Her shoulders tense, and I let my eyes fall closed. There is no room for us unless we can find a way to live with talking about my brother.
“He didn’t like the attention, he said. We’d go out, but usually we’d sit at the bar, or maybe shoot pool,” she says. I notice the way her cheek feels against me when she talks. I breathe in deep—a blend of citrus and coconut radiating from her skin. I swallow hard, and I know she feels it. Her shoulders grow even more tense.
“I bet you kicked his ass at pool,” I say, opening my eyes and scanning at our surroundings. It was a pool game that lead to me breaking open their secret. Evan and I were playing here, and Maddy was hanging out near our table with a few of our old friends from high school. Evan lost the game, and I played the winner. Maddy disappeared, and a few minutes later, he followed her. I probably already knew, but I just had to see it for myself. I let the guy playing me win, and I went for a walk. I found them in the dark, and after embarrassment faded, I pretended I was happy they were together.
I adjust my hold, and the feel of her strong back under my fingertips forces my eyes closed again. Without even thinking, I let my lips fall forward against the top of her head. I don’t kiss her, but I want to. She must feel me, because she shifts against me, turning her head to the other side, gaining distance between my mouth and her body. I suck my top lip in and bite it hard.
The song breaks for a guitar solo, and I count the seconds, knowing that she’s going to slip away the moment everyone in here begins to clap. I won’t ask her to dance again. I won’t torture myself or push my luck. But I’ll remember this. As bad of an idea as it is, I’m glad I did it. So many painful memories woven into this place, I needed this one good one. It might just be the best memory I have out of everything in my life.
I feel her shift in my arms, and when I pull away slightly, Maddy’s chin pushes into the center of my chest, her eyes blinking slowly while she looks up at me. Two shots and a beer are about to talk to me right now. I smile softly and nod.
“That was a much better dance,” she says.
I chuckle, tilting my head back to laugh before bringing it forward slowly, resting my brow against hers. My eyes look down at the curve of her lips, lower at the line of her jaw, and even lower at the swell of her breast under the soft black cotton of her dress. A heavy breath escapes me.
“I make you nervous?” she asks.
I don’t answer right away, instead closing my eyes and swallowing again. I don’t even care if she can feel it. I drag my hands up her body to her neck until I’m cradling her head in my palms, my fingertips flirting with her hair along her neck and my thumbs caressing her jawline.
“That’s what you said…before. You said you didn’t dance well because I make you nervous,” she says, her words coming out slow and sleepy.
My mouth smiles against the top of her head, and I give in, opening it enough to press a kiss against her, hoping only the strangers are our witness.
“Yes, Maddy. That’s right,” I say. “You make me incredibly nervous.”
Chapter Six
Maddy
I’m a happy drunk. Always was.
The first time I went to a kegger with the Hollister boys, I took over the DJ duties, and apparently, I played nothing but the Beastie Boys Licensed to Ill album over and over again. It’s because I know every word. Because when I was eleven, Will Hollister locked me in his tree house and forced me to listen to it until I admitted I liked it.
I love that album, and it’s all his fault.
No Brooklyn rap at its best this morning, though. I spent the night swaying to country songs in Will’s arms, and at some points, my mind tricked me—I thought it was Evan. I would look up and realize it wasn’t. It hurt, but it was also okay.
And so, I would drink more.
I’m not sick now, but I am not well. I can tell it’s not morning any longer. My head is pounding, and I’m still wearing my black dress. My face is sweaty, and my hair is sticking to my cheeks and mouth. My tongue feels…dry. I chew at nothing and push my body over, stretching my arm out to feel for my friend Holly, for Amber. I’m alone.
I slide down my mattress, my dress sticking to the quilt tossed over it, and when my knees find the floor, I manage to slide the dress up and over my head. I crawl on my hands and knees to the closet, and I pull down the cotton shirtdress, sliding it over my body, but leaving the bottom pooled around my waist because I’m too miserable to stand just yet.