Rikki

by Abigail Strom

  I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I’d never asked a guy out in my life, and even though Jason had asked me first, it still felt like I was a mile out on a limb with no safety net.

  Jason grinned at me, and I felt a little tingle down my spine that reminded me of the first time I’d seen him.

  Oh, man. Was it possible that Sam was actually right? That the only thing stopping me from pursuing something with Jason was fear?

  But the mere thought of Sam sent a wave of anger through me that was ten times bigger than the tingle of attraction I’d just felt. The fact was, taking Jason up on his offer was more about Sam than him.

  Maybe that would change tonight. Maybe tonight, my attraction to Jason would turn out to be stronger than my anger at Sam.

  One way or another, I was going to find out.

  Between my moms splitting up and the morning with Sam, I was feeling something I didn’t usually indulge in.

  Recklessness.

  Standing in Jason’s doorway in my sweatpants and camisole, watching his gaze move up my body from my toes to the top of my head, I let that feeling flow over me.

  It felt kind of… good.

  Jason leaned back against the wall and closed his left hand over the neck of his guitar. “I’ll see you tonight, Rikki.”

  “See you tonight.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The club was all-ages, which meant that Dyshell and Julia and I got our hands stamped as under-twenty-one while Tamsin and Oscar, armed with fake IDs, got wrist bands entitling them to drink.

  I’d never bothered to get a fake ID because I tended to be a rule follower and I’d never been a big partier. I didn’t like the taste of beer and I’d never been interested in trying anything harder.

  According to Sam, I was a person who liked to stay in control. If he was right then I guess my avoidance of alcohol made sense. A person who likes to stay in control isn’t going to volunteer to give it up, and getting drunk is one of the easiest ways to do that.

  Once we were inside the club we joined Will and Sam at a cluster of scarred wooden tables near the stage. I managed to wangle a seat as far from Sam as possible, but just as I sat down our eyes met.

  It was only for a moment, but it was enough to put me right back in the emotional stew I’d been in that morning—confusion, uncertainty, anger.

  What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation to come out of your Plexiglas bubble and live your life?

  I moved my chair so Julia and Will were blocking my view of Sam.

  It was early, and the club was still half-empty. It wouldn’t really fill up until ten or eleven o’clock, when the band with top billing would take the stage.

  My seat was farthest from the stage and closest to the wall. I leaned back until my chair tipped onto two legs, resting against the rough brick behind me. The move put me into the shadows and let me do what Sam claimed I did best.

  You’re more of an observer than a participant in your own damn life.

  A waiter came by with beers for our drinkers and Cokes for the rest of us. Once he was gone, Tamsin leaned forward and produced a flask from her purse.

  “This should in no way be considered peer pressure. But if anyone with a hand stamp feels like adding a little rum to their Coke, I came prepared.”

  The flask went from hand to hand. By the time it came to me the band was setting up on stage, and the band members were chatting with their rooting section—namely, us.

  No one was looking at me. And as I sat there in the shadows with my chair tipped back and Tamsin’s flask in my hand, I felt very, very tempted to add a little to my Coke.

  Why shouldn’t I let loose for once? Let down my guard? Participate instead of observe?

  I wavered for a moment, even going so far as to open the flask and tilt it toward my glass. But old habits die hard, and I’d been cautious about alcohol for a long time. I let my chair come forward with a little thump and started to hand the flask to Julia, who was sitting on my right.

  But then my eyes met Sam’s for the second time that night. He was the only person at the table who wasn’t focused on the stage, and he was looking straight at me.

  He looked down at the flask in my hand before meeting my eyes again. Then he frowned, shook his head, and mouthed two words.

  Bad idea.

  I didn’t even hesitate. I kept my eyes on Sam’s, staring him down, as I poured two inches of rum into my glass. Then I put the cover back on the flask and handed it to Julia, who passed it to Will without taking any.

  I took a cautious sip of my newly minted rum and Coke and found that the flavor of the alcohol wasn’t too strong. In fact, it tasted pretty good.

  I tilted my chair back again and raised my glass.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  I jerked my head around to see Sam standing next to me. He glowered for a moment before taking an empty chair from the table next to us and squeezing in between me and Oscar.

  “I’m coming out of my Plexiglas bubble,” I snapped, before taking a big sip of my drink.

  “I didn’t say that as some kind of dare. I’m not trying to goad you into making stupid decisions.”

  We were in close quarters and Sam’s denim-clad thigh was pressed against mine. I looked down, worried about what my expression might be revealing, and noticed that my jeans were darker than his.

  I also noticed that his thigh was a lot bigger and harder than mine. I remembered the way my breasts had felt smushed against the brick wall of his chest, and my heart started to pound.

  I took a sip to cover my reaction. Then I took another.

  “Will you stop drinking that? Let me get you a regular Coke.”

  “I don’t want a regular Coke. I want this. That’s why I added the rum, in case you were curious. Because I wanted it.”

  “Rikki—”

  Sam didn’t get to finish. There was a blare of feedback from the club speakers, and then Jason stepped up to the microphone.

  “Sorry, everybody!” He glanced back at Andre, who adjusted something on one of the amps, and then faced his audience again. “We should be good to go now. We want to thank you all for coming out tonight—especially our Bracton peeps.”

  That was our cue to cheer, and we came through with a rowdy howl of approval—not just our group but several others scattered around. It looked like half the dorm had turned out, which translated into a pretty decent crowd.

  “I’d like to extend an extra special thank-you to Rikki Eisendrath, currently hiding in the shadows over there. I’ve been flirting with her for a few weeks now and she’s finally agreed to go out with me. We’re hanging after the show, so if I have any would-be groupies out there, I’m afraid I’ll have to break your hearts.”

  That was greeted with laughter and mock-boos. Jason was looking straight at me, and before I could process the fact that he’d mentioned me by name to a roomful of people, half of those people were craning their necks to get a look at me.

  “Would you mind sitting a little closer to the stage?” Jason asked. “It’ll be a lot easier to woo you with my incredible skills if you can actually see them in action.”

  I’m not sure what got into me. I usually hated being the center of attention, and under normal circumstances I might have huddled deeper into the shadows… or even fled the scene. But now I clutched my rum and Coke, rose to my feet, and went around to the chair that Sam had conveniently left vacant—the one nearest the stage.

  My heart was racing and I felt a little shaky, but I managed to smile at Jason as I took the seat and another healthy swig of my drink. Then I turned the chair so I was facing the band—and, more importantly, facing away from Sam.

  Jason glanced around at the other members of the band. They all looked ready to go: Claire on keyboards, Andre on bass, a guy they called Burnett on drums and a girl named Jocelyn on rhythm guitar.

  “All right, everybody. One, two, three, four!”

  I almost dropped my drink.
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  I was hit with a wall of sound that bore no resemblance to music whatsoever. My first thought was that I would leave here tonight with permanent damage to my eardrums. My second was that even in my head I sounded like a grumpy old man trapped in the body of a college freshman.

  I drained the rest of my rum and Coke, and when Tamsin suggested a refill I agreed. I downed that one in a few swallows and then sat back to endure the noise, hoping that the alcohol might help.

  Amazingly enough, it did.

  Something did, anyway. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the obvious enthusiasm of everyone around me, maybe it was just that I got used to the volume.

  Maybe it was all of it.

  Whatever the reason, before too long I found myself hearing the music in the noise.

  And it was really, really good.

  So was Jason. He was so good I was mesmerized, and before I realized it my body was actually moving with his, my foot tapping with his downbeats and my head bopping as he strutted across the stage, singing and strumming and pouring his energy out to the audience.

  But I was enjoying more than the music. I was enjoying everything. I was madly in love with this club, with the dirty floor and the hard wooden chairs and the cold, wet weight of the glass on my thigh.

  I was on my third rum and Coke, and I loved that, too.

  In the few seconds of relative quiet while Jason introduced a new song, Tamsin leaned over and said to me, “Please tell me you’re going to hit that tonight. Because if you don’t, I will.”

  “What about Oscar?” I asked, my gaze still riveted to Jason.

  “I’m sure he’ll be up for a three-way.”

  The music started, and I had to shout to be heard. “How about a four-way?”

  Tamsin grinned at me. “You’re adorable when you’re drunk. Let’s dance!”

  I looked toward the floor in front of the stage. The club was starting to fill up, but that space was still empty.

  “No one else is dancing,” I said.

  Tamsin grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. “I know, right? Let’s show them how it’s done.”

  Even at my own prom I’d done the bare minimum of dancing required. Luckily my date shared my awkwardness about that part of the evening, and we’d gotten away with a few slow dances—sway, sway, sway—and one fast dance toward the end of the night when the floor was crowded enough that our lack of moves could go unnoticed.

  If I’d been less tipsy I probably would have gone up in a puff of pure terror as Tamsin dragged me onto the floor in front of the stage. The setup was like something out of an anxiety nightmare—the kind where you’re supposed to play piano or sing a song in a concert hall without knowing the words or music… or being able to sing or play.

  But I was tipsy. In fact, I was close to being wasted. And as Tamsin threw up her hands and started to move, I found myself channeling the person we all are in secret—the one who dances alone in her bedroom, and who isn’t really as clumsy as she thinks.

  The best part was, we weren’t alone for long. Other people joined us until the space in front of the stage was crowded with sweaty, happy, gyrating bodies.

  But Tamsin and I were right in front of the stage, and I wasn’t hearing noise anymore.

  All I heard was music.

  Something was happening to me. Observer-Rikki was fading away, along with the fears that never quite left me in social situations—the fear of saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing, revealing too much and making a fool of myself.

  I was fearless and beautiful and lovable, just like all the other people on the dance floor.

  “I love you,” I shouted in Tamsin’s ear, and she patted me on the shoulder.

  “I know, sweetie. I love you, too.”

  And then, across the room, I saw Sam. He was at the bar, tossing down a shot of something, and for the first time I noticed he had a wrist band on. Either he hadn’t been carded or he had a fake ID.

  He set his empty glass down on the bar and turned around, and his eyes met mine.

  I went absolutely still.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  Tamsin bumped into me.

  “You’re not dancing,” she said, grabbing my hands and spinning me around.

  I tried to find Sam in the crowd again, but the spinning made me too dizzy.

  “I’m drunk,” I said out loud.

  Of course. I was drunk! That was the only reason I’d said what I did. I didn’t really love Sam.

  But I kept searching for him anyway, as though seeing him again could confirm that it was alcohol speaking and not my heart.

  I couldn’t find him. I decided that when the song ended, I’d get off the dance floor and look for him. But when the song ended the set did, too, and then Jason jumped off the stage and grabbed me around the waist.

  “Hey,” he said, smiling down at me.

  Would I tell Jason I loved him, too? I blinked up at him, waiting for declaration to spill out of me, but it didn’t.

  Maybe I was sobering up.

  “You were amazing,” I said. “I really loved the third song. Or maybe the fourth? The one with—”

  And then, without any warning, he kissed me.

  I wanted to dissolve into the kiss the way I’d dissolved on the dance floor. But at the first touch of Jason’s lips on mine observer-Rikki popped up again, watching what was happening and pulling me out of the moment.

  Jason broke the kiss before I could figure out if I was enjoying it or not. “I’ve got to help clear the stage for the next band. Then we’ll join you guys for a drink, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He jumped back on stage and started packing up equipment, and I turned to make my way back to the table. Maybe Sam would be there and I could figure out the weird tangle of emotions that swirled around inside me every time I saw him.

  But he wasn’t there. And when I scanned the club, I couldn’t spot him anywhere.

  Maybe that was a good thing. If I hadn’t seen Sam while I was on the dance floor, I wouldn’t have felt that ridiculous surge of drunken emotion. And if I hadn’t felt that ridiculous surge of drunken emotion, maybe I would have enjoyed it more when Jason kissed me.

  It wasn’t too late, though. Sam wasn’t anywhere to be found and the night was young. I’d have another chance to kiss Jason and this time, I’d be one hundred percent focused on him.

  An hour went by before I got that chance. The whole band came to the table, and while Jason sat next to me and threw an arm around my shoulders, it wasn’t exactly an intimate setting.

  But it was fun. Claire was bubbling over with excitement, and she taught us the words to the last song they’d played—the one she’d written herself. She also begged us to come up with a name for the band since they hadn’t been able to agree on one.

  When the headliners took the stage for their set, most of us got up to dance. I didn’t feel as giddy as I had before but I still enjoyed myself, especially when Jason put a proprietary hand on my waist or my arm.

  I was sure that when we kissed again my body would respond the way it was supposed to: with excitement and passion.

  After a few songs Jason pulled me off the dance floor, leading me around to the back of the stage where there was a little door marked Employees Only. We went through it and found ourselves in a small room with amps and instrument cases stacked up along one wall.

  There were a few chairs scattered around. Jason led me over to one, sat down, and pulled me into his lap.

  And then, at last, the kissing started.

  I was ready for it. I was focused. I really, really wanted to enjoy myself.

  Only I didn’t.

  Maybe the alcohol was wearing off. Maybe there was something wrong with me on a basic level—something that would keep me from ever really letting my guard down, ever really cutting loose.

  Whatever the reason, I wasn’t really there. I was like two people: one of them kissing Jason and one of them watching myself kiss
ing Jason.

  And neither one was feeling it.

  I wanted to feel it. I was so determined to feel it that I tried to force it, hoping I could stamp out observer-Rikki through sheer force of will. I practically attacked Jason, kissing him with what must have seemed like passion but which was mostly desperation.

  He kissed me back with what was definitely passion—or at least lust. I knew it was lust because I was sitting in his lap and I could feel his hard-on.

  It wasn’t horrible. I wasn’t repulsed or anything, but…

  And then observer-Rikki popped up again.

  If not horrible and not repulsed are the best you can come up with, then this isn’t working for you.

  Jason broke the kiss. “I’ve got a condom in my wallet,” he said. “Someone might come in here but there’s an alley out back… or we could go to my car.”

  I stared at him.

  For just a moment, I actually thought about it. This was my chance to lose my virginity, to check that experience off my to-do list.

  All I had to do was ignore my instincts. My feelings. My heart.

  I realized how easy it would be to do just that: to ignore my instincts, to ignore the voice in my head telling me that what I was feeling wasn’t enough. It would be easy to just go with this, to have sex in an alleyway or in the back of Jason’s car or wherever else we could find privacy.

  I had a sudden vision of what it would be like to live my whole life like that, until the disconnect between my feelings and my actions was so complete that I lost myself.

  I slid off Jason’s lap and shook my head. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t do this.”

  Jason blew his breath out in a heavy gust. “Okay. I understand. We can go back to my room, or your room, or whatever.”

  “I didn’t mean I can’t do this here. I meant I can’t do it at all.”

  He stared at me. “Why? What happened?” He paused. “You know I don’t have a girlfriend, right? We broke up last week.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “No, but—”

  “Shit. Who is it?”

  “No one. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  Jason’s eyes narrowed. “But you’re into someone, and it’s not me. Who is it?”