Page 63 of Love in the Lab
Olivia's eyes soften as she nods. She gets it.
New Orleans is a party city, but I amnota party girl. The noise by itself is formidable, loud drums and brass instruments from the marching bands, people cheering and shouting in the streets, but the real struggle for me is the press of the crowd around me. In a New Orleans parade situation, there is no such thing as personal space.
The one and only time I tried to watch a parade with a group of friends back in graduate school, I enjoyed it at first. The buzz of excitement in the air and the novelty of the experience had my full attention. Then as the floats came through, the riders throwing plastic cups, beads, and MoonPies from above our heads, the crowd surged together closer to the street, and I felt suffocated. From all sides, people pressed into me—the smell of body odor, alcohol, and vomit overwhelming.
One friend saw my distress and helped me get to a stoop in the doorway of a closed real estate office. I spent the rest of theparade sitting on the cold concrete with my knees pulled up to my chest and my head resting on my folded arms. Even then, all my senses remained heightened, and the stoop smelled strongly of urine.
Obviously, I’m not eager to repeat that experience, so I am 100 percent fine with heading home to my quiet apartment while Olivia and Annie enjoy themselves.
“Will you be okay walking home by yourself?” Olivia asks outside the restaurant as we prepare to go our separate ways.
I wave my hand as if swiping away her concern. “Oh yeah. It’s not far.”
Olivia slips on the Mardi Gras-style, feathered peacock mask she brought to complement her, in my opinion,waytoo revealing costume, but that’s probably my overprotective older sister instincts talking. Olivia is an adult, after all. She wears tight green-and-blue-patterned bicycle shorts under a long open-front mesh skirt designed to look like peacock feathers. Her top is cropped just below her chest, leaving her stomach exposed down to her belly button. Though the top covers up to her neck, a keyhole cutout on her chest shows some cleavage, and it’s open in the back. The top has the same peacock feather design as the skirt. She looks hot. I guarantee more than one set of eyes will be on her tonight, but that’s probably the point. Olivia loves the attention.
Annie is in costume, too, though hers is much less “look at me.” The friends clearly coordinated, because Annie is a bird, too—a swan. The skirt of her white dress flounces out with layers of tulle down to her knees. Her mask is also in a masquerade-style with sequins and white feathers.
The sidewalks are already filling up with other people in costume, and as I look around, I begrudgingly admit to myself that Olivia’s outfit is relatively conservative in this crowd.
I wave a quick goodbye and walk in the direction of my apartment. The sun is starting to set and though it’s not dark yet, shadows overtake the sidewalk in front of me.
Despite my reassurances to my sister just moments ago, I feel uneasy as the dusk creeps in. Even more so when my skin prickles with the awareness that someone is watching me. I pick up my pace, wrapping a fist around the keys in my pocket so that one of them sticks up through my fingers like a claw.
I walk even more quickly when I hear footsteps behind me. I’m not alone; groups of people ramble past, but I’m definitely swimming upstream as I head away from the parade route. I turn my head subtly to glance behind me and make out a hulking man, encased in shadows and reaching toward me.
I scream just as a familiar voice says my name and a hand clamps down on my shoulder.
My hand flies to my chest as if I’m trying to keep my heart from exploding out of my body. It takes a minute for the adrenaline to dissipate enough for me to recognize my “assailant.”
“Jonathan! What the heck! You scared the crap out of me!” I smack his chest, hard.
“Oof!” he grunts as my hand hits his sternum. “Sorry.”
“What are you doing here? And why are you following me like some sort of stalker?” I narrow my eyes and take in his dark wash jeans and the black T-shirt that’s tight around his biceps. Okay, a very sexy stalker, but still.
He rubs his chest where I hit him. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be a stalker. I knew you were walking by yourself, and I wanted to make sure you got home okay.”
I raise my eyebrows. “And how did you know I was walking home by myself?”
Jonathan chuckles. “You told me. Remember?”
I think back. Oh, yeah. I did tell him, including which restaurant we’d be at. Still, I make a show of sighing deeply before I say, “Fine.”
Jonathan smirks and pulls me into a hug. I melt against him.
“How was dinner?” he asks as we start walking toward my apartment again.
“Fun, if a little crowded.”
Jonathan’s eyes wander to the people funneling around us. I can’t see his face, but I feel his distraction.
“Where’s your truck?” I ask, nudging his side with my elbow.
“Hmm?” He looks down at me. “Oh, I parked at your apartment.”
I smile. “That’s your idea of making yourself scarce, is it?”
We hear the blare of a trombone in the distance behind us, and Jonathan twists his head around to look back.
