The adrenaline is back, working its way through my system double-time. My heart thuds against my ribcage as we near the bar, and I force myself to focus on the singular goal of getting water. Thankfully, the bartender practically dives over to us, ignoring everyone else demanding his attention. We get a couple of icy glasses and sip them as we make our way back to our seats.
Neither of us says a word for a couple of minutes, instead watching the guys get down and dirty with the other three girls. I think about Bri laughing at whatever Royce had said, and I wonder again if I have things all wrong.
“You don’t actually have to babysit me, you know,” I tell her. “It’s cool if you wanna go back and dance with Royce.”
She snorts. “Thanks, but I think I’ve spent enough of my night being poked in the back by unwanted objects. I’ll stick with you, if you don’t mind.”
I inexplicably feel a little weight lift off my shoulders, and laugh. It’s not like that means anything. It’s not like I want it to.
Do I?
“This is probably at least a little more fun than having some sort of ring ceremony with Zander tonight would’ve been, no?” she asks, plucking an ice chip from her glass and slipping it between her teeth.
“Oh, shut up,” I say, shaking my head.
“You don’t want to talk about it?”
“I’d rather talk about nuclear physics. Or Shannah’s hair. Anything. Please.”
Those perfect lips curl into a smile around the ice, and then she sucks it into her mouth. I swallow and look away.
It’s too late. A hot, buzzing ache is already snaking its way through my body. I try to remember the last time I felt this way, but I know the truth — I never have. I’ve never wanted this badly. I’ve kissed Liam Holloway and Josh Chester and Zander Wilson — hell, I’ve hugged Brad Freakin’ Pitt — and never have I felt lightning striking me from the inside out the way I do right now, with just Bri’s cool breath on my skin.
“Are you down for another shot?”
Her voice is playful in my ear, promising, knowing. My brain is already swirling; one more shot and I’ll be unconscious, despite the fact that I haven’t had that much to drink. I don’t want to be any foggier, though. I don’t want to come down off this feeling at all.
I shake my head. I don’t have any words other than ones too dangerous to speak aloud. Instead, I simply slide to the end of the banquette, tugging my dress down to cover my thighs, and squeeze her wrist once before getting up and making my way as calmly as possible to the restroom.
My heart is pounding so hard that I’m trembling in my stilettos as I push through the crowd. I have no idea whether she’s following me, but I want her to so badly, my skin feels too tight for my body.
And just when I’m sure she won’t — that I’ve misunderstood or misread or something—there’s a warmth at my back, a “hey” holding a hint of question.
I barely even glance around to make sure no one’s watching before I swing open the door to the bathroom and yank her inside.
“Jesus, Park.” She takes a deep, slow breath. “What are we doing here?” Her voice is faint, and I almost miss it over the blood rushing through my ears. She’s backed up against the door, and she grips the knob like she wants a way out. Only she doesn’t take it.
“Go if you want to,” I say, my voice equally quiet. I can’t muster any more than that. I’m straining too hard to keep my body still, to keep from doing something I shouldn’t.
“I don’t.” Her thumb presses the lock on the knob, but she continues to grasp it. “You know I don’t.”
“I don’t know anything.” My pulse is racing and my palms are sweating and I truly don’t know — how this is happening or what comes next or any of it. “I just…” I can’t say it. I can’t. But I want it. I do. “Help me,” I whisper.
Soft hands cup the nape of my neck and then her lips are on mine, or my lips are on hers. She made the move but somehow I’m the one in control, pushing her up against the door, gripping her wrists. Beneath me, she’s warm and pliable, and when she parts her lips, I don’t hesitate for a second to accept the invitation.
She tastes like vodka and lip gloss, sweet with the tiniest bit of bitterness, and it’s perfect. All of it. I know it should be weird, and I should feel weird, but I just feel…good. And so does she. Her lips are soft and her skin is smooth and she is one hundred percent girl, but there is no one on earth I’d rather be kissing.
And I really do love her mouth.
My hands slide from her wrists to her hips, thumbs seeking out the soft skin just above the waistband of her jeans. Her fingers clutch at the stretchy fabric of my dress as she pulls me closer. It’s sliding dangerously high up my thighs, and I’m not sure if she notices.
I hope she does.
She pulls back, though, just enough to whisper, “What the hell is happening right now?”
Oh God. “Am I doing it wrong?”
Her laughter is breathless against my lips. “God, no. Not at all. But…you’re straight.”
“Actually,” I say, my voice shaky as my fingertips travel higher, “I’m not so sure about that.”
I wait for a jaw drop or a look of shock or something, but all I get is a slow grin over her kiss-swollen lips. “I knew it.”
I yank my hands out from under her shirt and step back. “Seriously, Bri?” I drop my voice as low as humanly possible, despite knowing no one can hear us over the pulsing music. “I tell you I like girls and your reaction is to be smug about it?”
“Crap, Van, no.” She reaches for my hand, and I let her take it, watching as she intertwines her fingers with mine. “I just…hoped. I’ve been hoping, ever since we met at Josh’s party. I’ve imagined this so many times that at some point it just became impossible to imagine it wouldn’t happen.”
Our hands swing naturally, delicate and girly, indistinguishable except for the darker tone of my skin. “You’ve pictured this, huh?”
“Nonstop,” she says sheepishly, her black-painted thumbnail tracing an arc over the back of my hand. “You haven’t?”
“If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Oh, I think we would’ve ended up here one way or another.” She slips her free hand into my hair and rests her forehead against mine. “But now what?”
“I have no idea,” I admit. “You’re the PR pro. And this is a mess.”
“It is, isn’t it?” She glances back at the door. “We probably don’t have much longer in here, and we can’t exactly go back to my place, or to yours. Even a hotel’s out of the question.”
I’ve never wanted to kick myself so hard for the fact that I still live with my parents.
Oh God—my parents. What the hell would my mother say if she found out I’d just kissed a girl? If she knew I like one? I’m a big enough disappointment to her now, choosing my acting career over college and a traditional career path. She’s never really voiced her thoughts much about my relationships, but she also hasn’t taken them seriously. Pretty sure that, in her mind, I’m still gonna get over all of this and settle down with a nice Korean boy someday.
I look down at where Bri’s thumbnail is still caressing my hand, and a little shiver racks my body.
No, I’m pretty sure I won’t be getting over this soon.
“You okay?” she whispers, stopping the path of her nail and squeezing my hand instead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to joke. I know this is a big deal.”
I just nod. I can’t say anything else. It is a big deal. I need to talk about it. I want to talk about it. But I need to gather my thoughts first, to understand what it all means. All I’ve really considered is how much I want the girl in my arms right now; I’ve barely put any thought at all into what it means to be…