Our Beating Hearts

32

BUT HERE'S THE WEIRD THING: I've barely seen Jennifer all night. And normally, I wouldn't think twice about it, but this isn't regular Jennifer-this is Sad Drunk Jenny. So, I have to assume she's either vomiting in the butterfly house or passed out next to the vulture enclosure.

Or she's fine. She's probably fine. Even though she's not replying to any of my texts. Maybe she's fine, and she just hates me. In his position, I'd hate me. Maybe Calum said something to her. Or maybe my stupid Calum crush is written plainly all over my face.

I try to shake the thought from my mind, but I can't help peering around the edges of the space. For the record, finding a particular girl in a dimly lit, the crowded pavilion is pretty near fucking impossible. The kid is wearing a black dress in a sea of black tuxedos. For a moment, Simon Cowell's wardrobe choices make a twisted kind of sense.

Except then Jenny whirls in out of nowhere, flushed and beaming. "Hey!" I start to say-but she cuts me off with a quick, tight hug and a wet smacking kiss on the cheek.

"Um. Are you-"

She pokes me in the nose. "Ashton Irwin, you're about to have your mind blown."

Okay, so now I'm slightly terrified.

Jennifer crosses the dance floor with actual swag. This is something I've never before witnessed in my years of friendship with Jennifer Eisner. She reaches the deejay table and leans forward to say something, and then the deejay nods, and they bump fists.

"Are you watching this?" Michael asks, leaning in close.

"You mean Jenny?"

Michael nods. "What do you think she's scheming?"

"No idea." But as soon as I say it, I catch a glimpse of Calum, his blue jacket spinning as he dances with Mali. "Unless . . ."

Michael follows my gaze. "Oh, God. Do you think she's planning some big gesture to win him back?"

"Maybe. I don't know." I press my lips together. "Or it could be a revenge thing."

"Like Jenny taking revenge on Calum?" Michael laughs incredulously.

"Maybe something to embarrass him."

Michael shakes his head. "Jenny wouldn't do that."

"I don't know. She's acting really weird."

"Yeah, but this is Jennifer," Michael insists, though I catch a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "He wouldn't."

For a moment, we just look at each other.

"I think we should talk to her," I say finally.

"Yeah. Okay." Michael nods. "Let's just . . . see what she's thinking."

Michael grabs my hand, and we weave through the crowd on the dance floor. Jenny is in a crowd of soccer guys at the very edge of the pavilion, her arms flung around Niall's and Luke's shoulders. Which is reassuring, I think. If Luke's involved-even if Niall's involved-there's no way Jenny is planning anything cruel. I mean, unless Luke and Niall don't know about the plan.

God, how do I even word this? Hey, Jenny. I think you're amazing and I totally adore you, and I just wanted to quickly confirm that you're not a giant living, breathing human phallus.