The Secret Recipe for Moving On Karen Bischer (read my book .txt) 📖

in the living room. Luke has a beer, but Greta is empty-handed, and they’re also sitting a step apart, and not next to each other. There’s a definite chilly vibe going on between them and I almost regret plopping down on the stair below Greta.

“I didn’t take you for a partier,” Luke says. I notice he’s wearing a sweater instead of his usual T-shirt. It’s navy and makes him seem more broad-shouldered than usual and makes his eyes look really blue.

Not that that means anything to me.

“I, uh, decided to branch out,” I say, looking around the room and hoping Greta doesn’t think I was just checking out her boyfriend.

“By helping the inebriated?” Greta laughs.

“I definitely didn’t plan on that,” I say, shaking my head. “But I will say seeing Brynn projectile vomit was a cautionary tale for the evening.”

Luke leans back on the stair. “So you haven’t been drinking?”

“No. The football team gifted me with a beer, but it started to make me feel a little, uh, not-so-good myself so I stopped.”

“And you threw some grocery shopping in there?” Greta asks, pointing at my bag.

“Actually, I was helping Alisha out before that. You know, picking up empty bottles and cans and stuff.”

“Hon,” Greta says, patting my shoulder. “It’s a party. You should have fun, not work your ass off. And you definitely shouldn’t be sitting outside without a coat.”

I’m surprised how warm she comes off when she says this, and not sarcastic. Then she stands up. “I’m gonna bail. I told Ginger I’d pick her up at five for Vermont tomorrow.”

“Oh, right,” Luke says, shaking the faraway look from his eyes. “Okay.”

Greta merely squeezes his knee when she climbs down the stairs. I half expect Luke to stand up and grab her hand to kiss her goodbye or something, but he just stays where he is on the step.

We both watch Greta leave, and literally as she’s walking out the door, A.J. comes in with a tall guy in a beanie who I’m pretty sure is his friend Patrick. I’m kind of relieved to see him, since I’m not really sure what I should say to Luke at the moment.

“Yo,” A.J. says, spotting us on the stairs, as Patrick makes a beeline for the living room keg. “What’d I miss?”

I roll my eyes. “Some minor drama involving the result of too much wine, but nothing much aside from that.”

A.J. looks confused, but doesn’t say anything. “I smell something cooking. Where can I get some of that? I’m starving.”

“Alisha’s in the kitchen making appetizers and—”

“Great!” A.J. says, his face lighting up. With that, he practically sprints into the kitchen.

“Was it something I said?” I say.

Luke laughs and takes a sip of his beer. “Yeah, I think it was ‘appetizers.’”

We sit in silence for a few minutes, surveying the scene. We can see the beer pong action from our perch, and Bryce and Anthony are apparently dominating, if their constant whooping is any indication.

“Want some help picking up empties?” Luke asks. He shakes his empty beer can and throws it in my bag.

“Uh, sure,” I say.

We pick ourselves off the stairs and roam around the living room, which is now loud and crowded, grabbing cans and bottles.

“Did everything end up okay out there?” Luke asks. “I saw Hunter leave.”

“It was fine,” I say, thunking an empty beer bottle into my bag. “If you don’t count the sobbing and begging to be forgiven stuff. Just a typical Friday night, you know?”

“Agresti,” Luke says seriously, making me stop what I’m doing and look right at him. “We’re at a party, right?”

“Well, it’s certainly not home ec,” I say, glancing around the boisterous room.

His face breaks into a broad grin, and he looks more like his old self than he has since he got here. “Then let’s have some fun.”

It’s hard not to smile back, though I’m not exactly sure what he means by this. “Okay, but … Alisha. I told her I’d hang out with her.”

Luke sets down an empty beer bottle on the fireplace mantel and surprises me by setting my garbage bag down and grabbing my hand. “Come on,” he says, leading me toward the kitchen.

Alisha is arranging some mini pizza bagels on a cookie sheet, and she’s surrounded by other plates full of hot appetizers. A.J. is leaning on the counter, practically drooling as he surveys the sea of hot goodies.

“Hey, guys!” Alisha says. “Want some snackage?”

Luke grabs a mini hot dog with one hand, his other still clasped around mine. I decide that if my face is red, it’s because the kitchen is still overly warm from the oven being on. “Delicious,” he declares as he munches down the hot dog in one bite. “Now, Alisha, don’t you want to enjoy your party?”

Her brow furrows. “It would be nice to get out of this kitchen for a little bit, even if it’s just to survey the damage.”

“I’ll totally watch the apps for you, yo!” A.J. says, popping off the counter. “Like, I can make sure no one gets more than me.”

Alisha smiles at him, touching his arm. “You rock, A.J. I owe you one.”

A.J.’s face turns bright red and I wonder if he maybe likes Alisha more than mini hot dogs.

Luke then takes Alisha’s hand and leads us both out to the living room.

“Oh my god, it’s a mess,” Alisha says, scrunching her eyes shut.

“Don’t worry about that now. We’ll help you clean up,” Luke says. “Now, who’s up for beer pong?”

“Oh, I’m not drinking anymore,” I say just as Alisha adds, “I have to stay sober in case the cops come.”

“Not a problem,” Luke says. “You guys can play with soda. We’ll find someone else drinking beer, and we’ll have an even match.”

I expect Alisha to balk, but she suddenly brightens. “I know just the person,” she says, pointing to Willow, who’s just walked in. “Hey, Willow!” she says, waving her over.

Willow dances over in time to the rap song that’s blasting over the speakers. “What’s up, y’all?”

“Want to