Tonight, I’m eighteen years old, and Alex is the sweet boy who took me on a considerate date and then opened up in a way I couldn’t imagine the Alex I left behind opening up.
Tonight, Alex is a boy I like.
So I kiss him, and I keep kissing him until he pulls away.
13
In Another Life
I need air. If I can get some air, just fifteen minutes alone to breathe, I can make it through the rest of this reception.
Then there’s the after-party. I can’t even begin tothinkabout the after-party—
On second thought, maybe what I need is another drink.
I approach the bar, then spot a caterer entering through a side door just as the upbeat dance tune fades out, replaced by “Tennessee Whiskey.” I glance back at the dance floor, where couples pair up, and anyone who came alone slyly steps away to grab a drink or sit down.
My gaze is drawn to Cat. Her silky blond hair. Her glowing skin. Her huge white wedding dress. She really is a beautiful bride, swaying to the music and staring lovingly into Ellie’s eyes. I avert my gaze, and as I do, I notice that side door again.
Air it is.
I step outside and take a deep breath, relishing the cool breeze.
“That bad, huh?” I startle, then turn and see a familiar silhouette standing under a harsh streetlight. “The dancing, I mean. Our friends have many talents, but dancing isn’t one of them.”
“Don’t be an asshole,” I scold as I walk over, but I’m smiling.
He looks great, even though the lighting isn’t doing him any favors, and I try not to think about how sweaty I am or how the ugly pastel lavender satin of my bridesmaid dress is clinging to my skin or how I’m sure in this lighting, my pit stains are on stark display.
Alex and I have never been particularly close. I’ve seen him only a few times in the years since graduation, and while we’re part of the same friend group, I don’t think we’ve ever hung out just the two of us. But in this moment, I’m relieved to see him. I came alone tonight—despite me and Madison joking that she’smydate, not Patrick’s—and even though Alex is every bit as coupled up as our other friends, I’m pretty sure he came alone too. I haven’t spotted Ingrid.
“Just being honest,” he says.
“Sometimeshonestandassholeare synonyms,” I retort and watch as he takes a long drag of his vape; the scent of watermelon makes its way to my nose when he breathes out. I smile at the familiarity, a sense memory that time will never quite erase. We’ve spent many drunken nights passing one of his vapes around.
“I thought you quit,” I remark.
“I did,” he says, then takes another drag. “But tonight’s a night for celebration.”
I glance toward the dumpsters. “Funny way of celebrating.”
“I’m not the only one out here,” he counters with a pointed look.
I offer him a wan smile. “It was getting hot. I needed some fresh air.”
It’s his turn to glance at the dumpsters. “You picked a great spot.”
“Can I try it?” I nod toward his vape pen.
He raises his eyebrows and says, “You’ve tried it before. You were never a fan.”
I shrug. “Times change, people change. Maybe this has changed.”
It has definitely not changed, I realize as I hack up a lung. “What even is the point?” I exclaim, handing the vape pen back to him.
“Here we go,” Alex says, rolling his eyes. He’s smiling, though, so I feel encouraged to continue.
“It’s just—nicotine,” I say. “It does nothing except kill you. What is the point?”
