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Maybe because he’s gay, I think Nathan will leap into the dancing. But instead he looks vaguely terrified. I remind myself that he’s surrounded by strangers. Then I also remind myself that I am one of those strangers, even if it doesn’t feel that way. I pulled him down here, so it’s on me to make him feel at home. I find myself thinking that dancing is just another form of singing along, and all I have to do is get him to sing along, the same way he was singing along to the song that wasn’t playing upstairs.
He’s swaying now, blocked in by all the people around us and the space they’re taking up. I try to ignore that, and focus only on him and the music. I create a space to draw him into. And it works. I can feel it working. His eyes matching my eyes. His smile matching my smile. The song. The song is taking the lead. The song is telling us how to move. The song is guiding his hands to my back, to my waist. The song is generating the heat and giving it to our bodies. The song is pulling me closer. The song, and his eyes.
Then a new song. He starts to sing along, and that makes me happy. It’s all making me happy, to be so loose in a place that’s so crowded. To not feel Justin tugging me in any direction. To give up on everything.
“You’re not bad!” I yell to Nathan.
“You’re amazing!” he yells back.
More songs swimming through the red. Bodies coming and going. Nobody shouting my name. Nobody needing me, or asking for anything.
I lose track. Of time. Of what I’m thinking. Of where I am and who I am. I even lose track of the song. I lose track of everything but the boy in the tie across from me, who is releasing himself as well. I can tell, as one who knows.
Then it all ends. A song is cut short. I feel like a cartoon character, holding for a minute in the air, then looking down and falling to earth. The regular lights go on—they’ve been there all along, beside the red. I hear Stephanie’s voice yelling that the party’s over, that the neighbors have called the cops.
Even though it’s not my fault, I want to apologize to Nathan. Because it’s over. It has to be over.
“I have to find Justin,” I tell him. “Are you going to be okay?”
He nods. “Look,” he says. His hand is still on my wrist. “Would it be weird for me to ask you for your email?”
I wouldn’t have thought it was weird, except for him asking if it was weird.
“Don’t worry,” he adds. “I am still one hundred percent homosexual.”
“That’s too bad,” I say. Then, before my inner flirt can make more of a fool of herself, I give him my email address, take his pen, and write his email address down on a receipt.
The basement is nearly empty, and there’s the sound of sirens in the distance. Stephanie isn’t making it up—we really need to leave.
“Time to go,” I say. We’re both staying in the space we created, not wanting to leave it even though the lights are on.
“You’re not going to let your boyfriend drive, are you?” Nathan asks.
“That’s sweet,” I say. “No. I control the keys.”
There’s chaos at the top of the stairs, and we’re separated before we can say goodbye. Justin isn’t in the kitchen, so I figure he’s already at the car.
Sure enough, he’s pacing there, waiting for me.
“Where were you?” he accuses as I unlock the door.
“The basement,” I tell him when we’re in the car. “You knew that.”
He curses a little, but I know he’s cursing at the cops, not me. I pull out, relieved that we didn’t park in the driveway, where things are all backed up.
“We’re going to make it,” I assure him.
“You’re beautiful,” he slurs.
“You’re drunk,” I say.
“You’re beautiful anyway,” he tells me. Then he puts back the seat and closes his eyes.
I wait a few minutes. Then I discover a song I like on the radio and sing along.
As Justin snores, I find myself hoping Nathan made it out okay.
Chapter Five
