Between Us and the Moon - Rebecca Maizel Page 0,73
He already likes the real me. He knows me. We keep kissing, I don’t even know for how long.
I just have to find the right time to tell him.
An hour or so later, Andrew is saying hello to some of his friends outside and I’m still leaning against the kitchen counter. I’m on my third beer and my chest is warm. How the hell am I going to even start to tell Andrew that Scarlett is my sister?
I am deep in my problem when Curtis comes into the kitchen and stops next to me.
“American flag string bikini,” he says in a low voice.
Curtis stands across from me and leans a hand on the counter.
“It was an experiment,” I say and take a large step away.
Curtis squints, confused at first, but he cocks his head. “Oh yeah, you’re a science freak,” he says.
I sip on my beer, trying to act casual.
“MIT or some shit, right?” he says and swigs from his cup.
His eyes are glassy. I remember our drug prevention lecture during health class. Glassy eyes. Slurred words. He is intoxicated. I am supposed to feel bad for him, for Mike’s death and for losing a friend, but I can’t find that place right now.
Behind me, through the kitchen doorway and down a crowded hallway, I search for a sign of Andrew’s blond head.
“You think you know Andrew? You know, right? You know you’re just temporary?” Some of his beer spills onto the tile floor. He doesn’t notice. “Andrew doesn’t even drink anymore. Can you believe that?”
Curtis gestures to me, his cup of beer tips and spills down my shirt. I jump back and a few people groan. It soaks through and trickles down my stomach to the waist of my shorts. Someone yells “Party foul!” from the back of the room. I turn my back to Curtis to find some napkins or a cloth.
“Did I get beer on you? Shit. I’m sorry.”
I start patting my neck and chest with paper towels when Curtis pulls my shoulder to turn me around.
“I’ll help,” he slurs. “I’ll help.”
“I got it,” I say. “It’s okay, I have it under control.”
One of Scarlett’s friends, a girl with long dreads, steps into the kitchen. The sour smell of the beer is overwhelming. “You okay?” she asks, but I don’t have time to respond. Curtis elbows his way next to me.
“Move, Shelby,” he says to the girl. “Give me the paper towels. It’s my fault, I should do it.”
“Please stop!” I cry and step back from Curtis entirely. I’m about to leave the kitchen when he points his finger at me and yells, “You don’t have to be a bitch about it.” Curtis pulls at my hand and I drop the towels to the floor. “Hey, science bitch. I’m sorry. No. You’re not a bitch. And I’m sorry about the beer. I’m sorry.”
“Stop it!” I say loud and clear. I yank myself out of Curtis’s tight grip but an immediate pain pins in the center of my wrist. “Let me go!”
I head for the hallway and cradle my aching wrist.
“I want to say ‘I’m sorry’ to your face,” he yells. “I want to say it to you!”
Shelby steps into the kitchen even farther, as though she’s shielding me from Curtis. I can’t find Andrew in the crowd.
“Let it go, Curtis,” Shelby says.
“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to her! She’s only my best friend’s girlfriend.”
There’s a sharp tug on the neck of my shirt, choking me. I am yanked backward. Curtis is tugging me!
I catch myself on a side table and almost in the same instant I am pushed even farther. I grab on to the kitchen doorway to stand back up. Andrew has moved me out of the way of Curtis and rushed into the kitchen. His face is very red and his hands are clenched into tight fists.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Andrew shoves Curtis so his back smacks against the refrigerator.
“Nothing! She’s lying about me. I didn’t do anything! She’s lying!”
“I saw you. Don’t you ever touch her like that again.”
Curtis lunges at Andrew. Andrew stumbles back a few feet but throws his arms out to catch his balance. Andrew’s back muscles tense under his T-shirt. He shoves Curtis away again so he falls into a kitchen table and chairs knocking them sideways. His sneakers squeak and slide on the linoleum.
“I didn’t do anything!” Curtis screams. “She’s lying about me.”