We stayed through a single round of Who Am I—the game where someone tapes a little slip of paper to your forehead with a famous person’s name on it, and you have to ask questions of the other partygoers to figure out who you’re supposed to be.
It was just the sort of game that I’d usually begged off from when I’d lived here. But May and Sophie ganged up on me.
“Fine,” I caved. “But I get to pick both of yours.” So I put “Miley Cyrus” on Sophie’s forehead and “President Obama” on May’s.
May wrote mine, but Sophie taped it on. When she leaned over me, I got a whiff of green apple shampoo.
“Am I Eeyore?” I asked immediately.
May rolled her eyes. “Too obvious. Try again.”
“I need another piece of pie to play this game,” I said. “Anyone else?”
They both claimed they couldn’t eat another thing, so I helped myself. Zach stood at the dessert table, a scrap of paper taped to his head. It read: Zac Efron.
“Let me guess. The twins did yours?”
Zach grinned. He was a man of few words.
“At least yours is flattering. Mine is some asshole, right?”
He shrugged. “Don’t ask the former cult member for help with cultural trivia. But I’m pretty sure yours isn’t cool.”
It took me a single lap around the room to figure out that I was supposed to be Donald Trump. And when Sophie figured hers out, she came over and threw the scrap of paper at me. “Miley Cyrus? You made me the worst singer to ever sell a million records? You are such a shit, Jude Nickel.” She slapped my arm.
“Never said I wasn’t.”
At that, May gave me an ornery eye roll. “Coffee before you go?”
I shook my head. “We’d better head out.”
May hugged me. “I’ll find Sophie’s coat. Come back next week. Bring Sophie,” she added quickly.
My answer was noncommittal. “Thanks, Pooh Bear.”
After a fast round of goodbyes, we were headed toward Colebury again. Sophie was quiet in the passenger seat. Rain spattered against the windshield, and I drove slowly again. Once again I was full of food and warmed by company. If I ever described this moment to a treatment counselor, I knew they’d tell me not to forget it. “Even the grimmest lives have moments of beauty,” I’d heard an addict say once. “Don’t miss ’em.”
“That was nice,” Sophie said eventually, echoing my thoughts.
“They’re good people.” I slowed down to exit the highway.
“True.” Another beat of silence went by. “Why does May call you Eeyore?”
I snorted. “I don’t know. It’s just our shtick.”
“Are you guys a thing?”
The question made me sit back in surprise. “No way.”
“How come?”
Because we’re both in love with other people. I couldn’t say that, though. “She’s a good friend.” One of the only ones I had. “She used to drive me to meetings after we worked the farmers’ market together.”
Sophie’s next words were so quiet that I almost didn’t hear them. “I’m glad you’re getting the help you need.”
The streets of Colebury were deserted tonight. I pulled to a stop around the corner from Sophie’s house. There was no way I could be seen dropping her off. I killed the engine. The sudden silence closed around us. There was only the gentle tap of raindrops on the car and the knowledge that we were truly alone together for the first time in years.
Sophie sat very still. Her eyes cut to mine, and my heart gave an unwelcome squeeze. Whether it was wise or not, I was sorry the night was over. “How about you?” I asked softly. “Are you getting what you need?”
With a tiny tilt of her head, she looked out the passenger window. “Sometimes,” she whispered.
“How come you’re still in Vermont?” I asked. “I thought you’d be giving Miley Cyrus a run for her money by now.”
“I…” She sighed. “That’s not a short conversation.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” I quickly backtracked.
Sophie turned her chin to me one more time. “Thank you for rescuing me tonight.”
There was so much vulnerability in her sweet face that I found it difficult to form a reply. I cleared my throat. “I know I screwed up badly, Soph. But if you ever needed my help, there’s really nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” Even at a whisper, my voice cracked on the last word.
Sophie’s eyes welled. She put her hand on the door lever. “Goodnight, Jude.”
I didn’t think I could answer her. So I only raised a hand to push a lock of hair out of her face.
That was my fatal mistake. Because everything changed when I touched her. Sophie’s cheek landed in my palm, her skin silky and cool. I shivered at the contact, and Sophie felt it. Her eyes locked onto mine. Pink lips parted, and she bit her bottom lip.
Kissing her wasn’t a decision I made. It was just inevitable, the way a clap of thunder follows lightning. We leaned in at the same time. I closed my eyes so that I didn’t have to see the little spark of shock on her face. But my blindness changed nothing. Sophie. Our lips brushed together on a sigh. And then my mouth melted onto hers. I kissed her so slowly. Once. Then twice. Even in my haze of yearning I knew I should memorize every second.