor girl a concussion.

“I’ll put on whatever music you want if you guys want to dance again!”

“Maybe in a little while,” Ryder agreed. He looked over at me, those green eyes meeting mine in a way that made me shiver. “If Sonny’s up for it.”

We held each other’s gaze for a long moment.

“Sweet!” Chris said. “I better get back out there. Gotta keep things under control.”

“What was out of control?” Ryder murmured so that only I could hear.

I laughed, and Chris ran back into the living room.

“You know,” Ryder said, “we probably were the highlight of this party.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m the highlight of every party.”

Ryder smiled. “I don’t doubt that.”

Again with the shiver.

Everyone must’ve finished their beers at once, because all of a sudden the kitchen became a high-traffic area. Ryder took my cup from me so I could hop off the counter without spilling. He gestured for me to follow him, and we wove our way through the pack of thirsty partyers, darting into the hallway to avoid another run-in with Chris.

Somehow, we ended up in an empty bedroom.

I took my cup back from Ryder and sat down on the edge of the bed. “So,” I said. “What’s the verdict on your first Hamilton party?”

“Not too shabby,” he said.