Chapter 21 Gwen - Thanksgiving Eve
I’m gonna have fun with this boy tonight.
Miller looks so unbelievably out of his element, lost in a crowd of people he doesn’t know. But he found me. I have no plans of letting him out of my sight for a minute.
He has his dark wash jeans cuffed over the tops of his boots again, and he’s wearing a dark green sweatshirt with the hood resting over a baseball cap.
He has his hands tucked into his front pockets, the lanyard that holds his keys and every keychain Penelope picks out for him sticking out of the left one, too.
His curls are peeking out from under the hat, and for once I'm glad they’re tucked away. Those are my curls to tangle my fingers in. My curls to admire.
I have no fucking clue where this possessiveness is coming from, but when I notice a few of the girls who graduated after me follow my line of sight to Miller, I decide I need to lean into it before someone else thinks they’re leaving here with him tonight.
Anyone else. They can have literally any other guy in this bar. But not Miller. Because without even a word exchanged between us, I know with the way he winks at me before crossing the floor that he’s coming home with me.
And I’m downright fucking giddy over it.
I’ve been giddy all day, actually. Margot intercepted me at the cafe this morning, thinking she was calling all the shots on how this day was going to go, and I let her think that.
I let her whisk me back to my house, and we got to spend the day together with Daisy watching trashy TV, raiding my pantry for snacks, and getting each other ready for the night.
Thanksgiving Eve is the definition of peaked in high school behavior, and I don’t give a shit.
It’s stupid and small town, but it’s fun.
No one cares who was popular or the smartest. We all grew up in Merrymount, and there’s one night a year where we celebrate that with drinks and dancing and honestly, there’s a lot of hooking up.
Triple knock before you enter any bathroom or closet in The Bar on a night like this.
Miller finally invades my space, grabbing the vodka cran I’ve been sipping on waiting for his arrival, and haphazardly places it on the bartop. I don’t have time to get a breath in before he’s kissing me in the middle of this crowded room as if we’re the only two people to have ever existed.
He tastes like the mango chapstick he’s always misplacing and the gingerbread coffee I haven’t put on the menu at the cafe yet.
I can faintly hear hoots and hollers over the music, but that can’t be for us. I do not care if it is.
His hands wrap around my waist and dip into my back pockets to pull me closer. Miller palms my ass through the denim. I follow his lead–as if I had a choice in the matter.
His tongue grazes my bottom lip, the same way I was just toying with my straw, and I feel heat pool in my belly. This is a version of Miller I’ve never seen before, and I’m a woman obsessed.
There was a time in my life where I used to make grocery lists during stuff like this. I wanted so badly to feel anything even close to passion and heat and desire. Now I’m holding back from moaning into Miller’s mouth, from begging him to get us the hell out of here.
Before I make a fool of myself in front of an entire town that has watched me grow up, Miller pulls back slightly, just enough for me to be able to look him in the eyes.
“I have to tell you something,” he breathes into me.
I let the tiniest bit of panic and doubt creep in for half a second. I think about who I am, who he is, and where we are. I remember that the world works against me, and I’m not destined for happy or easy, especially with someone like Miller.
But then Miller’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head so fast I’m worried he’ll give himself whiplash. “No, no, no. Wait, that was such a shitty way to word that. Hold on—”
I don’t get to hear what he meant to say.
I don’t know what the something is that he has to tell me because suddenly an arm loops around my waist from behind where Miller’s hands just were and pulls me back.
I hear Margot laughing in my ear, and Christ do I love this girl but right now, I’m ready to throw hands to get back to her brother.
A very drunk Sawyer clasps his hand on Miller’s shoulder, holding him in place by the bar with the guys, while I’m whisked to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the room.
“Margot, I was kind of in the middle of something,” I half shout.
“Oh, I’m aware. We’re all aware. You weren’t exactly being inconspicuous.
He can wait. I know you’re going home with him.
” Margot finally stops and turns to me. “And I don’t need the details.
Actually, heavy emphasis on not wanting to know the details.
I’m so happy for you and love this so, so much. But right now, we dance.”
The floor in here is perpetually sticky.
You have to basically flash the DJ they hire for tonight for him to play a song you request. There’s a good chance a drink or two will splash on you throughout the night.
But when I hear the opening chords of Gracie Abrams’ Close To You, I’m reminded there’s absolutely nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.
I decide to lean into the comfortability of this night with these people. And right at this very moment, there’s nothing else I’d rather do than shake my ass in a smokey, dark, crowded room with my girls.
Daisy meets us in the crowd, and our hands fly up right before the first chorus hits. I let the beat take me away.
I’ve never been a dancer, per se, but I’ve loved losing myself in music for as long as I can remember.
I feel my hair bouncing around my face, and I sing along to every word.
Margot and Daisy scream sing right back in my face as we laugh and make sure Merrymount feels like downtown Miami during Spring Break.
We don’t stop after the first song ends, jumping immediately into the next and bumping into a few of the girls I used to cheer with. I can already feel sweat on my neck, but I don’t care.
The last person I want to be thinking about tonight pops up in the corner of my eye as I twirl around Margot. I had a feeling it would be too good to expect he wouldn’t show up. I ignore him, choosing to blow a kiss to one of my old classmates who happens to pass by. When I twirl back, he’s gone.
Good. Let’s keep it that way.
Unfortunately, Thanksgiving Eve is one of the few things Dean and I agreed on.
Well, that’s not even the whole truth. We both love this night, and that’s about where it ends.
I’m here for fun and catching up. I love getting to see and hear about how people are thriving year after year.
He’s here to relive the glory days and try to one up everyone with his mock success.
Before our marriage imploded, the glory days included making sure everyone in the vicinity knew I belonged to him. I shudder at the thought.
The funny thing about reflection is how differently you start to view things. I used to think it was nice Dean wanted me on his arm all night, showing me off, parading me around. I thought he was proud of our marriage.
But if I strayed for too long or was found catching up with someone Dean didn’t approve of, you’d find us in the alley behind the bar where most come to smoke. Not us, though. Of course not.
Dean would need to pull me aside to scold me. He wanted to remind me of who I was: his wife. But the word never sounded as good as I imagined it would. It felt…wrong, if I let myself be honest.
I let it go, though. Every single time. I used to apologize and promise I would make it up to him when we got home. He would tell me to do better and pat me on the head like a fucking dog. I’m embarrassed looking back now.
I really wish I could say it wasn’t all bad. I wish we got to organically end and coexist like every other couple who didn’t survive high school graduation, to be normal like everyone else in this packed bar.
Hold the Goddamn phone.
If Dean is here…where in the hell is Katie?
The song ends, and I scan the room for a head of icy, blonde hair. Unfortunately Katie St. James also lives for the reminiscing high she gets off tonight. I don’t see her and breathe a sigh of relief.
I mean, we’re not in the clear yet. The night is young, but still.
Daisy thrusts a water into my hands, the official mother hen on a night like this. “You’re alternating tonight. Don’t argue with me on it. I’m not cleaning puke out of the back of my car for you ever again.”
“It was one time, Daze. And I apologized a million and a half times,” I whine before chugging the ice cold water that I’m actually extremely thankful for.
Thanksgiving fell exactly one week after I kicked Dean out of the house, and against everyone’s wishes for me to have a chill night in, I demanded to go out. I drowned myself in whiskey and have sworn it off since.
“I never cared for an apology. Just your blood oath of a promise to listen to me and drink the damn water, babes.” Daisy leans in and kisses my cheek. I smooch her right back.
“Can we talk about how fucking hot you look tonight? Who are you trying to take home?” I ask her.
Daisy rolls her eyes and pretends to smooth out her black bodysuit.
We’re basically matching, almost every woman in this bar is.
She has on tight, dark wash jeans that hug every curve of hers, with holes perfectly ripped right above each knee and white tennis shoes.
Where her head is normally covered by a bandana, her big, jet black curls have been let free tonight, framing her face and falling to hit her lower back.
“No, really Daze,” Margot interjects. “You’re an absolute fucking smoke. I bet every guy in here is going to be lining up to lay you down tonight.”
Daisy’s face scrunches up and just when I think she’s about to have some retort for Margot, I follow her line of vision to see the cause for her stank face.