kiss. He isn’t smiling. In fact, he looks a little afraid that it’ll land on him.
The bottle starts to slow and I watch it, willing it to land on Preston. Like I had some kind of mental control over it, the bottle stops and I follow the neck to see where it’s pointing. Preston.
His eyes are wide with fear and his lips are slightly parted. I smile up at him as his tongue slips out, wetting his lips. Everyone in the circle is hooting and cheering, clapping and whispering. So many of them have questioned our relationship before. I mean, Preston sleeps with everyone and I’m already around him all the time anyway. They can’t figure out if we’ve slept together or if we’re really just the friends we claim to be.
I get up on my knees and lean toward the center of the circle as Preston does the same, only he doesn’t shy away. He doesn’t move slowly like I’m doing. He’s in a hurry—whether it’s a hurry to kiss me or a hurry to get it over with, I don’t know, but he doesn’t waste any time.
He reaches for me and his hand lands on the base of my neck, pulling my lips to his. His lips are soft and strong—sweet but with the lingering bitterness of beer. His tongue rubs against mine and my eyes flutter closed. My entire body feels like it’s been lit on fire. I don’t know if it’s the embarrassment I feel with everyone watching or if it’s because he’s touching me, but it’s a burn I enjoy nonetheless.
Just as I place my arms around his neck, he pulls away. His face is red and his eyes are glassy. His body seems harder than it did before and his back is straight. I smile as a giggle escapes at the awkwardness of our moment, but he’s stock-still, not smiling, not moving, not even looking at me.
The kiss itself was amazing, but the way he acted like he’d just been made to eat a worm was a bit of a turnoff. I still can’t figure out why. Was he repulsed by the thought of kissing me? Was it all a show to make everyone believe kissing wasn’t something we’d done before? Was he worried it’d end our friendship?
I guess I’ll never really know, because I’ll never get up the nerve to ask him. I can live with not knowing; I’ve done it this long. What I can’t live with is his rejection—not after I’ve seen him with the quantity of women I have. He’s never turned down anyone. It’s only ever been me, so I prefer to believe it’s because we’re friends and he doesn’t want to risk what we have. Yes, that sounds better than the thought that I’m not good enough.
Two
PIPER
I turn onto my old street and already my childhood home is in clear view. The blue two-story house with black shutters, a two-car garage, and perfectly-planted flowers look just as they always have. I pull into the driveway and park the car. Mom is down on her hands and knees, weeding the flowers that line the foundation of the house. She turns and looks over at me with a wide smile.
She squeals as she stands up, running over to me as I’m exiting the car. Her honey-blonde hair that matches mine is bouncing as she runs. She wraps me in a big hug and squeezes the life out of me. “It’s so good to have you home.”
I hug her tightly and inhale her familiar scent that always seems to calm me down. “Let’s go see how you’ve been torturing Dad,” I joke as she pulls away with a snicker.
I grab my bag and follow her around the house and through the gate in the privacy fence. Dad is standing in the back half of the yard, beside the pool house on the other side of the in-ground pool. And he’s surrounded by a massive pile of bricks.
He’s stripped off his shirt and his beer belly is hanging over his basketball shorts. His back and shoulders are red and sunburned from spending the day working on Mom’s built-in grill. He hasn’t noticed us yet.
“Damn that fucking magazine,” he grumbles as he picks up another brick. “Why in the hell did I even get married to begin with? Someone should’ve told me I’d be doing this shit. I would’ve backed out for sure.”
“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have had me,” I say, pulling