Archive of Our Own

I should have known that Heights Country Day would not have a normal graduation like every public school. Granted, I’d only been to one public school graduation, and that had been Libby’s—in a muggy gym, no air-conditioning, on uncomfortable wooden bleachers, with a guest speaker that rattled on about some spaceship thing he was a part of for what felt like hours. But Heights Country Day was a private school; not some private school like Sisters of the Church or whatever, but a private school that wealthy kids from even wealthier families went to. Obviously, graduation was going to be an affair unlike one I had experienced thus far.

But I still hadn’t expected them to use the ballroom of Tobias Hawthorne’s hotel.

Libby and Nan walked in front of me while I lagged behind in between Xander and Jameson Hawthorne. I stumbled a little in the low heels I’d worn and caught myself on Jameson’s arm. He laughed a little and helped me straighten up.

“You okay, Mystery Girl?” Jameson asked. I pulled a face at the nickname. He’d taken to calling me it when I’d first arrived at Hawthorne House, supposedly because Libby kept my backstory from him, and every now and then, he’d bring it back.

“I’m fine,” I muttered. Xander snickered beside me, and I elbowed him in the stomach.

At the front of the room, someone had built a large stage, decorated in silk and white lilies, the class flower. A podium stood in the middle with a set of chairs off to the side where the superintendent and school board members would sit. In front of the stage, they’d set up eighty-six chairs for the eighty-six graduates of Heights Country Day. They were already seated, the boys dressed in navy caps and gowns while the girls were dressed in maroon.

Tables meant for the families were set up behind the chairs. We reached the table, and Libby helped Nan down into her seat. Skye and Tobias Hawthorne were already seated, and they greeted Nan as she sat down. Xander slid in next to Nan, giving her a cheeky smile that she responded to with a fond shake of her head.

Jameson touched my elbow lightly and brought his mouth down to my ear. “Are you sure you and Libby don’t want to sit with us?”

I rolled my eyes. “We’re not family. We’ll be fine back with the other plebeians.” There was a section behind the tables meant for students who weren’t graduating and other friends of the graduates. I shooed Jameson into his seat as Libby made her way back to me.

“The Laughlin’s said they’d save us seats,” she told me. I smiled tightly, hoping that Emily wouldn’t be there but knowing that she would be. She’d never pass up an opportunity to hurt one of the boys.

Libby and I walked back to the seats that we’d passed earlier. Mr. and Mrs. Laughlin had grabbed several seats in the front row; Rebecca, Thea Calligaris, and Emily sat in the three seats next to them. Mrs. Laughlin waved as we approached.

“You go ahead and sit down, Ave,” Libby told me, pushing me towards the chair next to Emily. “I’m going to talk to the Laughlin’s for a minute.” She walked away, and I took a moment to take in a deep breath before sitting next to Emily. She was talking to Thea, but after a minute, the conversation ended and then she turned to me.

“Hey, Avery.” She smiled, teeth white and bright. “So glad you could make it today.”

I didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but I wasn’t going to take the bait. “Yeah.”

“I saw Jameson catch you earlier,” she continued, apparently not caring that I wasn’t interested in talking. “It’s so sweet how close you two are.”

“Mmhmm.” When would Libby stop chatting and come sit beside me?

“Did he tell you that I spent the night with him last night?” Her voice was sickly sweet, but her words were sharp.

I stiffened. He had not, but I shouldn’t have been surprised.

“It’s not right what you’re doing to them,” I told her.

Jameson and Grayson had found out about each other on Prom night, and it had been ugly. But instead of being angry at Emily, they were angry at each other. Maybe angry wasn’t the right word; it was more like they’d been overtaken by some sort of fever, wrapped in some kind of sick game. And Emily was only too happy to be the prize.

I’d talked to Jameson countless times about it, but he wouldn’t listen. I would have tried to talk to Grayson, but he’d avoided me as much as possible in situations where it might just be the two of us. And it wasn’t accidental—he was actively avoiding me. I’d walked into the library one night to find him sitting in a chair, reading. He’d looked up, and when he’d seen me, he’d closed his book and brushed past me with a quiet, Good night. I’d had to fight the urge to run after him and yell. I knew that it wouldn’t do any good.

They were idiots, the both of them, letting some girl tear them apart. But neither wanted to see the truth; neither of them wanted to see that she didn’t love them, that she’d been planning this for years, wrapping them in her little web.

It was infuriating, and what made it even worse was how Emily flaunted her power over the Hawthorne boys whenever they weren’t around. She seemed to especially enjoy doing it in front of me.

Emily let out a little laugh beside me, like a peal of a bell. “It’s so cute how jealous you are.”

My cheeks burned. “I’m not jealous—”

“Don’t deny it,” Emily snapped. I looked at her, a little surprised at the vehemence in her tone, and she smiled sharply at me. “You want him. But you can’t have him. And it drives you crazy.”

My stomach churned. Had I been that obvious, like a lovesick little puppy? I’d never spent much time with Grayson in the two years I’d known him—there were bursts here and there, times where we’d sit for hours and read with only the other’s presence for company—and the time had dwindled to next to nothing in the past month and a half.

“You might be Jameson’s best friend,” she continued, “but he will always choose me over you.”

My shoulders sagged in relief, but my stomach twisted into something ugly at her last words.

He will always choose me over you.

And of course, she was right. My eyes strayed to the front of the room, to the rows of seats for the graduates. Grayson stood in the first row, talking to another boy—I thought that they might have been on the swim team together.

Grayson’s navy robe was unzipped, revealing an impeccable gray suit underneath. His hair was brushed back, but an errant curl fell against his ear. Almost as if he felt my stare, he looked up. My eyes dropped to my lap. Like a physical touch, I felt his gaze scan over my face.

What did he see when he saw me?

I chanced a glance up to see he had moved on and was instead looking at Emily. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her straighten up and smile brightly.

He will always choose me over you.

They both would.

After the graduates threw their caps up in the air, Libby leaned down next to me.

“I’m going to get Nan and take her out to the car,” she said. “We don’t need to be fighting against the crowd.”

I wasn’t sure that Libby was going to be able to avoid the crowd, but I nodded anyway and got up with her. We wove through the tables and the people clamoring to get to their students before reaching the front table where the Hawthorne family sat.

Nan was up and hugging Grayson. She pulled back and whispered something in his ear, to which he smiled softly and nodded. By then, Libby had reached Nan. She touched Nan’s shoulder and gently took her arm.

Nan scoffed. “I won’t break, girl.”

Libby just smiled. “Maybe I’m the one who needs assistance.”

Nan harrumphed but let Libby begin to lead her to the side of the ballroom, where a security guard stood in front of a door. I made to follow after them, but Libby turned to me and frowned.

“Ave, you should stay. Congratulate your friends,” she said.

“I don’t really have…” I began, but Libby was already walking away. “Friends.” I sighed, trailing off, and looked for Jameson. Instead, I found Grayson right beside me.

“I’m not a friend?” he asked, a little joking and maybe a little not.

I spluttered. “What? No, of course not. I mean, you are. I mean…. Congratulations?”

Grayson smiled. “Thank you.”

I stood awkwardly for a moment, debating what to do. Should I shake his hand? Hug him? The former seemed too formal while the latter seemed way too personal. Where was a happy middle? A high-five?

I fought the urge to snort at the idea of Grayson giving anyone, let alone me, a high-five.

Luckily, I was saved from my never-ending awkwardness by an arm around my shoulder and the familiar scent of sandalwood—Jameson.

“Congrats, Gray,” Jameson said, pulling me into his side. The corners of Grayson’s mouth tightened, but he still smiled graciously at his brother.

“Thanks, Jamie,” he said, voice soft. For a second, I hoped that maybe this would be the time that they would finally call a truce and realize that they hadn’t betrayed each other—Emily had betrayed them.

But speak of the devil, and she shall appear.

“Grayson!” Emily’s voice was a bell, ringing through the din of the voices surrounding us. Around my shoulders, Jameson’s arm tightened. The easy expression that had begun to creep onto Grayson’s face immediately dropped, the depth behind his gray eyes shuttering off.

And suddenly, Emily was throwing herself into Grayson’s arms, obstructing my view of his face with her curls of auburn hair. I risked a glance at Jameson; his face was completely still, like the calm before the storm. I didn’t want to stick around to see the storm.

“Come on,” I muttered, grabbing onto his wrist and using my body to steer us in the direction that Libby and Nan had taken. We made our way outside, and when Jameson caught sight of the car, he bounded over, dragging me in his wake. With Nan in the passenger seat already, he pushed me into the middle of the backseat and slid in beside me.

“Can we go?” he asked, his knee jiggling.

Libby gave him an odd look, but Nan agreed that she wanted to get to the house, so the car was turned on and put in drive.

Jameson was silent as we drove back to Hawthorne House. I kept glancing at him, a little nervous of his inevitable blow-up, but if it weren’t for the bouncing of his leg, I never would have guessed that he was upset.

We finally arrived back at the house. Jameson jumped out and ran off before the car was even in park. Libby stared after him, her mouth a small “o.”

“What is his deal?” she asked.

Nan harrumphed from the front seat. “Those boys are always in it with something.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant by “in it,” and yet, I couldn’t help but agree.

By the time I made it into the house, Jameson was nowhere to be found. I stood in the large area that led up to the main staircase, trying to think of where he might have gone so I didn’t wind up wandering around the mansion for hours. He never went to his bedroom; I wasn’t even entirely sure that he slept there. The game room was a place that he often found solace in, but I doubted he would have gone there as he had to have so many memories of Grayson there.

“Avery!” Libby called. I looked over my shoulder to see her standing in the doorway, an arm around Nan. “Will you take Nan out to the backyard and find her a seat? I’ve got to run and grab something from my room.”

I sighed. When Libby asked for something, and she rarely did, it was never a question. It was an order. I went to Nan and gently took her elbow to lead her through the house. Grayson’s graduation party was being held outside, and I knew that Libby would want her in a spot that was shaded and had some sort of break from the heat of the sun.

We made our way to one of the sets of French doors, which had been flung open, their glass doors cleaned so that the glass was invisible. I wondered how often birds flew into them, if birds ever made their way onto the premises of Hawthorne House. I had a brief image of a spare crow flying across the front yard and being shot down because of security reasons, and I fought to control my giggles.

Outside, the yards looked immaculate as always. Painfully green—you knew they used up way too much water keeping them that green—and mowed in perfectly straight lines. Tables were spread out with six to eight chairs at each. The pool sparkled, and there were some yard games set out in an open area off to the side as well. Along the pool, there were tables filled with food and coolers full of drinks. For a moment, I almost imagined that this was a normal graduation party for a normal person. Then I remembered the size of the yard and the price of the food and firmly knocked that notion aside.

“Where do you want to sit, Nan?” I asked. I looked around for a special seat that might have been set out for her, but I didn’t see one. I spotted a table set on the patio, not the grass, and that was pushed back so it almost touched the side of the house. I pointed it out to Nan, who nodded, and we walked over to it.

“Sit with me, girl,” Nan said after I’d gotten her settled. I’d taken a step to go look for Jameson once more, but her words stopped me. I looked at her like a deer in headlights. She scoffed and motioned to the seat next to her with her head. Reluctantly, I sat down.

There was nothing wrong with Nan. She’d always treated Libby well, and she was very intelligent. She had wit, and I knew that she noticed more than she let on. I had a sinking feeling that she was about to let me know what she’d caught on to, whatever that might have been.

“Do you happen to know what’s going on between my great-grandsons?” Nan asked, eyes staring right down to my soul. I gulped audibly, like they do in the movies. I knew better than to ask her to clarify, and yet, I still wanted to if only to put off this conversation.

“They’re just…” I tried to choose my words carefully, “having a disagreement?”

Nan gave me an unimpressed look. “Over what?”

I made a face. “Over a girl?” I needed to stop making my statements sound like questions.

“Over you?” Nan asked.

I nearly choked on my own spit. “Me? God, no! No, no, no, why—why would you think that?”

“If not you, then who?” Nan asked. “I only ever see Jameson with you, and I’ve noticed how Grayson looks at you. I may be old, but I’m not stupid. Or senile.”

I fought to stop my heart from beating too loudly. I’ve noticed how Grayson looks at you—how does he look at me?

I shook my head. That couldn’t be right. Nan most certainly wasn’t going senile, but she was also most certainly wrong. Grayson was in love with Emily, even after everything she’d put him through.

“Who, Avery?” Nan asked, drawing my attention back to her.

“Emily,” I said, her name spilling from my lips before I could stop it. I winced as soon as I said it, but there was no taking it back. Nan’s eyebrows raised, and she leaned back in her seat.

“Emily Laughlin?” she asked. At my nod, she made a thoughtful face. “Hm.”

That was apparently all I was going to get out of her. Libby appeared soon after and released me from my elderly-sitting duties—not that I would ever call it that to Nan’s face—so I got to my feet just as the first wave of people rushed in.

I couldn’t imagine how extensive a process this was for the security team, but I supposed that it was simple: you had to RSVP so they could vet you, and you wouldn’t get in without RSVPing. I recognized a few people, seniors on the swim team or in orchestra with Grayson, but mostly, they were a sea of faces. And no one really wanted to talk with me, which I was more than happy to oblige.

I pushed my way against the crowd, squeezing through places that probably shouldn’t have been squeezed through, and finally made it to a different set of French doors. There was a lull, so I was able to make it through the doorway with little pushback, and I started walking in the direction of the wine cellar, a place that Jameson was unfortunately spending more and more of his time.

“Avery.”

My name was caught on a breeze, almost like a whisper. I turned around, expecting to find Grayson several feet away, but instead he stood an arms-length behind me. I looked around for an auburn head but found none.

“Hey,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself. Grayson had shrugged out of his robe entirely—and his suit jacket. His white button-up was still tucked in, but the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. I could see the muscles in his forearms flex as he put his hands in his pockets. His blond hair was perfectly messy, like he’d run his hands through it. Then again, perhaps someone else had.

I batted that thought away and blinked up at the second oldest Hawthorne grandson.

Grayson opened and closed his mouth once, twice. “Do you know where Jameson is?” he asked finally.

“I have a feeling…” I trailed off. I didn’t want to outright say that his brother was probably getting drunk, but he could probably put the clues together.

“Oh.” Blond eyebrows rose over gray eyes. “Well, you should probably check on him. I would, but I doubt….”

“Yeah,” I said. I bit my lip, looking anywhere but at Grayson’s face. Gathering up the courage, I managed to look back just in time to see his eyes flick back up to my own, as if he’d been staring at something. Oh, God, did I have something on my face?

Surreptitiously, I brought my thumb up to my mouth and ran it across my bottom lip and over my chin.

“I’m—” Grayson broke off, sounding a little strained. “I’m glad Jameson has someone like you to look out for him.”

My right hand curled into a fist, but I kept it resting on my folded arms. “And who looks out for you?”

It took me a moment to realize that I’d actually asked the question, that those words had actually left my mouth. I wanted to take them back. But Grayson didn’t seem offended. He didn’t even really seem surprised. He gave me a wry smile and shook his head a little.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“That’s not what I asked,” I told him. “Grayson—” I reached a hand out towards him, my fingertips skimming the bare skin of his forearm. There was a noise behind me and suddenly, an arm was around my shoulders once more. But this time, it reeked of alcohol.

I didn’t have to look to know that it was Jameson, but I did look up at Grayson, to see him take a step back, to see whatever warmth that had flooded his face leave just as quickly.

“Jamie—”

“Did she tell you I was with her last night?” Jameson slurred.

Emily’s one-sided conversation with me flashed through my head. He will always choose me over you.

“C’mon, Jameson, let’s go.” I wrapped my arm around his waist and began the process of dragging him back to where he came from, to the shadows so Tobias Hawthorne’s esteemed guests wouldn’t witness such a sight. I chanced one last look at Grayson over my shoulder. He was rolling his sleeves back to his wrists, cuffing them carefully.