Track 6 Spend The Night
“Spend The Night”
ENZO RETURNED FROM school by late spring and immediately started gallivanting like he had to make up for lost time. He was a loose cannon, worse than before, and it was the turn-off of the century. But like everything, it didn’t start out that way.
I was excited to see him when he picked me up from school on his first day of freedom from the ‘educational prison sentence.’ He walked up to the back of the building just as the final bell rang, arms stretched wide, and I ran and jumped into them like a military wife greeting her soldier.
We kissed through wide smiles as he held me up in the air, my legs wrapped around him.
People aww-ed all around us at our adorable affection, but that was where the cuteness ended and his wild antics began.
It was instant. After that first day, it was clear we weren’t clicking.
At first, I brushed it off—the way he picked at everything I did, the sarcastic tone he used even when he wasn’t trying to be rude.
I told myself it was just his personality and that I shouldn’t take it personally, but his nagging, condescending attitude started to get old quickly.
Every conversation felt like a challenge I didn’t know I was in.
Every eye roll, every snide remark and passive-aggressive dig chipped away at the version of myself I liked best. Soon, I started to resent him—not just for the way he treated me but for the way I began to respond.
I didn’t recognize myself anymore, and something in me started to shut off.
Once that switch had flipped, it was hard to pretend it hadn’t.
The night I think he noticed was the beginning of the end.
We were heading to E’s for a small get-together while his parents were out for the night. I hadn’t seen E much since November—conflicting work schedules sprinkled with slight avoidance on my part—but I was overly excited. It was getting on Enzo’s nerves.
“Why are you smiling so much?” he snapped.
“I’m just happy. I don’t get to hang out much,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.
“Okay, well, quit it. It’s annoying.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re such a dick.”
This is how most conversations went with Enzo. He was a cold asshole, which made me a pissy bitch, and we both proceeded to hate each other over the course of whatever time we spent together. But today would be different, because today, I’d get to be with E.
Unfortunately, when we got to E’s, there were a lot more people than I expected.
I couldn’t find E for the first ten minutes.
When I finally did, he gave me a quick hello, passed me a beer, and went on to talk to someone else.
I couldn’t tell if he was avoiding me or just busy, but I decided it was the latter and started engaging with others around me while Enzo ran off doing God knows what.
Honestly, I didn’t care what he did. I was happy for the break.
The party was fun. The music was loud, and the drinks were flowing all over E’s unfinished basement.
At one point, I accidentally ended up in line to do a keg stand.
When it was my turn, I tried to back out, but two fairly hot guys egged me on, and suddenly, I was being held upside down with a beer tap in my mouth and everyone counting the seconds.
When I made it past thirty, a crowd started to form, and soon it felt like the whole party was cheering me on. I tapped out at sixty-one and was placed on my feet, only to stumble as I turned to walk off. Thankfully, E’s strong chest was there to catch my fall.
“How’s it goin’ there, party animal?” The corner of his mouth lifted with the hint of a crooked grin. “Didn’t know you were a keg stand professional. Maybe I can get your autograph? Put your picture on the wall down here.”
I laughed. “I didn’t mean to. It just sort of happened.”
He laughed with me, and when he didn’t motion to leave, I rushed to think of something to say. I wanted to keep him with me as long as I could. “Your friends are nice,” I said, cringing at how lame it sounded. It was all I could think of.
He looked over my shoulder, one hand still holding me steady by the elbow. “Who, Brady and Sean?” He looked back at me. “They’re not nice; they think you’re hot. They’re hitting on you.”
“Oh.” I looked at my feet, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. I suddenly felt overwhelmingly bashful.
His finger and thumb found my chin, and he lifted my eyes to his with a playful grin. “Who wouldn’t?” His eyes twinkled, and my heart exploded in my chest. I was starstruck. Dumbfounded. Completely in awe at the best compliment I had ever received. From him.
And then, as quickly as the joy came, it was stolen away.
“What the hell, Syd?!” E and I both jumped, startled by Enzo’s angered tone. “I turn around for one second, and you’re having a foursome with some guys for a keg stand?”
I rolled my eyes and went to grab his hand to console him, like a mother consoling a tantrum-throwing child. He pulled away from me in disgust.
“Oh, relax. It wasn’t a big—”
“Don’t tell me to relax. What the fuck was that?”
“Chill out, man,” E said, holding Enzo by the shoulder, but Enzo shifted away from him.
“Mind your business, E. This is between me and her.”
“Actually, nothing is between me and you until you stop being a psycho,” I snapped.
“Oh, I’m a psycho? I’m a psycho?! You’re the fucking whore being held up by two guys while another basically puts his dick in your mouth!”
“You’re so damn dramatic,” I said, crossing my arms across my chest. It was true. It was nothing like he said. He just didn’t like seeing me around other guys—hot guys at that. But I didn’t care how he felt. He didn’t deserve me to.
I gave him a stern, unmovable look, ready for our stand-off. He knew me well enough to know my stubborn attitude wasn’t going anywhere, and I wouldn’t be giving in to his hissy fit. I was over his bullshit, done with his nasty comments and overbearing nature. And he knew it.
“You know what, Syd, fuck you.”
“Fuck you. Why are you being such a dick?” But he was already out the door, keys in hand—and I was happy he was leaving me behind.
The party carried on, unfazed by Enzo’s absence.
E and I hung out most of the night. He stood beside me for a quick game of flip cup and chose me as a partner for beer pong, even though I had never played.
He cheered me on like we’d win the World Series if I made the right shots, his face close to mine as he taught me to line the ball with the cup by eye.
When I made the final shot, he picked me up like a trophy in one arm and screamed, “Yeah, baby!” I could’ve stayed in that moment forever.
We celebrated with a shot and moved about the party in near unison.
He introduced me to everyone, girls and guys included, as his girl, Syd.
I knew he just meant it as a friend, and so did they, but deep in my heart, I wanted it to mean more.
It was only when he needed to help someone move a table that he left me alone. I missed him immediately.
Soon, the party fizzled out. It was just me and E, and a few of his friends passed out haphazardly on the leather couches. One was sleeping soundly on the pool table.
I helped E line the empty beer cans on a ceiling beam. When we were done, he smiled up at it like a proud artist. “Couple more parties, and it’ll be finished.”
I snorted. “It’s a real masterpiece, Picasso. What if your mom sees?”
He climbed down from the chair. “Nah, she never comes down here. And if she does, she won’t notice.”
“You sound so sure.”
He looked at me then with a faint crooked smile on his lips. “I’m always sure.”
I swallowed and tried my best to control my breathing at what I assumed was a double meaning. Breathe: in and out.
“So, I guess you’re stranded here, huh?” he asked, and I almost felt like an imposition.
“Yeah. My mom’s gonna kill me. I could figure out a ride home,” I said, even though I absolutely couldn’t.
“Nah. I’ll have my mom call her in the morning. Tell her you stayed for church with the fam. She won’t mind. Plus, your mom loves me.”
He winked at me, and once again, I was awestruck. Not at his looks, but at his explanation. And the way he said it so naturally—like everyone goes to church on Sundays and it’s something I should’ve known.
“You go to church?” I asked, because maybe he was joking. Joking would make more sense, wouldn’t it?
“Yeah, of course.” His eyebrows furrowed, and his lips curved in confused amusement. I realized the joke was on me, because he was serious.
I was stunned. Confused, even. I didn’t understand how the two went together—this cool kid and religion.
The only thing I knew of church was when my uncle became a Christian, and my mom started bashing him for being a Jesus freak.
We hadn’t seen him in ten years at that point, and she swore we never would.
I always remembered the things he said, though.
They stuck with me, deep inside, like they were the key to something my soul knew I’d need.
It gave me just enough faith in God to wonder if He might have a plan for me, too.
Not some special, shining-light-from-the-heavens kind of plan, but maybe something small. Something that slipped into the cracks of regular life and saved you—like kindness when you don’t deserve it or peace that makes no sense.
I didn’t tell anyone I prayed sometimes. I didn’t even know if I was doing it right. But I did it because a part of me hoped that uncle, the one we didn’t talk about anymore, was right. That maybe he saw something the rest of us weren’t ready to see. And maybe there was something in it for me too.