“Clara!”
Felix? What in the world.
I dragged myself to the door. “What are you doing here?” The words were out of my mouth before the door fully opened.
He was spiffed up—his thick hair tousled just so, smelling good, and wearing his tightest black jeans. “You’re coming with us.” I saw Patrick’s car idling on the curb.
I nudged Flo out of the way with my foot so she wouldn’t escape. “What? Where?”
“Some party. Come on, we barely see you anymore. I’ll give you five minutes to get ready.”
“What, I don’t look good enough?” My arm swept over my ripped white tank top and knee-length sweat shorts.
He raised his eyebrows and shot me a wolfish grin. “You always look good, babe.”
“God.” Felix was full of moves, and two years ago I had fallen forallof them. “Give me a second.” I ran upstairs and got dressed in record time. I remembered to grab my cell as I was headed out the door, sending Rose a text:Want to do something fun for once?
***
“So then if you think of it that way, Tom Cruise is basically awizard, transcending time and space.”
I stared at the guy in front of me, then wrapped my hands tighter around the warm bottle of beer I was holding. Rose and I had been talking to this conspiracy theorist about Tom Cruise at this house party for a solid five minutes.
The guy licked his lips nervously, his fair skin getting paler by the second. “So actually, if Cruise—”
“I have to pee,” I said, handing my drink to him as I grabbed Rose by the arm.
“Wow, I thought people got more stable once they graduated high school,” Rose said as we headed out of the living room toward the kitchen.
“Paranoid people exist at every age,” I shouted to be heard over the live band. Patrick had some sort of sixth sense for parties with a high ratio of hot dudes in bands. It had been hard to persuade Rose to come out, but I promised her cute boys and she had met us fifteen minutes later. Too bad we had been stuck with Tom Cruise Whiz.
It was stuffy in the apartment, so we went searching for some air through the kitchen. It had terrible fluorescent overhead lighting that was a harsh contrast to the cave feeling of the living room. Rose and I skirted by a group of girls in various denim cutoffs and cropped tanks while a tall man in a felted hat lectured them on something or another. They looked bored to tears, some of them even on their phones.
As we walked by the opining guy, I slipped into him, knocking his beer into his pinstripe shirt. “Watch it!” he yelped as he jumped away from me and wiped at his shirt furiously.
“Oh no. So sorry,” I said, holding up my hands apologetically. The group of girls scattered immediately.You’re welcome.
Rose laughed. “That was some good sabotage, Shin.” I resisted the urge to create further disruption, my prank itch temporarily scratched.
“Thanks, Carver.” I found a sliding door that led us out onto the balcony, which was miraculously empty. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, I asked, “Are we a buddy-cop movie now?”
Rose took a sip of her Diet Coke, which I had managed to find for her deep in the recesses of the refrigerator. “Carver and Shin. We need to have like, moments of culture clash.”
“I’ll teach you how to use chopsticks while you fumble and curse the entire time,” I said as I leaned against the railing.
The sliding door opened then. Felix.
“Hey. You guys hiding out here?”
I shrugged. “This party is full of the most unbearable dudes.”
Felix plopped down into a dirty plastic chair. “I know. Found out it’s some band’s apartment.”
“Figures.”
“But Patrick’s interested in some guy, so I think we’re stuck for a while.” He clinked his bottle on Rose’s can. Patrick and Felix had been surprised when I told them Rose was coming, especially because they had always been integral to Project Make Rose’s Life a Living Hell. But despite the initial awkwardness, everyone was being civil.
I leaned against the balcony railing and looked over at the CVS parking lot that was adjacent to us. “Isn’t Patrick’s new boyfriend going to have a problem with that?”
