Gwen’s standing next to me. Her mirror-self is smiling. Her real self is, too.
“Do you think that things between Knox and me can work?”
Gwen turns around, leans her hips against the sink, and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. Her pendant earrings clink softly. “Do you remember when we were at the diner, and he came in with Wyatt?”
“When I spilled my coffee on his pants?”
“Exactly.”
I nod.
“That was the day I knew Knox had found what had been missing.”
“What do you mean?”
Gwen smiles. “He came in trying so hard not to look at you, as if you were his sun, and, in so doing, revealed that, for him, you’d been precisely that the whole time, whether he was looking at you or not.”
My heart grows faint. So light, it wants to fly away. “I didn’t notice that at all.”
“Of course not. You don’t noticea thingwhen Knox is close by, my dear.”
I bite my lower lip.
“Stop doing that. You’re smearing your lipstick. Now, let’s go.”
We go back to Levi and Aaron. They’re waiting for us at a bar table with four beer glasses on it. Gwen grabs one and downs half of it. The foam sticks to her upper lip. She licks it off. That’s Gwen. She drinks milk out of the carton. She burps after eating a fatty meal. She parks in the spots reserved for trainers at iSkate. She laughs, she lives, she’s sassy and wild and abnormal. I love her.
“What did we miss?” she asks.
Levi points to a guy sitting on a stool with his head hanging down. He doesn’t look all that comfortable.
“You see him? He sat himself down cross-legged on the dance floor and busted out in some breakdancing moves. In so doing, he caught that woman there in the red dress in the knee. She fell over and took her friend with her, who landed on homeboy’s face with her ass.”
“No way,” I say.
“For real. I took a video. Here.” Aaron holds his phone out under my nose. I look at the whole thing, frowning, before asking, “How can you record so quickly?”
“I just wanted to turn it into an Instastory.”
“And Jason Hawk hooked up with Francine George,” Levi adds. “The skier. On the dance floor. At first, he danced up to her, totally creepy, wait, like this.” He rubs his bottom against Aaron’s hips, up and down his leg, Aaron says, “Oh yeah, baby, clean my shoes, that’s how I like it,” and we double up in laughter. Levi wobbles back upright. “Then he slobbered all over her, like this.” He sticks out his tongue and pretends to lick Aaron’s face, but Aaron moves away laughing. Clever.
“Come on,” Levi says, but we can hardly understand him thanks to his slabbering tongue. It sounds likehumm-ahn. “Don’t be like that.”
I can’t stop laughing, I even spill my beer until I suddenly realize what Levi’s actually said. My laughter dies. “Jason Hawk is here?” I look around. If he’s not still at the Athlete Lounge, then Knox mightalready be here at the Inn.
Gwen groans. “You’ve already got a snowboarder. Leave one for me.”
“I don’t want a thing from Jason Hawk.”
“Yes, she does.” Hands on my shoulders. Big hands. Warm. Warmer than the sticky air. They stroke the lace. I lean back my head and see Knox’s lips from below. Curved and lovely. A bit sad, but not right now, right now they’re simply lovely. He looks into my eyes and the corners of his mouth twitch when he says, “She’s got a thing for him.”
“Yeah, well, Knox,” Gwen downs the rest of her beer. “Then you’ve been dealt a bad hand.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I never get a bad hand.” Then he pulls me into his arms, bends down, and kisses me. No doubt smearing my lipstick. But whatever, because: Knox, oh-my-God-Knox, what are you doing?
The kiss lasts all of two heartbeats.BOOM. BOOM.Just two, but it feels like two hundred, I have to gasp for air when I turn my head to interrupt it. I look left then right, right then left. Did anyone see us? No. I don’t think so. But then I see it. Knox’s expression. Like a beaten dog. Levi and Aaron are staring into their glasses, but Gwen casts me ayou-see-that’s-what-you-getlook. She’s right. Knox doesn’t know that I want to keep our situation a secret. He doesn’t know that my future at iSkate will be over if the fact that I am here becomes public knowledge. And I am not ready to share the reason why with anyone but myself at this moment. I’m not ready yet. I’m too afraid. The pure desire to live, you might say.
“Knox,” I say, running my fingernail along the inscription—treat yourself—on the beer glass. “Can we go somewhere else?”
