Page 2 of Kissing is the Easy Part
The syrupy fruit-flavored vodka and the fizzy seltzer in the next two rounds are just as repulsive, and then something darker and harsher, a cheap spiced whiskey, burns all the way down my throat in that unmistakable way only cheap alcohol can. A small firework explodes in me.
Beside us, a group of girls initiate a dance-off. Jake laughs and his eyes light up. With a mop of golden hair and a dimpled smile, Jake’s attractiveness is in-your-face, while Sean—Sean is filling up my cup with ice cubes, leaving almost no space for the beverage. Dylan catches this and snickers, shaking his head.
A new song blasts from the surround system. Someone must’ve turned up the volume. Whereisthe music coming from? My eyes can’t focus. The scenes in front of me move in slow motion, like a movie playing frame by frame.
“Are you okay?” Sean asks.
I grin, then, realizing I’m showing too many teeth, close my mouth and reform it into a demure smile. A slight sense of wooziness kicks in, and my head feels heavy.
“How’s everything? You folks having fun?” Raymond sails by, checking in on his party guests as part of his routine. Sometimes I wonder why he bothers throwing parties since he has no time to enjoy himself. All he does is rotate around the room, making sure no one’s miserable.
“Awesome party. Thanks!” Dylan raises a cup. His bicep bulges against the fabric of his shirt. The airplane tattooed on his arm blurs.
Raymond places a hand on my shoulder, leans down, and whispers, “Please don’t mess up my sheets later.”
I laugh and shove him away.
Our drinking game resumes. I down two consecutive cups before Jake removes another bottle from the table, narrowing our choices. With fewer options, the odds of picking the same one as someone else spike. This time, I nearly knock over the bottle of peach schnapps when I try to point, but Jake catches it just in time. He pours us both drinks, finishes his, and nods at me. “Your turn.”
My head snaps up. I reach for the cup in front of me.
Sean lays a hand on my forearm. His fingers are warm now. “Hey, maybe you should take a break.”
“Game’s still on. No mercy,” Jake says.
“Don’t go soft on us now,” Dylan says.
Sean slides my cup out of reach. “You don’t want a headache later.”
“It’s three times the penalty if you’re going to drink for her.” Dylan props his elbows on his knees, grinning. Pretty sure he made up that rule on the fly.
Sean presses my hand down, his touch firm but gentle. The veins on his forearm are so attractive. Without speaking, he picks up my cup and drinks—three in a row. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Dylan and Jake exchange a glance and look over at me. My heart does a somersault inside my rib cage.
“Count us out the next round.” Sean pours me a cup of water and presses it into my hand. His eyes linger on me when I chug it down, as if he wants to make sure I don’t miss one drop.
Still in a daze, I dwell on the delicious fact that he saidus. Hello, we’re anus!
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks.
I set down the empty cup. “I’m fine.” This is the most positive interaction we’ve had so far, and the alcohol makes me brave. I have his full attention now, and I’ve got to act before I lose my nerve. “But it’s too loud here. Let’s go somewhere quieter. I need to talk to you about something.”
Dylan lets out a low whistle. “Oh,damn. Sounds serious.”
Jake grins. “Seany, are you in trouble?”
The room tilts when I stand up. Leather chairs melt into metal bar stools and faces and swaying bodies. My knees buckle, and I grab the air for balance, but there’s nothing solid to anchor me.
Sean hops up and catches me by the elbow. I stumble over on my kitten heels and straighten myself. Taking a deep breath, I point the way and we make it up the stairs. Sean hesitates at the yellow tape stretched across Raymond’s door. “It says Do Not Enter.”
Raymond can be soextra. Ever since I met him at horse camp in second grade, he’s always gone overboard.
“That’s meant for other people. Ray’s my pal. See, he’s given me the key.” Ripping off the tape, I unlock the door, and we step inside. The door clicks shut behind us and seals us off from the chaos downstairs. My head clears.
I turn the lock just to keep the outside world from barging in. A second to breathe, to speak without interruption. That’s all I need.
“The alcohol helps . . .” I start. “. . . to work up the courage to talk to you.”
“You needcourageto talk to me?” Sean says.
