Page 26 of Heartbeat

“‘Disorder,’” I said. “Joy Division.”

“A man after my own heart.” Adam said, searching for the song.

We all sat around the living room, sharing a blunt and listening to Ian Curtis for the better part of three hours. Eventually, we ordered a pizza, which we finished in about two minutes, and I can safely say that afternoon was the first time in a long time I’d actually had fun and didn’t overthink every aspect in hopes of finding the many different ways I was to blame for potentially ruining a good thing. It was fun. I had fun—with actual friends, no less.

*

When Noah came downstairs, I was listening to Sam play Debussy’s Arabesque No. 1 on the piano, while Adam and Blake made out on the couch.

“Hello,” Noah said awkwardly after clearing his throat.

We all turned to him, but Sam kept on playing, which only made me admire her more. Not everyone could play Debussy that well, while stoned out of their minds.

“Hey! Guys, this is Noah. Noah, the guys.” I gestured broadly.

Two things were always dead giveaways when I got high: I moved my hands a lot, and I repeatedly licked my lips—for some reason, I always felt as though I was drooling.

“Hey, guys,” Noah said, smiling, then asked me, “Can I talk to you a sec?”

I followed him to the hall.

“I’m going to a party,” he stated.

“Uh, no, you’re not,” I said.

“Why not?” he whined. “Why can’t I go?”

“Because you didn’t ask me anything.”

“Ugh.” He rolled his eyes. “Can I please go to this party downtown?”

I could see from my periphery that we were being closely watched. Sam leaned over the piano, resting her head over her folded hands, while Adam and Blake had both turned to the hall, hiding behind the back of the couch.

“Sure,” I said casually.

Noah instantly beamed.

“What kind of party is it?” I asked.

“I dunno. Some lame senior is throwing a pre-party before some competition starts.”

“Dean? Is Dean the lame senior?” Adam loudly—and excitedly—asked from the other room.

“He’s a lame senior,” Blake said, winking at me.

“I don’t think so,” Noah said. “It’s someone from my school.”

“Bummer,” Alex said, disappointed. “I thought it might be the same party we’re going to later.”

“Oh, really?” Noah said ominously, slowly turning to face me.

“They’re going. Not me.”

“Oh,” he said, also disappointed.

“Are you drinking?” I asked him.

“No?” he was quick to reply.

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