“Holy shit. Look at her go,” I say. “The confidence to dance like no one is watching in front of four hundred people.”
“She’s something,” Margie says. She’s watching her in wonder. La has drawn a crowd and generated a kind of small dance-off. But she’s taken the time to bring a wallflower of a little boy into the circle. We can hear his laughter from here.
“I want to be the kind of person that sparks spontaneous dance-offs. Why aren’t I that kind of person?” I say.
“Because you have no rhythm, and people would think you were choking if you tried. Come to the bar with me?” Margie demands. I wipe my lips with my napkin and shove back from my seat, eager to escape Jack.
“Oh, are you going to the bar? I’m coming, too,” Anna cries. “Come on, Jack!”
I swallow my groan. Lucas stands to join us as well. Avery sees us on the move and rushes over as if tethered to Anna’s ass.
“One big nerd herd, moving en masse to the bar,” I mutter.
14
The bar closest to us is mobbed, so we move to the one across the gigantic room. Lucas is waylaid by a group of fans and waves us on. The walk is an awkward one for me and a boisterous one for Margie, Anna, and Avery. Anna and Avery have linked arms and are singing show tunes at the top of their tipsy lungs. Margie is loudly monologuing Shakespeare. But in the Shakespeare in the Park production ofLove’s Labour’s Lostlast summer, I distinctly remember her playing Rosaline, not Berowne.
“And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love’s whip…” she shouts, throwing her arms wide.
Jack and I trail them, silent, making me feel like we’re chaperones at the world’s shittiest high school dance—a commentary on the people we’re babysitting, not the quality of the Vaughns’ party.
“Your sister is nice,” I say. I have no idea how to have a normal conversation with the man next to me.
“Thanks. She likes you…all, too.” His voice is strained, as if he also isn’t exactly sure how to speak to me without spitting fire. He almost looks perplexed by my cordial tone. He shoves his hands into his pockets and tips his gaze up to the ceiling. “I wanted to apologize for using the stuff I heard through the wall against you when we argued. It was out of character for me. I’m going to do my best not to hear whatever is going on over there at your place until the wall is fixed. Okay?”
I falter a little, an uncertain feeling swirling inside me, and he grabs for my elbow to steady me. “Wh—what made you think of that?” Is he remembering that he almost kissed me right before making that out-of-character-for-him comment?
“It’s been weighing on me,” he responds. “That’s why I cut in.”
“Oh. I— I’m sorry about your—” I gesture to his entire body. “The glitter thing. It… It pains me to say it, but you wouldn’t have looked terrible as aTwilightextra.”
He gives a little laugh.
Quickly, before I can change my mind, I say, “I have a proposition for you.”
“Does it involve thinking of England? What would Lucas Webb say?”
I suppress a chuckle. If the structural integrity of my hate collapses, the majority will landslide away. I need a new footing with Jack. He isn’t a cheating asshole, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a good, old-fashioned, regular asshole. One who, admittedly, can be amusing sometimes.
“You’ll never know. You promised not to listen through the wall,” I purr. He makes a face I can’t read, and before he can lob an insult or worse, apologize again, I rush to add, “No. It does not involve thinking of England. I was wondering if maybe we could call a truce and try to be…normal neighbors?”
“We’d have to be normal people first, and I’m thinking that at least half of this equation doesn’t qualify.”
“Don’t talk about yourself like that. Being normal is a stretch goal you might just reach if you try hard enough.”
“Okay. So what do normal neighbors do? Want me to come by and ask to borrow a cup of sugar?”
“If you need it, sure.”
“Eggs?”
“Okay…”
“Flour?”
“I’m not a damn supermarket.”
Jack’s laugh gusts out of him, the comet’s tail of a loud breath. It’s gratifying. “I was going to bake you a neighborly cake. Your loss.”
