What’s wrong with you? I ask myself. Why are you thinking about being six inches apart when you finally get to touch her?
Zoe pauses for a breath, and I take the opportunity to ask, “Are we going to tell people?”
“Tell them what?”
“That we’re, um…” I make a vague gesture with my hand, because I have no idea what we are. Girlfriends? It seems way too soon to use that word. Friends with benefits?
“Hooking up?” Zoe offers. “What, you think we should buy doughnuts for everyone?”
“I mean, obviously we don’t need to tell everyone. But what about Livvy and those guys?”
I’m not even sure how I want her to answer, but when she says, “Let’s not tell them yet,” relief washes through me. Everyone already thinks I’m using her to boost my social status, that she’s using me to get in good with my mom. They wouldn’t understand that what’s happening between us is much purer and simpler.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m good with that.”
“It’s nobody’s business but ours, right?” she says, and I wonder if she’s thinking about her conversation with Jessa in the bathroom, too.
“Right,” I say. “Do you want to sing for a little bit, maybe?”
Zoe laughs. “I didn’t bring you down here to work.”
“Making music with you doesn’t feel like work to me.”
“No, not to me, either. But we can sing anytime, and there are lots of other things we could be doing right now.” Zoe toys with the strap of my tank top.
“I like it when you sing to me,” I say. “You have such a pretty voice.” I hope it sounds like I’m flirting, not making an excuse. But I need to know that not everything’s going to be different between us after last night. Regardless of how much I like the kissing, I want it to be an added bonus, not a sideways shift.
Zoe presses her cheek against mine, and for a second I think she’s going to ignore what I said. But instead, she starts singing very softly right next to my ear, sending tiny shivers dancing up and down my spine.
“Never know how much I love you, never know how much I care,
When you put your arms around me, I get a fever that’s so hard to bear,
You give me fever…”
She grabs one of my hands from where it’s resting on her waist and twines our fingers together, and she rests her other hand on my shoulder like we’re at the prom. As she sings, she starts to sway, and I follow her lead as she dances us away from the door and into the center of the room. There’s no space to do anything but turn in tiny circles between the piano bench and the wall, so that’s what we do, wrapped in the warm, sultry embrace of her voice. It’s sweet and romantic and beautiful, and I close my eyes and breathe her in.
This is exactly what I want right now. If I’m honest with myself, this is all I want right now. This is a memory I can hold on to while I’m doing repetitive, menial tasks in the scene shop tomorrow, one that won’t wear out quickly no matter how much I worry it between my fingers.
I know Zoe’s probably humoring her naive, innocent, new sort-of-girlfriend. But I try not to think about it, and for a few perfect minutes, I am completely happy.
The entire week after Pandemonium is glorious. All day long, as I sort fake greenery and paint flats and glue endless sequins onto Styrofoam balls, my phone buzzes against my hip over and over:
Can’t wait to kiss you later
Missed a cue bc I was thinking about how cute you are
Learning a love song & pretending you’re listening
It’s really, really hard to keep the goofy smiles off my face.
I thought I wasn’t going to get any acting experience at Allerdale, but pretending there’s nothing going on between Zoe and me is harder than playing Ophelia while Marcus lobs eggs at me. Sitting next to her at dinner every night as we twine our feet together under the table and “accidentally” brush each other’s thighs and elbows is exquisite torture. One night Zoe drops her fork on purpose and bites my knee while she’s under the table retrieving it, and I squeal so loudly I have to pretend I saw a mouse. The two of us constantly burst into giddy laughter over nothing, and people start rolling their eyes over how many “inside jokes” we have.