Make a Move

by Meika Usher

  “I could think of other things I’d like to stick a pin in,” Birdie muttered and I did not miss the sidelong glare she shot my way. “Multiple pins, actually.”

  “Calm down, killer,” Sunny said, closing the lid on the pizza box. “What’s with you and stabbing?”

  “Seriously,” Cat chimed in as she stepped over a pile of debris. “Are we gonna have to pat you down every time you enter the room?”

  Birdie crossed her arms over her chest and stared straight ahead. “Fuck off. Both of you.”

  “Whatever.” Unfazed, Sunny shot to her feet, sending Birdie and I toward the center of the couch. She dropped the pizza boxes atop a mountain of bridal magazines. “I want ice cream.”

  “Ooh, me, too.” Cat took a flying leap over the rest of the shit on the floor, toward the kitchen, like a hungry gazelle. “I think I’ve got potato chips in the cupboard.”

  “You guys want anything?” Sunny called as she followed.

  “No, I’m good,” I said struggling to right myself. I had not prepared to be this close to Birdie. I had not prepared and she smelled good and she didn’t move away.

  “I’m good, too,” Birdie replied as she used my thigh for leverage to push herself upright. And left it there. Her touch scalded its way through my jeans, soaking right into my skin.

  I pressed my lips together and exhaled through my nose, focusing on anything but the systematic way every cell leapt to attention, from my hair follicles to my toes.

  My body wasn’t nearly as sure we should keep our distance as the rest of me was, apparently.

  “So,” she said once Cat and Sunny disappeared into the kitchen. “About the other night.”

  Ah, shit.

  16: Birdie

  Nate looked from me, to Jude and Ben, engrossed in their football game, to the kitchen, where Cat and Sunny had vanished. Whether he was looking for an escape, or didn’t want anyone to overhear, I couldn’t tell.

  Didn’t care, either, honestly.

  I mean, I did care. A little. I didn’t want everyone to know what had gone down between Nate and me. I didn’t want them to know that we’d shared an alcohol-induced makeout session. And I definitely didn’t want them to know that Nate had run off like I was made of hot garbage and urinal cakes. Because, fuck, that was embarrassing.

  And infuriating.

  As much as I hadn’t wanted to admit it the other day, Chad was right. I was overanalyzing this. I didn’t want to be. It pissed me off that I was. But there it was.

  And there Nate was.

  Sunny could’ve warned me he’d be here. She could’ve been like, “Hey, Bird. I need you to come to this thing that Cat is forcing me to do, and I need you to be my maid of honor, and oh, by the way. My hot best friend is gonna be there.”

  But, no. Only the first part happened.

  Not that I was bitter about the maid of honor thing. Not really, anyway. Who wanted to wear a floofy dress and walk down an aisle and stand in front of a bunch of people while those two yahoos pledged their lives to each other, anyway?

  Well, maybe I was a little bitter.

  But not as bitter as I was about the Nate thing.

  “What about the other night?” he finally said, keeping his voice low.

  “I don’t think I need to spell it out.” My fingertips pressed into his thigh. He tensed. “You ditched me.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “I mean, kinda.” I turned toward him so I could see his face. “You straight-up sprinted from my apartment. If it weren’t for Evelyn stopping you, you’d probably have left burn marks in the carpet from how fast you took off.”

  “That’s...a bit extreme.” He glanced my way, then quickly looked away. Heat visibly streaked across his cheeks. I’d have felt bad for putting him on the spot if I weren’t so irritated. “I’m sorry,” he said, gaze focused hard on the hand I still had on his thigh. “I just...” His sentence trailed off and he seemed to search the air for the rest of it. But before he could locate the words, Sunny and Cat returned, heaping bowls of ice cream in hand.

  Instant reflex had me yanking my hand away from Nate’s thigh before they could see. I straightened and folded my hands primly in my lap.

  “All right, shitheads,” Sunny said as she plopped down on the other side of Nate, depositing a stack of bridal magazines in his lap. “Let’s look at some wedding dresses.”

  I could feel Nate tense against me, and I allowed myself one tiny half-smile. Fine, I thought, scooting ever-so-slightly closer. He didn’t want to tell me what happened the other night? I was about to make his evening all kinds of uncomfortable.

  Leaning in, I flipped open the first magazine, letting my fingertips graze his. “What style were you thinking, Sun?” I asked, peering innocently her way as Nate stiffened. The sheer amount of discomfort radiating from him in this moment was kind of making my life.

  “I don’t know,” Sunny said, glancing at the open page. “Not that one, though.”

  I looked down at the empire waist dress she was referring to and shook my head. “Definitely not that one.” And then I flipped the page, making sure to drag my fingers over Nate’s wrist as I did.

  Nate shot an unreadable glance my way. I widened my eyes. What? I asked silently. We’re just looking at dresses.

  Looking at dresses, my ass, he seemed to shoot back, dark brows furrowing.

  I stifled a smile and leaned in just a bit closer, my breasts brushing against his arm. He was blushing so hard.

  I was an asshole.

  But he had it coming.

  “What about this one?” Sunny asked, pointing to a strapless lace confection. She started to pick it up, but Nate’s grip tightened.

  “I don’t like that one,” he said, his voice tight. “It...it’s the wrong style.”

  I bit back a laugh and leaned closer. Mostly because I liked the way he felt pressed against me. I liked the way the color had risen up his neck and spread over his cheeks. I liked the way he couldn’t quite make eye contact with anyone.

  And I really liked the idea that he was probably hard beneath the magazine he gripped tight in his lap.

  “I don’t know.” I reached for the magazine, hiding my smile behind my hair. “I think I need a closer look.” I leaned down, letting my hair brush against his forearm as I brought my face closer to the magazine. And his lap. I lingered for a few seconds longer than necessary before straightening. “He’s right,” I told Sunny. “Style’s wrong.”

  She shrugged. “We’ve got plenty of time to sort it out.”

  “Not if you want a spring wedding,” Cat chimed in from her place on the floor. “It’s already November.”

  “I know,” Sunny answered slowly. “But, like I’ve said a dozen times before, I don’t think a spring wedding is what we’re looking for.”

  “But—“

  “But nothing,” I cut in before Cat could present her case. “It’s Sunny’s wedding. Not yours.”

  Cat’s mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. She looked from me to Sunny, then nodded. “Okay,” she said. “All right. I’m sorry, Sunny. We can plan the wedding for whenever you want.” She stood and smoothed her shirt. “Let me take your bowl into the kitchen.”

  Sunny nodded, eyes wide. “Sure,” she said, handing Cat her empty bowl. Then, once Cat was gone, she swiveled to face me. “That was amazing.”

  I shrugged. “Someone had to say it.”

  “Yeah, but...Cat is scary,” Sunny said. “And you just...damn.” Straightening the stack of magazines in her lap, she added, “I think you just earned co-maid-of-honor.”

  “Wait, what?” Nate straightened, suddenly alert.

  “She just got Cat to back off.” Sunny’s wide eyes found Nate’s. “That’s an MOH-worthy accomplishment, don’t you think?”

  “I could’ve done that,” Nate grumbled. “I was just...being polite.”

  “An MOH has to stand up for her bride, Nathaniel,” I said matter-of-factly. “Not just...run away.”

>   My words hit their mark. He winced, but said no more.

  “Besides,” I continued, letting my fingertips graze his thigh as I reached for the last magazine. “My taste in dresses is much better.” He stiffened beneath my touch, and I swallowed my amusement. “Don’t you think, Sunny?”

  “I’m gonna get going,” Nate cut in before Sunny could reply, pushing to his feet. “It’s...been a long day.”

  “You want me to walk you down?” Sunny asked, puzzlement on her face. “There’s leftover pizza. I could pack it up for you.”

  “I’m good,” Nate answered, not looking back as he crossed the room, grabbing his coat on the way. “See you guys later.”

  I watched the door click shut behind him, then glanced back to my sister. “Actually,” I said as I straightened the stack of magazines Nate left behind. “I think I’m gonna get going, too.” I grabbed my coat from the back of the couch. “I’ll call you.”

  Nate was still in the hall when I closed the door behind me. He looked up, surprised and unnerved. “Oh. Hey.”

  I shoved my arms into my coat and let my eyes rake over him, inch by intentional inch. “Hey.”

  He put his hands into his coat pockets and nodded his head toward the staircase. “I’m heading out.”

  “Okay, Mr. Obvious,” I replied, heading toward the stairs. “Mind if I join you?”

  When he didn’t answer, I started down the stairs. His footsteps followed behind me, slow and hesitant. One floor down, I stopped on the landing and watched as he caught up.

  “Lovely weather we’re having,” I drawled when he reached me. “Don’t you think?”

  Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his coat, he slid his gaze to me. It was the first time he looked at me—really looked at me—all night. And his expression was a flurry of torment and indecision and anxiety. And it dulled the sharp edges of my anger. Just a smidge.

  I leaned a shoulder against the wall, my body between him and the exit. “I didn’t mean to steal your thunder back there.”

  “What? With the maid of honor thing?” He shrugged. “Cat is scary. You earned it.”

  “I know.” I flattened my back against the wall and watched him look from me to the stairs. Silence floated around us for a long few seconds. Finally, I spoke again. “So, if we’re gonna do this co-maid-of-honor thing, we need to clear the air.” Pausing, I raked my gaze over him one last time. This baby deer was gonna bolt. I just knew it. But I had to know. I had to.

  “I’m gonna need you to tell me why you took off the other night. You know, so things aren’t weird between us.”

  My words seemed to hit him like a physical blow. He backed up and looked away. But then his eyes found mine again. He pressed his lips together and nodded, as if he was psyching himself up.

  I folded my arms across my chest, leaned a shoulder against the wall, and waited. He was like a baby deer. I didn’t want to spook him.

  “Okay,” he said finally. “All right. You’re right.” Discomfort radiated from him in waves. “So,” he said, pulling his hands from his pockets and shaking them out at his sides. “The other night. When you and I...” He trailed off, eyes squinting toward the ceiling. “I...ah, left, because...” He scrubbed a hand over his head, his hair standing on end. I tried real hard not to find it adorable. After all, this fucker fled my apartment without explanation and then didn’t speak to me for a week. That wasn’t adorable.

  “Because?” I prompted, holding tight to my anger. I would not cave. I wouldn’t.

  Unless he had a real good reason.

  “Because...” He spun on his heel and took a couple steps away from me, then circled back. “When we were...you were just so...and then you...ah, fuck it.” He stopped abruptly and met my eye dead-on. “I came in my pants.”

  I straightened. “You...” I started, sure I’d misheard. A laugh spilled from me. “What?”

  “Came,” he repeated. His cheeks flamed, and now he wasn’t meeting my eye. “In my pants.”

  “No,” I said, another laugh sputtering from me. Seriously? Was he seriously going this route instead of just telling me why he left? “You did not.”

  “Yep.” He shrunk in on himself and eyed the exit. “Are we done here?”

  “Nate.” I moved into his exit path before he could flee. Again. “You can just tell me you don’t like me.” I never had a guy make up such an...embarrassing reason to stop seeing me. If I weren’t so amused, I’d have been insulted. Instead, all I could do was laugh. “I’m a grown-up. I can take it. You don’t have to lie about jizzing in your pants. Like a teenage virgin or something.”

  He flinched.

  I winced.

  “Oh, no.” My laughter started all over again. “Oh, god. You’re serious.”

  “Yeah, so...” He pressed his lips together and sidestepped me to get to the stairs. “I’m gonna go. Find a deep, dark hole to bury myself in or something.”

  “Wait—” I started, but he was very much already gone, taking the stairs two at a time.

  Well, I thought as I watched him vanish around the corner. Guess he had a good reason, after all.

  17: Nate

  “That bunny never stood a chance.” Aidan dropped his napkin to the table and surveyed the carnage with a grin. “Poor fella.”

  In the center of the table lay the bright pink remains of my niece’s birthday cake. It used to be a happy pink bunny, but now it was straight out of a scene from a horror movie. Well, maybe a horror movie made by Disney. Now...well, it was slightly traumatizing. Probably would’ve been less so if someone—meaning Aidan—hadn’t insisted upon eating one single eye, leaving the other to stare, unblinking, at its murderers.

  I shuddered and looked away. “That ain’t right.”

  “He died doing what he loved, Nate.” Aidan licked pink frosting from his fork, relishing in the sweetness. “’Twas a noble death.”

  “You’re warped,” I replied, turning the bunny just enough so that we were no longer making eye contact. “So freaking warped.”

  I had to say. Sitting here in my parents’ dining room, talking about the death-bunny-cake before us, was the happiest I’d been in a week. In the last seven days, I had checked my phone. I had tossed my phone aside. I sat, unseeing, before my computer screen, trying to get somewhere with the same damn Zombitch scene I’d been stuck on for weeks. And I generally just became a self-pitying pile of mope.

  It was super pathetic.

  But what I did not do was call Birdie. I did not call. I did not text. I did not email or snail mail or send a courier pigeon.

  I steeped in the silence.

  And I tried not to think too hard about the fact that she, too, was steeping in the same silence.

  She laughed.

  I told her why I left her place that night, and she laughed.

  There were no words for the humiliation.

  Well, there were, probably. But I was all stopped up, writing-wise, and so I did not have them.

  “Could you refrain from the death talk in front of your five-year-old niece?” Sarah, my sister-in-law, hissed, bringing an end to my interior monologue. She tossed Aidan a glare, blue eyes flashing.

  Cora, the niece in question, seemed rather clueless as she shoveled cake into her frosting-smeared mouth. But I got Sarah’s point. Hell, Aidan’s death talk was even freaking me out.

  Aidan put up his hands and gave Sarah a sheepish smile.

  Beside him, Davis sank back into his seat, a hand on his stomach. “I have to say,” he said, surveying the debris in front of him. “This was way better than pizza.”

  Ma grinned smugly from her seat at the head of the table. “I know.”

  Being that it was a five-year-old’s birthday dinner, Davis had come expecting a few pizzas and a super sugary birthday cake. He’d been right on the cake front, but Ma had never ordered a pizza in her life. Dad did—almost every Friday when Ma was off with her sisters, doing sister things. But a family meal? Pssh. Of course she cooked. Tonig
ht’s meal consisted of, among other things, Ma’s famous—at least within our family—bulgogi. And Davis was right. Way better than pizza.

  “Yep, definitely better than pizza,” Dad agreed from his place next to Ma. He reached over and squeezed her hand, his dark eyes bright with affection. Ma smiled back, then pushed her chair away from the table.

  “Guess who I ran into yesterday at the grocery store,” she said as she stood and began piling dishes to take to the kitchen.

  I stood, too, and gathered up the empty dishes closest to me. Everyone else would head into the living room, where their food comas would take over, but I always helped Ma clear the table and get the dishes started. Not because I was a kiss-ass, like James suggested when we were teens. And not because I was hoping for the biggest portion of leftovers, which was a very real fear for Aidan. But because I actually liked doing it. Putting things in their place was calming for me.

  And, yeah, it didn’t hurt that Ma did reward me with extra leftovers. Not that I’d ever tell Aidan that.

  “Who’d you see?” I asked as I balanced Cora’s empty Disney Princess cup atop a stack of plates.

  “Lucy!” Ma replied, her eyes lit behind her cobalt-framed glasses.

  All eyes found me. A stillness settled over the table. Well, if you didn’t count my ever-babbling two-year-old nephew in his high chair.

  I cleared my throat and reached for Davis’s empty plate. “Oh, yeah?”

  It’d been a while since my ex-fiancée had been mentioned, and for that I was grateful. I was not, however, grateful for that peace coming to an end. There were three things I’d love to never talk about: that one episode of Galaxy Crash, the virgin thing, and Lucy. Because talking about Lucy inevitably led to—

  “Why did you break up with that lovely girl?” Ma asked as she balanced one more plate on her stack.

  That. It always led to that.

  “Lucy broke up with me,” I said evenly. “You know this, Ma.”