I spin around to go back inside and run into someone. I’m soaked.
“Watch it!” I start wiping the front of my shirt. Beer, of course. His hand reaches out toward my chest. I knock it away. “Don’t touch me!”
And then as I look up, I’m left speechless. His blue eyes are amazing, unreal, electric. It hits me in the pit of my stomach.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I was just coming out to show you where the soda is...” He leans closer to me as he talks, and I should totally be moving away. But I’m not.
I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t. He’s hot. Like, rich-boy mixed with hand-picked genetics or something. Muscular without being huge. I can’t take in a deep breath. But then I do, and he smells... amazing. Like boy, but good. I’m seriously dizzy just from standing close to this guy. Must be some expensive cologne. Wait. We’re standing way too close.
Oh no. Rock in my stomach. I know him.
“Oh, right. You’re the guy who uses a girl for an armrest.” I scowl.
“Chastity is not an armrest. She’s...”
“Fine. A decorative armrest.” Decorated like a skank. Yes, I’m feeling this mean. “And I bet her name is a lesson in irony.” I push past him into the house.
“What the hell? I came out here to be nice.”
“By spilling your beer all over my shirt?” I yell behind me. I know I’m being kind of bitchy, but this whole party situation has me on edge.
He follows me into the house. “I’ll... uh... buy you a new one?”
Why does he have to sound so clueless? Snobby? I spin toward him. “It’s not about money. It’s about you ruining my shirt!”
His face is blank. “Umm, it’s just a white T-shirt.”
Thank you for that obvious statement.
“Ziah!”
My head turns and there’s James. Relief. James also looks like he doesn’t belong here. He looks like he just stepped out of a lab in his old jeans and a university T-shirt. He scratches his neatly trimmed blond hair (something he always does), and his light brown eyes are on me. I don’t look back, don’t stop, just run up to meet him. I start to throw my arms around him in gratitude that he’s finally here.
“Whoa...” He puts his hand up between us. “I don’t want that all over me. What happened to you?” He’s yelling because there’s no other way to talk with this much noise.
I look down and catch sight of his brown, comfy leather slip-on shoes. Alyssa’s right. They’re totally old-man shoes. Funny. Oh, he asked me a question. “Some jerk spilled his beer on me.”
My phone buzzes.
ALYSSA: I DON’T FEEL SO HOT. WHEN R WE LVING?
I frown and flash James my phone, pretending to be annoyed instead of relieved that we’re going to have to go. And already? That girl has a talent for getting too wasted, too fast.
“Well, so much for the party. I’ve always wanted to come inside. Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” He leans toward me a little. We’re standing close. Just a few more inches, and I could close the gap and put our lips together, because now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not sure when we last kissed. Instead of kissing, he leans toward my ear to yell again.
“Wanna take off?” he shouts. “We should probably get Alyssa home.”
“And maybe I’ll drop by and see Mom.”
My mom owns a great, funky restaurant in an up and coming area in downtown Portland. She’s there all the time and loves it when I stop in late. Her normal nights get her home at just after one on a weekend, sometimes two.
I put my mouth close to his ear so he can hear me. “Wanna come?”
He smells like lab—all antiseptic. Not like... Oh-kay. Not going to think about the hot guy in two hundred dollar jeans. Not when I have James right here, and so close.
“Why don’t I take Alyssa home so you don’t have to backtrack? It seems silly to take two cars all the way back home and then another car back into downtown to your mom’s place,” he yells. “Besides, I don’t really want to smell like restaurant and bar.”
Because antiseptic is so awesome. I sigh and my chest sinks. “I haven’t seen you.”
He gives me this half-smile like I’m being silly. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. No big deal.”
He shrugs and steps back, and suddenly I wouldn’t mind if James put his arm around me like I was his armrest. Just to be possessive. Just to make me feel like he wanted to be close to me. His hand closes over mine, and we walk to the door holding hands. Only our fingers aren’t even laced together.
Alyssa’s sitting on the front porch when we step outside, frowning and looking… well, wasted. James drops my hand as we step out. Alyssa groans, and rests her face on her knees. She and I are in all the same AP classes, and I swear she’s smarter than me but has to do stupid crap like this. The girl just doesn’t know when to stop drinking.
“I’ll take you home.” James reaches out and half-carries her toward his car. I don’t know how he got a parking spot actually in the driveway. I’m almost a block down the street.
I glance back at the party and catch rich-boy with his armrest back in place. I can barely see him through the people wandering around between the front door and the kitchen.
He starts to tip his cup again when our eyes meet, and he freezes. It hits me just like before, in my stomach, this knot of nervous tingles. Even from way out here.
The armrest looks up at him. He’s still looking at me, and her head starts to turn my way. That’s my cue to move.
What was that? Why did I have to look back at some spoiled, beer-spilling man-whore? I’m sure he is. I mean, who else dates someone like Chastity? She looked like she was about to audition for a music video. I suck in a breath and almost wish I’d been drinking so I could play off my reaction to him. And my general meanness toward everyone in the room.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” James asks.
I jog to his side of the car and stand close, but not so close that I get beer on his shirt. Instead of pressing us together, I touch his stomach through his T-shirt hoping for anything from him.
He gives me a peck. “Tell your Mom I said hi.”
“Yep.” I stay close. I’m looking for something more. Some feeling in my chest or in my gut to keep me here, to make us closer. Or even something from him—a touch or a look—something that shows he can’t get enough of me.
Instead he stands, watching me with the same relaxed smile he always wears. I duck my head into the car. I’m being silly.
“I’m not ditching you, am I?” I ask Alyssa.
Her eyes are closed, and her face is pressed against the window. “Nah...” She gestures loosely with her hand. “Your old man will get me home...” Her arm tucks back into her front. She’s done moving.
I stand back up next to James. “You need to take her in the back door...”
“I got it.” Then to Alyssa, “Watch my upholstery.”
“Love you, James.” Give me something to hold onto here.
“Yeah. Love you, too.” He slides in the driver’s seat, closes the door, and drives away. I’ve barely seen him all week, and he’s gone. Just like that.
I don’t move. I watch him drive off, wishing for something between us that just isn’t there. Some crazy spark, something, anything...
But that’s not really what we’re about. We’re comfortable. It’s nice to be comfortable. But if it’s so nice, why does my chest feel heavy? Now I just want to go to Mom’s restaurant and stuff my face. But first I need to dig through her car and see if I can find a shirt that isn’t soaked in beer.
Three
~Dylan~
Hangovers suck. My head is going to explode, my gut aches like I’ve spent too much time in the car with Paul after he eats Taco Bell, and my mouth feels like there’s glue in it. The part that really sucks is it’s my fault. I forgot my own rules. I didn’t follow the happy-buzz plan, drinking way more than I should have once Hanes left. I mean, who gets that pissed over a white T-shirt? Maybe she has stock in the company. The girl has some serious damage, which gives me something else to add to my suckage list. I’m in bed, feeling like a truck ran over me, yet my mind is on her.