Page 53

Chapter Fifty-Three

Xavier

I 'm too tired for this. It was fun at first—setting up the swamp. Like a challenge. The fortune telling afterwards, less so. I don't know half these people; therefore, I don't care about them. Or maybe I'm just too exhausted to care. Or too stuck in my head. Whatever the reason, it pisses me off that it's not even ten o'clock and I'm already over this party. Until a few months ago, I would go until sunrise. Get up, go to school, hit hockey practice or football or whatever, and do it all again. I liked it. It was fun. Or at least, it was enough.

It doesn't feel like enough now.

And I need this to be enough. To give my head a shake. Get it through my thick skull that This. Is. My. life. I can have this, and maybe the band. Maybe. For a few months, if I'm lucky. Maybe even a couple of years. But not Maggie, too. Who blazed into my life and lifted mine up to the same level as hers. Made me feel like my world was worthy of hers. But only for a while—because already, it's selfish of me to ask for any more.

I'm stumbling through life. Maggs is gliding through hers.

And my father's right: I will eventually find a way to disappoint her, like I do with everyone in my life. Slow her down. Dull her shine. Maybe a few weeks or months down the road, once this music thing rides its course. Or I fuck it up somehow.

But probably sooner.

She's already got her perfect life, with her perfect house and her perfect mother. They don't have much, but they spun it into everything that matters. I was given everything, and I always find a way to unravel it into nothing .

As Swamp Oracle, my prediction is I'll do it with this band too.

And a girl like Maggie shouldn't be expected to stick around for a guy like that. Which is why I need to chill. The fuck. Out.

Put the brakes on with this whole head-over-heels thing I've been letting myself fall into.

Reset. Rewind. Back the fuck up.

Find a way to fit back into the life I've been okay with for years. So that I'm okay when Maggie moves on to the life she's been dreaming about and planning for years.

"Bro! Hey, Swamp Oracle!" Beck's booming voice lurches me out of my thoughts.

Five more minutes and pretty sure I would have fallen into a swamp-induced slumber. Seriously, I'm wiped.

"We've got a lineup here, man," Beck calls to me. "These fortunes aren't just gonna tell themselves."

I toss back the rest of my drink and motion for the brown-haired girl with fake blue lashes to approach. It is kind of amusing watching people sift through the swamp searching for the best offerings. Beck and I are both angling for the soggy car dice. But so far, literally, no dice.

The girl—Bethany, I think, or Beatrice—hands me a small plastic pig. Which is pretty decent if you compare it against the two socks, potato, oven mitt, Hot Wheels pickup truck, and three onions I've been gifted so far.

"A most gracious gift," I tell her. "You will not be disappointed with your future… Oh, whoa—" Suddenly, she's climbing into my lap. "Hey! No. You can't— you need to—"

"Sorry," a familiar voice. Maggie's voice—interrupts. She's addressing Bethany-Beatrice, but her eyes are leveled on me. "Do you mind if I cut in? I sort of had a pre-scheduled appointment with the Swamp Sleaze."

"You mean Swamp Ora—"

"Whatever," Maggie cuts her off. "We had an appointment."

Bethany-Beatrice looks back at me for confirmation, but my lips just open and close. Apparently, I've temporarily lost the ability to form a full sentence. I nudge her forward and she gets to her feet, looking pissed. But she steps aside and joins her friends, who wander off, presumably in search of better fortunes.

"Maggie…" I shift, not loving the fact that I'm forced to look up at her in my current reclined position. "Isn't… I thought tonight was your night off."

Her nostrils flare. Cheeks flush.

Shit. Wrong thing to say.

"Aren't you going to offer to tell my fortune?" she asks, the ice in her gaze freezing me on the spot as she sits crossed-legged on the ground in front of me. "I sure hope it's good," she purrs in a way that sounds like a threat. "Because my night so far has been crap."

I force myself to hold her gaze; to arch an eyebrow at her like her sudden appearance is mildly amusing. But, shit, it’s hard. Faking disinterest with the girl who is always the most interesting person in the room is no small feat.

I remind myself; I’m doing this for a reason. That this may be hard, but it’s better for her this way. And easier for me to do it now, rather than dragging it out like some love-sick douche and having her leave me weeks from now, or months from now, once she realizes she can do so much better than me. A guy whose default is to disappoint and mess up. The opposite of measuring up to her level.

"You want me to tell you your fortune?" I drawl almost lazily, now that my composure has mostly scraped itself off the floor.

Maggie eyes me venomously. "Actually, on second thought, I think I'd like to be the one to enlighten you with my prediction for your future." Her narrowed eyes challenge me. "I mean, as long as you aren't too inebriated to switch things up last minute?"

Fuck. Me.

"Sure thing," I say. "As long as you pay your offering, I'm cool with whatever."

I'm shooting for unbothered, but pretty sure I over-shot with that last one and landed squarely in asshole territory.

"Oh." She narrows her eyes even more. "I think I've more than 'paid my dues." She gets a borderline evil glint in her eye. "But since you're so insistent…" She lifts her forearm, bent at the elbow, and flips me the middle finger. "How's this for an offering? "

I smirk. Honestly, I can't decide if she's scaring the hell out of me right now or making me fall harder for her.

Pretty sure falling harder.

"Good enough," I tell her.

"Awesome." She leans forward, elbows resting on her knees. "So, here's my prediction for you." She edges even closer.

So close, I can feel her breath brush my jaw. Something pulls in my chest, and I ache to lean in and meet her halfway.

She arches an eyebrow. "I predict that sometime in your very near future, you will lose out on something that could have been amazing." She pauses, and I inhale a slow breath. "Something that could have been fuckingspectacular… With someone who really cared about you. And thought you were more than some shallow rich party boy.” Her breath hitches, and it fucking kills me. She finishes, "But who was clearly mistaken."

And there it is…. the disappointment.

She's bang-on with her prediction, but also a little late to the party. My father already predicted the whole 'colossal disappointment' thing.

I suck my lip between my teeth, avert my eyes for a second, raking a hand through my hair. "Shit, Maggs, I can't—"

"Well, that's it for my prediction." She stands, rubbing her palms against her thighs. "I'll be on my way now. You obviously have a whole lineup of girls here to get through, and I wouldn't want to ruin this whole…" She swirls her finger in the vicinity of the scene in front of us. "Swamp-fest… thing you have going on here." She nods. "Happy fortune telling."

She turns without waiting for my reaction and starts towards the swamp. Then swivels suddenly, and strides back, trailing brown muck across the white marble. She leans right into my face. "Oh, one final prediction: if you wake Finn up with this little shindig, I predict you will wake up tomorrow morning with gravel down your Calvins, both eyebrows shaved off, and a giant eggplant sprawled on your forehead in permanent marker."

She whips around, ducks to pick up her ugly yellow boots and strides right back through the swamp, then down the hall. Doesn't even bother wiping off her feet. Which is almost as concerning as the lines she just delivered that leave me feeling like she just gutted me, then dragged my entrails through the sludgy cesspool at my feet.