Again, But Better(37)

He leans forward a bit. His lips are right there. Panic takes the wheel, and before I even realize what I’m doing, I’ve raised the glass I’m clutching back up to my mouth, and turned forward to face the band.

I chug a cowardly swig of water. Disappoint torrents through my system. My eyes glaze over as I stare unblinkingly at the guitarist. He wasn’t going to kiss me, right? That wasn’t a big enough lean, was it? Oh god. I don’t know how to reinitiate whatever almost happened. I have to pee. I have to go. His arm is still there. I don’t know how long we’ve been like this.

Abruptly, I spin toward him. “Hey, Pies, I’m gonna run to the BR. I’ll be right back.”

I’ve startled him with my sudden transformation from unmoving statue back to living, breathing human being.

“Oh, okay!” he projects over the music. “Do you want me to—” he starts, but I’m already leaving, weaving back through the people to the hall off the end of the room where I saw restroom signs earlier.

I plow into the bathroom. The stalls are painted black, and the lighting is all neon blue. I walk over to the sink area, which is just a big trench across the front of the room, and stare at myself in the mirror. My hair is wild and extra big from the humidity. Tears burn in the corners of my eyelinered eyes.

What is wrong with me? A choked sound escapes my mouth. I take a few more deep breaths in front of the mirror. Do not cry. I curl my hands into fists, a physical threat to the salt water gathered in my eyes. You’re okay. I pee, wash my hands, and head back out into the abyss of the dance floor.

Rather than navigate directly through the sea of humans, I edge my way back along the perimeter of the room.

“Hey, girl!” I hear a familiar voice and stop, spinning around to find Chad walking over with a fresh vodka cranberry.

“Hey!” I say, a little relieved to catch a glimpse of him after losing him and Babe pretty early on in the night. He walks up to me until he’s a little too close. I find myself up against the wall as I step back, trying to maintain a bubble of personal space. “Where’s Babe?” I ask over the music.

“At the bar, I think,” he says offhandedly. “How are you liking this place? It’s dope, right?” He smiles, eyes drooping drunkenly.

“Yeah, it’s good. I like the music. I was just heading back to find Pilot.” I crane my neck, looking over Chad’s shoulder.

“You have really pretty hair,” he says, staring at me. I narrow my eyes.

“Okay, thanks.” I turn my head, still searching for Pilot. When I turn back …

“What the—” I’m cut off as Chad’s squishy lips hit my face, landing half on my own lips, half lopsided on my check. I bend my legs, sliding down the wall toward the floor before falling sideways slightly and jumping back up, a foot to the right of where I had just been. Chad’s gawking at me with his jaw hanging open.

“What are you doing?” I demand.

“It’s my birthday!”

“Babe likes you,” I scold. I bolt away from him, weaving in and out through the crowd now. That didn’t happen. My first kiss isn’t from some drunken doofus who’s supposed to be here with my friend. It isn’t. It doesn’t count. It didn’t happen!

Relief floods through me when I spot the back of Pilot’s plaid shirt among the damp crowd of dancers. I bump into him lightly as I step up on his right.

“Hey,” I greet him gratefully.

“Hey! Welcome back.” He grins. To my surprise, he pulls me in next to him again. His arm resettles around my waist. And, as expected, I turn back to stone. My whole body hums. He looks so calm and content, but my mind won’t stop whirring. Maybe I didn’t mess everything up when I turned the other way? Where is Babe? Chad is an asshat. I do not like that guy. I didn’t like him before, but I definitely do not like him now.

The music stops at some point. Pilot leads me toward to back of the room with his hand still at my back. My eyes find Chad and Babe. They’re near the bar, clutching half-empty drinks, and Babe is yelling. I can tell from here.

“Are they fighting?” I ask Pilot nervously.

“Looks like it.” We power walk over. Before I can make out anything they’re saying, Pilot speaks over them, “Hey, you guys ready to head out? I think the band’s done.”

Babe jerks her attention to us, eyes red and puffy. Oh no.

“Oh yeah, we should get going so we can catch the Metro,” Babe agrees, her voice cracking on the words get and Metro. She places her drink on the bar, grabs Chad’s drink out of his hand, and slams it down next to hers. The remnants of his vodka cranberry fly around the clear plastic cup as she pivots and storms past us toward the stairs.

“Happy birthday, man,” Pilot says, giving Chad a manly clap on the back with the hand that’s not on me. I watch Chad’s eyes drift to Pilot’s hand.

“Yeah, happy birthday,” I sputter nervously like nothing happened.

Chad throws a slick grin at me before looking at Pilot. “Thanks, man.”

“Let’s go,” Babe yells up ahead. I should try to talk to Babe.

“Wait, Babe!” I yell, “I think we should pee before we go!”

She turns to glare at me, but after a moment she nods, and we head toward the restroom. There’s a line snaking out the door now. She adds herself to it, and I step up behind her.