Page 35 of I Saw You First

But Wil is not supposed to be here.

I catch my reflection in the mirror above my dresser. My wet hair is still wrapped in a towel, and I haven’t done my makeup. The apartment looks like the Tasmanian Devil blew through because—surprise— Brianna and I are both working obnoxious, preholiday hours and don’t have the time or energy to keep the place clean. I have to work early tomorrow morning. I absolutely should not be going to this show tonight, but The Golden! Live music!

“Hello?” Wil calls again.

“Oh, hey.” I try to steady my voice. “I’m not quite ready. I’ll be right out.”

I duck into the en suite half-bath, blow dry my hair, and initiate Glamour magazine’s Glowy, Fresh Look in Five Minutes, wondering why in the world he’s here. When I go out to the kitchen a few minutes later, I grin. Moses is hissing and has Wil cornered against the wall next to the garbage can.

“Call off your guard cat,” Wil grumbles and I burst out laughing.

When Moses hears me, he takes one last swipe at Wil’s leg and scurries away. “That’s what you get for showing up without warning,” I say. “Good boy. Hiss at the bad man,” I whisper loudly enough for Wil to hear.

“Your cat is kind of an asshole.”

“He’s not an asshole when he’s snuggling with me in bed,” I say without thinking. Wil coughs and I turn away so that he can’t see how my cheeks have burst into flames. “Why are you here? Donnie was supposed to pick me up.”

Wil tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans, dark ones. My mouth goes dry. Goddamn. Does he have to look so good all the time? He’s wearing a black Dark Side of the Moon T-shirt—the same one, coincidentally, that he wore the night we met. At The Golden. I wonder if it was intentional. I shake my head. Of course it’s not intentional. What is wrong with me?

“He got stuck at work and asked me to get you. If you ever checked your answering machine, you would have known I was coming.”

“Our answering machine is broken.”

He ignores me. “You shouldn’t leave your door open like that. Not in this neighborhood.”

“What’s wrong with my neighborhood?” I don’t wait for him to answer. “I didn’t realize you were going tonight.”

“Tyrell was supposed to go but can’t, so Donnie gave me the extra ticket.”

Barf. Tyrell. If I’d known he was going, I might not have said yes. “Didn’t know you were a big Ruh-Roh fan,” I say, astounding even myself at how stupid that sounds.

“I could say the same for you,” Wil says.

“Please don’t. Then we’ll both sound like morons.” That gets a tiny twitch of a smile out of him. “I’m not, but it’s kind of a big deal for Devon. Why are you going? Let me guess. You’ve always wanted to get your groove on to ‘Scooby Snax.’”

“I don’t dance.”

“What are you going to do? Stand around like a statue while the rest of us have fun?”

He shrugs. He’s not giving anything away tonight.

“How did you get my address, anyway?” I put my hands on my hips. “Did you look it up in HEAS?”

His brow crinkles. “Of course not. Donnie gave it to me.”

Oh, right.

“We should get going,” he says. “Are you about ready?”

“Nope!” I say with my biggest, brightest smile. “Help yourself to water or a Snapple. You’re way too early.”

The line for the Ruh-Roh show snakes around the block. Devon is practically bouncing, he’s so excited. Wil and I stand quietly in the chilly, early October air. The ride from my apartment to Donnie’s was silent, too.

Finally, the line moves. Wil puts his palm against the small of my back to guide me forward. His touch sends swizzles up and down my spine, and I suck in a breath. After the bouncer checks our IDs and stamps our hands, he puts it back. We enter the loud, happy chaos of the club, and still, he doesn’t remove his hand, not until Devon has found the exact perfect spot on the floor and Creepshow Five, the opening act, takes the stage.

I kind of love that hand on my back.

Wil, our DD, drinks expensive bottled water all night, and I limit myself to one bottle of Rolling Rock. Ruh-Roh is a tall, chunky Black twenty-something wearing a Pulp Fiction T-shirt, baggy athletic pants, stark white tennis shoes, and his signature stocking cap with dog-ear flaps. He puts on a loud, high-energy show.