The floor sticks to my shoes. I motion for a girl to scoot off a cooler lid, grab a beer, then grab a second for good measure when I see a decent label. “Where’s the bottle opener?” I ask.
“Here,” someone behind me says. It’s Mindy.
“Thanks.” I try to hide my surprise. She doesn’t usually go to parties, and she looks alarmed as I pop both tops, chug one bottle, and toss it in the trash while swigging from the other.
Andrew comes in and fills a cup at the sink. “Is Raych with you?” I ask.
“She had to piss.” His head jerks toward the hall. “You gonna dance?”
“No. You’re on duty.”
He shakes his head and leaves.
“Rough night?” Mindy asks.
I shrug. “How’s yours?”
“Kind of boring.” She plays with a strand of hair. “My Homecoming date already went home and my friends are all … busy,” she says, eyes flicking toward the hallway.
“So you’re…”
“Bored.” She steps closer. “Are you sure you don’t want to dance?”
“Pretty sure.” I take another gulp of beer.
She crosses her arms at the wrist. It forces her boobs together and pops them up from the neck of her shirt, an awkwardly obvious move that makes me feel bad for her, and a little guilty. Mindy is throwing herself at me. It wouldn’t kill me to pay attention to her, and clearly no one else wants my attention tonight. “Well…” she says, and stretches her arms back, pushing her chest impossibly farther out as she steps forward.
My body pulls toward her, but something small pulls me away, a tickling feeling in my throat that I swallow. Then Trent busts back into the kitchen. “Who spilled red shit all over the carpet?”
Mindy grabs my hand. “That was me!” she whispers, and pulls me out of the room. “Come on!”
RAYCHEL
The line for the bathroom snakes down the dark hallway. This is why you don’t break the seal. Then you have to pee every five minutes and spend the whole night in line. I scowl at the boys ahead of me, who should just go outside. I want the line to hurry so I can get back to Andrew. I want it to take a long time so I can see if he’d rather be with Keri.
Mostly, though, I just want to pee, and in a house this huge, there has to be more than one bathroom. I find the stairs and duck under a DO NOT ENTER sign. In the second floor hallway, the music is muffled enough that I can hear giggles and moans coming from behind the closed bedroom doors.
Since no one’s in line for this bathroom, I take my time cleaning off my knees. The sting brings back memories of bike wrecks. Mrs. R. blowing on my scrapes. Dr. R. telling her that spreads germs. Why don’t I have those memories of my own parents? I wash my hands, staring at myself in the mirror. That little girl was me, but this isn’t her. I could wash this face right down the drain.
Someone pounds on the door, making me jump. “About time,” a girl sneers as I step out.
I don’t answer. I’m frozen to the spot. She huffs and pushes me out of the way, but I keep staring at the couple disappearing down the hall. I want to reach out, grab the backs of their shirts, tell them no.
But I can’t move.
The click of their closing door breaks me. I take a step toward it, too late to stop the sound that follows. The lock. I feel like that sound—not a shatter but a pop. A snap. A sickening click of realization.
I take another step—and my high heel catches in the carpet. My ankle gives and I sit down hard, on the floor against the wall, staring at the door. The pain is sobering. Why do I want to stop them anyway? I don’t want to take her place, and getting laid would do Matt a world of good.
I just want him to come help me. But I’m alone and I’d better get used to it. Matt and Andrew are both going to leave, and I’ll have to fend for myself.
MATT
Mindy giggles a lot. “Matt!” she says, patting the bed beside her, and giggles again.
I probably do look funny, standing here with my hands in my pockets. Move, I tell my feet, and they take me to the bed. Move, I tell my arm, and it falls over her shoulders. Move, I tell my other arm, and it brings the bottle to my lips. My beer is hot. This girl is hot. She brings herself to my lips and pushes me back.
They say it’s impossible to think clearly with your clothes off. But sometimes having them on doesn’t make much difference.
Her hands move over my chest and down my arms, taking my beer away, taking my hands to put them where she wants them. Where I want them, I’ll admit, but my mind and body aren’t communicating very well. Move, I tell my hand. Move! And it clumsily unsnaps her bra.
She makes a noise in my ear, a half giggle, when I touch her boobs. Pay attention, I tell myself, but voices in the hall distract me. One sounds familiar, but I can’t tell, and it’s hard to think with Mindy writhing all over me.
I’m not complaining. I’m just saying.
RAYCHEL
“What are you doing?” He nudges me with his toe.
I don’t look up.
He puts his hand on my head and tilts it back. “Hello?”
I push him away. “I’m just sitting.”
Carson extends his hand again. “Need help?”
“No,” I snap, trying to stand. I cannot believe I hurt my ankle again. Matt will …
Who cares what Matt will say or do. Anything he wants. He’s not mine, after all.
A door opens closer to the stairs and a laughing couple stumbles out. The smell of beer and musky sweat follows them. “What happened?” Carson asks.
“I tripped.” I press my hand flat against the wall for support. Nothing to hold on to.
He produces a fifth of Crown. “Want a painkiller?”
Of course. He’s too good for regular whiskey. But it does go down smooth.
“You having a good time?” he asks.
“Not particularly,” I say. He leans against the wall, blocking my exit. Trapping me in a corner. “When did you get here?”
“About half an hour ago. The Grove got busted,” he says, shrugging. “Keg was cashed anyway.” He gestures toward my leg. “I guess you don’t want to dance, huh.”
“How’d you know I was up here?”
“Richardson told me.”
“Matt?” I ask stupidly.
“Andrew.” He grins. “Lucky guy, he’s got Keri Sturgis glued to his thigh.”
Suddenly my bones feel unconnected again, but not in a good way.
“Listen,” Carson says, “I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks about this, but … I felt weird.” He scuffs his shoe against the carpet like a little boy. “After what we did.”
What you did, I want to reply, but don’t.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he says. “About, you know. The girlfriend thing.”
My mouth opens and closes. “Apology accepted,” I say, though he hasn’t actually said sorry. And certainly not about the right thing.
“I just … I’ve had a crush on you for a long time, Raychel.” He leans forward, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
If I close my eyes, I could pretend he was sincere. His gaze meets mine, and I realize with a sinking feeling that he is sincere, which is so much worse. “Carson,” I start, unsure what to say. “You—you barely know me.”
He half smiles, looking a little hurt. “Sure I do. I’ve known you since elementary school.”