“No, he’s working tonight,” I remind her. Because I swear I’ve already mentioned it.
Her arm loops through mine, a pleased smile stealing her expression. “Shots?”
We locate a handle of tequila and pour shots from it, then play a couple rounds of flip cup and erupt into a giggle fit watching some guy try to (unsuccessfully) open a beer bottle with his teeth. When he and his friend come over to flirt, I let Maisy entertain them both and return to the fridge for another of my Asheville blondes.
On my way back outside, I peer over the patio railing at Maisy holding court with the men in the backyard. I lean on my elbows, not in any hurry to rejoin them.
Things have changed since high school. Thanks to her studies and my work schedule, Maisy and I aren’t joined at the hip anymore, and even though she seemingly got over her annoyance at my living here, I’ve still tried to give her more space than we ever managed in Bristol. At the restaurant, I’ve made friends of my own—found a boyfriend, even—and with them came an importantself-discovery: sometimes, I don’t want to be around the same people Maisy wants to be around.
“I’m not an asshole, for the record.”
I turn at the sound of his voice and find Liam a few steps behind me. I feign surprise, though if I’m honest with myself, I knew he was up here because I didn’t see him downtherewhen I searched for his face, specifically.
“I never once thought that,” I reply.
He walks forward, points with his beer at the top of Maisy’s head. “Just, what she said. It’s true I hooked up with her roommate last night, but the way it came across painted me as man-whorish.”
“We don’t slut shame anymore. Didn’t you hear?”
Liam’s mouth pulls into a smile. “What I’m getting at is, I don’t lead girls on. I don’t ghost. I’m very straightforward, all the time.”
“That’s great,” I say. “Truly. But also, why do you care what I think of you? We’re not even friends.”
“Ouch.” He puts a hand over his heart.
I fight off a smile. He’s incredibly charming, and I’m not unaffected by it.
“I just meant we don’t run in the same circles. It took us a year and a half to bump into each other again. And considering you and Maisy didn’t work out, we probably won’teverrun in the same circles, will we?”
“I may have followed you into that bookstore, Paige, but we’re both at this party tonight. Our paths were always going to cross.”
“You don’t want me as a friend,” I say. “I’m not very good at it.”
“That seems categorically false.”
“No, really. Just ask Maisy. She’ll tell you the truth, that I’m so introverted she used to have to babysit me at parties like this in high school. That I’ve always been more of a sidekick type and I’m much quieter than she is, especially in a crowd. But Maisy sticks by me because of our history, and I’m just trying to warn you not to putyourself in the same position she’s in. I’ll get too attached to our friendship and refuse to be abandoned.”
My tone and face read as if I’m joking, but I also happen to be baring my soul to him.
Liam’s eyes seem to smoke. “You aren’t quiet to me.”
“Yes, but the crowd is downthere.” I jerk my head at the yard below.
“And it looks like you’ve learned you prefer being up here.”
“Ihavelearned that. I didn’t like myself very much in high school, but I also didn’t know myself. I’ve felt more like a real person since moving here than I did throughout my entire childhood in Bristol.”
Liam’s palm goes to the space of rail between us, his body tilting even more toward mine. “What else have you learned about yourself?”
Do I dare?
But his eyes are so chasmic, and the truth is we hardly know each other. The stakes of this admission are low.
“Music,” I breathe. “I’ve always loved playing music. I grew up playing piano, violin, and flute, but I’ve also been teaching myself guitar. I bought one six months ago with some money I’ve been saving from the restaurant.”
“Music,” Liam says, nodding along. Like he’s mentally deciding itfitsme. Like my edges are filling out in his record of me. “Do you ever compose?”
I nod, just barely. My first confession to anyone, ever, that I’m interested in songwriting. That I’ve been teaching myself that craft, too.
