Gia laughed as she dried her hands on a green towel. “Thanks. Breast feeding definitely helps, but even after eight months, my stomach still looks like a pile of cottage cheese when I’m naked. It’s totally worth it, though. She’s the best thing I’ve ever done.” She paused, turning around to rest her butt against the counter. “Do you want kids?”
“Maybe someday,” I said, thinking about the conversation Daniel and I had had after our trip to see his parents and extended family over spring break. On the flight home, we’d talked about children, and he’d confessed that he wanted to have at least three, something I wasn’t sure I wanted, too. I hadn’t spent much time around babies, and when I had, I’d felt more awkward than maternal. I had a hard enough time keeping a handle on my own issues; I didn’t think I was properly equipped to guide them through theirs, too. “I’ll have them as long as you’re the one to stay home,” I’d said, only partially joking. Daniel had surprised me by nodding. “You got it,” he’d said, and while I wasn’t sure if he had really meant it, the conversation had ended and we hadn’t discussed the subject since.
“You know our boy Tyler’s in love with you,” Gia said and, once again, I was taken aback by her blunt approach.
“Well, he was . . .” I sputtered, dropping my gaze to the ring on my left finger, spinning it around and around again using my thumb. I still hadn’t gotten used to wearing it. “But that was back in high school. We’re just good friends now.” Even as I spoke, I thought about the shiver that had crossed my skin at the gym the other day, when Tyler had gently yanked my ponytail. I thought about the pull of attraction I’d felt over the last couple of weeks whenever we spent time together, which only seemed to fuel the hesitance I felt about my sudden engagement to Daniel. If I really loved him, if he really was the person I should marry, would I be having these feelings about Tyler?
“Uh-huh,” Gia said, nodding, but not looking like she believed me. “You two need to get your stories straight.”
“I don’t know about Tyler,” I said, waving a hand in the general direction of the backyard, “but what I need is another drink. Many ’nother drinks!” I gave her what felt like a sloppy grin, and she laughed.
“Let’s do it!” she said, and we headed back outside, where the night sky had darkened even more, and the speakers were blasting “Sweet Home Alabama.” Everyone had clumped together on the large patio, where they were dancing, arms in the air, bodies moving to the music, many sipping from red Solo cups. I searched the crowd for Tyler’s familiar blond head, and then felt him sidle up next to me.
“Hey,” he said, leaning down in order to whisper in my ear. I felt his lips against my skin, smelled his sweet cologne and the booze on his breath, and I wondered how much more he had had to drink while I was inside. And maybe it was my own growing intoxication, or the party atmosphere itself, but as I turned to face him, I slowly turned my head so that my lips trailed against his cheek in what could be interpreted as a light and teasing, drawn-out kiss, taking pleasure from the fact that my touch made him quiver.
“Hey, yourself,” I said, taking the bottle he held from him and knocking back another long pull of tequila, swallowing twice, then a third time, keeping my eyes on his the whole time. “Wanna dance?” I asked in a raspy voice, the muscles in my throat both fiery and numb from the rapid influx of alcohol.
He nodded, his lips pressed together, his normally light green eyes dark with desire. It was so different from how Daniel looked at me, which was always so adoring, so sweet and kind and accepting. But Tyler’s eyes hooked into my soul. He saw right through me. He knew every detail of my life, the good along with the bad. I could always talk with him because I didn’t have to explain myself, to waste time trying to make sense of why I was the way I was. He already knew my story. He already knew me.
I tucked the bottle up against my chest and led Tyler into the middle of the throng of people moving to the music. The song changed to Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me,” and Tyler snatched the bottle from me and took another drink, then held it back to me, challenging me to do the same.
“You’re on,” I said, putting the bottle to my mouth one last time, swallowing as much of the sharp liquid as I could without gagging. As we danced, my body began to feel like molten steel, viscous and hot, and my mind went blank. I was only the music, the beats of the bass line, the movements of my limbs. Someone took the bottle from my hand, but I barely noticed. Tyler pressed himself up close against me, his hips grinding against mine. I could feel his arousal, and my own rose to meet it. We locked gazes, his long leg tucked between mine, his pelvis circling, and his hand on my lower back. It was intimate enough to feel as though we were the only two people at the party. My edges seemed to melt away, and a thousand words were spoken in the looks we gave each other.
The song stopped, and in the brief moment before another started, I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his, opening my mouth to use my tongue. He answered by running his hands up and down my back, pressing his hips even harder against me. I didn’t care that we were surrounded by so many other people. I didn’t care that there was a ring on my finger or that I was cheating on my fiancé. All I knew was to try to hold on to this sensation of falling, to feel instead of think, to let the warm, loose sensation in my body take me over.
When we finally stopped kissing, we were breathing hard, but neither of us said a word. Tyler grabbed my hand and pulled me through the small crowd back into the house. “Where are we going?” I asked.
“Somewhere private,” he said. The two words slurred together in a muddy mix, and he spoke again, more deliberately. “I want to be alone with you.” He led me down the hallway, past the bathroom where Gia and I had talked, then found the stairs. We stumbled our way up to the top of them, holding on to each other for support, stopping every few steps to kiss again. Tyler opened the first door we came across, and then surprised me by scooping me up in his arms, the same way his father had done to him, holding him over the pool the day we met.
I giggled, wrapping my arms around his neck, kissing him as he kicked the door shut behind us, then carried me over to the bed, dropping me onto it. My head swam and I had to shut my eyes to keep the room from spinning. Tyler lay down next to me and began to run his large hands over my body, pushing up the hem of my skirt, using his fingers to drift along the skin of my inner thigh. The heat between my legs twitched in response.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, nuzzling my neck. “It’s always been you, Amber. No one else but you.”