Page 33 of Weekends with You

“Finn, why are you the way you are?” I asked, trying not to laugh. I’d been living here long enough that comments like this from Finn no longer surprised me, but it was best not to laugh and encourage him.

Besides, the way Henry was looking at me was more than enough attention for the moment. The slow, appreciative drag of his eyes up and down my body was anything but platonic, and the night was getting longer by the minute.

“How else would you like me to be?” Finn waggled his eyebrows, redirecting my attention.

“God, Finn,” Liv said, repulsed. “You look great, Luce.”

“Okay, enough talking about how I look, please. And thank you, Liv. So do you. Are we ready to go?”

“Been ready,” Jan said from the couch, two empty beer cans on the table beside him.

“Bugger off, Jan,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

As we made our way downstairs, Henry and I slipped to the back of the pack, as was becoming routine. I tried to pretend I didn’t feel the heat of his gaze, that I hadn’t been feeling it sincethe moment I walked down the stairs, but we were too close now to pretend anymore. Just out of earshot of the others, he leaned into me and whispered so close to my ear I could feel his breath.

“‘Babe’ doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he said “I’m serious, Lucy. I’m not sure how I’m going to focus on a single other person at this party tonight with you looking like that.”

“So don’t,” I teased, feeling emboldened by all the praise. He inhaled sharply with a slow shake of his head, and neither of us said another word. The glance we exchanged was enough.

By the time we got downstairs, two of the three other apartments had already gotten the party started. Between the four apartments, there would be nearly forty people here tonight, which made it feel like a real event.

The first floor of the building was the perfect space for a party. Our heels echoed on the concrete floors, and the sound bounced around the open rafters. With the gym equipment dragged off to a storage closet and the bikes leaned up against the building outside for the night, we had plenty of space for food, drinks, high-tops, and a dance floor. The wide garage doors ordinarily made it drafty and cold, but there were enough people packed in for the party that the air was warm and humid.

We all first made a beeline for the bar, clearly sharing the same priorities. Henry and Cal ladled deep red punch into plastic cups, doling them out like we were a group of small children in the lunch line. Henry’s fingers brushed against mine as he handed me a cup, and I wished I hadn’t noticed.

By the time the night was underway, the party was a banger. Jan took over the speakers, and for once we didn’t mind his eclectic taste in house music. We flocked to the dance floor in droves and had to restock the bar before midnight. Raja had said this was one of the best nights of the year, and so far, I had to agree with her.

Liv and I spent so long dancing that every song blurred into the next, and it wasn’t until I felt Henry’s eyes on me that I became aware of my own body again. He stood on the outskirts of the dance floor, back against the wall, beer in hand. One of our neighbors, an American named Lucas, was standing next to Hen, gesturing wildly in what appeared to be a one-sided conversation. I was dancing with Liv but no longer looking at her.

With Lucas still talking, Henry grabbed his camera from the high-top in front of them and lifted it to his eye. I kept my eyes on him but didn’t stop moving for fear of what I might look like at that hour in a still frame. Liv and I danced around each other, twirling and laughing with our heads back and spilling drinks on the concrete, and Henry kept his camera trained on the dance floor all the while.

“I need another drink,” Liv said between songs. “I think the entire contents of mine are on the floor. Or on that bloke’s shoes.” She nodded to a guy standing next to her, who I didn’t recognize. “Need one?”

“A top-up would be grand, if you wouldn’t mind,” I said, handing her my cup.

“You got it. Try not to miss me too much.” She danced off the floor, and as I’d hoped, Henry took the opportunity to fill her place.

“Finally escaped the clutches of Lucas and his tales of the Big Apple, have ya?”

Henry took a long swig of his drink, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed. “You know, Bernstein, I try really hard to be a good person.” He was slurring just a little, the way I was beginning to recognize he did when he was tipsy. “I try to listen when people talk, try to be a good conversationalist, but bloody hell, is he exhausting.”He pretended to faint onto my shoulder, and I actually had to exert effort to keep him upright.

“I would think someone as drunk as you would be able to tune him out,” I teased.

“Oh, you think I’m drunk, do you?”

“I know you are,” I said. “Can see it in your eyes.”

“You’ve been looking at my eyes.”

“Only now, as we’ve been talking.”

“Well, could I have taken a photo like this if I was so drunk?” He turned his camera’s screen to me, and I gasped audibly. It was a shot of me, but it looked like it could have been an advertisement. My arms were above my head, and my hair just masked half my face. I was the one in motion, but everyone else looked like a blur. The deep burgundy of my curls and the emerald green of my top were twice as vibrant as they’d looked in the mirror, and a glimmer of light caught my necklace in a way that turned it into a spotlight.

“Not bad, right?” he asked over my shoulder as I looked at the tiny screen.

“‘Not bad’ doesn’t even begin to cover it,” I said, at the risk of sounding vain. “Henry, I—”

“Had no idea how much there was to it?” he finished for me, echoing his sentiment from earlier. “Most people don’t. But that doesn’t bother me.”

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