Chapter Thirty-Two
Susie
Even though he agreed to come, I’m surprised to see Bryan at the McMahon cocktail party tonight. I’m surprised to see him dressed in a jacket and tie. I’m not surprised to see some girls trying to flirt with him while he stands in the corner with his arms folded across his chest. I don’t realize I’m staring until his eyes find mine, trapping me.
Liz turns to follow my gaze, and I snap my stare away and touch her shoulder as if to shield her, to protect her somehow.
She smiles and lifts her chin in Bryan’s direction when he acknowledges her. His expression is neutral, I notice, even from under my lashes, before I turn away again. We find a group of guys we know on our way to the bar to cash in our drink coupons.
Dane calls out, and Sherry turns to him as he waves her over.
“Go ahead, I’ll get you a drink,”
I tell her.
She hands me her coupon. “Get me a rum and Coke if they have it, and if not, a white wine.”
Judy says, “You don’t mind getting me a screwdriver, do you?”
Without waiting for an answer, she goes with Sherry to join Eldy and some of the guys from the football team.
“It’s funny that Bryan isn’t with his teammates,”
I say to Liz as we reach the line at the bar.
“He gets like that. He’s a loner at heart.”
She clutches my arm. “That’s why I’m so surprised he’s even here. He let you convince him too easily.”
She glances in Bryan’s direction again, and so do I.
There’s a girl standing close, talking to him, leaning against him, if not hanging on him. I recognize her.
“Isn’t that the reporter from the Daily Campus talking to him?”
“Shit. Yes.”
Liz takes in a deep breath, looking unsettled, like a small earthquake caused a tremor in her confidence. Then she mutters, “Maybe she’s the one.”
I’m not sure she’s talking to me because it makes no sense. “She’s the one? What do you mean?”
She looks at me, her eyes wide, and then blinks. “Nothing. I just wish… never mind.”
Carol laughs at something and takes us by the hand. “Come on, these guys are letting us cut the line.”
We get our drinks and deliver the rum and Coke and screwdriver to a table where Sherry and Judy are laughing with Dane, Mack, Chuck, Fletcher, and some others from the team. A few other girls are there who I don’t recognize, and I smile at them, but they don’t smile back.
“What are you drinking?”
Dane asks. “I’m kind of surprised to see you with anything but ice water.”
“It’s beer I have a problem with. This is my favorite drink, a whiskey sour.”
“Should have just got a shot and saved the sour.”
Everyone laughs.
“Where’s your drink?”
He flashes a big grin, opens his jacket, and I see a silver flask in his inside pocket before he closes it again.
I shake my head. “Is that what all the guys are doing?”
Mack says, “All the smart guys.”
“That means everyone but Granger,”
Fletcher snorts. A few guys chuckle, but not Dane. I don’t find it funny either.
I put a hand on my hip, feeling offended on Bryan’s behalf. “I think he’s the smartest of you all.”
There are a couple of whistles and Liz pats my back. “She’s right.”
The band starts playing Elton John’s “Crocodile Rock,”
and Liz takes me and Carol by the hand. “This is our song, girls. Let’s do that dance routine.”
She rushes us to the dance floor and calls out to the cheerleaders she sees along the way.
We’re all on the floor, and some of the guys from the team join us too. I finish my drink fast as I dance and laugh and forget everything outside of the McMahon cafeteria and this moment, soaking up the fun.
After a few more dances, I go back to the bar for some ice water with Liz, except she gets another whiskey sour and talks the bartender into pouring some extra whiskey into her cup. I contemplate whether or not to say anything, but it’s only her second drink, and it feels like we’re sweating all the alcohol out with our dancing. Or some of it, at least.
Liz changes our direction on the way back to the dance floor, and I realize we’re meandering toward where Bryan’s standing against a post. He’s alone now, and Liz’s eyes are intent on him. I can’t make myself go with her. I feel like I’ve gone past third wheel, and I’m now officially her crutch and her competitor at the same time.
And the closer we get to him, the more my belly churns with guilt.
Pulling from her grasp, I say, “He looks like a sad wallflower. You go cheer him up. Dance with him.”
“He doesn’t dance. I’ve never seen him dance. Even though he went to Suffield Academy, he went to every Saturday night dance at Suffield High—to watch out for me—and he never once danced.”
“You should get him to dance tonight.”
Liz stops and laughs. “You do it. Go ask him.”
She says it like a dare, a friendly dare, but a definite dare nonetheless. And there’s something about challenges that I can’t resist. And she knows it, or I never would have ended up a cheerleader.
“Why do you want me to dance with him when you have such a crush on him?”
She shrugs. “Safer that way. Go ask him. I double dare you.”
She grins like she means it and hell, if she’s that scared of being turned away, then I should. Defiance and need make a dangerous combination, riling me up.
“I will.”
A bubble of cocktail-fueled false bravado buoys me.
“This is so fun.”
Liz pulls me back onto the dance floor and gathers all the members of the squad in that she can find and tells them what I’m about to do. Our group buzzes and grows while Liz practically pushes me in Bryan’s direction with her laughing smile of encouragement. Or is it mockery?
Either way, her fear-fueled dare feels a lot like junior high when the girls and boys were afraid of each other. Am I afraid of Bryan?
I finish my drink, gulping down the remaining ice water like it’s whiskey for courage.
Carol hoots. “You’re really doing this?”
I nod.
I get pats on the back as I head back in Bryan’s direction. He’s watching the band, thank god, and doesn’t seem to notice my cheering section.
When I press through the crowd and emerge a few feet away, he looks straight at me as if he were expecting me. I can hear the silent what took you so long inside his head. He’s way too confident. Way more confident than I am.
But that makes no sense. I should be confident. I’ve always been confident, haven’t I? Before I got to UConn.
“You look lonely,”
I say. Shit. That’s not exactly a flirty thing to say, not the way I said it with too much emotion.
“How could I be…”
He pauses, looking me over like he sees right through me—I don’t mean that he’s undressing me with his eyes, though he may be; I mean like he’s seeing down to my soul, knows my intentions and how I feel. He makes me feel vulnerable and exposed.
And for some reason, instead of running and hiding, he makes me want to flaunt my nakedness and reveal everything to him because I feel free and so protected and safe with him.
“You mean because you’re surrounded by all these people?”
“No. Because you’re here.”
His eyes lock onto mine.
My heart shoots up my throat like a rocket and lodges there, thudding wildly. His words grip me so hard I want to cry, want to laugh and shout and sing. But I’m too scared to do any of those things.
“Dance with me.”
“I don’t dance.”
He looks away, killing the moment and all the feelings that came with it, like I’m crashing from a high. But he’s still Bryan, and I know all the pain and loneliness is still there inside him, where he purposely keeps it shut away.
He’s holding a plastic cup half filled with some kind of drink and takes a sip.
The buzzing in my veins doesn’t let me give up this easily. “How about a slow dance? Just one. I’ll let you pick the song.”
“Since when are you a glutton for punishment?”
“I’m taking that as a rhetorical question.”
He shrugs, but he holds my eyes, staring at me like he has all kinds of thoughts and feelings simmering inside.
I know he does, and so do I, and I feel like I’m about to boil over.
“You have an audience.”
He nudges his chin in the direction of our friends, most of the cheerleaders and a half dozen football players, plus Vinnie and a couple of his rugby teammates. “You make a bet?”
My eyes widen in surprise. “How did you know?”
I give a small laugh. The whiskey sour in my system helps prevent me from caring that he knows I needed prodding to talk to him.
“How much is the bet for?”
“What?”
I furrow my brow. “Oh, we didn’t say. I guess it was more of a challenge than a bet.”
He shakes his head. “A girl bet.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
I laugh and nod in acknowledgment. “So how about it? Dance with me.”
I reach out and touch his shoulder, then catch myself before my hand wanders to his clean-shaven face to touch his strong jaw. I want nothing more than to run my hand along it.
His lids lower and he grabs my hand, pulling me closer, but not too close. “You’re asking for more than a dance, princess. You’re asking for a whole lot of trouble.”
In spite of his words, he takes me onto the dance floor and pulls me in as Baby I’m a Want You starts playing. As if I’m emerging from the depths, I breathe in his scent. I never want to forget it or how the warmth and strength of him, being held in his arms, makes me feel. I can’t even describe it exactly. I just wish I could keep feeling this way forever.
My eyes are closed and my head rests against his shoulder as he whispers in my ear.
“This isn’t going to last much longer.”
His words disturb me, but before I have a chance to ask him what he means, I feel a tap on my shoulder and Liz is beside me, nudging me aside, asking if she can cut in as if it’s perfectly normal. She pulls Bryan from my grasp and takes him from me. I let her, willingly, and he goes along willingly, like we’re trapped under the spell of Liz’s will.
Except that wouldn’t be fair to Liz because she’s not trapping us; we’re doing it to ourselves. And I’m not entirely sure why.
Why can’t I tell her how I feel about Bryan? Is it because I’m not sure I know how I feel? Or because I’m not sure I can help him, fix his brokenness? I don’t even know why he’s broken, not really, or whether we really have anything.
I don’t want to ruin my friendship with Liz, but I don’t see any way around it.
I don’t like being dishonest. It’s not right. I can’t help how I feel, but I can help what I do.
So standing right here on the edge of the dance floor, watching them dance arm-in-arm, I give myself an ultimatum.
I need to either tell Liz how I feel about Bryan, or I need to stop seeing him, stop helping him, stop trying to make him laugh, to mend his soul, stop … my heart from beating.
Whenever Liz tries dragging me into her relationship with Bryan—maybe to keep them both afloat—I need to say no. Even when it feels like I’m breaking something inside me, breaking a promise I made to myself and him years ago.
“How about a dance?”
A familiar voice startles me, disrupting my thoughts as I whip my head around to see Vinnie.
“I almost don’t recognize you without your rugby jersey.”
I put a hand to my chest as if to calm my rapid heartbeat, to calm my soul.
He grins. “What do you think?”
He stands straight, puffing out his chest to show off his suit.
“You look…nice.”
He looks handsome, almost dashing, but I don’t want to give him the impression I’m interested.
Though, why shouldn’t I be interested? Maybe I need to find someone else interesting to distract me from Bryan.
He winks and gives me a devilish smirk. “I should warn you, Susie. There’s nothing nice about me. Not even the suit.”
I smile. He has that same kind of confidence and swagger that Bryan has. But I wonder what’s underneath it.
“Then let’s dance, bad boy,” I say.
He sweeps me onto the floor as the band takes a break and they switch on a record. The Doobie Brothers song “Old Black Water”
comes on, and it feels like everyone swarms onto the dance floor in a mad rush.
Everyone except Bryan. I feel him staring at me before I see him. He’s staring at both of us, me and Vinnie, flicking his eyes between us. It takes a few hard beats of my heart for me to register that his expression isn’t menacing in the least.
He looks resigned.
A quick breath escapes me, and I bite my lip to hold in my heartbreaking disappointment and the helplessness that threatens to overwhelm me.
“What’s wrong?”
Vinnie asks, coming closer.
“Nothing.”
Everything.