Half of the group talksabout Prom, which I still have no date for, still hoping there's achance I can take Rory, which is ridiculous since it's two weeksaway and everyone's had arrangements made for months.But there'sroom in our limo, so if by God's good grace Monday rolls around andshe still wants to give us another chance, maybe I can convince herto come with me.
The event itself will becheesy, but we're all heading to Thea's family's rental in theHamptons afterwards and at least that should be fun.But I know thechances are slim, and though I try not to get my hopes up—not sureI can handle the disappointment of her confirmation thatyesterday's conversation was, as I suspected, a result of myterrible behavior and her consequential jealousy—I can't help buthope.And it's a dangerous thing—hope.The kind of thing that letsme set myself up for the worst kind of hurt, one I never knewexisted a few months ago, but that now I'm painfully familiarwith.
It took everything I hadnot to let myself get sucked into her words.Not to jump on thechance to get her back.But I needed her to be sure.Needher to besure.
Even if I couldn't stopmyself from taking one taste of her.
I almost didn't.Almostmade myself walk away.But then I realized that it's likely thatMonday will come and she'll reiterate that she can't handle arelationship, that we're still just friends, and that it could bemy last chance toeverget a taste of her.
It was the best and worstdecision of my life.God, kissing her is like nothingelse.It's like consuming her, and begging her to consume me inreturn.And she fucking did.
I sigh, shaking my headfree of these obsessive thoughts.For tonight at least, we're stilljust friends, and I'm determined for us to have a good night,considering the disaster of the last night we were out togetherjust forty-eight hours ago.
Those who aren't chattingabout Prom are talking about Live, the club we're off to later, ortexting on their phones.Chelsea texts excitedly, presumably tosome guy, maybe the one she's bringing to prom, or her collegeroommate that's also planning on meeting us at Live, apparently intown for the weekend.Fortunately, Chelsea relinquished the idea ofbeing my date to prom, deciding to take some guy from some otherschool she knew from summer camp, so I'm off the hook there.Notthat I ever really considered taking her.
I never thought I'd begoing stag, but that's what the odds are leaning toward.But thetruth is, if Rory doesn't go, I'd rather just focus on chillingwith my boys than entertaining some girl who will only get thewrong idea.
I feel ridiculous eventhinking about it when there are so many more concerning things tothink about before then.Real things.Like the motion hearing onRory's case next week.I have to be there.At least as a witness Ihave every reasonable excuse and right to be there, but I don'twant to just be there as a witness.I want to be there forher.I want to betherewithher.It's strange waiting for Monday to learn my fate.Everything willeither change or stay the same, and I have no say in any ofit.
Tucker sucks on Carl'sneck right there at the table and I roll my eyes.
"Do you guys want the roomto yourselves?Should we find a table upstairs?"I askthem.
"Would you mind?"Tuckerdeadpans, his mouth barely letting go of the skin of Carl's throatto respond.
Carl shrugs him off,flushing with mild embarrassment as I fling an ice cube at him,landing it right in the collar of his shirt in true quarterbackform.
"Fucker," hegrumbles.
"Cut it out, Tuck," Carlmurmurs halfheartedly, scooting away from him so she's notpractically on his fucking lap.
"Come on, Princess, don'tlisten to Cap.He's just a bitter bastard these days."
I land another ice cubedown Tucker's collar.
"Fucking stop that!"hegrowls in exasperation, but he's the one who needs to fucking stopit.
I glare at him and heexhales his capitulation.He doesn't mean to be a dick, and hecertainly didn't mean to call me out on being in a shit mood overRory, but he did, and he looks like he just realized it.Hisexpression is his apology, and I accept it wordlessly.
Fortunately, Carl changesthe subject."So, Rory, did you ever talk to that girl?The one youmet on Facebook?"
This is news to me.Ididn't know Rory had met a classmate and it makes mesmile.
Rory nods."She's nice.Ithink I might meet her for coffee next weekend…"
But she trails off, andher eyes get this lost look that I've come to recognize.I knowimmediately what she's thinking about.It's hard for her to lookall the way to next weekend when first she has to deal withthat motherfucking bastard'shearing.
This is when things arethe hardest.When I want more than anything to take her hand, towhisper some words of comfort, but I can't do a damn thing but sithere in silence and try to telepathically communicate mysupport.
And then, as if she justcan't help herself, Chelsea takes care to shift the conversationback to herself, making sure the entire group knows just howexcited she is to finally meet her roommate for the first time in acouple hours, howawesomethis girl supposedly is, and how much they havein common.Though if the last is true, I can't really see how"awesome" she could possibly be.
I feel guilty for thethought.It's a nasty thing to think about a friend, but it's whatcame to mind nonetheless.
I order family style foreveryone and no one asks for ID when most of my friends orderdrinks.No one says anything when Dave lights a cigarette either.Most of us have eaten here several times, but it's obviously Rory'sfirst time, and her enthusiasm for the food lifts my moodimmensely.She's so into the lobster satay that I quietly order heran extra plate of it and she gives me that sweet smile in gratitudewhen the server places it in front of her minutes later.I lovewatching her eat.Is it crazy that I love watching hereat?
"Cap, tell me about theapartment?Is it all ready?"Chelsea asks.It's the third timeshe's said something to get my personal attention when I'd beenfocusing it on Rory, and I realize I'm being way tooobvious.
"Yeah.Thea did a sickjob," I reply.
