by Sky Corgan
“You think everything he does is amazing.” My annoyance makes it to my voice. I'm trying not to be in a sour mood, but I just can't help it when I have to listen to her dote on every stupid little thing Peter does.
“That's because he's good at a lot of things.” She leans against the kitchen counter to watch me.
“A lot of people are good at a lot of things.”
“Not like Peter, though.” She sighs dreamily.
Whatever. I just want him to come back so that I can leave.
I pick up a phallic shaped bottle of tequila and start pouring shots. Hopefully, these people will all entertain themselves once they're drunk. I'm not much in the mood for conversation, but I'll do my part so that Willow doesn't have to bear the burden of hosting on her own. I'm going to need a little extra to get through this, though.
I hand Willow one of the shot glasses, and she gives it a queer look as I lift my own in cheers. “Aren't we going to wait and toast with everyone else?”
“No.” I toss my shot back, not bothering to wait for her. There's very little burn as the liquid slides down the back of my throat. Peter definitely knows how to pick out the good stuff.
When Willow doesn't follow my lead, I gesture for her to take the shot. “This is just for us, to get rid of the nervousness. We'll take shots with everyone else, too.”
She wrinkles her nose at the alcohol. “I don't want to get drunk without Peter here.”
I roll my eyes, sucking in an exasperated breath. “Who knows how long it will be before he returns. Do you want to be a stressed out mess the entire time? Trust me, he'd want you to have fun.”
Willow doesn't look certain. She's not smiling as she tips the shot back and then gags after it goes down. I can't help but laugh.
“What?” she snaps at me.
I hold my hands up in surrender. “Nothing.”
“Yeah, that's what I thought.” She huffs.
I refill both of our shot glasses before I have Willow help me carry all of them to the rest of the guests. We stand in a circle, toasting Peter for being nice enough to let us party at his place. Nancy's eyes stay fixed on me all the while, giving me a creepy look that makes my skin crawl.
Once we're done taking shots, I tell everyone that they're welcome to whatever they want in the kitchen, then I disengage from the group to go do the loner thing outside again. My desire to help Willow is coming and going in waves. Really, there's not much to hosting a party. And maybe I should let her handle it so she can see how much of an asshole Peter was for leaving her in charge. Man, these bitter emotions aren't fun at all.
I avoid conversation as much as possible, standing out on the balcony lost in my thoughts. The city smells dirty...like tar and gasoline. It's still too early for aerial fireworks, but I can hear people popping off M80s in the distance. The scent of gunpowder would be more pleasant, but I doubt that it will carry on the wind this high up.
I can't even count the minutes or hours I spend standing on the balcony all alone. My thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at the same time. For the most part, I'm just numb to everything going on around me. I'm simply existing here because I'm trapped. Even though I don't want to deal with these people, I don't have it in me to leave Willow alone with them.
The fact that she hasn't come outside to check on me or hang out stings a bit. It's a reminder that I'm forgotten. An outsider to her world. I wonder if this is how she felt when we were in high school. If I had the gift of foresight, I would have paid more attention to her back then. If I had, though, would she have turned into the woman she is today. Probably not.
I finish the beer I've been nursing for the past...God knows how long...and go back inside to get another. Most everyone is chilling out in the living room. Willow is nowhere to be seen. Probably in the bathroom.
When I round the corner to the kitchen, I find her there with one of the guys. He has her backed up into the corner. He's rubbing her arms and she's cringing away from him, looking like a scared animal.
Anger shoots through me, and I immediately jump into action, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him away from her. His eyes fill with fear—the classic look when someone is caught doing something wrong. He lifts his palms to me and takes a few steps back.
“What in the fuck are you doing?” I seethe at him.
“Whoa, bro. I was just trying to get to know Willow here better.”
I step in front of Willow to separate them. “I'm sure Peter would be thrilled to know you were hitting on his girlfriend.”
“Dude...” His voice is full of offense but his expression is pure guilt. Instead of fueling the confrontation, he shakes his head and walks away. Smart move. I wouldn't hesitate to lay him flat if I thought he had molested Willow in any way.
As soon as he's gone, I turn to her, looking her over. It's obvious that she's upset. “Are you alright?”
“I'm fine.” She nods but avoids my gaze.
I grasp her face in both of my hands, forcing her to look at me. “Did he touch you inappropriately? I swear to God if he did...”
The way she's looking at me makes my heart stop beating. Almost as soon as I see it, she brushes my hands away. “I can't believe that guy.”
I sigh, thankful that she's alright but also trying to decipher what I saw in her eyes. “Peter needs to be careful who he leaves you alone with.”
“It was like he didn't even care that I'm Peter's girlfriend.” Willow folds her arms over her chest.
“Well, did he tell them that you're his girlfriend?” I cock an eyebrow. “He might have thought you were fair game.”
“I don't know.” She shakes her head, frowning.
I wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't. Commitment is so foreign to Peter that he probably doesn't even understand what relationship etiquette is.
“I'm just glad he's gone. Thank you for saving me, Caleb.” She wraps her arms around my bicep and nuzzles against my side. Warmth swirls through me—pride that I could protect her.
“I won't leave your side for the rest of the night,” I promise, affectionately brushing her bangs to the side.
When she looks up at me, I see something behind her eyes again. I avert my gaze to keep from feeling more than I should. This has to all be because of the alcohol. I'm misreading her. I have to be.
“Caleb,” she says my name softly.
“Hm?” I keep my eyes forward.
“Could you...not tell Peter about what happened? I don't want any drama started because of me.”
I scowl, glancing down at her finally. I can't believe that she wants to keep this a secret from him. “If you were my girlfriend, I would want to know if my friends were hitting on you.”
“I know.” She shifts uncomfortably. “But our relationship is still so new. Please, Caleb. I'm begging you.” She tugs at my arm like a small child, and I relent.
“Fine.” I blow out an exasperated breath, angry at myself for being so weak.
She's so damned scared of losing him. It won't kill me to keep my mouth shut.
“Caleb.”
Every time she says my name in that soft voice, it sends a shiver down my spine and desire to other places. Fuck. I should probably get away from her.
“What?” I ask, sounding just as tortured as I feel.
“I'm bored.” She tugs on my arm again, more incessantly this time until I'm looking at her.
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“Entertain me.” She gives me the stupidest wide grin, and I can't help but smile.
“Well what do you want me to do?”
“What is there to do...besides drink?” She wrinkles her nose at the bottles of alcohol on the kitchen counter.
I think for a minute before an idea comes to me. “Peter has some board games in his bedroom.”
Her eyes light up with excitement. “Oh. Really? What all does he have?”
“Lots of stuff. He collected it all as a kid, but he doesn't play them.”
&nbs
p; “Well that's a waste.” She frowns for half a second. “Let's go see what he has.”
I quirk my head to the side. “I'm not so sure he would want us going in his room when he's not here.”
“Well, I'm more sure that he wouldn't want his girlfriend to be bored at his party,” she insists.
“That may be true.” I chuckle at her logic.
“Lead the way. If you're too chicken to go in, I'll do it.” She pulls me out of the kitchen as if she doesn't understand the meaning of lead the way.
I take her to Peter's bedroom and open the door, planting my feet on the outside as I point. “They're in his closet.”
“Alright.” She nods, looking determined. “Mission: Extract Board Game begins.”
Willow takes a deep breath before making a beeline for the closet. I don't think her eyes even wander around. Maybe it's not the first time she's been in his room. That disturbs me, but I try not to think about it.
I stand watch outside, feeling nervous, though I don't know why. It's not like we're doing anything bad.
A few moments later, Willow returns with a box. I give it a queer look before my eyes reach her face.
“Twister. Really, Willow?”
“I haven't played for so long.” She crouches slightly as if she's pleading with me.
“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “Let's see if anyone else wants to play.”
Everyone in the living room is engaged in conversation. When Willow timidly asks them if they'd like to join us for a game, half of the people ignore her, the other half decline. Her shoulders slump and she frowns.
“These people are boring,” she whispers to me.
“Well, you gave it your best try.” I pat her on the shoulder.
“We're still playing.” She grabs me by the wrist and drags me away from everyone. “Where's a good place to do this?”
I screw my face, wondering how this is going to look to everyone else. “Willow, I don't think this is a good idea.”
“Peter has a guest bedroom, doesn't he?” She ignores me.
“Yeah...” I reply hesitantly.
“Let's play in there.” She starts off towards the only other room in the house that could possibly be the guest bedroom.
Against my better judgment, I follow her. As soon as she steps inside, she opens the box and starts setting up the game.
Everything in me is telling me that this is inappropriate, though there's a devious part of my conscious brain that's trying to convince me it's just a game. Before I even know what I'm doing, my hand is on the red dot. My foot is on the yellow dot. I'm spinning the wheel while we're contorting out bodies and sweating and laughing at the awkward positions we're both ending up in.
It's the most fun I've had all night, and I'm not sure if it's because I'm actually engaged in an activity or because I'm spending time with Willow. Whatever the case, I'm a lot happier than I was standing outside on the balcony alone.
The game stays pretty innocent until the third round. For some crazy reason, Willow has decided to do some weird crab walk position that you'd only see in commercials. I'm on top of her. She's staring up at me, grinning like a loon. We're laughing at how stupid we both are. I reach over to spin the dial, lose my balance, and we both come crashing down.
Willow's body cushions my fall, and though she lets out an oomph from my weight, it quickly transforms into an uncontrollable giggle. I roll a little to the side so that I'm not crushing her anymore. The alcohol has gone straight to my head because I can't stop chuckling either. We both laugh until we have no breath left. And then she opens her eyes, our eyes lock, and all of the air is sucked out of the room. All of the humor. There's nothing else but us looking at one another.
That thing that was behind her eyes earlier is there again. And I know what it is now, because it's in my eyes, too. Desire. Need.
My heart is drumming in my chest. Her breathing is ragged.
I could try to kiss her. She's waiting for me to kiss her. At least, I think she is.
But we've had alcohol. She's not in her right mind.
This is wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Peter is my friend. I can't allow what Nancy said to come true. Hell, she might be in the other room right now grinning...already knowing what's about to happen.
No. I won't let some bullshit prediction decide my fate. I won't betray my best friend.
It takes everything I have in me—it might even be one of the hardest things I've ever done—but I break the moment by rolling away. And I hate myself for it.
“We should go to the kitchen and get something to eat. I'm hungry,” I lie. I have no appetite. Not for food, at least. All I want is her. To taste her lips. To feel her body against mine. To own her heart.
Holy fuck, she's made me a broken man. I don't know whether I'm coming or going anymore. All I know is that this is torture. I have so many regrets with her that I can't even count them all. And now I'm miserable again. Worse than I was standing on the balcony.
“Yeah. Food is a good idea,” she says softly, and then she stands to follow me into the kitchen.
It's not food that I want, though. It's alcohol. Mass quantities of alcohol to make all of these feelings go away.
I pull out bowls of snacks for Willow to munch on, then I pour myself a shot and throw it back.
She narrows her eyes at me. “Hey! Don't you be drinking without me.” She grabs the bottle of tequila from the counter, pours herself a shot, and immediately gulps it down.
“You can't keep up with me tonight, sweetheart.” I take the bottle before she can cap it and refill my glass.
“Watch me. If you're drinking, then I'm drinking, too.” She pulls it away to match me the second I set it down.
I smirk at her bravado. I want to ask her what she's drinking for, but that would lead us into a dangerous conversation. If she wants to be an idiot and try to keep up with me, that's on her.
Drinking becomes more like a competition than something to do to drown out my pain. I know that I'm being completely irresponsible, but I don't even care anymore.
About four shots in, the alcohol hits Willow like a ton of bricks. Her eyes get glassy and she starts to sway from side to side. When she loses her balance and almost falls, I know that it's time to put her to bed.
I help her back to the guest bedroom, since I fucking refuse to put her in Peter's room. Who knows what would happen if he came home and found her passed out in his bed. Nothing that I want to happen, that's for damn sure.
By the time I lie her down and put a wastebasket beside the bed, Willow is already asleep. Guilt assaults me for allowing her to drink so much. I was supposed to protect her. Instead, I let my own emotions get the best of me. I was selfish.
I frown at my lack of self-control as I sit on the side of the bed staring at her. She looks so peaceful right now, but I know she's going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow. I probably will, too.
Oh well. It's not often I get this wasted.
I know that I should go check on everyone else, but I just can't leave Willow's side. Every moment alone with her is precious to me. It's kind of nice to see her like this, quiet and vulnerable.
Vulnerable.
She'd never even know if I kissed her.
Would it be a betrayal if she didn't know? Of course it would be. I would be betraying both of them. But Willow wouldn't be betraying Peter. If I kissed her, they would still be fine. She wouldn't feel any remorse from it.
My eyes fixate on her lips. They look so soft. I remember the way she was gazing into my eyes after we had fallen together during the game of Twister. There was so much heat there. I should have kissed her then. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have pushed me away.
But that time has passed. Now all I have is this. I might not get another opportunity.
Who knows how long it will be before Peter breaks up with her. I've never seen him act like this with a girl before. Maybe they'll even get married someday. Willow will have her happily ever a
fter, and I'll still be...
No. None of that matters right now. The only thing of importance is this single moment—the fact that I might never get another chance to do this. We're alone. She's asleep. No one gets hurt.
I chew my bottom lip for a moment before I allow insanity to take over. I've always been the good guy—the selfless guy. But tonight...Tonight I'm going to be selfish.
I lean down ever so slowly, my eyes taking in every feature of Willow's beautiful face. My pulse quickens as I get closer to her lips. I've never felt this way with any other girl. A kiss has just been a kiss. Sure, there's been the first kiss excitement in the past...but not like this. Maybe it's because what I'm doing is so forbidden. Maybe because my feelings for her are so strong.
I don't know what it is. All I do know is that when my lips touch hers, a part of me dies inside knowing that I can't have her. It's the chastest kiss I've ever given someone, but also the most intimate at the same time.
I close my eyes. Feel my lips molding on top of hers. Wish that she would wake up and kiss me back...yet at the same time, I'm oddly fine that she doesn't.
And then my phone rings.
I jerk back, pulling it from my pocket to check the caller ID. Peter's name flashes across the screen, and guilt hits me like a punch straight to the gut.
Shit.
“Hello.” I hold the phone up to my ear.
There's no response. The call drops almost the second I answer. He must have pocket dialed me. What a fucking coincidence. It's like the universe is trying to cockblock me.
I look down at Willow a final time before standing to leave. I need to reintegrate with the other guests so that they don't think anything is going on.
I take long strides out of the bedroom. The first person I see when I reach the living room is Nancy. She's got a wolfish grin plastered across her face as if she knows exactly what just happened. I glare at her, though she doesn't deserve my hatred.
I did this. It had nothing to do with her.
Duty takes a backseat. Fuck these people. I just need to get some air.
I walk past everyone back out onto the balcony. The place of my misery.