Chapter 24
24
MADDIE
T he Maddie Larsen of one year ago wouldn’t believe it.
I’m at a party. I didn’t even need to bring Jasmine or Rhys or Lane along with me as a security blanket to make me feel comfortable enough just to step through the door.
And I’m not standing in a corner, a tangled mess of nerves; nor do I have my head tucked into my phone, desperate to blend into the background and scared of being noticed.
Hannah, the girl from my Abstract Painting class, invited me to a party one of her friends is throwing at their off-campus house. I have to admit, walking into the house by myself when the party was already in full swing was intimidating.
But I did it, found a group of people to introduce myself to, and for the last couple hours I’ve been having a great time talking to fellow art students.
I’m actually having the kind of college experience that I dreamed of having last year. The kind I thought so often I never would.
I still feel some twinges of anxiety. I’m still in my head more than I should be. But I’m doing it. I’m socializing, making acquaintances, and having fun. I even volunteered to put on one of my playlists as the background music.
Bled White by Elliott Smith starts playing, and a small ache pangs in my chest. It’s one of my favorite songs—not just that, it’s one of my and Rhys’s favorite songs.
I can’t help but associate the melody with times hanging out with him. We haven’t talked in a week, and I miss him.
At the same time, I’m still mad at him. He tried to ruin my first date, and he embarrassed me in front of the first guy who’s ever been interested in me.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that I wasted so much time and emotional energy pining for him—when I finally try to move past it and find a realistic relationship, he’s the one who tries to screw it up for me.
Out of what? Protectiveness? Worry for me?
The thing is, Rhys has always respected my independence and competence. He knows I don’t need a babysitter. None of what he did makes sense.
Ugh, now I’ve just spent how many minutes thinking about him, totally zoned out of the conversation I was in. I’m sitting on a couch in the living room that half a dozen other art students are gathered around, talking about their favorite places they’ve traveled to.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and look up. A small spark of excitement lights in my chest when I see James looking down at me from behind the couch, smiling.
We’ve talked in our Figure Drawing class since last Friday, but he hasn’t asked me out on another date. After what happened on the first, I can’t say I blame him.
I get up from the couch, since the group I was talking to have already moved onto another topic while I was zoned out.
“Hey, James, what’s up?” I ask, rounding the armrest of the couch to stand near him.
“Not much. Glad to see you here. I don’t think I’ve seen you at a party before.”
He’s glad to see me here . The spark in my chest grows a little bigger.
“It might be hard to believe, but I’m not the biggest party girl,” I joke. “I’ve hardly been to any. Except sometimes I go to ones the hockey team throws.”
James nods. “Your brother’s the captain, right?”
I cringe a little as I realize I just basically admitted that the only way I’ve gotten any party invites until now is by riding my older brother’s coattails. “Yeah.”
A grin curls on his lips. “I guess he’s the over-protective type? That’s why he sent one of his teammates to chaperone us?”
A knot of embarrassment forms in my throat. “No, he’s not. Rhys is a friend, he was just …” I shake my head. He was just what ? “I don’t know. He was being weird. I’m so sorry about all that.”
The smile still rests easy on James’s face. He shrugs. “No biggie. I’ll invite someone to show up and act like a nut during our next date, and we’ll call it even.”
Our next date? After all that, he still wants to go out again?
A smile of relief tugs at my mouth.
I wait for a twinge of excitement to hit me in the chest, or for my nerves to flutter, or for my stomach to twist in anticipation. And maybe I feel each of those things a little bit, but … not as much as I feel like I should.
What’s with me? I was just feeling depressed, thinking that James wouldn’t want to go out with me again. Now that he’s made it clear that he does … I feel relief, a little bit of gladness … but where’s the giddy sensation I should be feeling at the prospect of going on a second date with a guy I like, a guy I have chemistry with, who’s standing right in front of me looking handsome and smiling at me?
Is something broken inside me? Did I spend so much of my life hopelessly hung up on Rhys Callahan that I’ve lost the ability to feel anything for anyone else? Is my capacity for excitement and desire permanently dulled for every other guy except the one I can’t have?
No, that’s ridiculous. I need to stop myself from spiraling with worry and doubt.
If I’m feeling off, it’s just because so much has happened to me so far this semester.
Changing majors, living with Jasmine, a catastrophic pipe burst in our dorm room, making new friends, my first date, fighting with Rhys … it’s totally normal that I’m emotionally off-kilter. Normal that I’m not feeling the way I should about certain things.
I pull my mouth into a smile and push out a laugh. “Fair enough,” I say to James.
James bobs his head as an upbeat track from my playlist starts. “The music’s really good tonight, don’t you think?”
I grin slyly and tilt my head. “Yeah, whoever put this playlist together must have really good taste,” I say in an obvious voice. “And I bet she’s really, really smart.”
“Bet she has beautiful eyes, too,” James adds suavely.
James’s eyes are locked with mine, and I really want to feel a thrill of excitement dance through my nerves at his comment … but it doesn’t happen.
Still, I remind myself of what I just said. I’m not going to overthink my reactions.
James suggests we go hang out in the backyard, and I agree. Maybe being outside with him, away from the crowd in the house, underneath the starry sky, will stir some of those romantic feelings I’m missing.
“So, anything you miss about being a business major?” he asks as we sit down on a bench at the edge of the backyard, a distance away from anyone else.
“Does the probability of a decent job after I graduate count?” I joke.
He laughs. “Yeah, definitely. Probably not an easy prospect to give up.”
I draw my bottom lip between my teeth thoughtfully. “No, it was easy to give up. Once I realized that this was the right move for me, it was so … freeing.”
“I bet. It must suck studying something you don’t have any interest in, just because you feel like you have to, or that you should .”
For about half an hour, we talk about a bunch of random stuff as a gentle breeze blows. The party is still visible through the glowing orange rectangles that are the windows of the house, but the light only dimly reaches where we’re sitting, and the shadows that shroud us lend a feeling of privacy, of intimacy, even.
James shows me some pictures he took over the summer on his phone. He shimmies closer to me on the bench, until his hip is pressed against mine. Maybe the soft air, rustling branches, and dim atmosphere are doing something to my mood, because this time I do feel an unsteadying, but pleasant, coil of tension in my center from the contact.
He tilts closer to show me the pictures. I touch his screen to zoom in on something in one of the photos, and my hand brushes against his.
Something tugs in my chest. His hand is smooth, not rough like Rhys’s, and not nearly as big, but it still feels nice when my fingers slant against it.
James swipes at his screen to go to the next picture, and his hand brushes against mine in a way that’s hard to imagine isn’t intentional.
With a knot of tension in my throat, I make a move.
I curl my hand around his that grips the phone, to angle it closer to me. The back of his hand is warm. This time, my nerves really are fluttering.
I turn to look at James, and he turns to me. Our eyes lock. Goosebumps rise up and down my arms.
Are we about to kiss?
Am I about to have my first kiss?
I’m ready for it, I tell myself. It’s time. But what do I do?
Am I supposed to close my eyes? Tilt my chin invitingly? Wait for him to make the first move?
My pulse skitters at the thought of another pair of lips pressing against my own. Feeling a tongue sliding against mine. Will he thread his fingers through my hair? Grip the curve of my waist in his hand? The anticipation in my chest sharpens.
With a surge of boldness, I drag my tongue across my lips, moistening them. James’s eyes flash at the sight, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.
His free hand reaches up and rests on the side of my neck. My breath catches. Anticipatory tension winds through me. Sparks dance up and down my back.
James starts to dip toward me. My stomach leaps.
I tilt my head, lining up my lips to meet the arc that his own are tracing slowly through the air.
My eyes flutter closed, and I wait for his mouth to make contact with mine—I wait for my first kiss.