They’re doing the small ritual men do at parties where they cluster, hold their drinks at chest height, lean their heads in to say something quietly, lean back out to laugh at it. Benson is in the middle. Stanley is on his right. Percy is on his left. Rowan ishalf-turned toward the keg. And Blue is standing at the back of the group with his cup in his hand. His hair is brushed back, and he’s wearing a black t-shirt. He’s smiling at something Benson just said. This time, it doesn’t steal my breath away. It makes me feel at ease to see him like this. All of them lift their cups at the same time, the small unspokencheersboys do without making it a thing, and his eyes find mine across the room.
Shit.
I told myself I wasn’t going to do this again. I promised myself I wasn’t going to look. I was doing so good. I’ve been keeping my eyes off him in every room he’s been in. I’ve been doing the work of becoming a girl who doesn’t look at Blue Golding, and I’ve been making progress. But after a dozen Jell-O shots and thisfundrink, my mind has lost all of its self-control.
Because here is the thing about me and Blue.
Sober, I can hold the line. I can keep my eyes on the floor. Sober, I can remember every reason I’m not doing this anymore — the way he can’t handle when I look at him, the texts unanswered, the years of him telling me without ever saying it that I wasn’t the one.
Drunk, none of that exists.
Drunk, my body remembers that night in the bedroom at our friend’s house when we first kissed, and it remembers it like it happened last week.
Drunk, I remember the moment I lost my virginity to him and thoughthe was the one.
He drinks from his cup, keeping eye contact with me the whole way.
The way his Adam’s apple moves when he swallows makes my head spin.
I freeze on the dance floor in my white wings digging into my spine because Mila is dancing against me. Mara is screaming along to the chorus on my other side, and the room goesunderwater the way the room went underwater at the last party here, and the only thing in the world that isn’t underwater is the seven feet of air between his eyes and mine.
The music keeps going.
Mila keeps dancing. Gianna keeps dancing. Mara is now in a circle with three girls I don’t know.
Six seconds.
Maybe seven.
He looks away first.
He says something to the person on his left — Percy, I think, but I can’t quite tell because the room is still underwater. He sets his cup down on the kitchen counter and walks toward the back door. He goes through it, and the door closes behind him.
I stand on the dance floor with my heart in my throat.
He’s running.
Again.
Stanley and Benson both notice. They’re looking at the back door. Then they look over at me. Then they’re looking at each other. Stanley says something. Benson nods. Then they’re back watching me, and my heart drops.
Oh, shit. They know.
I look away first.
Mila grabs my arm. “Melly.”
“I need air,” I shout at her.
Her face does the small fast read it does when she’s known me for nine years and doesn’t need an explanation. She nods. “Go.”
I don’t go out the back. I head for the front door. The front is jammed with people. A drunk guy in a banana costume is at the door telling a group of trick-or-treaters that we’re all out of candy.
“Sorry, kids. Happy Halloween.”
Three heads turn to look at me as I approach. The cold air from the open door slaps me in the face fast.
Nope.
