Broken Pretty Things by Amber Faye

Chapter 17

Dimitri isa bag of dicks and was already gone by the time I reached the parking lot. I don’t really know why I expected him to stay, since I hit him in the balls this morning, but I was still annoyed. It took over an hour to walk home, and I didn’t even have a phone.

I realize as I turn the invitation around in my hand that Dallas’s party is tonight. He probably got all the actual inviting done a really long time ago, and this was just to pump up the numbers. I’m not offended, because we were never actually friends, but it does present a dilemma.

Despite what Aurelia did to my phone, it still has a working SIM. I just slot it into an old phone I found while I was unpacking, and I manage to charge it up and turn it on. I still have my contacts, but no dice on old text messages.

It’s for the best, since both my messages from Barkley and my one message from Emile are probably not a good thing for my old friends to get their hands on.

But I have no idea what Emile was going to say, and it seemed important. I wish I’d hit save on his number before my phone got crushed. I’ll have to find him as soon as I can. It’s not unlikely at all that he’ll be at Dallas’s 18th. I remember parts of Dallas’s last house party very clearly, and I think I saw Emile there. It was probably a year ago today.

I’d almost forgotten what else I saw that night.

* * *

Junior year

“I can’t believehe got that drunk that fast and just disappeared on us. That’s so Gunnar,” Larissa whines. Both Aurelia and I shake our heads at that — Larissa has this idea that Gunnar is unreliable — and we both catch each other about to defend him, and shut our mouths simultaneously. Aurelia has such a huge crush on him, it’s crazy. I just wish she’d admit it already. Maybe he’s interested too? She’ll never know.

“I’ll go get him,” I say. I saw him head upstairs five minutes ago. He’s probably rifling through Dallas’s music collection, trying to find a better CD for this old stereo that’s blasting down here. He’s a real snob about music taste, and it’s only getting worse. I snort softly to myself as I think about it. Only he gets to pick the music whenever we all drive anywhere, no matter whose car it is.

“He swore he’d bring us beer,” Larissa whines after me as I wind through the crowd. “He’d better have beer!”

I wave over my shoulder at her. Aurelia giggles, and I head upstairs. Immediately, I know where he is. Almost nobody is up here, except for a couple of girls hopping from foot to foot outside the upstairs bathroom. One of the bedroom doors is slightly ajar, and heavy EDM throbs from inside. Yep, classic Gunnar. He got drunk, went in search of something better to listen to, and forgot to come give the others their drinks.

I stick my head through the door and open my mouth to call his name, but I freeze, words caught in my throat.

Gunnar’s head is leaning back on the headboard, his eyes shut, fluttering, his mouth open. He has his shirt off, and I’ve seen him shirtless before, but damn. He must have been working out like crazy over the summer. I hadn’t realized how much his shoulders had broadened, his skin had been tanned. He has a toned stomach, a V that points down. Right to the long brown head of hair that blocks any view I would have had of his crotch. His pants are off too, and I see the brunette is only wearing little pink panties, nothing else.

Her head moves up and down in quick movements, and Gunnar’s hand is threaded through her dark hair. He groans, deep in his throat. “Good girl,” he breathes, and the sound brings me back to reality. I pull my head back through the door and shut my mouth. My heart is pounding in my ears.

My best friend is fucking stunning. He’s beautiful. Sickness settles in the pit of my stomach and I have to catch my breath. At the same time, something else blooms inside me. A heat, a feeling I haven’t had, not really, since that night with Dom McMahon.

I rest my hand on my stomach, head reeling, and try to figure out what I’m feeling. I want to cry, shout, throw up. But I can’t deny that other feeling. That tickling heat, growing and growing the more I think about what I just saw.

Good girl.

I never thought about what Gunnar would be like in bed. I never thought about what kind of boyfriend he would be. How he would kiss, how he would fuck. I never thought about how big his dick might be.

It took so little to shatter the decade-long illusion that I didn’t like him like that, it’s almost funny. Because now I can’t stop thinking about him like that. I don’t think I ever will again.

I am vaguely aware that Cole has entered the party. He raises a bag filled with drinks over his head, and everybody goes wild. “Hey, it’s my girl!” he cries, thrusts the bag into someone’s hands, picks me up by the waist, and I feel OK again.

* * *

The memory floodsme with that same desperate heat it did on the night, and I take a couple of breaths. I can think about sex now without feeling sick, and maybe it’s partially because what I saw that night flipped a switch back on inside me that had been so rudely turned off by somebody else. That was the first night I ever thought about sex with him. About how safe I might feel, how adored.

Good girl.

I wouldn’t find that hot from someone else. Someone less effortlessly commanding, easy to respect, as Gunnar. Knowing that one tiny secret thing about him unlocked something in me that I had locked up tight.

I send a text to Hero.

Andie: Calling in the friend card early. Party tonight?

Hero: Party? It’s late notice. I’m reading.

I’m disappointed, trying to think of something else to say when she texts again.

Hero: I’ve never been to an illicit teen party. Is it like the movies?

Andie: Do you want it to be? It’ll be fun. Or not, in which case we can immediately bail.

Hero: Well who will be there?

I had forgotten she was having her own difficulties with people in school. Whoever was calling her names might be there.

Andie: Last year there were a ton of people there. This year even I got an invite.. so anyone could be there.

Hero: The people who don’t like you?

Andie: I have no idea. I just want to check it out. I promise, if either of us isn’t having a great time we will go straight away.

Hero: I will ask my parents…

I let out a sigh, rubbing my eyelids and trying to get that image of Gunnar last year out of my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about him like that until it became unbearable. Every touch was too much. That smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes. His lips. His neck. Ugh.

Hero:Okay well they are so excited that they just gave me a hundred dollars. I said I probably won’t need it?

Andie: You’re kidding?

Hero: No, I’m not kidding. They really want me to go. My mom went and got me a thermos to drink out of so nobody can drug my drinks.

Andie: That’s actually not a terrible idea.

Hero: Ew. Ew. My dad just started talking about condoms. I’m leaving. Where do you live, please? We can get ready together. Please.

I snort and text her my address.

Less than two minutes later, there is a knock at the door. Puzzled, I set down my bags and bags of makeup I hadn’t unpacked until now and I jog downstairs in shorts and a t-shirt with my hair up and messy.

Chris Barkley stands outside the door, looking a lot better than he did last night. He stands up straight, with no bottles in either hand, and he looks sober and serious. “Andie,” he says.

“Barkley?”

“I just wanted to apologize. I’ve been thinking about our conversation all day today, and I feel really stupid. I didn’t mean to— Shitstain? Is that you?” I am wildly confused until I realize Barkley is staring over my shoulder, and Dimitri has appeared behind me.

Dimitri, a sandwich in his hand and nothing but a towel on, looks like a rabbit in headlights. “Bark? The fuck are you doing here?” Then his gaze moves between us a couple of times, and his eyes widen. “Are you two—?”

“No, no,” I say, waving my hands through the air. I turn to Barkley, wordlessly asking for help.

“Shitstain,” he says. “Why are you here?”

It becomes a little more clear when I remember they went to the same school until a month ago. But the nickname is … interesting.

“I live here. Your side bitch here is my new sister.” Dimitri squares up for a second, and then shrinks down like an omega wolf when Barkley steps into the house and past me, quickly dwarfing even tall, broad Dimitri. And I let him. “Sorry, sorry. No disrespect. Your main girl. Is she? I have no idea, dude, I just know what I’m told.”

“What you’re told is a metric ton of bullshit,” Barkley says. I can’t look away from what I’m seeing. “Andie only slept with one guy, and she didn’t even want to.” Two, but that’s … not important.

“Hey, hey,” I interrupt. “I appreciate the defense, Barkley, but that’s TMI. Dimitri’s dad is dating my mom. And he’s made friends with our old friends in the last month, so he’s heard what they’re spreading.”

“Nothing has ever happened between us, and it never will.” Barkley reaches out and softly but quickly slaps the side of Dimitri’s face, making the dude flinch. I almost laugh at his reaction. “None of it is your business. You know nothing about her; about me. Understand?” Dimitri nods. Barkley gives him another little slap again, just for good measure. “I’ll catch you later, chick,” he adds to me.

“Wait,” I say before he can leave. “Are you going to Dallas’s 18th?” He shrugs. I swallow, thinking about how he effectively neutered my stepbrother in one second. Maybe I could use some Barkley energy tonight — and I promised myself I’d keep an eye on him too.

“You want me to?”

“It might help me out,” I say, nodding at how Dimitri is scrambling up the stairs, holding onto his towel. “Or it might make everything worse. But I’m not sure I care anymore about that.”

He nods slowly. “Sure. I’m not drinking, so I’ll come pick you up later. I’ll be your DD. It’ll make me feel less shitty about yesterday.”

I smile gratefully at him. I am not alone after all.

My mother heads inside just as Barkley slopes off around the corner, and she pokes her head out the door for a moment. “I thought that might be Ulla,” she says, cryptically, and then leaves again.

I follow her into the kitchen. I’ve hardly seen her for the last few days. “Ulla?”

She looks around as if surprised I’m still here. “Yeah. We’re not doing so hot on money, and Pietro is so generous. I feel bad. There’s a little money for hosting exchange students, so I signed up.”

I don’t know whether to be annoyed that she didn’t tell me, but I figure this isn’t really my house in any way, so I can’t be. “You feel bad for being a drain on Pietro’s finances, so you signed up for someone else to come live in his house?” I ask, and then I laugh when her eyes fly open. She’s a nice person, my mom, but sometimes she doesn’t really think.

I grab a couple drinks from the fridge. My mom grew up in Europe and she has never really had a problem with my friends or I drinking a little as teenagers. A glass of wine or a beer with a meal was never a big deal. That’s one of the reasons my friends all liked her so much. I find some hard ciders, and root around for snacks.

“Is Bark still here?” I hear, and jump so hard I almost hit my head on the fridge. Dimitri is in the doorway, dressed as if he’s going out somewhere. “Did I hear he was going tonight? Is he?”

“You’re pretty scared, huh?” I laugh. “You two have a history?”

“Fuck you, I like women.” He grabs his dick through his jeans and I make a retching sound. I hadn’t meant to imply that kind of history, but his quick reaction makes me wonder: Do people at Westerley suspect Barkley is gay? Or is Dimitri just that much of an insecure loser? I watch him grab the milk from the fridge, reaching past me, and then chug it without getting a glass. He is absolutely a loser. A loser who doesn’t want to tell me something.

When there’s another knock at the door, I savor the fear in Dimitri’s eyes before I head out of the kitchen to answer it. But my mom is already there.

“Ulla?” my mother screams. “Wow, you are stunning! Oh my gosh! Look at you! Do you speak any English? Oh my goodness, I’m just standing here screaming at you in gibberish. I’m so sorry. Do … you want … inside? You have luggage, or some stuff? You. Have. Stuff?”

I peer over my mother’s shoulder and see Hero in a huge puffy coat, eyes wide as saucers behind her glasses, mouth hanging slightly open. Her hair is down, she has high heels on, and a dab of lipstick. She does look stunning.

“Come inside!” my mom says, practically yanking Hero in through the doorway. “You want drink?” She mimes drinking. “Food?” She makes a big show of rubbing her stomach.

“Mom!” I say. Then to Hero, who looks as though she has mentally checked out for the rest of the day out of pure social confusion. “This is my friend from school. We’re headed to a party. She speaks English.” I nudge Hero. “Don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Hero says very quietly.

My mother’s hands fly to her mouth. “You’re not Ulla? An exchange student from Finland?”

“No.”

My mom looks at me, then back at her, and frowns. “Are you sure? I was expecting her at seven.”

“I’m really sorry,” Hero says, shaking her head and looking at the ground.

“Well, butter my ass and call me a biscuit. I’m so embarrassed. You must be a new friend. I thought I knew all of Andie’s friends.”

My mom is still guiding her to the kitchen for some reason. “We’re going upstairs,” I say, and take Hero’s other arm and guide her towards the stairs. “And yes, a new friend. I make new friends.”

“Andie hasn’t made a new friend since probably ninth grade,” my mom tells Hero conspiratorially. “I don’t count Aurelia.”

That makes me laugh. My mother never really liked Aurelia and the cute, innocent little girl act she put on for parents. She said it was creepy.

Hero follows me upstairs. Her face is so bright red I actually worry about how long it might take to settle back to normal. “Is your mom really expecting a Finnish exchange student named Ulla?”

I think about it. “Well, she seems to think she is,” I say, and lead her into my bedroom. “Don’t worry about Dimitri,” I add when the boy stalks past us in the hall, looking as though he’s about to say something nasty to us. “If he says anything you don’t like, Barkley will kick the shit out of him.” I yell that last part over my shoulder at him. Dimitri flips me off and barrels downstairs.

I shut the door. My room is quiet, and I take a breath. Hero hugs herself, wide-eyed, clearly regretting coming here very much. “It’s not always crazy here,” I assure her. “It’s just …”

“No.” She waves her hand around. “I know some homes are more chaotic than others. I’m just not very good at thinking of things to say sometimes. But I’m smart. I can figure it out.”

I kind of laugh, but she looks so genuinely determined. “Yeah, absolutely. You’ll do great. Just maybe stick with me at the party tonight.”

She wanders around my room. It’s very sparsely decorated. White paint and a couple of photos of my mom and me on the desk, along with my laptop. There are still three or four boxes piled up by the closet. “You just moved, huh?” she notices. I nod.

“Make yourself comfortable.” I set down the hard ciders I brought up. “Have one if you want. I can make some snacks.” There’s a short silence. “My friends would always come to my house before a party. We’d drink and play stupid games and …” I let myself trail off, pressing my lips together.

“I’m sorry about them,” she says, looking faraway and settling into my desk chair. Her puffy coat is still on.

“Thanks.”

“I mean, I’m sorry about Cole. I don’t know if you guys were actually dating, or—”

“Right,” I add, starting to feel a little faraway.

“—what, because I mean, he was gay, right?” She tilts her head, looking right at me. “I think you probably knew? I mean, I doubt you were sleeping together.”

My eyebrows fly up high. “What?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, I saw you in the halls. Everyone knew his name, so I did too. But the only time he would ever, you know”—she mimes hugging the air—“be close with you, or whatever, is if a guy was being lecherous towards you. So I figured you weren’t having sex. And the gay thing I put together afterwards.”

“You noticed all that?” I sit down on my bed.

“Hey, I don’t think anyone else did. I just, you know.” She shrugs, biting her lip. “I just look at people a lot. No, wait. I mean, I watch people a lot? I’m just curious about people.” She huffs a sigh. “I don’t know how to say that without sounding like an alien. I’m sorry. And I’m really, really sorry about Cole.”

I don’t say anything at first, but her face screws up in concern at my silence. “He was a great friend,” I begin slowly. “He didn’t like the way people spoke to me after what happened with Dom. And he didn’t want anyone to know he was gay until college. His dad would have thrown him out.” The last part comes out in a mumble. It’s not something I was ever supposed to say to anyone. “And I don’t really like talking about him, I guess. Not that you did anything wrong, but I don’t want to talk about him … unless I bring him up first.” I look up at her. “Is that OK?”

She nods rapidly. “Yes. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” I smile. She smiles too. “You’re pretty cool.”

“Is there a similar rule about Gunnar?” she says quickly, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. I feel a very different kind of awful feeling in my gut at the mention of his name. But an awful feeling nonetheless.

“You can talk about Gunnar. Just nothing nice.”

She laughs. “Deal.” A pause. “His brother is in some of my classes. Randy?”

“Ransom.”

“Ransom? Really?” Says Hero — but I don’t say that out loud. “Gunnar and Ransom?”

I get up and start to root through my closet. “Half brothers. Different mothers.” I turn around and pull back my lips in a mock-worried face. “Daddy had an affair. But don’t worry. It’s an open secret. What are you wearing under that huge coat?”

She gets up and pulls it off, squishing it into a puffy ball and setting it on the chair. She makes a face when I look her up and down, mouth open. “It’s stupid. It’s weird. Right? My mom lent it to me.”

It’s a figure-hugging white dress with a sash tight around the waist. It has a cleavage window. A cleavage window. And Hero’s not-at-all-disappointing cleavage peeks right on through. “Holy shit, dude, your mom?”

“It’s bad, right?” She shifts from foot to foot. “I won’t embarrass you. I’ll just wear the coat.”

“Dude,” I say again, though it’s not something I say all the time. Now is the time for it, though. “Dude. Did you look in the mirror?”

“Yeah, it—”

“You look unbelievable. You’re a fucking supermodel. You must have been hiding it the whole time because otherwise Aurelia would have made up some kind of rumor about you by now.”

“Wow,” Hero says simply. “She sounds like a bitch.” I snort-laugh.

“Yeah. I got both the best and the worst of her by being her friend.”

We spend almost an hour getting ready. Hero lets me experiment with a little blush and a slightly darker lipstick on her, and then she helps me pick a dress. I don’t look even half as good as she looks, even though I know I spent a lot longer, but I just don’t have that figure. Hers is a perfect hourglass. My chest is alright, average but perky, and my hips are boxy and boyish. I was always kind of scrawny and shapeless, but since I started spending all my spare time in dance classes I’ve definitely toned up and filled out.

“You look great,” she says, then adds wryly, “That’s the point, is it? Whoever looks best at a party wins.”

I am trying not to ogle her like a guy, and I just kind of nod. “You’re going to win,” I say. “No contest.” She laughs, an open and real laugh. The half a cider plus my constant complimenting has loosened her up a little.

‘Karma Police’ comes on and almost before thinking I skip the song. I can’t listen to it without remembering wailing the bridge together with Gunnar. Holding onto each other in his basement when the world was spinning. Then ‘The Champ’ by Ghostface Killah, and I have to skip that too. I used to mess around and sing that with Cole. “Actually, what music do you want to listen to?” I ask Hero.

“No, no,” she says, sipping her drink and waving her hand. “My parents only let me listen to classical until I was thirteen. They feel pretty bad about it now. Please keep playing pop. In fact, catch me up on everything. I want to be a normal teenager by the time I hit college.”

I don’t tell her that I haven’t really been playing pop, and instead put on a playlist of the top downloaded tracks this year.

“Why’d you get so quiet?” she asks me, and I already both love and hate her observational skills.

“I don’t think you want to hear my stupid angst,” I say. “Tell me more about yourself instead.”

She shakes her head, her hair shaking around her bare shoulders. “I know your life is more interesting than mine right now. If you want, you can even tell me why I met you all covered in goop.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I bet it’s more interesting than studying, practicing viola, then having the same conversation with my parents at dinner for twelve straight years.”

I smile and go with the abridged version. “Both Cole and I didn’t want to deal with dating life in and out of school, so we let people think we were together like that. Even our closest friends. It was just easier than telling them all the whole truth.” I shrug. “But it got complicated when Cole fell in love, and then … I guess I did too.”

“With who?” she asks, already hanging on my every word in a way that almost makes me shy about it. I’ve never told anyone about this stuff, except for Cole, and he didn’t really get the full story either.

“Gunnar Rayne,” I admit, looking out the window to add some drama to the reveal. Hero tilts her head to look past me, out at the sky.

“Sky looks clear to me?”

I turn and shake my head. “No, the guy.”

“Oh!” She processes it for a minute. “That makes sense. You were good friends, and he is …” She blows out her cheeks.

“Hot,” I finish sadly.

“He’s hot,” she agrees, as emphatically as guiltily.

“It wasn’t that, though.” Dark hair, sharp cheekbones, brown eyes so brilliant and piercing they looked like glowing amber. “I fell in love with his stupid personality too. He’s sweet and funny. He’s so loyal and— Shit.” Tears are welling up in my eyes and I brush them away, embarrassed. “I guess I can count out that last one.”

“You can,” she says firmly. “Count it all out. What use is a hot guy if he has nothing underneath but evil?” She waves her hand through the air clumsily, taking her first sip of her second cider, and I realize she’s already pretty tipsy. I grin, biting my lip.

“You’re completely right. It’ll just take a while for it to stop hurting. I’ll be fine.”

She smiles over at me. “You’ll be fine.”

A firm knock at my bedroom door makes me jump. I don’t want to deal with Dimitri in front of my new friend.

I get up to open it but it swings open anyway, and a six-foot-tall blonde woman in three-inch heels strides into my room, cocks her hip, and rests a hand on it. When she speaks, she has a slight accent; clipped vowels and a hard ‘S’.

“Your mother told me you were headed to a high school party and you were to take me,” she informs me. She picks a piece of lint off her black dress, and frowns at it.

“Uhh,” I say. For some reason, I look to Hero for help. She stares up at the tall woman, though, silent. “Oh. You must be Ulla.”

“I have had a shit of a year,” she steamrolls. “I need to get drunk.”

I gesture her inside and she pulls a couple of cans of gin and tonic out of nowhere, pulling the tab on one and downing it in a few swallows. Hero and I watch. “Hell yeah,” I say after a minute, and then I punch the air like an idiot. “Let’s party!”