Lessons from a Dead Girl(30)

As soon as we step inside, Jess grabs Web’s shot glass and downs one, then refills the glass and gives it to me. I sniff it.

“It’s raspberry Chambord,” he says. “You’ll love it, Lainey.”

I smile at him, hoping to see something in his eyes that says he likes me back. Nothing.

He pours the shot glass three-quarters full, then tops it off with some cream from a purple carton. I tilt my head back and fill my mouth with the sweet stuff. I swish it around before I swallow. It’s delicious.

“Mmm,” I say.

“Told ya.” He winks at me, and I actually blush.

We finish the bottle and then switch to vodka and Sunny Delight. It doesn’t compare, but by then I am willing to drink anything.

Most of the night is a blur. I spend it standing against a wall in the living room, watching people dance and feel each other up at the same time. I don’t know how many people are here. Lots. I don’t know any of them.

Jess disappeared with a guy about twenty minutes ago, confirming that our time in Maine was just my freakish paranoia. Leah always told me I was a bad judge of character. She was so convinced everyone had a story. Sometimes when we were at a public place like the beach, she’d whisper each person’s secret life as they walked by. Whenever I made something up, she’d shake her head and tell me I was a bad people reader.

“You’re just afraid to look closely,” she’d tell me. “You don’t want to know the truth about people.”

I’d look again at all the people walking by, but she was right. I was afraid to look too closely.

I take one last look around for Jess before I go to the kitchen for some more juice. Straight juice this time.

The light is off when I get there, but when I flick it on, someone yells, “Cut the shit!” I shut it off again and walk quietly to where I think the fridge is. When I open the door, the light clicks on and I see two bodies pressed together, leaning up against the marble-top counter.

“Fuck sake!” a familiar voice says. I quickly grab the juice and swing the door shut. It’s Web.

I turn to leave, but I can’t help looking to see who he’s with. Web looks away, burying his face into the person’s neck. It’s the guy who gave us the raspberry stuff.

“Sorry,” I manage to mutter. I stumble through the room, leaving Web and the stranger in the dark.

I don’t know why I’m shaking. Like I’m the one who was caught, not him. But caught? It’s not like he was cheating on me. It’s not like … It’s not like he was ever going to like me more than as a friend.

I should have known. I should have looked closer.

I replay the night at the bar in my head, with me trying to get Web to kiss me. And Leah, right before we left, smirking and saying, “Nice try.” I thought she was talking about my pathetic attempt to look like I was with a guy, which now seems infinitely more pathetic.

She knew the whole time. Of course she knew. They were in summer school together. Web said something about being able to be himself there, but I was too clueless to know what that meant.

I manage to push my way through the living room of dancing bodies, down the hall, and out a sliding-glass door to a huge stone patio. I sit down on the ledge overlooking a pool made to look like a pond.

How could I be so stupid? How could I not have known? Everything makes sense now. Maybe I should be glad. He wasn’t attracted to me because he’s gay, not because there’s something wrong with me. So why am I not relieved?

“Hey,” a whispery voice says behind me.

I turn and see a guy I don’t know but recognize from inside. I think I saw him dancing.

“I’m Lucas.”

“Hi,” I say. “Laine.”

“Strange name.”

“Yeah.”

He sits down next to me.

“You have amazing eyes,” he says.

Really?

No. I know it’s a lie.

The jug of juice sits next to me on the bench. I wish I had more to drink.

He takes a long swig from his own red plastic cup and smiles at me.

“Can I kiss you?”

Before I answer, he leans forward and presses his lips against mine, forcing them open with his tongue, which is cold from whatever he’s been drinking. Coke and something stronger.

This is not the first kiss I imagined.

I see Web in the kitchen again, being held.

I squeeze my eyes shut tighter and concentrate on kissing the stranger back.

He puts his arms around me and slides me closer so our chests touch. He moves his hand from my back toward my front at my waist. I’m still trying to figure out the kissing thing, thinking, Oh my God oh my God oh my God, I’m Frenching a total stranger, when his fingers find their way under my tank top.

I feel like one of those cartoon characters when they hit their head and little birds spin around like a halo. I am so wasted. And yet every sensation in my body feels very, very, very alive. His thumb presses under my bra and finds my nipple. Oh my God oh my God oh my God. It feels good. Scary, but good. Very good.

The sliding door wooshes behind us.

“Lainey? You out here?” It’s Jess. She calls out innocently, even though I know she sees me.

The hand slips out of my shirt at the same time the tongue leaves my mouth. Lucas — that was his name, right? — pushes away.