by Seth King
Actually, when I glanced in the mirror before answering the door, I actually thought I was Cara for a split-second. But the implications of that were far too complicated for me to comprehend at the time, so I ignored it.
She gives me an appraising once-over. “It more than worked- you look hot. Really hot, actually. No wonder you haven’t been returning my texts- you’ve been busy making yourself into a little hottie.” She flashes a smile that does not reach her eyes as she swallows another brownie. “Ugh, are you trying to sabotage me, you bitch? I’m in my tightest dress. You’re going to need to hide these from me once I start drinking.”
“I’m going to need to hide them from myself once I start drinking,” I say as I take the brownies and put them in the highest cabinet I can find. Once they’re out of reach I go and grab Cara’s giant birthday card.
“Aw,” she says as she takes it, “this is so sweet. You wrote down all our inside jokes!”
“Going all the way back to elementary school,” I say affectionately. For a few minutes she points out different jokes and laughs about the stories behind them, and soon I almost feel like it’s old times again. “God,” she giggles. “We were such weirdoes back then. I guess nothing has changed.”
I put my hand on hers. “I’m glad this weirdo friendship of ours is still going strong.”
“Me too.”
We take our hands back and cut our eyes away, as both of us know we’re lying.
“So, what’s going on with Stellan?” she asks, and I think I detect more than a hint of passive-aggression in her voice. “Did you get him yet?”
“Get him?” I ask, annoyed. “This isn’t some cheesy romantic comedy or something, where I embark on some dumb quest to land a guy to complete myself. I was complete before, I was just sort of horny from dating a guy who didn’t even live on the same damn continent as me.”
“You know what I was saying,” she tells me. “Is ‘Virgin Hotness’ just ‘Hotness’ now?”
I glance away. He was never Virgin Hotness at all.
“Still working on it,” I say quickly, not wanting to see the look of satisfaction that I know is on her face. “Hey, do you wanna do a BFF shot before everyone gets here? I have some cinnamon rum from a few weeks ago.”
“Sure. Bust it out.”
I pour two shots and set them on the counter.
“Taylor,” she says as I pick mine up, “think about how much has changed since the last time we took shots. You were dumped and lonely and depressed, and not that cute, to be honest. But now you’re wearing sexy clothes and putting on lip gloss and you’re trying to land the hottest guy in our whole town. I think my work here is done- I’ve finally sluttified you.”
“I’m not ‘sluttified,’ but whatever floats your boat,” I tell her. I try not to let her backhanded comment about “trying to get with Stellan” sink too deep, as I know her use of the word “trying” implies that I’m some desperate stalker or something. We clink our glasses and swallow the shots just as the first guest knocks on my door. I take a quick breath as she rushes over to greet them, order myself to act like a regular human being, and then throw on my best fake smile. But for some reason, I can’t shake the feeling that it’s going to take a fucking miracle to keep this night from ending in disaster.
All in all, I guess my little last-minute group isn’t too bad. Cara seems okay with the guest list, and before long she zeroes in on one of Noah’s friends, a tall, skinny guy with short brown hair and a sleazy diamond earring. We all pregame in my living room, listening to the Jay-Z on Spotify, and once we’re buzzed we pile into Ruth’s big SUV and head to a fancy sushi place near the bars. Cara is all over her guy, obviously, and soon I begin to notice Noah’s eyes lingering on me from across the table. He looks good tonight, in a pale yellow Polo and khaki pants, and soon I open myself to the idea of hanging out with him, if only for the sake of distracting myself from the Stellan situation. We take shots of sake, my looks over at him becoming more and more flirty as our crowd gets drunker and more obnoxious. After we finally get our check from the miserably slow waitress, I get up to head for the first bar and then feel a hand on my lower back, leading me.
“You seem down,” I hear his voice say as we spill out onto the sidewalk and start our journey to the bars. I ignore the jolt his touch gives my system.
“Oh. I’m just distracted by school stuff, I guess. Whoa!” I cry as I stumble over a curb I didn’t see. “God, I swear I’m not wasted yet,” I say after he helps steady me. “I’m just a spaz all the time.”
“I wouldn’t say that’s your problem,” he says as he stares down at the sidewalk.
“Then what’s my problem? Are you saying I’m drunk?”
“No, I’m saying you’re blinder than a bat. You could have something lying in front of you your whole life and never even notice it.”
I shiver as we resume walking and turn a corner.
“Anyway,” he says after a beat, shaking his head, “a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be stressed about anything. I know the bartender at Ace, the place we’re about to hit up; let me get you a shot or two and help clear your mind. It’s your best friend’s birthday, we need to have some fun.”
Despite the weird, heavy vibe between us, I have never been one to turn down free anything, much less alcohol, and two shots of whiskey later I am feeling a little less stressed. Our group settles into a large corner area with a bench and two tables, and of course Noah sits beside me. Before I know it his arm is across my shoulder. At first I think it’s a warm gesture between friends, but soon his hand ventures further down my back- and to tell the truth, I don’t hate it. As we drink pitchers of beer we all talk and laugh and reminisce about the last four years, all of us trying not to get too depressed about the fact that in a few short months we will be parting ways forever. This feels totally different from high school graduation, because back then, in the backs of our minds we all knew we’d still be sheltered by our parents and come home every few weekends and run into each other at hometown bars. But this feels so much more final. We’re being pushed out into the world with nothing to protect us but ourselves, and this time there won’t be Mommy and Daddy to save us when something goes wrong. And speaking of being saved: Noah is funny and charming and before long I get sucked into my own little world with him. How did I never realize how funny he is? He makes me feel totally different from the person I am with Stellan, so tense and tightly wound. I’m laughing and smiling and open and totally happy. I deserve a break from all the drama, if only for a night. Maybe this is what it’s like to be normal. To hang out with a guy who actually says what’s on his mind for a change, and doesn’t hide behind a web of masks and disguises. Maybe I’ve always had a thing for him; the way he’s so open and sweet and good-natured. So untroubled, like, say, someone I know with a violent side that comes out sometimes and maybe kills people.
But Cara can always be counted upon to rain on my parade, and why should her birthday night be any different? As Noah tells me something funny in my ear after our ten millionth shot, she scoots towards us and stares at us, her eyes glassy and mischievous. Here we go, I think as I face her. I don’t know if she scared away her diamond earring guy or what, but I can tell that something happened, and she wants me to share in her misery.
“Noah, why would you hit on Taylor? You’re so hot,” she says with a coquettish little grin. He throws her an uneasy look and then sets his hand on hers.
“Cara, why don’t we go get you some fries or something? You need to put something in your stomach besides liquor so you don’t end up getting sick.”
“No,” she slurs as she pulls away. “Leave me alone. Seriously, though, why are you talking to her? I love the girl, but we all know that underneath the new makeup and outfits, she’s nothing special to look at.”
“Hey, that’s not very nice,” he says. “Do you want me to get you some water or something?”
“Yes, actually,” she says in a baby voice as she bites he
r lip seductively. “Only if you walk me to the bathroom first, and maybe come into the stall with me for a second, too. I’m afraid I might get lost.”
Noah’s face turns maroon. “Um, well-”
“No,” I say, silencing him. If I can deal with Stellan Goode, I can put a drunken spoiled brat in her place. The residual buildup of fifteen years’ worth of passive-aggressive insults, backhanded putdowns, and just plain bitchiness suddenly rises to the surface, and for the first time in a while I find myself seeing red for reasons that have nothing to do with being aroused by Stellan. “I knew you would do this,” I say as I look her directly in the eye.
“Do what?”
“Cause a scene. Even though I organized all this, you still feel like I didn’t do enough to celebrate your birthday, and you’re pissed once again that the world doesn’t revolve around you. Well, here’s a question: do you not remember what you did for my last birthday?”
Her posture falls a little. “No.”
“Well let me refresh your memory, then. Nothing. You did nothing. You texted me two days afterward saying you’d gotten a bad haircut and were too depressed to call me.”
“It was a stressful time for me,” she says sadly.
“Oh, I’m sure. What a terrible life you lead. Now, if you’ll please go walk into traffic or something, we were trying to talk here.”
“Don’t tell me to leave,” she sneers. “It’s my birthday. You leave.”
I put a finger on my chin and pretend to consider this for a moment. “Nope, sorry, not gonna happen. You’re making a fool of yourself. Go find another guy to hit on, you train wreck.”
She narrows her eyes at me, shocked that I’m not rolling over and taking it like usual.
“You know what, the other girls at dinner were right about you. You have become a bitchy slut. Why don’t you just go hang out with your gay boyfriend?”
Several people nearby stop talking abruptly and look over to wait for my reaction. I stare at her, my blood boiling.
“Well will Stellan fuck you?” she continues. “Will he? No, he won’t. You basically admitted it tonight. You wanted to corrupt him, but he didn’t want you, and now all you did was corrupt yourself. Look at you, with your eye shadow and your heels and your stupid dress. You didn’t give two shits about all that stuff before Stellan. What is he, your fashion stylist or something?”
I try to contain my rage at her absolute hypocrisy, but I can’t.
“Like you’re in any position to be judging people about sex?” I say. “Do the words ‘Governor Hamlin’ mean anything to you? Do you want me to tell everyone how you really got that fancy new Infiniti in your driveway?”
She gasps. Her eyes big, she looks around to see if anyone heard.
“You wouldn’t dare tell anyone about all that,” she spits, leaning closer. “We had a deal.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t tell anyone, because I’m not like you. I’m just telling you to put down the stone before you wreck your glass house. Come on, Noah, let’s go; I can’t stand to be around this train wreck for another minute.”
After I grab my purse and push my chair away from the table, I turn back to Cara one last time. “Happy birthday, cunt donkey.”
Noah pulls me away and together we fight our way through the bar onto the sidewalk, and the cool pre-autumn air refreshes my skin and helps simmer down my temper a little. We settle against the brick wall near the line of people still waiting to get into the bar, and in the corner of my eye I see him smiling at me.
“So- ‘cunt donkey,’” he says after a moment, trying not to laugh. “That should be a hard one to move past.”
“I don’t even know where that came from,” I say as I shake my head, too embarrassed to look at him. “Ugh, you just don’t get it- nobody does. Things have been weird between us for years. That conversation probably should’ve happened a long time ago, but I was always too chicken to say anything. Until now.”
I see his expression turn more serious. “She’s wrong, you know,” he says quietly. “For talking to you like that. To tell you the truth, you’re gorgeous, and I think it gets to her sometimes.”
I smile over at him a little bigger than I should, my drunkenness making me revel in the compliment.
“You think I’m gorgeous?”
“And sexy,” he says slowly, “and funny, and dazzling…”
We share a moment of eye contact and then he leans in and tries to kiss me. I pull away.
“I can’t do this.”
“Oh, come on, give me a chance, Tay,” he says, and something makes me think he’s been waiting for this moment for a little longer than I would suspect. “Just give me one night. If you don’t like it, then you can go back to that rich boy and live happily ever after. But I think I deserve a shot, at least. Hey, you remember how I like to sail, right?”
I finally look over at him. “Um, yeah, I guess. In senior year of high school you told me you built a wooden sailboat all by yourself, and you take it sailing around Falls Lake with your dog.”
He smiles. “Yes, you remembered. Come sailing with me, Taylor. Let me show you what being with me would be like.”
I tear my eyes away. Why is he saying this? He’s ruining everything. I already decided I want to try to be with Stellan; I can’t go around whispering with hot guys on street corners at night. And plus, he’s confusing me. I thought I had it all figured out.
“Noah, you’re nice, and cute, but I can’t do this.”
“Yes you can,” he says intently, staring at the side of my head. “You know, I think you should reconsider what you’re doing with the Goode kid, now that we’re talking about it. I was watching you two at the bar the other night, and something wasn’t right about the way he looked at you. It was almost like he…I don’t know, like he wanted to kill you or something.”
I can’t help but snort.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing, nothing,” I say. “Listen, my relationship with Stellan is…weird. And complicated. But-”
“You don’t have to deal with that,” he interrupts. “You could get anyone. You know you’re gorgeous. Growing up, every guy on the playground wanted to be your boyfriend. The way you laugh, the way you flip your hair. You just…dazzle people.”
“Noah, I do not dazzle people.”
“Yes you do, and the way you’re so clueless about it is the best thing about you. You’re humble. Guys love that.”
“Noah, why are you saying all this? You’re drunk.”
He lets his face fall, takes a deep breath, and then looks up at me again, his eyes wide and anticipatory.
“No I’m not. Taylor, I’ve been in love with you since the third grade.”
It feels like the wind has been knocked out of me. I don’t know what to do or say, so I let him kiss me. I only intended for it to be light, but soon I find myself rubbing my hands through his hair and losing control and getting swept up in the moment. Even though he’s not near as good a kisser as Stellan, there’s no denying that he’s hot. Finally, a guy who won’t turn me away; who isn’t going to walk away after five minutes. And soon I realize there are other urges at work, too- darker ones. I’m so hurt and shocked and angry about the Stellan discovery, and about the fact that he never told me, that I want to hurt him back, make him understand how it feels to be betrayed. Even if he’s not in Durham, he still might hear about this, and the warm, satisfied feeling of getting revenge rises into my throat, along with other forces I can’t begin to understand.
I am contemplating going home with him when Ruth appears at my side.
“Taylor, you need to stop,” she whispers nervously into my ear.
“Why, is Cara acting a mess again?”
“No. Stellan’s here.”
I turn on a dime, suddenly sober as day. Stellan Goode is standing on the sidewalk in front of me, looking breathtakingly hot – and breathtakingly dangerous, in black jeans, a red jacket, and a sweaty wife beater. Something deep in my
stomach twists and curls as he slowly walks toward me, but I tell myself to calm down. He doesn’t just look dangerous, he is dangerous. This is the first time I’ve seen him since finding out the big news, not just on some stupid FaceTime call, but in person. I have to be careful.
“She’s done,” Stellan tells Noah, his tone deadly. “The night’s over, and she’s coming home with me.”
Every single person in line stops and waits for my reaction. All of the girls- and some of the guys- stare at Stellan’s bulging muscles admiringly, but at least the guys are trying to hide it.
“Back off,” Noah says as he holds an arm out, the air growing thick with danger. “She can do whatever she wants. Free country.”
Stellan looks past him and stares directly into my eyes, making a chill run up the back of my legs. But still I can’t deny it- regardless of the Caitlin discovery, I’m still turned on by him. Like crazy.
“Taylor, come with me.”
“I said back off!” Noah cries as he steps forward. A bouncer inches toward us, preparing to break up the fight.
“Piss off,” Stellan says, pushing his chest out. “She’s drunk, and I’m not going to let anyone take advantage of her. Come now, Taylor.”
“No,” Noah spits back. They are now inches away from each other. Stellan’s eyes are deadly and impassive.
“Yes,” he responds.
“Why don’t you ask her what she wants?” Noah asks before turning to me. “Come on, Taylor, leave with me,” he begs slowly, sincerely. “Please.”
I look over at Stellan, who holds out his hand wordlessly. The choice is clear, and it’s also clear that this choice is about a lot more than just whom I am going home with. If I leave with Noah, Stellan will explode and there will absolutely be a fight. If I leave with Stellan, I might break Noah’s heart, and plus, I’d be getting into a car on a dark night with an angry maybe-murderer. I feel some of my resolve from the decision I made on the porch last night evaporate- this isn’t a game anymore, some silly little love affair. Stellan is dangerous, and every second I spend around him is a risk. I’m twenty-two now, and I need to start making adult decisions. I need to protect myself.