“What? No. Seriously?”
“I’m pretty sure, yes. Actually, I know I am. I just can’t tell anyone. I’m afraid it would ruin my career. All those little teenyboppers that are gonna buy my posters would be crushed.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought I wasn’t sexy enough. I thought it was me!!”
“Obviously, it wasn’t you. It was me. I’m really sorry about that. I’ve been going through a lot. Why do you think I always drank so much when I was with you? I was trying to pretend I wasn’t gay, but it’s who I am. And this is going to sound odd, but thank you. I knew if I wasn’t attracted to someone like you, I must be gay. I wasn’t trying to trick you or anything, and I really do adore you.”
He wanted the perfect high school script just like I did. It didn’t matter that we were completely wrong for each other. I crushed on Brooklyn the entire time I was with him. I was just as fake as he was. Hard to condemn him for that.
I also take note of his comment, It’s who I am.
I hug Sander tightly. “It’ll be our little secret,” I tell him.
As we’re walking out of my room, I see the locket James gave me for my birthday sitting on my dresser. I put it around my neck and silently tell my dad I miss him.
All bullshit aside, I did.
11:30pm
The party is in full swing, and everyone is dancing. Brooklyn and I are sitting off to the side of the dance floor on some lounge furniture with a bunch of the guys we surf with. I had hoped they would all be out dancing and meeting new people, but Brooklyn’s telling them all about his Summer of Waves, as he is now calling it.
Personally, I would have named it the Summer of Love, but what the hell do I know?
He goes on about what makes one wave or surfing location better than another.
I look out at everyone having fun dancing.
I stand up in front of him
“Come dance with me.”
“You know I don't like this kind of music,” he says, dismissing me and continuing his story.
The guys are listening intently, like he’s the God of All Surfers. Seriously. They’re practically bowing to him, and he's loving it. Loving being in his own little spotlight.
I felt like I should be with him, since he came tonight, since he’s my date, since he’s supposed to love me.
But I can’t quit thinking about Cush. And the more I think about him, the more irritated I get with Brooklyn.
“I’m going to dance,” I say, but the only response I get is a slight head nod. Which is pretty much the nail in our love coffin. As much as I know it’s over, part of me can’t help but still try. I feel like I’m giving up on a dream. Like I failed somehow. “Please come dance with me.”
He shakes his head at me then speaks in an irritated tone. “You know I don’t like stuff like this, Keats. I’m here. What more do you want?”
And there it is.
The push that I needed.
“I want more, B. A lot more. I know we aren’t going out, but I’m done. Done with this. Done with us. I’m sorry.”
He nods his head at me in agreement.
I work my way out to the center of the dance floor. I know that’s where Vanessa will be. She says you should always dance in the center, so everyone can see you.
“You done talking to all the boring people?” she yells at me.
“Yeah!”
She reaches into her date’s pocket and pulls out a flask. I haven't had anything to drink yet, so I take two big swigs and feel the whiskey both burn and warm the back of my throat.
I dance with Vanessa and RiAnne and soak up the intensity of the crowd, the lights, the heat.
The beat.
A pair of familiar hands grabs my waist, and Cush grinds up against me.
I remember the nights we went dancing and how much fun we had. I remember the hot dream I had about him.
I'm not sure if it's the alcohol, the excitement, or just because his hands feel like they belong on me, but I turn around to face him, wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss him.
No, I make out with him.
Right here in the middle of the dance floor for the world to see.
His hands are still firmly planted on my lower hips, and I feel him squeeze them.
When the song ends, Vanessa pokes my back, because Cush and I are still swaying and kissing.
She gives me an approving smile.
“We’ll be back!” I yell to her as another song blares.
I grab Cush’s hand and pull him through the crowd, to the opposite side of the dance floor from where Brooklyn is holding court.
He pushes me into a dark corner and kisses me again.
“I just broke up with him. I think I love you,” I blurt out.
It's dark in the corner, but I can see the excitement in his eyes and a flash of bright white teeth.
He cups my face in his hand and gives me a soft, slow kiss.