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Chapter 3: Can't Avoid Him

I look up at myself in the bathroom mirror. Long days in the summer sun have brought out the gold and red tones in my otherwise light brown hair. They've also brought out the freckles on my cheeks and upper chest - the latter of which are on full display in my pale blue sun dress. Wes always liked my freckles - he always teased me that he was on a mission to kiss every single one - but now I can only picture him kissing Madison Harris. I wonder how many freckles he's kissed on her.

Just make it through the party, I tell myself. Just get through the next hour. Make small talk with the friends and neighbors, say hello to Alex, and try to ignore the fact that something has changed about him. That you might not know him anymore. I think that's what's freaking me out the most - I thought that by coming here today I'd see a familiar face, find comfort with a friend who's known me longer than anyone outside of my immediate family. Instead, seeing him has made me aware of how much time has passed since we've talked - I mean really talked. I thought we were the sort of friends who'd never grow apart, no matter where we were in life or how much time passed, but seeing him just now made me realize I was wrong. And the hollow punch of loneliness that's followed that realization has hit me hard.

Just make it through the next hour. After that I can go home and slide into my pajamas and watch cute puppy videos on the internet until I can't think straight anymore. Later, when I feel like a normal human being again, I'll bribe my roommate Lucy with some ice cream to listen to me vent about how all men are scum. I'm just not ready to talk to anyone else about it yet.

A knock sounds on the bathroom door.

"Just a second!" I call. It's probably Mom come to check on me. I flick on the faucet so I can lean over and splash some cold water on my face. I can do this. I can put on a smile and pretend that the world is all sparkles and rainbows. Especially if Norah's "adult" punch is as potent as it usually is.

I dry my face and give myself one last look in the mirror. My eyes look normal, at least - I'm not really much of a crier - and my practice smiles look real enough. Most people will be focused on Norah, anyway, since it's her birthday. Or Alex, of course, since he's a sexy, big-shot celebrity now. I swear, the guy looks as if he just wandered off of some photo shoot for the cover of a romance novel or something.

Another knock sounds at the door.

"I'm almost done, Mom," I say, silently cursing to myself. I know she means well, but can't she give her daughter three minutes to have a mini-breakdown in the bathroom?

I throw open the door, ready to bound out and assure her that I'm perfectly fine, but instead I slam right into the person standing there - a person who most definitely is not my mom. Unless, of course, my mom has suddenly found herself in possession of a very expensive custom suit.

My hands are flat against his chest. I tilt my head back, looking up into the face of the guy I don't particularly want to see right now.

"Hello, Mae," Alex says, his voice deeper than I remember. "And here I thought you were avoiding me."

I try to back away, but somehow his hands have closed around mine, holding them in place against his chest. Beneath the oh-so-smooth texture of whatever luxury material they use to make his thousand-dollar shirts, I can feel the hardness of his muscles under my palms. Those are definitely new.

"I wasn't avoiding you," I say. "I just really needed to use the bathroom."

"You ran inside the minute you saw me," he says, one side of his mouth curling up. "I know it's been a few years, but I can still tell when you're lying, Mae."

God, when did his voice get so low? Everything about him is freaking me out. I straighten my shoulders, hoping I don't look as sick as I still feel.

"I knew we'd have time to chat later," I tell him. "I just wanted to give you a chance to greet your family first. If I was avoiding you I wouldn't have come in the first place." God, I wish I hadn't come in the first place.

His blue eyes narrow as he looks at me, but that hint of a smile is still on his lips. Even his smile looks different - but that's probably due to that straight-from-a-cologne-ad stubble he's sporting now. He seems to be trying to figure out what to make of me. The old Alex would have laughed out loud at me for being ridiculous and then made a stupid joke - God, I could use one of those stupid jokes right now - but Xander has a certain seriousness about him that I don't know how to process.

I try to pull my hands away again. "Your mom was freaking out about you being late. I'm surprised you didn't get a lecture."

"Oh, I did," he says. "But she'll forgive me when she sees her present. How have things been with you, Mae? It's been a while since we've had a chance to talk."

"You're a busy man," I remind him. "I'm surprised you have time to sleep these days." What between the endless business deals and the endless parade of hot chicks you're photographed with. Seriously, dude - did some doctor-to-the-extremely-rich supply you with some miracle energy pill or something?

"I've learned how to survive on five hours a night. But I want to know how you have been." His gaze falls down to my fingers - which he still holds against his hard, warm chest - and his mouth drops into a frown. I give my hands another tug, and this time he releases them.

"I've been fine," I say, trying to sound cheerful as I tuck my hands behind my back. "Business is going great. I'm running two music camps this summer, and they're both booked solid."

"And what about your own music?" he asks.

"I'm still playing, if that's what you mean."

"At the coffee shop?"

"For myself, mostly," I say with a wave of my hand. "I don't really perform much these days."

I can't tell what he thinks of that - there's an intensity in his eyes that suddenly makes me nervous.

"And the rest of your life?" he asks finally. "How's Wes?"

Alive and well, unfortunately. Hm - I wonder how much it costs to take out a hit on someone?

"He's good," I say, a little too quickly. "He's doing just fine. What about you? Got some hot new girlfriend?"

His eyes sharpen, and my stomach dips.

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