“It’s fine, I can help.”
Her tone was simple. She wasn’t avoiding me, but she wasn’t trying to engage either.
We threw everything out, and I wiped down the coffee table while she rinsed our glasses in the sink. When she turned back toward me, she gave me a tight smile, and said, “Thanks for the food.”
She stepped closer as I opened my mouth to say it was nothing, but before I could get a word out, she wrapped her arms around me. A small hug. Warm and brief. Just enough for her cheek to rest on my chest and for her body to press into mine for a heartbeat.
Then she let go. Pulled back like it hadn’t affected her at all.
“I’m tired. So…goodnight.”
My head spun as she walked toward the stairs with no hesitation in her step. She didn’t look back once. Just disappeared around the corner like she hadn’t just scrambled every wire in my head. Again.
I stood there with my hands still slightly raised from where I’d almost held her. My brain replayed that hug on loop.
Was she now messing with me on purpose?
She had to be.
What the hell was she doing?
28
Lana
Sunday nights used to be sacred to me. I had time to organize for the week and let my brain settle before Monday hit. But to Callan, Sunday nights apparently meant the opposite. He was throwing another party, and I wasn’t sure what the occasion was. Whatever it was, it had to happen tonight.
Holland was spending the night, which broke my Sunday reset rule in the first place, but she asked to hang out and soon after showed up at my door with her sleepover bag. She was sprawled across my bed in her cute pajama shorts and T-shirt, scrolling through her phone and occasionally tossing a mini chocolate chip cookie into her mouth. I was sitting cross-legged on the bed in my own matching set of white satin pajamas with little hearts all over, skimming through a fashion magazine, and trying to ignore the bass from downstairs.
He didn’t care that it was late, or that he had a roommate who was still in college. When Callan wanted noise, he created it.
The walls vibrated, the floors thumped, and even my bed frame rattled a little. I sighed and leaned back against it, and watched Holland grin at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I didn’t have to ask to know what she was thinking, and I started to shake my head.
She rolled her eyes at our silent conversation. “Oh, come on…we can’t possibly sit up here while there’s a party going on downstairs.”
“I was hoping for a quiet night for once.”
“Lame!” she exclaimed, pushing herself up to sit. “Come on, I feel like dancing. It’s too loud to fall asleep, anyway.”
I hesitated, glancing toward the door and listening to the noise. She was right. I couldn’t fall asleep like this, but maybe a little dancing would make me tired enough to help with that. Holland slid off the bed and held out her hand. “C’mon. Just for a bit. I’ll make sure you survive.”
I sighed but let her pull me out of my room and down the stairs. The music became louder with each step, and when the living room came into view, I saw just how packed it was. There were more people than I expected, but I wasn’t really surprised.
Holland shoved me gently toward the center of the room, grinning from ear to ear. “See? Isn’t this better than hiding upstairs?”
I blinked, taking it all in. I tried to square my shoulders, letting my body loosen. And then…I started to move. Holland laughed and encouraged me with a nod, then she grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the crowd.
“Just dance,” she shouted over the music. “You deserve to have fun.”
I chuckled and decided that she was right. I could say “fuck it” for once.
Bodies moved around us, and I let myself fall into the rhythm. Holland danced close, hair swinging, smile bright. I matched her pace, and I was actually starting to enjoy it.
We danced through three songs, then Holland leaned in and yelled, “I need water,” and vanished toward the kitchen.
I wanted to call after her, but she had already disappeared. I stayed in the crowd for a moment. People swayedaround me, bumping into me without regard, and I somehow managed to squeeze through to the kitchen. But instead of reaching Holland who was standing in front of the open fridge, I was pulled to the side with a large hand wrapped around my wrist.
I glanced up and saw Callan looking down at me. He watched me with that familiar focus, and curious look he used when he was figuring out what I was thinking. He didn’t say anything for a while, and I kept staring up at him without ever taking my eyes off him. His gaze dropped to my pajamas, not seeming slightly amused that I hadn’t bothered changing into something more appropriate for this party.
