Deep (Stage Dive, #4)(13)
“Great place, huh?” she yelled.
“Yeah. Great.”
The place sucked. I mean literally—my shoes stuck to the floor. The bar was grossly lacking in hygiene. Also, it was overcrowded and reeked of decades of spilled drinks, questionable hookups, and broken hearts. Pretty much in that order. My clothes were going to stink for days. And if one more person trod on my toes, exposed care of my sweet ’50s-style black heels, I’d scream. When I’d chosen them I’d needed a pick-me-up, I’d wanted to feel pretty. But now all around us people pressed in. Sweat raced down my spine, dampening the back of my black T-shirt and the band of my jeans.
Yuck.
I pretty much wanted to call in one of those toxic hazard teams to hose me down, decontaminate me from this pit of beer and despair. Ben might have had a point about the place being shit. Damned if I’d ever admit it to him, though. Nope, I was going to have fun if it killed me. I slid my cell out of my pocket just for fun, taking a peek at the glowing green screen. Nothing. What a surprise. Time to saddle up ye olde horse of hopelessness and move on.
“He answer yet?” asked Christy, leaning in and yelling to be heard over the music.
I shook my head.
My former dorm roommate sucked back some beer. “Fuck him.”
“I’m trying.”
“What?”
“Yes,” I hollered, giving her a brave smile. “Fuck him.”
“You can do better.” Little lines appeared between her brows. “You can.”
“Thank you.” I highly doubted that. Nice of her to say so, though. I drank a hefty mouthful of my third Moscow Mule. Vodka was the only way I’d get through this. My feelings for Ben were just a weird obsessive-compulsive disorder or something. Or no, posttraumatic stress from meeting manic Mal. I’d inadvertently attached my affections to the first sane and single hot bearded man in the room. A totally plausible analysis. Freud with his own hairy face would be impressed.
Not that I’d be volunteering that analysis for my finals.
Actually, my psych books had been less than helpful in working out exactly what this love thing was about. To be fair, I did learn some fun facts. Turns out a boy rat and a girl rat, both virgins meeting for the first time, can fornicate immediately in a proficient fashion. No messing around working out the mechanics, they’re just into it. But not so with the higher primates like monkeys. They bumble and fumble their way through initial attempts, working out the relationship and requirements. So it was a relief to know it wasn’t just me. Or even just humans. Apes screw up first dates too. And they don’t even have condoms or bra straps to deal with.
Anyhoo, the point is, the books were big on weird facts about animals getting it on but short on the particulars regarding the type of love or lust at first sight that was plaguing my every waking moment—and a good majority of my nonwaking moments too.
Christy’s new roommate, Imelda, glared at me over the edge of her bright blue drink. Lord knows what was in there to make it that color. I’d only moved into Anne’s old apartment two weeks ago. Apparently, however, these two had already bonded to the point of creepy possessiveness.
The bar had been Imelda’s choice.
“Chris says you know the guys from Stage Dive,” she said.
My ex-roommate shifted nervously.
I just shrugged. Photos of Anne and Mal together had done the rounds of the Internet a couple of times. It was pretty much an open secret in Portland these days. Though me talking about my sister’s business didn’t need to happen. Ever. And Christy was well aware of that policy.
“I think it’s bullshit,” the girl continued, standing so close her hot breath hit my ear.
I resisted the urge to recoil. “Think what you like.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Why don’t we dance?” Christy suggested, sounding as fake peppy as could be. “Quick, drink up!”
We did as told. Then, all of a sudden, Imelda was all hands up in the air waving them about without a care. She snagged Christy’s hand and started dragging her through the crowd. Christy in turn caught my wrist, towing me along. Alrighty then. Our progression through the throng was not gentle. Elbows and assorted other body bits bumped into me, sending me reeling this way and that. A hand grabbed my ass.
“Hey!” I growled, spinning around. In the dark sea of people surrounding us it could have been anyone. “Asshole.”
When I turned back, Christy and her new BF had disappeared. Strobe lights blinded me. I could barely see for shit. Crowds have always made me nervy, and this place was a crush. It wasn’t a phobia, exactly, just a distinct dislike I’d been working hard on overcoming.
Surely Christy would realize she’d lost me and come back. Surely. Waiting. Still waiting. Some chick trod good and hard on my toe, bringing actual tears to my eyes. I tried to hop on one foot to give the other a rub and almost landed on my butt in the process. Yeah, Christy wasn’t coming back. Furthermore, I might have never loved crowds, but right now I was deep in the land of hate.
God, screw this.
It was ridiculous. I was a hairsbreadth away from being twenty-one and over the whole scene already. Guess I’d just go back to my lonely girl apartment. As nice as it was to have some space, I’d never actually lived on my own before. I wasn’t lonely, exactly, it was just that the absence of other people made for a definite adjustment. Bet Ben and Lena were getting on like a house on fire. How could they not, what with Lena being all funny and gorgeous and Ben being Ben.