Jane Austen Goes to Hollywood(42)
Author: Abby McDonald

Grace laughed. “Sure, my heart beats for him alone!” She linked her arm through Palmer’s and steered them outside. “Also, note for future reference? We have got to get you away from those romance novels!”

The dark-haired object of Palmer’s desire was named Jesús, a senior from a public high school across town. “I feel a religious experience coming on,” Palmer whispered to Grace as Harry pulled up a couple of lawn chairs for them and made room at the table.

Grace elbowed her. “Behave!”

Palmer stuck her tongue out in response and turned back to Jesús. “Those are cool pants.” She smiled, edging her chair closer. “Do they have any secret pockets?”

Grace had to look away. Part of her was embarrassed by Palmer’s outré flirtation, but part of her was just plain envious of her friend’s confidence. Lines that would sound cheesy and desperate coming from Grace’s lips took on a nonchalant power with one of Palmer’s no-nonsense stares. If only Grace could be so bold.

“You want some pizza?” Harry asked, on her other side. “It’s pepperoni,” he added, “but there’s veggie somewhere in the pile, if you want.”

“No. I’m good.” Grace caught her dismissive tone, and turned back. “Thanks, though,” she added. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good.” Harry nodded. “Everyone seems to be having a good time.”

His words were punctuated by a group of jocks hurling themselves in the pool, whooping. Grace laughed. “Looks like it.”

She paused, trying to look at Harry with fresh eyes. His hair flopped over his eyes appealingly, she could see, and the rumpled oxford shirt he wore with his baggy skater jeans was mismatched in a cute, scruffy way. Yes, Harry was more than eligible. He was sweet, and generally smart, and didn’t have a secret girlfriend from the Hamptons, or think of Grace like a sister. He even liked her! So why shouldn’t she like him back?

Grace noticed Harry’s gaze drifting lower. She glanced down, and realized with horror that seated, the skirt was even shorter. She started to cross her legs, but realized that was even worse: the fabric riding up another perilous inch.

Grace downed the mystery punch in her cup and leaped up. “I’m, umm, going to get another drink.”

“I’ll show you!” Harry quickly got up too. Grace sent Palmer a desperate look, but she was leaning in close to Jesús, tracing the outline of the tattoo on his wrist with a dreamy expression. To drag her away would be cruel.

“Sure.” Grace exhaled, turning back to Harry. “Thanks.”

She followed him back into the house, and fought her way through the crowd. It was even louder now: punch splashing liberally onto cream carpets, and formerly spotless couch covers looking far more spotty. “Your parents don’t mind?” she asked.

Harry frowned. “What?”

“The party!” Grace yelled. “Are they OK with it?”

Harry shrugged. “They’re out of town. They said I could have a few people over to study.” He guided her into the kitchen, quieter, but littered with empty cups, half-eaten dip, and a sink piled high with dirty dishes.

“How will you get everything cleaned up before they get back?” Grace asked, looking around. “This place is a mess!”

He grinned, rinsing her out a glass. “It’s not a problem. I have a professional cleaning crew coming tomorrow. Nobody will ever know!”

“Oh. Right.” Grace had forgotten for a moment: she was in Beverly Hills. Why race around trying to scrub vomit stains off hardwood floors when you could pay somebody else to do it?

Harry passed her the glass, giving her a shy smile. “I’m really glad you made it. I didn’t think you were going to come.”

Grace felt awkward under the hope in his gaze. “I needed to get out. Family stuff,” she added, taking a tiny sip. Alcohol burned down the back of her throat, but she managed not to cough and splutter.

Harry nodded toward the living room: lights dimmed, seething with bodies. “You want to dance?” he asked. “Or, we could go back outside, where it’s quieter. You know, talk.”

Grace hesitated.

This was what she was supposed to do now, she knew: get drunk on mystery punch, dance wildly with inappropriate boys, and wind up making out with one of them in an upstairs bedroom somewhere, all in the name of “getting over Theo” and “moving on.” It was expected; obligatory, even. She was supposed to cut loose, and go crazy, and all those other spring-break-worthy sentiments that people insisted on to bury their inner pain.

“I’m sorry,” she said abruptly, putting her glass down. “I have to go.”

Harry’s face fell. “But —”

“Tell Palmer I’ll call her, OK?” Grace was already backing away. “And I’ll see you in school. Thanks for having me!”

She hurried toward the front door, pushing blindly through the crowd and not slowing until she was out of the house; sneakers crunching on the gravel driveway.

Grace gasped for breath, the night air cool in her lungs. What had she been thinking, coming here tonight? She didn’t want Harry — she’d known that all along. She didn’t want distraction, or drunken, crazy escapades, or whatever it was that the books and movies said she should be doing right now.

She wanted to go home.

To her surprise, Grace felt tears sting in her throat, and a hollow sadness well up from somewhere deep inside. She wanted to go home, to the house where her father still lived, and her mom still baked gingersnap cookies every fall, and her sister didn’t weep for hours and threaten to throw herself off a tall building and mean it, even a little.

Grace wanted to be back there, up in the shaded tree house with her telescope, where everything had been so simple; before she’d even known what it was like to long for someone the way she longed for Theo.

Before she knew what it was like to have a broken heart.

But even as the sadness threatened to overwhelm her, Grace pulled back. She held tight. Crying wouldn’t get her back there, she reminded herself firmly. It wouldn’t change a thing. This was her world now: empty streets lined with palm trees, the quiet hum of money, a neat grid of city lights blanketing the valley below. This was her world, and she had to live in it. No father, no tree house, no weekend plays with Hallie, and no oven-warm gingersnap cookies.

No Theo.

Grace put her sadness away, pulled out her cell phone, and began to walk.