Meet Me Here - Bryan Bliss Page 0,22
says. “Turn it down a few. I’m just asking questions.”
Mallory sighs and pulls a bottle from the cooler.
“Can somebody please open this for me?”
Sinclair pulls out his lighter and pops the cap off in one quick motion, handing the bottle to Mallory.
“Look at Sinclair,” Wayne says. “Dude’s a Swiss army knife.”
A few people laugh, and the spotlight fades off Mallory as Sinclair shows them the trick. Mallory seems normal enough, laughing when the conversation dictates and playing the part of the happy graduate. But I can tell she’s faking something because I’ve been playing that same part for months.
Hell, I’m playing it now, sitting next to Wayne and nodding as people talk about cars they got for graduation, scholarships others shouldn’t have won. On the outskirts of the group I catch Steve staring at me like he’s checking up on a younger brother. When his phone rings and he stands up, cupping his hand over his ear so he can hear, Mallory walks over to me.
“We should probably go,” she says, only to me.
“All right. Whenever you want to leave.”
“Right now.”
She tries to jump over the log I’m sitting on, accidentally kicking a beer bottle into the fire. Wayne gives a good-natured yell, but Mallory ignores him, again saying that we really need to go. But it’s become impossible for me to leave anywhere lately without getting a couple of hugs and more than a few hand slaps. Mallory stands impatiently to the side as it happens. When the last person says good-bye, she nearly drags me away from the fire.
“All right, everybody,” Mallory yells over her shoulder. “Time for the Mallory show to go back on the road.”
I grab her arm before she can get in the truck. When she turns around, she looks ready to get in the driver’s seat and take her chances jumping the lip of the quarry.
“Steve called Will, right?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says. “And Will’s probably on his way up to the quarry now. I really don’t want to deal with all of that, so can we please leave?”
On cue, Steve rushes out of the darkness, putting his phone in his pocket. “Where the hell are you guys going?”
It’s the way he says it. Like he wants me to knock him out.
“Go back to the party,” I say. “Seriously. This isn’t what you think it is.”
“I know you talked to him,” Mallory says, giving him a slanted look. It seems to spook Steve, who takes a step back.
“Yeah. So?”
“It’s none of his business what I’m doing tonight,” she says.
“Well, from what I just heard, Will might disagree with that.”
They stand there, dogs readying to fight. Then Mallory smiles and goes for the throat. “You’re a pretty good friend for a guy Will hasn’t talked about in two years.”
Steve takes another step back, as if her words were fists. But then he smiles, collecting himself. “Hey, I’m not the one who’s whoring around with some asshole I just met.”
And then for extra measure he says, “Slut.”
I go for him, but Mallory gets in front of me, yelling my name.
“No, let him go,” Steve says. “Let’s see which one of you is the bigger bitch.”
“Thomas, please. Let’s go.”
As she’s saying it, Wayne and the rest of the group gather in a half circle around us. Mallory says my name one more time, soft but insistent. Then: “Don’t.”
When I back down, Steve says, “I always knew you were a coward.”
Mallory whips around. “Would you please shut up?”
“I’m trying to help my friend,” Steve says. “But maybe I’ll call him back and tell him exactly what kind of a person he plans on—”
Mallory’s hand is a blur across Steve’s face. “Shut up,” she says, her voice quiet.
That’s enough for me. I take Steve by the shirt, the way you would a toddler who’s about to run into the road, and drag him back to the fire with everybody following. I push him away, ready for him to come right back at me. Instead, he straightens out his shirt and cusses a guy who comes over to help.
Wayne comes up beside me, looking more than happy to get involved. But I don’t need him.
“Stay away from her,” I tell Steve.
“Yeah? And what are you going to do if I don’t?”
“Hey, Steve,” Wayne says. “You might need a pad of paper so you can jot down all the things my boy could do to you.”
This punctures the tension, and a few people laugh. Not Steve.
“I’d like to see him try,”