Eighteen
“We should go, it's almost ten forty-five.” Tex puts the last few touches on her costume. While the theme is White Trash, she can't resist covering herself in glitter, and she's covered me as well. I caved to her begging. Lack of sleep makes me such mush, I would have worn whatever she wanted me to.
I pull down my gold tube dress, wishing it covered more, and hoping that my underwear doesn't show. She's completely comfortable in her mini-skirt, fishnets and torn-up, stained tank top. Trailer Chic.
While she's busy with a last minute primp, I text Peter. I don't even know if he's going to answer. I haven't talked to him at all in several days. True to his word, he's been MIA. I've texted him here and there, but gotten nothing back.
Part of me worries that it's something I've done, but then I want to smack myself because it's so self-centered to think I could drive him away or do something that would make him that uncomfortable around me. Besides, he said it was a noctalis thing. Maybe he's a noctalis king or something and has duties he has to attend to. My phone buzzes with an incoming text.
Yes?
Oh, I hate how much my heart thumps and my hands tingle because of that one word. It's the first hint I've gotten that he's still breathing. Or whatever.
Im going 2 a party.
Oh.
I kno ur busy, but do u want to come? I send it before I can second guess myself. I look at Tex, who is trying to get her skirt to cover her butt and failing because it's too short. My hands shake a little bit as I wait for a response. I've already gotten bits of glitter in between the keys. Damn you, Tex.
Where? I fight a smile that might crack my face open.
I give him directions without hesitation, snapping my phone shut and pulling my dress down for the millionth time. God, I am reckless.
“Hey, do you mind if I invite Peter?” I look at Tex, primping her hair. She's used enough hairspray to put a decent-sized hole in the ozone layer. Hello, global warming.
“Who's Peter?”
“That guy... You know...”
She looks at me blankly. “Oh yeah,” she says as she slide a lip gloss wand over her lips. “I was waiting for you to bring him up.”
“I should probably warn you he's kinda weird.”
“Like Dungeons and Dragons weird or I-watch-you-when-you-sleep weird?” I have no idea if he watches me sleep.
“Neither. He's more like awkward weird.” I don't know how else to explain him. I fiddle with the top of my dress, trying to hike it up.
“I'll be the judge of that. If he's hot, the weirdness won't even matter.” She puckers once more, checking her teeth for lip gloss.
“Okay.”
Somehow we get into the car without any major wardrobe malfunctions. My hands keep sweating and I keep wiping them on my dress. I've been going through Peter withdrawal all week, which is nuts because I've only known him a few weeks. Somehow the cemetery isn't the same without him now, so I haven't been back.
Tex starts the car and I tense up immediately. My heart pounds the whole way to the party.
***
I have never seen so many cars crammed on one lawn before. I wonder what Chuck's parents will think when they come home. Would he tell them that some crazy hooligans had trashed the lawn doing donuts while he sat at home doing his homework like a good little boy?
Probably.
“So, where is this guy?” Tex says after she's extricated herself from the driver's seat with minimal underwear showage.
“I'm not sure. Hold on.” My phone slips in the combination of glitter and sweat from my palms. Gross. I wipe my hands on my dress. The dress and glitter are both gold, so it doesn't show.
Where r u?
Here. I look around, squinting in the dark and cursing my feeble human vision.
And there he is, wearing the same dirty clothes and no shoes. That might be a problem. My eyes make their way back up to his face. Disappointed, I see his hair is back in his eyes. At least he's here. That's what counts. I'm ridiculously happy to see him. I kinda want to hug him, but would cut my arms off before I did. I don't have to know anything about him to know he's not a hugger.
“Hello,” he says.
“Hey, Peter.” The words feel awkward in my mouth. This isn't going to work. Tex pinches my shoulder, a subtle sign for an introduction.
“Peter, this is my friend Texas. Tex, this is Peter.” No turning back now.
“It is nice to meet you, Texas.” She looks a little stunned. I wish I could be a fly in the corner of her mind to see how she had pictured him. Obviously different than the reality. I'll have to pick her brain later to find out how different.
“It's Tex. Nice to meet you, too.” She wraps her arms around herself instead of shaking his hand, which is kind of good, because he wouldn't have shaken her hand anyway. On the other hand, she's acting un-Tex like, looking oddly serious.
“I'm freezing, so I'm going in. You coming?” She's being exceptionally rude.
“Be there in a sec,” I say, looking at Peter. I feel like there's something else going on here than just Tex snubbing him.
“Okay.” She gives Peter a look like he's going to lunge at her, and then dashes into the pulsing house, nearly tripping in her heels.
“Sorry about that,” I say, shaking my head.
“Her reaction is normal. She senses what I am.” Of course he isn't offended, or at least he knows how to hide it.
“Is everyone like that? I mean, doesn't that make it hard to, um...” I don't finish. He knows what I mean.
“Not everyone is like that. She is more sensitive than most.”
“So she's got, like, noctalis radar?”
“That is one way to put it.” I stand there, hoping he'll say something about my costume. I shift from side to side so it sparkles in the lights from the porch.
“We should, um, go in,” I say, rubbing my bare arms. It really isn't that cold out, but I don't want to stand outside. He follows me as I walk up the steps, taking my time in the heels Tex shoved on my feet. We're the same size, which means I couldn't say no to them.
“I'll warn you,” I say as we walk across the porch, which shudders in time with the music blaring from inside, “Jamie's probably going to interrogate you.”
“I have faced worse.”
“Yeah, I bet you have.” I glance at him for a second under the light, trying to figure out what Tex was so weirded out about. I did warn her that he was strange. Maybe he's stranger than I thought.
I open the door and we're blasted with noise and heat and the smell of smoke and sweat and booze. It's overwhelming. I breathe it in, wanting to drown in it. Parties always have that effect on me. I don't want to go and then I get there and don't want to leave.
“You're going to be okay, right?” I check to make sure he's not freaking out. He is unruffled, as always.
“Yes.” I had hoped for something more reassuring, but he isn't a very reassuring person. Noctalis.
I look for her, but Tex has already been swallowed up in the mayhem.
“I am right behind you.” I hear his voice even though the music is loud enough I can feel it pulsing in my veins. I have the instinct to grab Peter's hand so I won't lose him, but I suppress it. He sticks out, and not just due to the fact that he isn't wearing a wife beater or a Hooter's t-shirt like every other guy. The air around him is different, or something foreign seeps from his pores. It's easier to see when he's standing in a room full of human guys.
“I should have told you what to wear. It's a theme party.” He stays silent as we walk into the melee. “I'm going to find Jamie.” I yell so he can hear me, which is stupid. Of course he can hear me.
I thread my way through the party, finding Jamie watching a game of beer pong, as usual. He's done the cleaner version of white trash, with a white tank top and some sort-of ripped jeans. Along with some weird sunglasses and an empty beer can in a cozy that says Life's a Beach on it, he's the classiest trash I've ever seen. His eyes widen as he looks me up and down. There's a lot of skin to look at. I blush under all the glitter, wishing I felt less naked.
“Hey,” he says after he's done examining me. It takes him a second to register Peter.
“Jamie, this is Peter. Peter, Jamie.” I gesture to each in turn, crossing my fingers that this will go better than the Tex intro.
“Oh, hey.” Jamie holds out his hand for a shake. Panicking, I try to catch Jamie's eye to tell him that's a no go, but he's staring at Peter.
“It is nice to meet you.” Peter puts his hand into Jamie's. My mouth drops open. I struggle to close it as Jamie takes his hand back, frowning. I have to bite back a bunch of things I want to say to break the moment and distract Jamie. He does it for me.
“So, how did you two meet?” He examines his hand as I die a little inside.
“I spilled a soda on him at Miller's a few weeks ago.” I'd come up with the story while Tex was doing my hair.
“Are you from around here?” He directs this question to Peter, looking him right in the eye. Bold.
“New York, originally,” he says without so much as a blink. Jamie stands tall like he's sizing Peter up.
“What brings you to this neck of the woods?” My hands keep twitching so I hide them behind my back.
“My mother has always wanted to live in Maine.” He never told me that. I wonder if it's true.
“Hey, I'm going to get a drink, you want to come with me?” I say, trying anything to end the awkward conversation. I hope Peter will take the hint.
“I'll come with you,” Jamie says. Dear god, will this ever end? What the hell was I thinking?
“Have you seen Tex?” he says as we wind our way back to the kitchen.
“No, she's probably dancing.” I look at the dance floor, but there is such a mishmash of people I can't pick her out. I hope she doesn't get wasted, because she's supposed to be the designated driver, and I'm terrified I'm going to crash her car.
“Do you want a drink?” I ask Peter, hoping he doesn't think I mean the blood variety. It's just a courtesy, since I need to make him look as natural as possible.
“No, thank you.” His eyes stay on mine in that unnerving way he has. I'm going to kill Tex for convincing me to wear this thing. I've gotten more than a few looks and a whistle. Not that it isn't flattering, but I don't like guys I have to see on Monday in geometry thinking about me that way.
I grab a beer from the sink full of ice. Looks like I'm going to need it. Peter stands next to me, looking at all the people. It didn't even occur to me that he might want to, um, feed. That a room full of sweaty teenagers might not be the best place for someone who feeds on blood.
“Hey, J, can you come help me man?” One of Jamie's teammates, dressed in a NASCAR shirt and a Budweiser hat tipped sideways stumbles over. Probably needing help with a kegstand or something. Jamie glares at Peter, as if to issue some sort of man challenge. Peter seems immune.
“I'll see you later.” He gives Peter one last glare before following his drunken buddy. I crack the top of my can and take a swig for spite as soon as he's gone. “Sorry about him, too,” I say to Peter. “This was a bad idea.”
“It is all right.”
“How is it you're always so calm? Nothing phases you.” The beer needs lime, but I can't find any.
“I have been through many things. A party is nothing different.”
“I guess.” I drink again. The beer zips through me, warming my blood and making my face hot. Peter and I stand in awkward silence. He seems a million miles away.
“What are you doing back here?” Tex bounces over. Her skirt is all over the place, but compared to some of the other outfits, her's is mild.
“Just getting a drink,” I say, holding up my beer.
“Come on, you need to dance.” Ignoring Peter, she grabs my arm and pulls me along to the next room where most of the dancers are going nuts. The music pounds, making me ache to dance. I'd missed my chance at the last party, thanks to Jamie. All I want is to move and lose myself in music and let my body do what it was made for. I miss it.
I know Peter's right behind me. I'm getting better at feeling the disturbance he causes in a room.
“You can leave if you want. I'm sorry I dragged you into this.” I whisper it, but I know he'll hear. His hand skims my shoulder accidentally. Nothing Peter does is accidental.
“I will stay with you,” he says in my ear. He's much closer than I thought. Goosebumps errupt on my skin.
“I'm going to be dancing.” I turn to face him. Tex is already going at it, twirling in her skirt, hands in the air. I hope no one takes pictures of this. I search for his eyes. It is even harder to find them in the dark, strobe-lighted room.
“May I dance with you?” His head does that side thing, and my lungs find it hard to function for a second. He wants to what?
“Sure.” What kind of dancing is he familiar with? The song changes to “Everytime We Touch,” covered by a band I don't know. “Do you know how do dance?” Bodies bump into us as everyone else goes wild, lost in the fast beat.
“Show me.” His head is still tipped to the side.
“You'll have to touch me.” He just blinks. I'm starting to think it's the noctalis equivalent of a shrug.