“Do you want to know what I really think?” I asked, feeling brave from Maddie’s pep talk.
He leaned on the bar again, curious. “Um, yeah.”
What was I doing? My thoughts raced. The word brainathiminal popped into my head, and I laughed. Grayson waited. I picked at the label on my water bottle. “I think you’re so . . . well . . . you’re smart, you play the drums, you play lacrosse. Seriously, what don’t you do?”
A slow smile crept across his face. “I never told you I played lacrosse.”
Snagged.
“Well, so, I did some info digging. Same way you found me, right?”
“If you want to know anything about me, just ask.”
There was so much I didn’t know about him. Where to start? Logan’s comment about Gray always being with the prettiest girls? God, no. What made him kiss me the other day? Did he want to kiss me now? Were we just friends?
“This,” I said, touching his piercing lightly. He seemed vulnerable there. “Did it hurt?”
“That was sort of the point,” he said, closing his eyes, leaning into my hand. My fingers took on a life of their own, moving through his hair. I didn’t care that I didn’t know much about him. All that mattered was this. Now. Giving into the overwhelming urge to press my lips against his again.
As if he read my mind, he opened his eyes, closed the space between us . . .
“Barrett, where’ve you been?”
We snapped out of our trance, brought back to Andy’s house by a tall boy who stood a few inches away. Grayson stood up, arms straight, hands firmly on the bar.
“Luke. What’s up?”
My eyes were drawn to the boy’s mouth. His upper lip was slightly fuller than the bottom, giving the impression that he was frowning. Deep-set hazel eyes held mine more intimately than was called for, but it somehow felt impolite to look away.
“Grayson, aren’t you going to introduce me to your girl?” he asked, leaning on his elbow against the bar.
“This is Wren,” Grayson said. “And she’s not my girl. Just a friend.”
My breath locked up. How quickly he said it. I tried not to flinch but felt hot with shame. Hadn’t we just been connecting? Or was it my imagination? Not that a shot and me running my fingers through his hair meant I was his girl, but it meant we were . . . something, didn’t it?
The corner of Luke’s mouth upturned, eyes still on mine. Chin-length golden-brown hair framed what should have been a pleasant face. All the right parts were there, but there was something unnerving and charged about him.
“Luke Dobson,” he said, nodding slightly.
“We went to Saint Gabe’s together,” Grayson added.
“Bro, we went to Saint Gabe’s together?” Luke said, turning toward Gray. His shoulder brushed against mine, sending a shiver through me. He bowed his head like he was about to tell me a juicy secret.
“Wren, don’t let him fool you. We were besties with testes. C’mon, fix me up with one of those, Grayson,” he said, tilting his chin toward the drink shaker. Grayson pressed his lips together as if he didn’t want to laugh, but he chuckled anyway. He freshened up the batch of Absolut and acai while Luke and I watched him.
He poured three shots and pushed two toward us. I reached for mine. I didn’t even want it, but I had the feeling not taking it would mean something.
Luke held out his glass. “In vino veritas.”
We clinked our glasses together. Luke downed his before I even had the shot to my lips. I could feel his eyes on me as the Absolut and acai slipped down my throat. The same warmth filled my chest, but the mood was different. I placed the glass back on the bar and met his penetrating gaze, feeling self-conscious but not wanting to show it.
“So do you always get so close to your friends?” he asked.
“What?”
“You and Grayson seemed pretty chummy a moment ago. I was just wondering if that’s how you are with all of your friends?”
“Luke, get out of her face,” Grayson said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
He looked at Gray’s hand, then at me. “Dude, just talking. Maybe I want to be Wren’s friend too,” he said, eyes moving from my mouth back to my eyes.
“Ava’s trying to get your attention,” Grayson said, pointing. My eyes swept across the room to my favorite Sacred Heart schoolmate, Ava. She wore an oversize, metallic flower in her hair, which she pulled off as chic. Her face lit up when she spotted Grayson and Luke, but the moment she saw me between them, she frowned. The expression on her face read, OMG, WTF are you with them? If it weren’t for the weird encounter that had just taken place, I might have enjoyed her reaction more. She gestured for Luke to come over.
“Ah, she can’t let me out of her sight for long,” Luke said to me. “Dude. I need to talk to you later.” He pushed off the bar and pointed at Grayson, then snaked his way through the crowd. The whole scene left me feeling confused. Grayson put a hand on my shoulder.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“That,” he answered, “was about Luke.”
I wanted to ask him to elaborate when Jazz sidled up to me. Grayson offered her a shot, but she shook her head vigorously.
“We need to get out of here. Now,” she whispered in my ear.
“Why? Did something happen with Logan?” I asked.
“No. I just . . . can’t do this . . . I have to leave,” she stated again.
Arguments filled my brain. We just got here! Grayson and I came this close to kissing again! One more set! But what did it matter? Truth was, I didn’t feel comfortable at all. Not with Luke. Or Ava. Or even Grayson. The way he’d thrown out the “friend” remark so quickly. And as I recognized others from school—girls who might ask for notes in class but would snub you in the hallway—I wanted to leave too.
“If you want to stay with Grayson, I understand, but I’m outie,” Jazz said. “I can pick up my stuff from your house tomorrow. I just had to sit through Darby Greene describing what she did to a guy in the bathroom. And by the way, if you stay, don’t use the bathroom.”
“No, let me just say good-bye to Grayson. We’ll go.”
“I’ll wait for you by the coats,” she said, heading toward the side door as quickly as the crowd allowed her.
Grayson was just finishing up a conversation with the guitar player. Unlike Luke, the guitar guy was an open book, loose and relaxed and holding out his knuckles to give me a fist bump.
“I’m Andy, little Caswell. Mi casa es su casa,” he said. A moment ago this would have been charming; now it felt forced. I knocked my knuckles against his before he walked away.
“Grayson, I have to go,” I said.
“What? Why? You just got here.”
“Jazz feels sick. I want to make sure she gets home okay.”
“Can you come back?” he asked, leaning on the counter like before.
“No,” I said, ignoring the tingle of regret I felt as his eyes darkened.
“Let me walk you out.” And before I could protest, he was behind me, his hand on the small of my back as he guided us toward the door. Jazz was in the laundry room, my coat in her hand, chatting with Logan. Grayson acknowledged him with a tilt of his chin. The lie I’d told about Jazz feeling sick was obvious. Grayson’s eyes told me he knew it too.
“Feel okay?” he asked her.
Jazz handed me my coat. “Oh . . . no, I feel a migraine coming on. If I don’t get out of here now, I’m going to be doubled over in pain.” Score one for friend telepathy.
“I keep telling her a beer will fix that right up,” Logan said, raising his bottle. His remark was met with tense silence. Logan nodded to Jazz, then skulked back to the party.