The Other Side(34)

When the song I’ve never heard dies out, I make my way down the ladder and sit on the second rung from the bottom, my feet resting on the platform. Alice is standing at the railing not far from me, her Walkman in her hand and headphones tucked into her hair at her ears. “Hi, Toby,” she says. A faint smile colors her lips and then it fades just as quickly as it arrived, and she takes the headphones off and sets them with the Walkman on a small table.

It startles me. “Hey. I didn’t think you could hear me.”

She turns toward the ladder. “I couldn’t. My music was turned up. I could feel the fire escape shudder when you walked on it and climbed down the ladder.”

“Oh, right.” Of course she could, that was stupid of me. “Is your brother home?” I ask to draw the attention away from me and my insensitivity.

“No, he’s begrudgingly having dinner with our mom. Trying to smooth things over for me, I think. Taber’s always been the unlikely peacemaker in our family. The Eliot family Gandhi…if Gandhi wore leather and eyeliner.” Even through the joke, she doesn’t crack a smile. It seems Alice harbors all of her negativity and saves it up only for her mom. Not that I can blame her after the argument I overheard a few weeks ago. She shakes her head. “Sorry, sore subject. Let’s talk about something else. Are the stars out tonight?” She’s sad and deflated and I hate it.

I lie without hesitation because I will do anything to lighten her mood. “They are and the moon is full.”

“I miss seeing the stars.” When I don’t answer because I don’t know what to say to make this better, she makes her way over to me. “What’s your last name, Toby?”

“Page,” I answer as her right knee bumps into my left.

“I thought so,” she says as her head tilts back like she’s looking at the sky.

I’m sitting too low to see her face, but there’s sadness all around her. I can feel it and I need to make it go away, but I don’t know how to do that. I can’t manage my own emotions, let alone someone else’s. “How did you know?”

Her head drops down to face mine and the corner of her mouth quirks up like something amuses her. “I heard some girls at school talking about you, the infamous Toby Page.”

I don’t even want to know what that means. “I should’ve told you we go to the same school,” I whisper.

“They were talking about you in Contemporary Living class. They said you had a nice ass and pretty eyes and that it’s a shame you’re such a dick. Though I got the impression that they didn’t really mind that part either. And yes, you should’ve told me we go to the same school. Why didn’t you?”

“It’s complicated, Alice.”

Ignoring my self-assessment, Alice counters my cryptic answer with another question to see where she stands. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” She’s not the type of girl to put up with bullshit, if she sensed I was that type of person she wouldn’t be standing here talking to me.

“Absolutely not.” My hand is shaking when I reach around the back of her leg that’s touching mine and run my hand up and down her calf to reassure her.

She holds up her palm facing me and I press mine to it, watching her fingers alternate between mine and dropping to secure them in place. “Then why?”

Everything about you makes my pulse race, I think as my heart starts beating double-time at her touch. “You don’t know me, Alice. You hang around me and you’ll never make any friends. I keep to myself and I’m kind of an asshole. Those girls were right about that part at least.”

“Lucky for me, good guys disguised as assholes are my favorite,” she says with a smirk as she rubs circles with her thumb over the back of my hand and I rub circles with mine over the back of her calf.

I know there’s a hole in these tights about eight inches north and my fingers are begging to find it, so I hold my breath and let them travel in search of it. When I brush bare skin at the back of her thigh, it’s pebbled with goose bumps from the cold but it’s still so soft. I’m watching her chest and shoulders rise exaggeratedly through her puffy coat, like her only job is to get maximum amounts of air into her lungs. “I’m not a good guy,” I warn as I widen my legs and guide her between them.

Her free hand finds my hood up and lowers it. “I don’t believe you. What color is your hair, Toby?”

“Brown,” I answer as my fingertips tuck inside the torn edge of her tights and my palm flattens against the skin exposed by the hole.

She runs her hand through my hair and it feels like she’s reached inside me and her fingertips are skimming nerves and bringing them to life. “Be more specific. Is it light brown like an almond? Or is it dark brown like chocolate?”

I don’t want to think about anything except what Alice’s lips taste like, but I answer, “Dark chocolate,” while I squeeze the back of her thigh.

Her breaths are coming quicker now, but she keeps up with the line of questioning. “What about your pretty eyes?”

I give her the most accurate description I can, “Seafoam green.”

She smiles and traces my forehead lightly with her pointer finger, followed by cheeks, chin, nose, and finally lips, where it lingers.

“Alice?” Her name tastes sacred and sounds divine. I’m breathless.