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I smiled before turning to her, no longer feeling in the partying mood. “He was good in bed, though,” I chuckled, though my humor felt empty.
Nicole shook her head and started reaching for more bottles of tequila. “We need to get you drunk. Thenerveof that guy,” she said as I glanced at my watch. It was almost midnight, which meant that Uncle Mack would end his shift at the shipping yard and haul his ass up here and drag me home. I’m pretty sure he had a tracker on my phone. As if on cue, my phone pinged, indicating a message from him.
Uncle Mack:I’m on my way. You better be outside waiting for me or I’ll call the cops and shut down whatever party you’re at.
I smiled to myself before pocketing my cell. I knew with complete certainty that he would absolutely drag me out of here if I didn’t stumble onto the lawn in exactly sixty seconds. “I got to go,” I said to Nicole.
She pouted beautifully, her round face falling at my words. “You’re leaving? It’s barely midnight!”
“Yeah, my uncle is on his way. He’s threatening to break the party up if I don’t go. Sorry.” I couldn’t have timed his overprotectiveness better. I had no desire to stay here much longer but was glad to make an appearance and play the part. Now everyone could go home and gossip about how Roe Palmerwas the town slut. I welcomed it with open arms, burrowing the truth deep in my chest.
At least it was better than what they said back in New York:
Roe Palmer is the daughter of that crazy woman.
Nicole wrapped me in an Oscar-worthy drunk girl hug, swaying both of our bodies as she squealed her goodbyes. “Okay, text me tomorrow! We can plot your revenge on Joel,” she called as I pulled away and started pushing through the crowd and outside.
Uncle Mack wasn’t here yet. I didn’t hear the familiar roar of his Camaro or feel his broody, pissed-off stare on my back. I walked over to the tree line, giggling to myself at the thought of his impending lecture. My heels sunk into the lawn with every step; the ground was soft from last night’s rain, and cold mud splattered on my bare legs. I found a tall tree and braced my back against the trunk. Staring up at the night sky, I counted exhales until my uncle arrived.
“Tired of the party, too?” a warm voice asked to my left. I snapped my head in the direction of the voice and flinched when I saw a figure leaning against another tree and staring at me. He wore a hoodie and had his arms folded over his chest. I couldn’t make out any of his features, but he carried himself like someone who had seen the world and didn’t like what he found. He had proud shoulders and long legs that were rooted to the grass, similar to the tree he was leaning against. I could feel his eyes on me, though I couldn’t see them. Even in my drunken haze, I sensed his energy. It was like drinking whiskey and letting it burn you from the inside out.
“I’m not much of a partier,” I answered before staring up at the stars. “You?”
“I’m not really a fan of them. It’s just a bunch of sloppy, stupid kids.”
I snorted at his gruff declaration. “Are you a student at Mountain Prep?” I asked. Turning to face him, I watched his chest rise and fall in beat to his breath. A long, pregnant pause filled the space between us, and then he chuckled.
“Nope. I graduated a while ago.”
“Ah. So you’re a creeper waiting on vulnerable, drunk high school girls,” I nervously teased as I reached for my phone. I might be reckless from time to time, but I was taught to read a situation, and something felt dangerous in his presence.
“Nah. I’m just looking out for a...friend. I wanted to be near in case something happened.”
“That’s what they all say,” I joked, but there was a sense of honesty to his tone.
I could practically feel his eye roll, though I couldn’t see it. It was pitch black outside. “So, if you’re not much of a partier, why are you here?” he asked.
It was a pretty personal question, and my flight or fight response perked up, waiting to see what I’d do. If I had wings on my back, I’d be midair. “I felt like escaping for a bit tonight,” I finally replied. Maybe it was the darkness of night, adding a sense of privacy to our conversation, or maybe it was the fact that I couldn’t see his face, making our entire exchange feel anonymous. I’d never see this man again. I didn’t even know his name. It felt like I was in a confessional all of my own. I didn’t need a cathedral, I needed the night sky.
“Why?” His question was simple but felt weighed down with curiosity.
“It’s a hard day for me,” I whispered. “It’s...it’s my eighteenth birthday. I don’t really like birthdays.”
He went silent, as if debating my words. It was an overshare, but I had the crutch of alcohol boosting my confidence and making me bold.
“Why not?”
The words got stuck in my throat. My tongue shriveled up and died on the spot, leaving his question to linger unanswered between us.Because I don’t like to celebrate being alive when my entire family is dead.
He pushed himself off the tree and took a step toward me. I felt myself leaning closer to him. “Sometimes the only way to stay sane is to ignore how you feel. I used to count the blades of grass in my backyard. I’d shove my headphones so deep in my ear and turn up the volume as high as it would go until my skull rattled with the heavy beat.”
I nodded my head. Even though I hadn’t told him what was bothering me, he got it.
The strange man took a step closer, and the spark of a very, very stupid idea settled in my stomach. “I do stupid shit to forget…like kissing strange men in the woods,” I hinted as my lips stretched into a drunken smile. I also made friends. I broke up with boys that loved me. I talked to strangers until my throat was raw, picking apart the little nuances that made them tick so I could focus on something else for a while. He counted blades of grass; I collected and discarded people.
I didn’t know if this man was beautiful or dangerous. I just knew he could pass the time between the painful beats of my heart, and right now that was enough.
He took another step closer. A rough palm cupped my cheek. He smelled like the woods. His presence felt steady. Time stretched, and his palm grew hot against my flushed skin. I breathed him in like I’d been holding my breath all night.
There were many types of kisses in the world, and I’d had my fair share. Something told me kissing this man would feel like pure anticipation. I loved the kisses that happened after hours of thinking of them. I might have only spent a few minutes with this man, but the building desire blooming within me felt like an eternity. “I’m not going to kiss you,” he finally whispered before pulling away.
I found myself leaning closer, trying to minimize the distance between us. “Oh? Why not?” I asked.
His chuckle sounded like bells and mischief. “Because I’m not some creep preying on vulnerable, drunk high school girls.”
“Roe!” my uncle yelled, snapping me out of our strange moment. I whipped my head toward the driveway and frowned when I saw my uncle standing by the hood of his Camaro, tapping his foot impatiently at me.
“Sorry,” I began. “I gotta g—” I twisted to face him, but the stranger was gone. “Go,” I whispered to myself before shaking my head. He was already gone? I guess I wasn’t the only runner at the party tonight.
“Roe! Get your ass over here!” Uncle Mack yelled again. I took a deep breath, then released it with a sigh, silently thanking the stranger for the brief moment of forgetfulness.
