“The only people who claim nicotine does nothing are people who have never been addicted to nicotine.”
“Like, is it the flavor? Because I feel like you could get the same experience from sniffing a La Croix.”
I pluck the vape from his hand and take another drag; I cough only a little bit this time. He takes the vape back and shakes his head.
“No more of that. I won’t have your addiction on my conscience.”
Before I can think of a response, the music, which we’ve been able to hear the faint thrum of, cuts off. A voice—I can’t make out whose—comes over the mic. Time for speeches.
I stare at the door. Its presence looms large until it’s all I can focus on.
I should go back inside.
I don’t want to go back inside.
Do Ihaveto go back inside?
“I’m sorry,” Alex says, drawing my attention to him. “I know tonight isn’t easy for you.”
His voice is so quiet, I could almost believe I imagined his words.
Almost.
“So Iamthat obvious. I’ve always wondered,” I say bitterly. God, I’m fucking pathetic.
“Not obvious.” Alex shakes his head. “At least, not to anyone you’re worried about. Ellie’s got a lot of great qualities, I’m sure, but he’s not particularly observant.”
I open my mouth to defend him, but what comes out is “I’m pretty sure Cat’s noticed.”
“Yeah, Cat sees more than she lets on. You’re fine, though. She’ll never tell Ellie.”
“Why not?” I scoff. “Wouldn’t that be the perfect wedge to drive between us?”
“Sure, if she had any confidence in their relationship. If not, she’d worry that in bringing up the feelings she suspects you have for him, she’d givehiman idea. Put you on his radar, so to speak.”
“If I haven’t been on his radar for the past seven years, I never will be,” I remark, but a memory comes to mind, one I’ve been dutifully trying to ignore for the better part of a year.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Alex says thoughtfully. “You seem like the kind of woman who could sneak up on a man’s affections when he least expects it.”
“What the hell does that evenmean?” I laugh. “Is that a compliment? It feels like it’ssupposedto be a compliment, but it’s woefully lacking. I might actually feel a little insulted.”
“Don’t, I’m just talking out of my ass. Thanks for calling me on it.”
“Anytime,” I joke.
“You want to get out of here?” he asks, standing taller, his eyes brightening as if new life has been breathed into him.
I’ve always known, in a cold, distant, sort of clinical sense, that Alex Aquino is a cute guy. Attractive in a way that sneaks up on you, like he said about me. But now, with excitement in his eyes, the air around him rife with possibility, he looks so good, it’s dangerous.
I’ve never had a particular taste for danger.
“And go where?”
“Anywhere. I don’t want to be here; you don’t want to be here. Why should we stay?”
“If you don’t want to be here, why’d you come?” I laugh incredulously.But I’m pretty sure he notices that I don’t deny wanting to be elsewhere.
“Why’d you?” he challenges.
