Shit. He just caught me smelling his jacket. He’s going to think I’m a total creep. I am a total creep. I just didn’t want him to know it.
He scoots closer and rests his hand on the back of my chair. “I like how you smell, too.” He leans evencloser and inhales right at the nape of my neck. “Like vanilla and peppermint.”
“I keep peppermints in my purse,” I blurt and then bite my cheek. What a stupid thing to say. Yes, I keep old-lady hard candy peppermints in my purse at all times, but he doesn’t need to know that. He wasn’t asking for an explanation.
He laughs softly, and I feel the sound reverberate along my spine. I want to turn toward him, but I’m afraid if I do he’ll lean back in his seat and retreat, and I like having him close, so I stay perfectly still. He twirls a lock of my hair in his fingers, holds it to his nose, and inhales again.
When he releases my hair, his fingers brush across my bare shoulder. A light, tingly touch. I suck in a quiet breath and try to ignore the way my heart races. I don’t look at him, but I sense he’s smiling, that he knows exactly what kind of effect he’s having on me and likes it. This is dangerous ground, isn’t it? We shouldn’t be doing this. But… please don’t stop.
The microphone makes a squeaking sound, and Cosmos pulls away like he’s coming to his senses. I grab my drink and try to cool myself off by lifting the cold glass to my cheek. The next poet reads, but his words blend together. I’m too distracted to pay attention.
“I’m sorry about Ivy,” Cosmos says, leaning close to my ear so I can hear him over the clapping. “She shouldn’t have told your friend about your mom.”
My feelings are so completely mixed up, such a swirl of positives and negatives, that I don’t knowhow to answer. So, I fall back on my tried and true. “It’s fine.”
He studies me for a long beat. I pick up my drink and hide behind it, watching Kiara and Ivy talk animatedly with the woman taking names at the front of the room. Sullivan stands a foot behind them, arms crossed, with a subtle grin across his lips.
“So, tell me about your master’s program. Creative writing, right? What are you doing for your thesis?” Cosmos asks.
I don’t want to talk about my thesis. I don’t want to talk about Mom. I don’t really want to talk at all. Thankfully, another poet takes the mic. I could still answer Cosmos. Other people are talking softly while the poet reads, but I point to the stage and smile, as if I want nothing more than to soak up every word the mediocre poet says.
Cosmos doesn’t try to engage again. Kiara, Sullivan, and Ivy return to the table. A woman gets up and reads a long sonnet about King Arthur. A young pimple-faced teen reads a haiku about bullying. And then Kiara’s name is called. She marches straight to the stage, takes the mic confidently in both hands and looks right at Sullivan.
“When I touch myself, I don’t think of you…”
She’s clearly trying to embarrass him, but after the initial wide-eyed shock of the first line, he regains his composure and smiles back at her in defiance. I, however, feel as if someone struck a match to my cheeks. I’m acutely aware of Cosmos shifting in the seat next to me. The urge to crawl under the tablemakes my skin itch. I always want to crawl into tight spaces when I’m uncomfortable or embarrassed. Her poem shouldn’t be affecting me like this. It’s not like I’m the one reading it, but I can’t shake my blush, and I definitely can’t look at Cosmos.
At the end of Kiara’s poem, the audience roars with applause. Ivy jumps to her feet, the loudest of all, and Cosmos grabs her arm to pull her back down. It’s the biggest response any of the poets have gotten so far. Maybe Sullivan has a point about pandering to the masses. Like it or not, sex sells.
Kiara takes a bow and blows a kiss before walking off stage and joining us at the table. Sullivan took Kiara’s chair when she went onstage, so she plops herself down on my lap. I’ve seen Mom and Aunt Joan sit like this more times than I can count, but I’ve never had a friend so comfortable with me she’d sit on my lap. It’s awkward. Especially when Kiara was just on stage talking about masturbation and I can sense half the guys in the room staring at us.
“Cosmos Romero.” The announcer calls from the stage. I’d almost forgotten that Cosmos was going to read.
Ivy yells and whistles as Cosmos saunters slowly up to the front. Kiara jumps off my lap and takes Cosmos’ vacated seat, and I breathe a silent sigh of relief. There’s a tension between us right now that I don’t like, and I wish we could go back to the easy, surface-level friendship we’ve always had.
When Cosmos reaches the mic, he smiles affectionately at his sister. Then, he shifts his gaze to me.Everything stops, and I’m afloat on a still sea. My body lights up, sparkling from the heat of his gaze, so intense and focused.
No matter what lies I tell myself, it’s obvious he’s interested. He came here for me. It doesn’t matter, though, because he’s off limits. Whatever this is, whatever cliff we’ve been edging along, it can’t go anywhere. At least not while Mom’s a patient. And even after that, will he really want me once he gets to know me? No one else has.
He probably gets off on the forbidden nature of whatever this is, and once we’re allowed to date, he’ll lose interest. It’s pointless to think of him this much. There’s no way he thinks of me this much. Right? But he likes how I smell, and he makes the world stop. How can I not think about him?
Cosmos doesn’t hold the mic. He stands in front of it, posture stiff, like he’s a little uncomfortable. His gaze shifts away from mine. If he reads the poem while looking at me, no one will hear it, or he’ll have to read it twice, so I understand, but I want him to look at me again the way he was looking at me a minute ago.
“A clock ticks somewhere
but here
the second hand
stops its forward march
to listen to my heart
thump, thump
thump, thump
ticking a sweet, singular song
