When Spencer stepped onto the yacht club's parking lot that night for the pre-New Year's party, she could smell the heady scents of grilled pineapple and poi, tiki-torch smoke, and coconut. Since everyone had been asked to show up dressed for luau theme, Spencer wore a short, flora-printed dress and an orchid flower behind her ear, which kept sending out romantic whiffs of perfume with every toss of her hair. Melissa had on a long printed maxi dress and floral lei around her neck. Spencer's mother had stubbornly refused to wear anything but a white Calvin Klein sheath, though she'd begrudgingly put on a pair of sparkly high-heeled thongs and an oversized floral statement necklace. Her father wore an obnoxious orange and pink Hawaiian shirt under his Armani sports jacket, just like every other man in the room over the age of forty.
As the family walked toward the entrance, occasionally saying hello to other yacht club members they'd met through the years, Spencer's father's fingers flew across his phone's little keyboard. Her mother nudged him. "Weren't you going to leave that in the car?"
"I'm just sending a text," he said distractedly.
"To whom? And since when do you know how to text?"
"I've always known how to text." His phone rang. He answered it with a grunt, then whispered something into it that sounded like She is? and then, Okay, good.
When he hung up, Spencer's mother was staring at him. "Who was that?"
"Just a work thing," her father murmured hurriedly.
Spencer's mother pursed her lips and fingered her necklace. Melissa leaned over to Spencer. "What's with Dad's sudden air of mystery?" she whispered.
Spencer shrugged. She had no idea, but she didn't like it.
The Hastings's stepped over a threshold and into the luau. Bursts of brightly colored flowers and palm trees covered in twinkling lights transformed the normally stuffy restaurant into a high-class Hawaiian fantasy. A long-haired girl in a coconut-shell bikini top and a grass skirt handed everyone, including Spencer, a pina colada. "Aloha!" she bleated happily, not noticing that Spencer's parents looked like they were ready to throw each other into the roasting pit. "Grab your place cards and find your table! Have a wonderful time!"
Spencer's mother plucked her place card from the long table in the lobby. "We're at table three," she said in a pinched voice, and started across the dining room, the others on her heels. Halfway there, she froze in her tracks. Mrs. DiLaurentis and her husband were sitting at table six, wearing matching puka shell necklace. Ali's mom looked up and noticed the Hastingses, but instead of waving, she furrowed her brow and looked away.
By the time they sat down at their assigned table, Spencer's mother had already finished her pina 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 scrappy gold heels—so 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 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 changes 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 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 against 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 tailing on the dock, looking contemplatively at the water. Squaring her shoulders, Spencer moved a little closer and let 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.
"Are you okay?" Spencer asked innocently.
Colin kicked at the railing. "I think I have some big decisions to make tonight. Sort of like…resolutions."
"Well, it's the time of year for it."
"Yeah." Colin nodded glumly.
Spencer poled his side. "Cheer up. It's almost New Year's. It's gorgeous out. And we're at a fake luau. You have to be happy during the holiday season!"
One corner of Colin's mouth rose. "Is that a rule or something?"
"Yep. A rule I just made up." Spencer watched a party boat drift by in the harbor. "And I'm thinking of making some New Year's resolutions, too."
"Spencer setting goals for herself? That doesn't surprise me at all." He grinned conspiratorially, and Spencer felt her shoulders start to sink down as she relaxed into herself. "Care to share what they are?"
"No way," she said earnestly. "Then they wouldn't come true."
Colin paused, opening his mouth like he wanted to say something. The bay lapped against the dock and the air smelled of salt and orchids. A gust of wind blew over the water. For a moment they just stared at one another. Then he reached out and moved a stray of hair out of her face, tucking it gently behind her unadorned ear.
Do it, Spencer thought. Kiss me. Please.
Suddenly, Colin pulled back his hand and started walking toward the yacht club again. "Where are you going?" Spencer squeaked.
He stopped under a lamp, the golden light making a halo over his head. "There's something I need to do, Spencer," he said quietly. "Something I just figured out."
And just like that, he turned and marched back to the club—no doubt, Spencer thought excitedly, to break up with Ramona. She ran her hands down the length of her face, trying to will her heart to calm down. At that very moment, fireworks exploded in the sky over the water. The flashed against her face, a performance just for her. She was grateful for the noise. Only something that loud could drown out the booming of her heart.