“We’re going to hit the dance floor in a little bit,” Cas said. “You should come with.”
One, there was no dance floor, just an awkward space cleared in the living room. Two, I had just about as much social dancing skill as I did athletic prowess. Three, I had no desire to watch Cas and Lindsay grind to crappy pop songs.
“Thanks, but I think I’m gonna go catch up with some people.” Tonight’s version of the quick escape.
After a circulation of the ground floor, a few hellos, and a little small talk, I was left to hover. Chapter Two of the story of my life: How awkward party hovering looks good on no one.
I was hovering in the front hallway when I noticed that Ezra Lynley was nearby. He was with a group of underclassmen who were desperately trying to engage him in conversation, but he didn’t look chatty. In fact, upon closer inspection, it appeared that he was hovering, too. It wasn’t for a few minutes that I realized he was drifting closer and closer to where I was standing.
“Hi,” I said, finally, when he was too close to be ignored. “How’s it going?”
I hadn’t spoken to Ezra since he had returned my book. I can’t say Rachel’s interview was at the top of my to do list. But since he was decent in the hallway, I figured maybe he could be decent at a party, too.
That thought left my mind when Ezra turned and looked at me like he didn’t know who I was. I was about to roll my eyes when he said, “Not bad. You?”
A response. Not a particularly effusive one, but at least it was civil.
“Okay. You seen Foster around?” I was considering leaving.
“No. I didn’t even know he was here.”
“Yeah, he said he’d make himself scarce.”
The pound of bass added to the din in the living room as the sound system kicked in. The “dance floor” flooded with people.
“I don’t really like these things,” Ezra said after a while.
“No?”
“No.”
Silence.
“Kind of reminds me of dances in middle school,” I said. “You know, the ones where the vice principal would go around with the ruler, making sure there was ‘room for the Holy Ghost’?”
“I never went to those.”
The sea of dancers rippled a little. I spotted Cas in the middle of the room with Lindsay. They were gyrating to the beat. There was no room for the Holy Ghost.
A dull ache hit my stomach. Don’t get me wrong. Cas had dated before, but—as bad as this sounds—I had always felt vindicated by the fact that Cas’s relationships never lasted long.
But this was Lindsay Renshaw. Lindsay Renshaw wasn’t the kind of person you go out with for two weeks and then get bored of.
I knew that one day Cas would fall in love, and then it would be all over but the crying. Someone else would be dry-dry at the Saturday afternoon car wash, and I would be minus one best friend.
I didn’t notice Ezra staring at me. “So … do you … dance at all … anymore?”
“Excuse me,” I said, and walked off.
I went across the room, picked up a cup, put it down, circled the couch twice, and then hurried off as fast as I could to the bathroom.
Cold water. A little peace. I splashed my face with water from the tap and hung there over the sink for a moment, letting the beads roll down my cheeks and land in the basin.
“Are you drunk?” a voice said.
So it was only temporary peace.
I whipped around and ripped the shower curtain back. There sat Foster, fully clothed, in the empty bathtub.
“What the hell are you doing in here?”
There was a rubber duck balanced delicately on his head. It didn’t move as he spoke. “Just sitting.”
This was one of those moments. Those Foster moments. Early-morning smoothies and the like. I squeezed my eyes shut hard.
“Why is your face wet?” he asked.
I grabbed a towel.
“Did Cas make you cry? I’ll punch him.”
I wasn’t crying. “No one’s punching anyone.”
“I’m sure somewhere someone’s punching someone else. Like in a prison, or at a bar, or during a war, or something.”