Page 7 of Those Eyes, That Mouth

He’d been quiet for a moment. And then he'd said, "You could do that here. Hold hands, I mean. Kiss in public. You'd never get away with that where I'm from—the rednecks would beat the shit out of you—but you could here."

I'd said something about how I thought I'd be a cool boyfriend, if I ever got the chance.

He’d just looked at me, dead serious, and said, “You would be.”

The two vocal parts began to ring around each other in rounds, a dizzying climb that finally broke and faded, trailing off into the distance like a disappearing light.

The turntable cut off.

Silence.

Nathan didn't move. He stayed there, his shoulder a steady, burning weight against mine. I waited for him to say something—that he loved it, or that he'd never heard anything like it—or, hell, that he hated it.

I searched his face for a sign that the song had affected him the way it did me.

He turned his head and looked at me. He swallowed, and licked his lips, and for a beat, I wondered if I’d been reading everything wrong. If maybe⁠—

Someone pounded on the door.

A voice called out, "We're coming in!"

Before either of us could move, the door swung open.

THREE

Nathan and I startled apart.

Alexandria burst in, already talking. "—going to dinner early so we can get back."

Kelly was right behind her. "And get ready for the concert!"

The concert. I barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes. It wasn't fucking arena rock.

I jumped up from the bunk and went over to the stereo to change the record. Nathan didn't have time to get up, but it was his bed. He shifted against the headboard, sitting up straighter.

Our room reeked of cigarette smoke. The girls' perfume cut through it—something floral and sharp—and the air from the hallway pulled on the open windows. Papers fluttered on the desk. The Smiths poster heaved away from the wall and sighed back into place.

Alexandria took in the dim room with a raised eyebrow. Heavy eyeliner and plum lipstick. Her long dark curls ratted into a messy tangle—Siouxsie Sioux makeup, Robert Smith hair. Black and purple layers, thigh-high tights and chunky Doc Martens. Silver rings glinted on every finger.

Alex.

I'd bummed a light from her my first day on campus, and we'd been inseparable ever since. She was the coolest girl in our freshman crowd—dated the guy who booked the bands at the Echo Room, got into bars without having to show ID, had connections all over the townie scene.

She was my social lifeline.

She spotted the record in my hands and grinned. “Oh my god, you found it! Having it on vinyl is so much better anyway."

Alex climbed over Nathan's legs and wedged herself against the wall—casual, familiar, unflirtatious. Kelly took the opening she left as permission, sliding onto the mattress next to Nathan in the exact spot where I'd been lying moments before.

Kelly was pretty, blond, with fake blue contact lenses that made her eyes look almost alien. She had on tights layered under corduroy shorts, a Benetton sweater—preppy meets alternative—and Doc Martens that still looked too new. Like a former cheerleader trying on her cooler roommate's style.

I didn't want to call her a poser—she was sweet, really—but she laughed too loud and her eyes never left Nathan.

She obviously had a huge crush on him. Anybody could see it—except maybe Nathan.

I could hear Alex playing matchmaker, saying Let's go get them for dinner.

The bunk bed was too small for three people without somebody sprawling over somebody else. Kelly snuggled against Nathan. Eventually she draped a leg over his like it was nothing.