His response is almost immediate. Sweet. Thnx.
I hope that means he’ll come. Nervousness courses through me. This is my chance with Dean—my chance to turn his eye away from Monica. I still don’t know for sure if he was lying about the poems. Why wouldn’t he be honest? Maybe because he’s embarrassed or nervous. If he wrote them, I need to let him know I feel the same. I’ll stake my claim, and if he finally lets the truth out, I know Monica will understand and back down.
A sense of foreboding fills me as I gather my clothes, flat iron, and makeup bag, but I try to shake it off. This storm cloud over my head cannot last forever. I’m going to take matters into my own hands. I will have fun tonight.
Monica gives me a quick, small smile when I get to Lin’s, but she’s quieter than normal. The past two nights at the Porpoise Beach party and then when we went biscuiting, things felt better between us, but now it’s back to being tense. Maybe because I mentioned Dean might be there tonight? Whatever the reason, the atmosphere is noticeably less excited than our usual preparty vibe. As much as I’m not in the mood for butt kissing, I can’t go on like this. I link my pinkie with Monica’s and pull her aside.
“I’m sorry,” I say. I need to say more, like I won’t let a guy come between us, but I’m sorry is all I can manage at the moment.
She chews her glossy lip. “Me, too.”
When she hugs me, I squeeze her tightly. More than anything, I need my friends right now. Kenzie went to an early movie with Vincent, but they’re planning to meet us at Quinton’s.
As we leave, Lin’s parents are sitting on the couch, as close as can be, holding hands, watching a house-flipping show. They’re older than my parents by at least ten years, and the sight of their obvious bond sort of crushes me in good and bad ways. They’ve made it together this long and still hold hands. I’m both happy and sad as I watch Lin kiss them before we go.
“Your parents are so cute,” Monica says in the car.
“I know, right?” Lin smiles. “Relationship goals.”
They both glance at me suddenly, like they’re worried they’ve upset me by pointing out a happy marriage, but my fake-smile game is strong and puts them at ease.
I blare the music so Lin and Monica can sing at the top of their lungs, and all thoughts are chased out of my mind. Quinton’s house is down in Triangle, at the end of the street in an old neighborhood. We have to park far away and walk. Even though it’s already dark, there are people sitting outside on creaky porches. Some of the men call out to us in slurring voices, laughing, and we ignore them.
Quinton’s house is ahead, and it’ll be filled with people I know. I don’t have to be afraid, but after what happened with Bauer, I do have to be more cautious, which I hate to admit.
My mood lifts at the sound of music thumping as we approach the squat split-level surrounded by overgrown bushes. Voices carry from the backyard. We push our way inside, where the air is stifling with too many bodies, but it doesn’t bother me. Just the opposite. I let myself get lost in the crowd, overshadowed by music and movement, my worries momentarily drowned into silence. I see Destinee and she smiles big, giving me a hug as we pass.
Lin, Monica, and I make our way right to the middle and dance until we’re sweating. Guys from school surround us, dancing up to us. Hands on our hips and waists, everyone smiling and laughing, drinks held high. I spot a camouflage hat among the dancers and catch the eye of Elliott. Seconds later a circle is clearing and he’s on the floor, spinning and swinging those legs and arms with precise control in a way that has everyone hollering with approval.
When he ends in a ball on his back, he puts his fingers on the floor by his head and throws his feet out, jumping up like he’s made of springs. I clap, and he finds me, coming straight for me.
“Thought I saw you!” He dances up to me and I grin, lifting my arms as his body comes flush to mine, one of his knees between mine, and we move together as one to the beat of the music. My girls cheer. Elliott moves around my body to the back, his hands out as he lowers himself to the floor, and I laugh. The boy is shameless, working his way back up my body in perfect sync to the music. When the song ends and another begins, he puts his hands on my shoulders and whispers, “Did you write that poem in class about your parents?”
I stiffen as the good cheer drains from me. Elliott moves around to face me, and the shifting bodies force us to get out of the way. We step against the wall and I look up into his tender, light-brown eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he says over the music. I can smell beer on his breath. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him. I’m always sad lately. “What’s it like working for him?”
“I haven’t worked there very long. But he’s cool.” Elliott scratches his neck. “Did you know they were together? I mean, before today when you saw them?”
I shake my head and he cringes. “I didn’t think so.”
“It’s okay,” I say again, because I can tell he’s feeling sorry for me, and I don’t want to think about it. “Hey, Elliott? Did you write those poems in English class? About the girl and the Capri Sun?”
He laughs. “No, but that was some funny shit. Why?”
I shake my head. “Let’s just dance, ’kay?”
His eyes brighten and he nods, pulling me back out there to where my girls are. I don’t stop dancing until I feel my phone buzz and I look to see a message from Kenzie.
Me & V feel tired. Staying in 2nite. Sorry. Xoxo.
Well, that sucks. “Kenz’s not coming,” I shout to the girls. They crinkle their faces in disappointment.
Monica fans herself. “I need a drink!”
Lin and I nod in agreement and I say bye to Elliott, who gives me a wet kiss on the cheek, making me smile. My friends and I hold hands as we form a train through the party. In the hall, we see Joel and Kwami leaning against the wall. Seeing them fills me with a flicker of warm happiness. They hold out their fists, and we bump as we pass.
I call out to Joel as Lin pulls me along. “How many ciggies today?”
“Too many to count!” he calls back.
Kwami pulls his lips to the side and shakes his head, holding up his hand to form a circle. Zero? I open my mouth like wow, and Joel rolls his eyes. Lin yanks me forward as Monica yanks her. I keep my eyes on Joel’s until we’re out of sight.
Upstairs in the kitchen it’s a disaster of bottles, cans, cups, and two-liters. Quinton is standing at a crystal punch bowl with a fancy pewter ladle that makes us laugh.
“Y’all like that, right?” he asks with a grin. “High class.”
“What’s in it?” Lin asks.
“Little o’ this, little o’ that,” Quinton says.
He pours cups of red liquid and passes them out. I decline and grab an empty cup, filling it with ice from the freezer and water from the tap. I hold it up and we clink them together. Lin and Monica drink and then gasp simultaneously, coughing. Quinton brings a fist to his mouth and chortles. I’m guessing it’s strong.
A huge new group of kids arrives, throwing their hands up and hollering lyrics as they come up the stairs, so we move out of the kitchen to let them in. We wind up in the dining room overlooking the backyard. The dining table is littered with trash, just like the kitchen. The whole place looks wild, like there’s been a week-long party going on.
Wylie would love this party. The thought of him sends a pang of longing through me, and I brush it away. I miss that closeness. That feeling of being a partner in all ways. Having that one person who’s your person. God, we used to laugh so much. Why did he throw that away? Am I doomed to always care for someone more than he cares for me, or vice versa? Is it possible that I’ll ever find the person who loves me as much as I love him? Someone I’ll still be holding hands with when we’re old?
“What’s wrong?” Lin asks, taking another gulp of her drink and giving her head a brisk shake.
“Nothing,” I say. Then I decide to tell them. “I met my
dad’s girlfriend at the restaurant.”
Both of their faces are mirrors of wide-eyed shock.
“What was she like?” Monica asks.
“Cute. Young. Nice.”
“Well that’s . . .” Lin glances at Monica. “Good?”
“I hate her,” I say.
Monica nearly chokes on her drink and Lin says, “Okay, yeah, I hate her, too. Skank.”
Now I snort a sad laugh. I stare down at the ice in my cup. “She’s a waitress at his work.”
They’re both quiet, then Lin says, “I’m sorry, sweetie. I know you’re going through a lot. But in other news, your hair is on point. It’s super smooth today.”
I run a hand down my thick strands that took me two hours to straighten this morning, and still required a touch-up session before we came. “Thanks.”
Monica peeks out the window. “Ooh, they’re playing beer pong on a table out there. Let’s go!”
This time we go out the sliding glass door and down a set of warped wooden steps to the back patio. Our feet trample weeds that have sprouted up through cracked concrete.
“I wanna play!” Monica says. She and Lin make their way into the teams of drunken players and I stand to watch, thoroughly content at that moment.
“Hey.” Someone bumps me hard and I have to catch myself, spilling cold water over my hand. “Sorry!”
Dean’s eyes are laughing when I look up at him, and my stomach spins. My smile is too big, but I cannot tame it.
“Hey,” I say back.
He looks over at the game, grinning that dimpled smile of his. “This place is crazy, huh?” Beer pong players are fumbling and laughing.
“Yeah. And apparently the drinks are a little strong.”
“I see that,” he says. He takes his eyes from the game and looks me over, settling on my face with concern. “You doing okay?”
I nod. I’m about to answer him, when I feel compelled to look over, past the game, to where Joel and Kwami stand near the basement door. Joel is looking right at me, and something about his gaze is so strong, so focused, that all thought is knocked from my brain. All I can do is stare back. Then his eyes slide to Dean. Before I can quite register it, Joel turns to Kwami and pulls out a cigarette. My stomach drops in disappointment.
“You sure?” Dean asks.
“Huh?” I look up at him and his expression turns funny.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Oh. Yeah.” I look back at Joel, who is staring at me again as he moves the tip of the cigarette to the flame of his lighter. I give him a hard glare and shake my head. His returning grin is impish and challenging as he takes a drag.
“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Dean says. “Need anything?”
Oh, crap. I was so distracted by Joel and his stupid oral fixation that I royally screwed up a chance for a conversation with Dean.
“No, I’m good, thanks. Are you coming back out?”
“Yup.” He turns to go, and when I look back at the game, I catch Monica watching him walk up the stairs. Then she catches me eyeing her, and she quickly looks down at her drink. Uuuuuugh. Why, why, why?
I stomp over to Joel, wanting to rip the cancer stick from his mouth and crush it in my palm like She-Hulk.
“Something troubling you?” he asks coolly.
“I thought you quit.”
He laughs outright, and God he’s cute when his whole face smiles like that. “I don’t recall ever saying that.”
I put a sassy hand on my hip and exhale. “Whatever. Thanks for what you guys did that day at the mall.”
Joel just looks at me, gives me a small incline of his head. “Rube’s a stooge.”
“Rube the boob,” Kwami says with a laugh before walking off, leaving us. I step closer to Joel, crossing my arms.
He waves his cigarette at the crowd. “Who are you wanting to add to your list tonight, Zae?” Another drag. This time he makes smoke rings, which I reluctantly admire before his words hit me.
“There’s no list.”
He chuckles. “You’re too easy to piss off. Relax.”
“Why do you mess with me like that?” I ask. Then, wanting to mess with him right back, I ask, “You tryna get on my nonexistent list?” My stomach flips as he stills. Why did I ask that?
He looks straight at me and flicks his cigarette impressively far away.
“I’m tryna burn that list.”
My body reacts before my mind does—flushing with warmth, my eyes glued to his, a weird pulsing in my belly. He steps toward me and I hold my breath as his face tips down, bypassing my lips and pressing softly against my neck. I involuntarily whimper at the feel of his mouth on my skin and the smell of cologne wafting off him.
He chuckles and walks away, leaving me staggering in a molten haze of lust.
Holy shit. I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on, and he barely did anything! I turn sluggishly to see Monica and Lin both gaping at me. They rush over.
“What was that?” Lin asks.
“I . . . have no idea,” I say, reaching up to touch the hot spot on my neck.
“Oh my God, you should have seen the look on his face,” Monica whispers in a loud hiss. “Girl, he wants you bad.”
I shake my head. “He just likes to tease me. Did you know he used to hook up with Sierra?”
“Ew!” they both say in surprise.
“I know. Not my type.” I’m going to keep telling myself that. Just thinking about the look in his eyes when he came toward me sends tingles dancing across my skin again. Things are going to be awkward between us now without a doubt, which makes me kind of sad.
“Isn’t he a drug dealer?” Lin asks.
“I don’t think so,” I say. Though he definitely dabbles with that crowd.
“I need another drink.” Monica holds up her empty cup and Lin agrees, so the three of us head back up the steps to the sliding glass door. The kitchen’s even more crowed now and harder to get to the punch bowl, which Quinton is filling with generic-brand cartons of random juices, lemon-lime soda, and bottles of rail vodka and gin. He tosses the empty bottles to the counter. I find Dean just getting his cup. He walks over to me as the girls wait in line. My eyes slide over the room, wondering where Joel went. Then I remember how I ruined my last chance with Dean, and I force myself to focus.
“Wanna go downstairs and dance?” I ask.
He sips and nods. I smile. This is my chance.
Two of his giant football friends show, and we wait together while the girls get their drinks. Dean and his guys down their punch, and then Junior, by far the largest linebacker on the team, takes out the case of beer he’s been carrying under his arm. The three of them guzzle beer after beer while I gawk. I glance around for Joel again, but he is nowhere. I wonder where he went. I wonder why I care. He’s just a friend.
I’m tryna burn that list. I shiver. He didn’t mean it.
By the time Lin and Monica are back, the guys are sufficiently buzzed and we squeeze our way down the crowded stairs to the basement. My heart bangs when we pass the place where Joel and Kwami were standing before, but they’re not there.
The entire main basement room has turned into a dance floor, and the only light comes from a single dim lamp in the far corner. A thumping beat shakes the walls, and the football players lift their muscled arms into the air. We dance and dance. Junior lifts me high into the air by my waist and I squeal, locking my arms on his shoulders, and tucking my head so I don’t hit the low ceiling. When he sets me down, I stumble into Dean, who smiles as he rights me.
I’ve been avoiding trying to dance with him, worried about upsetting Monica, but when he places a hand to my back and pulls me forward, I go with it. This is what I’ve been waiting for. I see Monica pull Lin from the dance floor, and Lin looks back to mouth bathroom to me. I nod and let myself focus on Dean.
Dancing with him is effortless. He smiles the whole time, and it’s contagious. Everywhere I place my hands—his arms, shoulders, chest, wa
ist—is hard with muscle. When he leans down, my heart pounds. But he’s only trying to tell me something. Ugh!
“I’m gonna get another drink!” he shouts.
Impatience and frustration flare.
He holds up his cup to Junior, who yells, “Get me one, bro!”
Dean is proving to be a difficult target.
Across the basement I see Elliott still dancing, one hand up as he jumps to the beat. He’s got a limitless supply of energy, sweat dripping down the sides of his face. I dance with Junior and the other guys for what feels like forever. My friends don’t come back. Dean doesn’t come back. An icky sensation slithers through me. Are they okay? Did they get caught up in a conversation somewhere and forget about me? Or is this like the Rex thing in middle school where he left me hanging at the dance with no intention of coming back? No. It couldn’t be.
Without explaining to Dean’s friends, I make my way off the dance floor. Down the small hall is a line for the bathroom, and an opening to a dark, doorless room that looks like a workroom. I catch sight of Lin’s shoulder in that doorway, her back to the room. She’s looking down at her phone.
My heart begins to gallop faster with each approaching step I take. I peer past her into the dark room, and sure enough, Monica and Dean are going at it. Kissing. Hands everywhere. I step back, stomach churning. Lin suddenly looks up and her eyes bulge.
“Zae . . .”
Oh my God.
I spin and press through the people on the stairs. I go straight up. Up through the packed kitchen, where Sierra and Meeka give me small waves, to where Quinton sits on the edge of the sink. I’ve been holding my water cup this whole time, long empty. I hold it out to him.
“I’m ready for a drink.”
His grin is huge as he nods. “That’s right.” He scoops some into my cup and grabs a marker. “This one got your name all over it, girl.”
Kiss Collector Page 15