I gasp. Chills run down my spine. We’re in a literal sea of people. This isn’t just him tugging on my wrist. This isn’t some indecipherable touch. This is lips on my neck. His lips. I can barely breathe. I want to kiss him. I want to do very filthy things with him that I can’t do in a pool full of people.
“Waylon!” Clem’s voice carries across the pool.
I turn around and there she is, waving in the shallow end. “A bunch of us are going inside for karaoke!”
“I should go,” I tell Tucker. I want to stay. But I’m terrified. I’m terrified of what people will see and what they’ll say. This whole time with Lucas and now Tucker, I was so concerned about being their secret, but maybe they’re not the only ones living in fear.
“What are you going to sing?” he asks.
“I didn’t say I was singing.”
“Waylon Brewer,” he says, “don’t you get it? This is the night you say yes.”
“You already got me in the pool,” I say with a laugh.
“One yes down,” he says. “A million to go.”
We wade into the shallow end, and since we’re one of the first to get out of the pool, we’re lucky enough to find towels.
Tucker wraps a towel around his waist and them shimmies out of his wet jeans underneath before kicking them into the grass. He catches me watching him. “What? You were on me for running in jeans last night and now you’re judging me for stripping down,” he says. “You gotta get those off.”
“Um...” Well, yes, he is right. My legs feel like two drowning sausage links. “I need to find the bathroom.”
“I’ll wait for you in the living room,” he says.
Inside, I search the whole downstairs for a closet or a room that might have something I can temporarily clothe myself with. The bathroom is locked. The guest bedroom is being used by two mystery people rolling under the blankets, so my last resort without going upstairs is Kyle’s parents’ bedroom.
I open the door to find a random girl crying into a phone. “Get out!” she screams, and continues to sob.
“Sorry, sorry, need the bathroom.”
She throws a pillow at me and nearly pegs me in the head, but I duck into the bathroom just in time.
Inside the bathroom, I see the reality of my situation. Wet dog times ten. I wish I could be like the kids in the movie who go swimming at parties and walk around in oversized T-shirts or traipse around in their underwear. But I’m not there yet. I don’t know if I ever will be.
But I do like the idea of saying yes, like Tucker said. Waylon two weeks ago wouldn’t even be at this party, let alone stay after going for a fully clothed swim.
My pink T-shirt that reads ON WEDNESDAYS WE WEAR PINK is something I like to think of as a crossroads between New Waylon and Old Waylon. It definitely says something about me, but it’s also inconspicuous enough to go unnoticed. Either way, it is soaked through, and as I feared, you can see everything. But for some reason, the sense of dread I was expecting is lacking.
There’s so much I need to think about and mentally digest, but right now I need a costume change.
Swinging open Kyle’s parents’ closet in their master bathroom, I quietly say, “Sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Meeks.”
It turns out that Kyle’s dad’s clothes are too small and Kyle’s mom’s clothes are... well, they fit, but they’re not what I would call the kind of statement I’m looking to make.
I settle on a teal floral pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt that reads MY SON IS AN HONOR ROLL STUDENT AT CLOVER CITY ELEMENTARY. I give myself a quick look in the mirror, and say to no one but myself in the deepest southern accent I can manage, “Kyle, come hug your mother.” That makes even me laugh. Or maybe I’m a little drunk. Can you get drunk off one beer?
As I’m closing the closet door, I notice a mauve silk robe hanging under a towel. I would normally never wear something like that in front of the whole school, but what the hell? I’m already nominated for prom queen. And itreminds me of Grammy. I could use some Grammy courage right about now.
I pull on the robe, which I quickly discover is more polyester than silk, and tie the sash tight at my waist.
“What the hell?” says the girl who was on the phone, but who is now tucked into bed, watchingFrozenon TV.
“Don’t I look fabulous?” I ask.
She shrugs and nods.
“I hope you feel better,” I say as I close the door behind me.
