Page 31 of So Thirsty

“Not brave enough to join in?” the man asks me.

“I’m not interested in joining.”

He leans forward, leans in close to me, close enough that I can finally see him. Through a tangle of totally overgrown dirty-blond hair, his eyes find mine. His face is almost too pretty, too perfect. But there’s some asymmetry about it, some elusive chaos in its terrain. It’s what I find most attractive about him. The mystery of what makes him more strange than beautiful.

He lifts his chin, flaunting a jaw sharp enough to cut glass. “Because you don’t want to, or because you are a coward?”

“You’re sitting in the corner, same as me.”

He laughs. “This is true. But I am a coward.”

“Why did you tell me I should be scared?”

“Never mind.”

“Never mind?”

He sighs and leans back, vanishing into the dark. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I don’t believe anything you say.”

He rocks forward and stands up. He’s tall, must be over six feet, with long limbs, a narrow neck. “Would you come with me if I asked?”

He extends a hand. His palm wide, his fingers reaching.

“Where?” I ask.

He grins, revealing dimples and big white, crooked, magnificent teeth. “Does it matter?”

Behind him, there are things happening that I’ve only ever heard frat boys joke about. Things I had no idea people actually did. I can’t decide if I find it amusing or upsetting. I see Naomi’s naked back pop up from behind a couch. She appears to be actively involved.

I never envied her adventurousness. I was bold in my own way, until I decided not to be. But there’s an ugliness percolating in my chest, a venomous resentment rising from the depths.

The truth is, I doubt she brought me here because she thought it’d be good for me, that it’d break me out of my shell or help me get my mind off the Joel situation. Whether she realizes it or not, this isn’t some benevolent excursion to bring me back to myself. We’re here because she wants to be here. Because this is her kind of reckless endeavor.

It inspires this need in me to spite her. The question is, do I spite her by sitting in this corner with my arms crossed or by taking this man’s hand and letting him lead me somewhere?

Or do I take his hand not because of Naomi, or because of Joel, or because of all the decisions I’ve ever made in my life that haunt me, that make me doubt myself and my ability to choose anything, to do anything right? Do I forget all that and take his hand for the simple reason that I want to? That I really, really, really want to?

I look up at him, at his enormous round, brown eyes, at his excruciating beauty, and I slide my hand into his. There’s a slight shock, an electric current that passes through me, that I might be imagining. The touch of him makes my insides fizz, like I’m a shaken can of cola, like I could erupt. His skin is cold, his palm calloused.

He gently pulls me up, and my knees creak as I stand. My legs give, angry at me for sitting on the floor, and I stumble into him.

I mutter an apology, staring straight into his chest. He wears a ratty old sweater that has holes, that’s far too big. It looks grimy but smells clean. He smells like bergamot.

I want to put my ear to him and listen as if he were a seashell.

Who even am I? What is this complete and utter anarchy that’s occurring under my skin? My blood rages through my veins; my heart’s thrashing in full riot mode.

I take a step back. Embarrassed by own my thoughts, I attempt to compensate by playing it cool. “Lead the way.”

But he doesn’t move. He stands right where he is.

It’s all sensory overkill. The smell of the fire and the incense and the sweat, which is now the most dominant note. “My Wife” plays, one of my favorites on that album, and it’s almost but not really louder than the fire and the moaning and the sound of bodies on bodies on bodies. My vision is gin blurred, and my eyes struggle to adjust to the shifting firelight and the shadows fighting to claim the space.

There’s the taste of juniper and tobacco, and there’s my hand in his. This new touch.

When was the last time I was touched by somebody new?