By the time they sat down at their assigned table, Spencer’s mother had already finished her piña colada and had signaled a waiter for another. Her father was still tapping on his phone, a weird expression on his face. Spencer looked around the room, trying to spot Colin. A ten-foot Christmas tree decorated with pineapples and fresh flowers stood in the corner. The band, dressed in Hawaiian gear, crooned onstage. Waiters swirled with appetizers and salads, and a bunch of people were milling around the dance floor and reconnecting. But she didn’t see him and Ramona anywhere.
Being in this room again reminded Spencer of the time she’d attended this party in fifth grade. The DiLaurentises had been here too, and Ali had worn a drop-waist dress with fringe at the hem—it had been a twenties theme that year. Ali had hung around with a bunch of prep-school girls from New York City; the five of them had danced wildly to every fast song the band played. Spencer had danced at the edge of the group, thinking that Ali would invite her into the circle, but of course she hadn’t.
When Spencer had left the dance floor, feeling like a failure, she’d come upon her dad and Ali’s mom talking heatedly in the hallway. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen them interact before. A thorn had twisted uncomfortably in her gut, and she’d cautiously backed away, putting it out of her mind.
Someone cleared his throat above Spencer, ripping her back to the present, and she looked up. “Hey.” Colin’s eyes flickered between Spencer and Melissa. He was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, fitted jeans, and black wingtips. “So you guys made it!”
“Of course we did,” Spencer said, her heart starting to gallop. She sat up a little straighter and adjusted her flower. Melissa shot him a cool smile and sipped her drink, turning her attention to the stage and languidly running her fingers through her hair.
“Colin, come on.” Ramona, who was dressed elegantly in a silver mini-dress and strappy gold heels—no luau outfit for her—tugged Colin’s arm. “We need to find our seats.”
Colin shot Spencer an apologetic smile as Ramona dragged him away to one of the back tables. Disheartened, Spencer slumped down, sending a mental apology to her yoga instructor for her bad posture. Whatever Colin had been feeling on the sailboat had clearly dissipated.
Melissa touched her arm. “Go ask him to dance.”
“What’s the point?” Spencer said miserably, throwing her hands up. “He’s still with her. I don’t have a shot.”
Melissa bit into a cherry tomato from the salads that had just been deposited onto the table. “I thought you were thicker-skinned than that, Spence. If you want him, you have to go after him. Cosmo says guys love a take-charge girl.”
Spencer grunted in response. For the next half hour, she picked glumly at the meal, barely tasting anything. By the time the waiters had cleared their plates and everyone got up to dance, Spencer’s parents had changed seats and were sitting on opposite sides of the table, chatting with everyone except each other, Melissa had flitted off to reconnect with a friend she knew from Penn, and Colin and Ramona were slow-dancing nearby. Spencer studied them carefully. They looked happy enough for half a song, but suddenly, Ramona recoiled from Colin, dropped her arms from around his waist, and stood back.
“I just don’t understand,” she said in a slurring voice. “Why don’t you ever invite me to Connecticut?”
Spencer slipped out of her seat and pretended to examine the cheese table, which was conveniently positioned just next to the dance floor and in much better earshot of Colin and Ramona. The manchego looked tempting, but so too did the fight that was brewing.
“Do we have to do this here?” Colin hissed, looking uncomfortably around the room. Spencer quickly ducked her head.
Even in the soft light of the party, she could see how Ramona’s brow furrowed. “We’ve been dating for over a year, and I haven’t once seen your apartment in Darien.” Ramona stomped her strappy gold shoe. “And now you’re canceling your next trip to see me in New York. What am I supposed to think? Are you interested in someone else?”
“Jesus, Ramona.” Colin threw up his hands in defeat. “I thought we were going to have a nice night together.”
He peeled away from Ramona and stormed out of the club, pushing the front doors open so violently they made loud smacks against the walls. Ramona remained on the dance floor with her mouth hanging open, then lowered her shoulders and stomped toward the bar.
Spencer looked around for Melissa, but she was AWOL. Still, she knew an opportunity when she saw one. Melissa had told her to go after what she wanted, and she wanted Colin.
Downing the rest of her father’s abandoned glass of wine at the now-empty dinner table, Spencer wove around a bunch of middle-aged women in hula skirts and tanned guys drinking cocktails with umbrellas, and pushed through the double doors into the cool night air.
Cicadas chirped in the trees. Cars honked in the streets. Spencer heard a footstep behind her, then a soft, whispery giggle. She whirled around, but no one was there.
She kept wandering the yacht club grounds until she found Colin standing at the railing on the dock, looking contemplatively at the water. Squaring her shoulders, Spencer moved a little closer and let out a weak cough.
Colin turned. “Oh. Hey.”
“Hi, Colin,” she said brightly. “Getting some air?”
One shoulder lifted. “I guess so. You?”
“I guess.” Spencer walked up to him. They didn’t say anything for a few moments. Lights dappled prettily on the surface of the water. The boats bobbed majestically. Then Colin let out a long sigh.