None of the Above(68)

“Darren!” I yelled. I ran over, still high from dancing, and gave him a hug. Of course he was there—he was the one who had introduced me to The Concept, after all. I looked around for other kids from our school. “Are you here with Becky?” It was an eighteen-plus club, and Becky was a couple of years younger than we were. Club Eternal was notorious for kicking out kids with fake IDs if there was any suspicion that they weren’t legit.

Darren looked uncomfortable. “Um, no. Quincy and Jessica.” He fiddled with his ticket stub. “Who are you here with?”

“Oh, just some friends,” I said vaguely. I’d already forgotten my made-up story about Gretchen.

Quincy saved me, butting in to tug at Darren’s shirt. “C’mon, we scored a table over by the bar. Oh, hi, Kristin.” He brightened when he saw me, and glanced over at Darren before asking, “Wanna join?”

I looked at Darren. He didn’t say anything or meet my gaze, and I felt myself coming down from my dancing high. “Thanks,” I said quietly, “but my friends are over there.”

“Who was that?” Julia asked when I rejoined them. “He was cute, in that confident nerd way.”

I gave a pained smile at the description. “Just an old friend.”

“An old friend . . . that you have a thing for?”

“I don’t—” I stopped. Who was I kidding? I did. “He has a girlfriend.”

“Don’t see him with one tonight,” Julia pointed out.

“Well . . . he’s not into me, then,” I said.

“His loss. Plenty of other fish in the sea.”

Were there, in my sea?

Leslie misinterpreted my silence. “If you’re shy, I’ll be your wingwoman. It’ll be perfect. Come hang out with me at the bar. You don’t have a stamp, so they won’t serve you, but you can at least mingle.”

The opening band started its set, and things got loud again. I joined Leslie in the sweaty press around the bar. As we waited to be served, she nudged me. “Hey, that dude is totally checking you out.”

I turned, scanned the crowd, and saw him. It was Josh. Pinstripe Shirt from my night out in Whitesboro. My heart did a triple jump in my chest.

“Lara, right?” He slid over, leaning in until I could smell the Pabst on his breath. “What’s up? You never called me back after that one text.”


“Hey!” My mind raced to find an excuse. “I’m sorry. Things have been super busy. And I had surgery.”

His eyes widened with real sympathy. “No shit? Well, it must’ve been minor because you’re looking pretty fine now,” Josh said, his gaze drifting down from my face for a moment. Leslie tapped me on the shoulder and I watched out of the corner of my eye as she slipped away after a smiling “See ya later, Kristin.”

After a second of panic, I allowed myself to be flattered that Josh wanted to come back for more. Wasn’t this what I wanted? To be swimming in the sea? We shouted at each other for a little while, to at least pretend that we were there for the conversation, but I was glad when Josh led me back out onto the floor.

It was so crowded that we were practically glued to each other. Right away, Josh put his hands on my waist. Then they snaked up my back, and his hips were moving and I could feel his hard-on rubbing against me as we gyrated. It felt gross and amazing at the same time, raw and real.

In between sets, Josh pulled me behind a decorative curtain hiding a little nook in the wall. We could still hear the noise of the club, but we were hidden from view. In the tiny, enclosed space I had a moment of doubt, until I reminded myself that this was what I had come for.

Josh kept on whispering how hot I was, and I closed my eyes to get beyond the terror of being found out, and to focus on the feel of someone touching me, desiring me beyond any doubt. His hand slid up my skirt and under my panties, and I willed myself not to flinch.

Behind the curtain it was like a sauna. My hair was a mess, my neck sticky with sweat, so I put it up in a ponytail. I stripped down to a tank that I had layered under my top, and reached a hand up to wipe my forehead. And that’s when Josh truly looked at me for the first time.

“Shit,” I heard him say. I glanced through the slit of the curtain, thinking that there was a bouncer coming around.

“Are you that . . . ?” Josh was staring at me. The lighting was all wrong for me to see the expression on his face, but I sensed the shock of his recognition. And heard the disgust creeping into his voice.

I recoiled, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my fingertips. “No,” I said, so desperately it sounded like a whimper. He couldn’t even say what I was out loud.

“You said your name was Lara, but that girl called you Kristin. You’re . . . whatshername. Kristin Lattimer.” Josh’s voice started to rise. “I remember seeing you at a track meet last year with my sister. She was saying at dinner the other night that she might have a chance at State because you’d been DQ’d because you were . . . a man.” He spat the last word.

I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back, but the shame paralyzed me. When I didn’t say anything, Josh shook his head, running his hands through his hair over and over.

“Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ,” he muttered, so close to me that I could feel his breath on my face. “Why didn’t you say something?” At first, it was almost like a plea. But then the cap came off his rage, bursting like a shaken-up soda bottle.