Chapter 2: The New Alex

Maple Avenue is usually fairly quiet - let's be real, all the streets in Haverton are usually fairly quiet - and since most of the town's population is already here, it's not hard to guess who might be pulling down the street right now. Especially when the car in question turns out to be a black Lamborghini.

That's new, I think as the luxury car comes to a stop next to the mailbox. In high school, Alex drove a teal pickup truck with his name spray-painted on the side - and yeah, that was exactly as classy as it sounds. In the years after he sold his first website, he upgraded to a more reliable sedan - an expensive sedan, but something practical. I guess it was only a matter of time before he decided he needed something more stylish and sporty. Every billionaire bachelor needs an obnoxious car, doesn't he? I'm pretty sure that's in the rich dudes' handbook somewhere.

But as much as I want to roll my eyes at his choice of wheels, I can't help but grin as he gets out of the car. Alex will always be Alex, no matter what he drives or what he wears. No matter how many magazines or news sites claim he's the hottest, richest thing ever or post torrid rumors about his sex life.

But geez, even the new Alex - excuse me, the new Xander - should know how ridiculous it is to wear a suit like that to a barbecue in Haverton. The dude striding across the lawn toward us is dressed for a board meeting, not one of his mom's birthday parties. What a doofus. His entire getup probably cost more than some of the houses here.

I take another sip of punch as Norah and Luke head across the lawn toward their son. Alex's younger brother, Levi, goes too, as does Sawyer, the family's golden retriever. My mom and I hang back with the other guests. I notice Jimmy and Samantha Tyler whisper something to each other over by the side of the house.

It's been a long, long time since any of us here in Haverton have seen Alex - outside of TV and magazines, at least - and I'm not surprised people are talking. He's big news these days. Not to mention the fact that he looks like a completely different person - how could he have changed so much in just four years?

It's not just the suit - though that certainly is part of the picture - or that he now wears his caramel-brown hair short, rather than long enough to tuck behind his ears. It's not even about that perfectly manicured layer of stubble he seems to be sporting along his jaw. In fact, it's not really about looks at all - it's more about how he carries himself.

The Alex I knew looked silly in suits. Dopey. Like a kid playing dress-up. The Alex in front of me...doesn't. He looks like he belongs in those clothes. When the hell did that happen? I close one eye and try to imagine him in that T-Rex T-shirt with the hole in the armpit that he wore all the time in high school, but I just can't seem to do it.

No, it's not his appearance that's different. It's his entire bearing. I know it's impossible, but he looks taller. Broader. Distinguished and self-assured in a way he didn't before.

This isn't Alex, I realize with a start. This is Xander. He's left his old self completely behind.

It's a strange, almost unnerving realization.

My mom moves to stand beside me. "He looks so handsome, doesn't he?"

Maybe. I have to admit, I don't have the urge to laugh at him the way I usually do. From a purely objective standpoint, then yeah, he's pretty attractive - I mean, Celebrity Spark Magazine devoted an entire spread to what they called his "perfect jawline" - but this whole thing just feels weird. It's like I'm looking at a stranger, and I don't like it one bit.

I pour myself another cup of punch. Somehow my first one is empty already. Why now? Why today of all days? Another time, I might have been able to deal with this, but not today. Today I'm barely holding it together.

"Be careful with that punch, Mae," my mom says. "Norah said that's her special adult recipe. There's vodka in there."

Good. I need all the alcohol I can get right now.

"I won't have too much," I promise her. I'm feeling sick again, and I find myself looking around for somewhere to run. The Grants are coming our way - except for Luke, who returns to the grill - and I'm beginning to think it would be easier to just flee.

I should have told them I was sick. Why did I think I'd be up for this today? Earlier, though, the thought of seeing Alex felt like the perfect distraction. It was honestly the only reason I didn't fake the bubonic plague and stay curled up under my comforter all day with a sleeve of sandwich cookies and a bottle of cheap white wine. Now, I'm thinking I've made a terrible mistake.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I tell my mom.

"Right now? Alex just got here."

"He'll be here when I get back," I tell her over my shoulder before dashing toward the house. I take the stairs up to the porch two at a time and don't bother to look back as the screen door slams shut behind me.

Fortunately, I've been in the Grants' house enough times to know exactly where the bathroom is. I barely manage to get there before the dry heaving starts. I bend over the sink, trying to pull myself together.

What the hell are you doing, Mae? I ask myself. Grow some fucking balls. You're better off without Wes. If you let yourself have a breakdown, he wins.

And honestly, I'm not sure I'm sad about Wes at all. I know I should be. A normal person would be. But while I'd love to be at home with a tube of cookie dough right now, I'm still not sure how to process my feelings about all of this. If I'm not sad, then what is this knot in my stomach? Rage? Despair? Uncertainty? The sudden intense need to cut the balls off of the asshole who cheated on me?

I don't know if I can face Alex today. Not like this.