He groans. His back shudders under my hand. He kisses me. Once. Twice. Three times. We lie back. I find his heartbeat and lay my head there. He says more things.
The TV is still on, and what he does next is what makes me grateful, what makes me think that maybe all of this is worth it. Because instead of turning back to the TV, he turns it off. He stands up and gets me more water. He does not get himself more scotch. He comes back and returns to his place on the couch, then returns me to my place on his chest. We stay like that for a while. No longer in a rush. No longer wanting anything more than a quiet spot of nothing to share.
Chapter Four
I’m good. I wait until after school on Friday to ask about Steve’s party.
“Will you just stop?” is his reply.
“Excuse me?” I say. “I don’t think I deserve that.”
He shakes his head. “Sorry.”
We’re at my locker. I know he has to get to work. That’s why I’m trying to figure this out now.
“I’m just going to hate at least half the people there,” he says. “As long as you can deal with that, we can go. If Steve and Stephanie start attacking each other, do not expect me to calm him down or take him outside or shield her bitchiness from his bullshit. Just let me sit in the corner and drink and watch like everyone else.”
“They only fought that once!” I argue. These are our friends. Most of the time they behave. Tequila just makes them mean.
He snorts. “Jesus, Rhiannon—open your eyes.”
“You can do whatever you want at the party,” I say. “I’ll drive. Okay?”
“I’m telling you right now, if I go there, I’m going to get wasted.”
“I’ve been warned,” I tell him. “I know I’ve been warned.”
It’s only when I’m driving over to pick him up on Saturday night that I wonder why I want to go to this party.
Rebecca won’t be there. She and Ben have a “date night.” Preston and his best friend Allie tend to avoid parties they find “obnoxious.” And while I’m friends with Stephanie, I have to agree with Justin that being the party’s center of attention might not bring out her best behavior.
Mostly, I guess, I feel that something new might happen if we go to the party. If we stay home, there’s no chance that something new will happen.
We get pizza before heading over—apparently Justin’s father told him he couldn’t go out unless his room was clean, and Justin left the house anyway. When I first asked Justin what his dad was like, all he’d say was “military”—I couldn’t tell whether this meant his career or his attitude or both. Now he’s always saying, “Please God, don’t let me turn into that man.”
I think pretty much the same thing about my mom, so I guess we relate.
On our way to Steve’s, I ask Justin if he knows who else is going to be there.
“Does it really matter?” he asks. “It’s the same whoever’s there.”
I don’t think he’s in the mood for me to argue, so I stay quiet. A song I like comes on the radio, and I start to sing along. He shoots me a look like I’m a crazywoman and I stop.
When we get there, he goes, “You know where to find me”—meaning: wherever the alcohol is. He takes off as soon as I lock the car doors, acting like the party might run out of beer before he’s made it inside. Which, considering Steve’s last party, isn’t totally off base.
Crowded. Already it feels like there are people everywhere. I don’t recognize some of them. I see Stephanie for a brief moment—she gives me a squeal and a hug, then moves on to the next squeal and hug.
I know I should go to the kitchen, get a drink (only one), and stay by my boyfriend’s side. But I find myself wandering away from it instead. Steve stumbles past me—he must’ve started drinking early. I say hi. He tells me to make myself at home.
It’s really loud, some bitch-bashing rap competing with all the talking, making everyone louder. I head into the den and see a laptop there, hooked to the speakers. I look at the playlist and find that the song that’s playing is called “My Dick’s Got Rights!” The next song is called “Naked Like U Want Me.” I think about turning it down. I think about putting on Adele. I don’t do anything.
I look around and see Tiffany Chase talking to Demeka Miller. I walk over and say hi.
“Hi!” Tiffany shouts back over the music.
“Yeah, hi!” Demeka says.
I realize the flaw in my plan is that I don’t have anything to say to either of these girls. I almost tell Tiffany that I get now why she likes to take people around the school, but I don’t think that’s the right party thing to say. It’ll sound like I want to be her, when that’s not it at all.
“I love your hair!” I tell Demeka. She recently added a red streak.
“Thanks!” Demeka says back.
Tiffany and Demeka look at each other. I’ve clearly interrupted their conversation. I know I should uninterrupt it.
“See you around!” I say. I drift off, but not that far. Again, I know I should head to the kitchen. But I don’t.
Next to the laptop, there are CDs. Probably belonging to Steve’s parents. (I have no idea where they are right now.) Adele is near the top. Having nothing better to do, I start to flip through.
There’s Kelly Clarkson, which makes me think of the drive to the ocean. And there’s Fun., who we also heard.