Tori elbowed me subtly in the ribs, so I reached for the beer, my pinky brushing over Adam’s thumb as I took it from him. “Just a sip,” I told Adam, hoping the sip would wash away the heat climbing my face. In the dim lighting of the dining room, his eyes looked blacker, but not cold. Instead, his gaze felt warm. If I was someone else, someone naturally romantic like my friend Navy, I might idealize the way he looked at me with beautiful words and feeling. The best I could come up with, to describe the way he looked at me, was as if I was the only person in front of him, the only person he wanted to look at, in the entire room.
But I wasn’t idealistic even with my romantic tendencies. I knew romance was for books, for fiction.
I tipped the beer back and let it coat my tongue before bringing it back down. The taste, while somewhat unpleasant, didn’t churn my stomach like the wine cooler had. The bubbles reminded me of my favorite soda, and the cool the beer left on my tongue made me wish for another sip.
But instead, I handed it back to Adam. He waited a second longer than I expected him to, and his pinky laid over the top of mine when he grasped the bottle. His eyes, the entire time, never left mine. Maybe it was my imagination, but he seemed calmer since the car ride. “Better?” he asked.
The beer hadn’t done much to lighten my leaden tongue so I simply nodded. I wanted to talk to Adam. And I knew that having a little bit of booze might lower my inhibitions but it also might prevent me from remembering the way he looked at me, the way the light from the backyard made him glow like some kind of fallen angel.
Wow, I thought. The romance book I stayed up late to finish last night had infected my brain. Adam was no fallen angel. He was just a guy I had lusted after for the last handful of years, or so. And if for one night—or just this moment—his eyes were on mine, that didn’t mean he was suddenly into me, too. I only needed to remember the way he’d glared at me outside of Tori’s house to humble me.
“I’ll get you a beer,” Tori offered, nudging me again but less discreetly than before. I nodded, but regretted it immediately because seconds later, Tori and Keane were retreating back into the kitchen, their bodies disappearing among the others. Leaving Adam and me alone.
Adam was still staring at me, unnerving me in the quiet way he was good at. “Think they’ll start dating?” he asked me.
I was so lost in staring at him that it took a minute for it to click what he was asking me. “Tori and Keane?”
He took my dumbly-spoken words to mean it was ridiculous. Which, it was, but my words were slow because I had barely been able to drag my attention away from him to think about anything else. “Yeah, you’re right. Tori is too flighty.”
“She’s not flighty,” I said, almost too defensively. When Adam arched one dark brow, I elaborated. “She’s smart. She knows that high school isn’t forever and indulging in serious relationships in a temporary environment will most certainly end in disaster.”
The side of his mouth lifted as if I had said something that was funny. “Right,” he said. “Flighty.”
“That’s not flighty,” I argued. I checked the tone of my voice, not wanting to actually argue argue. Especially since he was finally starting to warm up to me. “She isn’t going to make promises she can’t keep. I guess I think of flighty as her leading Keane on, and I don’t think she will.”
His smile dropped away and he looked thoughtful for a moment. “Okay, you’re right.”
Why did that simple little statement light up like a tentative firework inside of me?
“So what about you?” he asked.
Again, I stared dumbly at him. “I’m not interested in Keane.”
The smile appeared fully this time, sinking a delicious little dimple in his cheek. I was dumb struck. Adam was actually smiling at me. “I didn’t think you were. Rather, I was wondering if you shared her opinion. About relationships.”
This conversation was making me feel stupid. Not that it was Adam’s fault—it was mine, for not being able to look at him and think clearly. “Uh…” I said. “I don’t think I’ve given it much thought.” And I hadn’t. Not only because my life was ruled by the pressures of my parents, but also because it had never been an option for me—to think about dating seriously. “I’m not someone who dates.”
“Are you asexual?”
“No,” I said, but it sounded unconvincing. “I’m just busy.”
“Because of your dad.”
Bitterness rose from my throat, but he didn’t deserve it. Not because he was right—which he was—but because it was a natural conclusion. My father’s company employed many of the parents whose kids were at that party, which was probably why I sat like the odd man out from social events. I didn’t want people to look at me and see my dad; his name or his clout or his power. But that’s what happened. People looked at me like I was the police, like I had the power to tattle on them, to have it get back to their parents. The truth was that I didn’t tell my father anything about people from school, and wouldn’t have. When I caught Jacob Coleman smoking a joint in his car after school, he looked at me in fear but my dad never knew, so his parents never heard it from me. But being the daughter to someone of power meant you had very little power yourself in the way of making and keeping friendships.
When Jacob was eventually caught by his parents, he’d eyed me disdainfully every time we passed each other in the hallway, believing that it made more sense that I had tattled than that his parents would smell his cheap pot on his clothes and figure it out themselves.
Rumors got around about me, and though I pretended to be unaffected, I wasn’t. It bothered me that I wasn’t invited to parties, that I was always a tag-along. But at the same time, the ability to be a homebody was a relief. There were no social pressures in being a homebody.
“My parents do keep me busy,” I hedged. I couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with my hands, which wanted to fidget someway. In truth, I was dying for some caffeine, but the house was fully stocked with booze and not more innocent beverages.
As if he could read my mind, Adam handed me his beer again after he took a pull from it himself. I hadn’t thought much about sharing his beer before, but putting my lips around the rim when his lips had just been in the same position did something funny to my thoughts, to the already unsteady beat of my heart. I took a longer pull this time. The taste was becoming more bearable and its coolness slid down my throat more comfortably.
“It’s an acquired taste,” he said when I handed it back to him.
“So is coffee, but I’ve never acquired it.” I licked my bottom lip, already wanting more. Adam took a sip, not taking his eyes off of me.
“Never?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I love caffeine. It doesn’t wake me up but it does keep me … calm, I guess.”
Adam handed me his beer again and I took it without hesitation this time, sharing his beer like this felt completely natural. Was the beer having an effect already? It was a light beer, which I knew meant the alcohol content was less than wine would be. So, maybe it wasn’t the beer, but Adam’s company instead.
As I tried to hand Adam his beer back, someone bumped into me from behind, sending me careening into Adam’s chest, and the beer sloshing up out of the neck and onto us. His arm came around my back, steadying me, his other hand trapped between our bodies, clutching the bottle.