***
A few hours later, I pulled up at the front of Twiggy's house. He worked most shifts with me and Tony, and even though he was nearing thirty, you couldn't tell from the way he behaved. Tony and I never knew when he was high or when he was straight; maybe he was just high on life.
The smell of weed was overpowering the moment I opened the door. Bob Marley played through the speakers. I had to laugh at how stereotypical it all seemed.
Tony's voice boomed from somewhere in the house. "Amanda!" he yelled. I spun in a small circle until I saw him jumping and waving his hand in the air. I carefully maneuvered through the people in the living room until I got to him. "You want a drink?" he yelled into my ear. I lifted the bottle of water in my hand. "Okay," he said, then motioned for me to sit on the chair he’d just been on. I dropped my ass on the plastic fold up seat. He left, but came back seconds later with another chair and positioned it next to me. He placed his arm on the back of mine and leaned in close to my ear. "This is exactly what I pictured Twiggy's parties to be like."
I laughed. "I know, right? Bob Marley and everything."
He leaned in even closer. I felt his warm breath on my neck, right before his lips brushed my earlobe. "I know we're not on a date," he said, his voice low. "But you look amazing tonight."
It's nice to be complimented, even if he were nothing more than a friend. I turned to face him to say thank you, but something, or someone, caught my eye.
My heart thumped against my chest.
Once.
Twice.
Thump.
And then nothing.
It stopped beating. My eyes drifted shut. I had to be seeing things.
Tony—he must've taken it the wrong way, because the next thing I knew—his warm lips met mine and he was kissing me. I don't know how long his lips were there, until finally, my heart started up again.
Thump, thump.
I audibly sucked in a lungful of air, and held it.
He pulled back. "I'm sorry," he said.
I let out the air in a rush. "Not your fault."
He turned and eyed the floor. "Not a date," he mumbled.
My breath came in short spurts.
My eyes lifted and locked with his.
***
Logan
Heart—stomach. Stomach—floor.
Our eyes locked.
There was no one else in the room.
She raised her hand in a small wave.
I raised my beer towards her.
Then she smiled.
Smiled.
***
"Get your shit together," I told my reflection in bathroom mirror. I dropped my head between my shoulders and splashed water on my face, and then faced the mirror again. "You knew you'd see her at some point. Quit being a fucking pussy." I rolled my eyes at myself. "Great. I'm fucking talking to myself." I jerked my head towards the mirror. "Dick."
She's here with Tony—they're dating. It's been a year, of course she's moved on. He seemed like a nice enough guy.
"Not your problem," I said aloud.
They kissed. That's fine.
I closed my eyes and tried to erase the memory of her kissing some other asshole.
My hand shook as I turned the knob on the bathroom door. She still had the power to make me nervous.
I tried to muster up the courage to go over and speak to her, hoping that her boyfriend would let me. I didn't know what I'd say. Maybe I should just leave her alone. Maybe she didn't even care that I was here.
I cursed under my breath, opened the door, and stepped out. But before I had a chance to make up my mind, fate had decided for me.
Her eyes went wide when she saw me. "Logan," she breathed out.
My stomach flipped. "Hey . . ." My voice cracked. Fuck, I was nervous. I cleared my throat. "Hey," I tried again.
She stood with her back against the hallway wall, waiting to use the bathroom. I kept my eyes focused on her face; I didn't want to see the rest of her. I didn't think I could handle it.
A bunch of girls tried to get past. I moved forward so they could get through, causing my body to push against hers. "Sorry," I told her.
"It's fine." She said it so quietly I almost didn't hear her. Then she cleared her throat and stood straighter. She pointed her water bottle towards the bathroom door. "My turn," she informed.
"Oh. Yeah, of course." I stepped back and let her out. This was it. This was our goodbye. She pushed off the wall and walked around me. My eyes focused on where she'd just been.
"Logan?" I felt her hand on my arm. My eyes shut tight, not wanting to remember what her touch did to me. "Logan?" she repeated.
"Mm."
She gripped my arm tighter and turned me to face her. She bit her lip, her eyes unsure. "Will you wait for me?"
I nodded, my tongue too heavy, my mouth too dry to speak. She walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. Only then did I let my body relax, my muscles aching from the tension.
Amanda
"Get it together," I told myself in the mirror. I splashed water on my face and neck and filled my bottle of water. Why did I ask him to wait for me? Oh God, this is going to be so awkward. He's going to be outside, thinking I'm going to say or do something phenomenal, and I don't even know what the hell I'm doing.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, he was there, leaning his shoulder against the wall with his ankles crossed. His hands were in his pockets, causing his arm and shoulder muscles to flex. I didn't take him in; I didn't want to remember how his body made me feel.
I cleared my throat.
His green eyes lifted to mine.
He stood to full height.
I froze.
Thump. Thump.
I opened my mouth to apologize, and to let him get on with the rest of his night, but he spoke first, "You want to get out of here?" he asked. His eyes on mine were so intense, so full of promise. Then he shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts. "I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm a dick. You're here with your boyfriend." He kept shaking his head from side to side. He took a step backward, his hands going up.
I watched him, confused, but then it hit me. "Oh!" I rushed out. "He's not—I mean—Tony—he's not my boyfriend."
"It's okay," he talked over me. "You don't need to explain."
He took another step back and bumped into someone, who pushed him forward and into me. I tried to help steady him. "Sorry," he said. I noticed his hands clenched at his sides.
Once he was on his feet again, he blew out a breath. "You don't need to tell me anything, just—"
"I'll just tell him that I'm leaving, okay?"
He shook his head again. "It's fine . . . you don't need—"
"Just wait out front for me?"
He nodded, then turned and headed for the front door.
I watched him. And finally, I let my body relax.
***
I walked out the front door and looked around for him. He was leaning against a car, one knee bent with his foot on the wheel. His head was down, looking at his hand. He shook it a couple of times, and then went back to examining it.
