“I’m kidding with you. You know that, right?” His eyes soften and he dips his head, meeting my stare.
I nod. “I do.”
Tory tilts his head back and takes a long swig from his bottle of beer. I take this moment to survey the rest of the crowd. I haven’t seen Lucas’s truck yet, or Ava, and I hate that I’m looking for them. Even more, though, I hate that Tory catches me in the act.
“He’s always late to shit. Some things never change,” he says, nudging my arm with his elbow as he scoots a little closer. I chuckle at his commentary, remembering all the things Lucas was late for with me.
“You know that jerk was late to our summer swim relay when we were eleven?” I say. “He showed up just in time to swim anchor.” Tory laughs hard enough that he spits out some of his beer.
“Serious?” he questions.
I nod and hold up the scouts honor sign.
“He still a jerk?” he asks, laughing lightly through the words. His expression falls into a less spirited one though the longer it takes me to answer. I never do.
Jerk or not, he isn’t late this time. He’s right on time, pulling his truck up right next to the one Tory and I are sitting in. At least seven people are in the back, and four more lined up next to him in the cab. The scent of alcohol is strong, and bottles clank as people climb out of the truck. I kick my feet out and hop to the ground, dusting off the back of my jeans and twisting in place to find my friends, any of them. My attention comes screaming back to Tory after a second, when his hand grabs my fingers. At first, my eyes sear the place where he’s holding my hand hostage, then my gaze flits up to Tory’s cocky smirk.
“Don’t let him run you off,” he says, rushing the words out before Lucas rounds the back of his truck and stops a few feet away from us with a sour look on his face. The trapped feeling makes it hard to breathe.
“Hey, man. Can you help me with this keg?” Lucas’s eyes bounce from where Tory’s hand is on mine to Tory’s eyes, and that little victory from seeing it bother him helps me slow my pulse and stay where I am a moment or two longer.
“Yeah, bro. Where we takin’ it?” Tory runs his thumb over the top of my knuckles, and I react on auto, pulling my hand away and stuffing both of them in the front pocket of my hoodie. I don’t leave yet, though. I’m not sure whether what Tory did there was for me, or for Lucas, but it was a weird line nonetheless.
“Uh, Jake’s truck, I guess. Isn’t that where the rest of the shit is?” Lucas shifts on his feet, glancing at me a few times, but never stopping to actually look at me. He’s agitated and keeps pulling his black Public hat from his head to smooth out his long hair underneath before putting it back on backward.
Tory hops down from the truck, his feet crunching into the earth less than a foot from me. He leans in, the sweet scent from a wax pen on his breath. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
I’m not sure why I obey his request. I stay put, though, while he climbs into the back of Lucas’s truck and the two of them haul the keg to the tailgate, then call Hayden over to help lift it out. I stick by the back of Tory’s truck for several minutes while he lingers by the drinks, laughing and joking with his friends. Maybe he forgot about me. But before I give in to the urge to search out my friends, he jogs over from across the large open area we’re all parked around.
He hands me a Coke, not fully letting go when I grip it, instead tapping the top a few times. “I ran with it. Don’t want it to explode on you,” he explains. I wonder if my face is as quizzical as it feels.
“You’re being nice to me.” I didn’t mean that to come out with sound.
Tory stops tapping my drink as he shakes with a hard laugh and looks down at the ground, nodding and biting at his bottom lip that eventually slips into an amused smile. I pop the tab and take a long drink, thirstier than I realize.
“You were nice to me first, you know,” he says, holding his beer up to toast against my can. I smile all crooked and tap my Coke into his Bud.
“Technically . . .” I nod my head side-to-side and look up to the right.
“Fine, I gave you a chair. Oh, look what a gentleman I am,” he mocks.
We both ease back into leaning against the tailgate and laugh together, maybe admitting we had each other a little wrong.
“So, tell me, Mabee. I thought your parents were super strict. How did you get them to let you drive the mom van out here for such a sordid affair?” He eyes me over his bottle as he tilts it back for another long drink. He’ll be drunk within the hour at this pace.
“Well,” I begin, pausing as I shift my position, letting my free arm hug my waist. I don’t talk about my family, but maybe that’s another thing I should change. I lean my head to the side and let out a short nervous laugh. He reaches forward, lightly touching my arm.
“Go on,” he urges.
I look up at him, a part of me maybe making sure he’s earnestly interested. His eyes don’t move from mine, so I take a deep breath. “It’s just parent, really. They split up, freshman year.”
He nods, and it’s a little bit like he’s familiar with this part, but maybe I’m just reading into that.
“And my mom, she would prefer me to be a little, no . . . a lot more social than I am.” He snickers at that, taking yet one more drink. I let my arm fall free of my stomach and hold my Coke in both palms, swishing it a little to hear the fizz.
“She workin’ tonight?” He cocks a brow, and I respond with a sideways look. If he’s looking to take me home—alone—that’s a hard no.
“Yes,” I say tentatively. “But she knows I’m here. We switched cars so I could drive.”
He licks his lips, the slightest appearance of his tongue, and my trust fortress rearms itself. He backs off though, shifting his posture and putting a little more distance between us. He holds his now-empty bottle up for me to salute again. He’s getting buzzed, but I indulge him.
“Cheers to the designated drivers!” he says.
“Cheers!” a few people nearby echo, because he’s getting kind of loud.
“You need another?” He taps on the top of my can. It’s still half full.
“I’m good.” I nod. He tips his head back and takes the last remaining droplets of his beer, then tosses the bottle into a pile forming at the center of this gathering.
“Well, I’m empty. I’ll be back in a bit!” His stride has gotten looser, but for whatever reason, he’s still a little engaged in talking to me. It’s better than me wandering around lost. My girlfriends have all found circles to join, all of them drinking at about the same pace as Tory. I’m going to keep the windows down on the way home in case anybody vomits.
A heavy clunk to my right jerks my attention around. Lucas is pushing the tailgate of his truck up, missing the catch the first few times and shoving it three more times before it holds. He claps his hands together to remove the dirt—his truck’s been through some mud, it seems—but remains behind his vehicle for a few long seconds, his eyes focused on the ground. His jaw works back and forth in thought before his gaze finally lifts to meet mine. It doesn’t stick. He and I, we can’t seem to look at each other for long.