13. “Goosebumps” - Travis Scott
“Goosebumps” - Travis Scott
Walker
The texts come in during my morning shower. I’m stepping inside the sea-glass-tiled stall when the first ping sounds. By the time I’m lathering shampoo into my hair, five more have followed. When I emerge fifteen minutes later, I have a total of twenty-two notifications.
It’s a group thread started by Maeve. It was a mistake to call Lux. I should have asked about poker night via carrier pigeon or hired a blimp. Giving her my new number won’t end well.
Sure enough, they’re already making plans for today—plans they expect me to participate in. It takes me no time at all to match up who is who and add their names to my contacts. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Maeve : Fire on 79 tonight? I heard DJ Giovanni is back. xx
Lux : Yesssss! I’m so in!
Rhett : Sickkk
Pierce : I promised Isabella I’d take her out tonight.
Rhett : DUDE
Maeve : You cannot be serious. After she was texting some other bloke?
Lux : Pierceeeeeee !
Pierce : It was a misunderstanding.
Maeve : You cannot bail on us tonight. I won’t tolerate it.
Pierce : Fine. I’ll bring her along.
Lux : Nooooooooo
Maeve : Absolutely not.
Rhett : You know I love you mate but that might be taking it a step too far
Pierce : You guys are the worst. I’ll see if I can get out of it.
Heath : Hey
Lux : Heath!!!
They continue the verbal barrage, Rhett sending pictures of a guitar he just bought and Lux informing us she has the winning bid on a rare 1976 Hermes bag. There’s also a separate thread, which Maeve started seconds after the first one. This one only includes the girls.
Maeve : We obviously will need to go shopping today.
Lux : OBVS x
Maeve : Walker, that includes you.
Lux : It will be just like old times!!
Maeve : Walker?
Maeve : I will show up on your doorstep and drag you out of the house myself if necessary. You’re coming. xx
Unfortunately, that last one isn’t a joke. Maeve isn’t the joking type, nor does she take kindly to people disrupting her vision of something, even if it’s just a night at the club or a shopping trip with the girls.
Me : I need to work on compiling my notes from yesterday. x
It’s not a lie exactly, but it will only take me an hour.
Maeve : Unacceptable excuse. We’ll be there to pick you up in two hours. xx
Me : I’d really rather not.
Maeve : Do you imagine that will stop me?
Lux : Come on Walker. Pleeeaaaseee ?
Me : Fine. *MASSIVE SIGH*
Lux : Yayyyyy!!!
Maeve : You won’t regret this. xx
Not true, because I’m already waist-deep in regret. I should never have attended poker night. That was the catalyst to all of this. But if I hadn’t, I also wouldn’t have gotten access to the Archives yesterday.
True to their word, Lux and Maeve show up at my Airbnb two hours later in a hired car. I had to drop a pin so they could locate it, something I’m sure will eventually come back to bite me in the ass.
As I lock up the house, I can’t ignore the tiny thread of excitement weaving its way into my conscience. It’s been so long since I’ve hung out with anyone to do something besides study that I’ve forgotten to miss it.
“Walker!” Lux says as I climb into the car. “The only person alive who actually talks in semicolons.”
We visit several different shops on Boutique Boulevard, the downtown strip littered with designer and luxury labels. The champagne flows freely, the personal shoppers are attentive, and the vintage dresses Lux has to name-drop to get a look at are gorgeous.
Maeve whips out her phone after one assistant argues with her over which Celine bag is more of a classic. She types furiously, adding to a note labeled Revenge List .
When Maeve and I both express alarm at Lux’s confession that her boyfriend sometimes scares her, she laughs and says, “Guys! I’m not saying he beats me. Just that he has a temper.”
I’m sinking back into my former life with alarming ease. I set my champagne down and pull out my phone. It’s time to remind myself of the reason I’m here. Vintage Chanel is certainly not it.
Maeve walks over to where I’m sitting, determination in every step. “What are you wearing?”
I glance down at my skirt and vest. “I should think that pretty obvious.”
“I mean to the club.”
I open my mouth, but all of my excuses choose this moment to desert me. I’ve tried on multiple dresses at their insistence, but so far I’ve been able to put off committing to anything.
“You don’t think you’re getting out of tonight, do you?” she says with narrowed eyes.
“Maeve, I’m tired. I’d rather just stay home.”
“That’s too bad.” She flips through dresses on the rack next to me. “Because I have no intention of dropping you back at that ghastly haunted house until tomorrow morning.” She pulls a black lace corset dress out and hands it to me. “Try this on.”
I do so with a sinking feeling in my gut.
Shopping with Maeve and Lux is one thing.
Hanging out with everyone at the club is something else entirely.
I don’t want to hear their inside jokes from the past two years, ones that I have no reference point for.
I don’t want to be reminded that I have one foot in and one foot out.
I don’t want to miss them, to miss this, to miss everything we had.
Because the truth is, I can never get it back, no matter how hard I try or how much I want to. Things can never go back to the way they were before.
I step out of the fitting room in the dress, and Maeve and Lux nearly lose their shit when they see me.
“Oh my god, Walker,” Lux shrieks. “That’s the one!”
“It’s perfect,” Maeve agrees. “Guys won’t be able to keep their hands off you.”
Not sure that’s the look I’m going for, but if this dress makes them happy, I’m willing to get it. One of the sales assistants takes it and my credit card.
“Speaking of guys,” Maeve says, looking at Lux, “I wonder which bimbo Heath will go home with tonight. ”
Lux rolls her eyes. “I’m convinced the fewer brain cells they have, the better he likes them.”
I guess I’m not the only one who has changed.
They continue discussing the intricacies of Heath’s love life, but I tune them out as I sign the receipt.
For reasons I can’t explain, I’m one hundred times more apprehensive than I was earlier. It’s become an active stomachache, churning and roiling in my gut like a ship during a storm.
We get ready at Lux’s house, a big Italianate halfway between downtown and the Hills. It is, of course, decorated in shades of white and pink, and it feels like we’re inside a giant strawberry buttercream cake.
We wear our new dresses. Maeve bought an emerald-green silk minidress with a plunging neckline.
She looks like a goddess. Lux got a vintage baby-pink taffeta dress with a flared skirt.
She looks like a celebrity on the red carpet.
I feel drab in black next to them, but they assure me I look extremely dishy.
The guys meet us at the club. Pierce must have wrangled out of his commitment with his girlfriend, because he shows up alone, looking like he just walked out of a cologne advert. Rhett immediately heads to the dance floor, and I only get a glimpse of the back of his red shag jacket.
I don’t want to look at Heath, but my eyes refuse to follow directives.
They manage to snag not only a look at him, but his steady gaze, too.
He’s wearing a button-up shirt with vertical gold stripes, haphazardly tucked into blue jeans.
His eyes grow a tad wider as he takes in my outfit.
The look of hunger on his face gives me a boost of confidence. Maybe I don’t look so bad after all.
We order a round of drinks and find an empty booth with a view of the dance floor. The lights and all the seats are red, and the temperature is a little higher than is comfortable .
“This place feels a little like hell,” I say to Lux over the thumping music.
She laughs and says, “That’s why you need to dance.” She tugs on my hand, but I resist. I’m not sure how dancing is meant to cool anyone off.
“You go on,” I say. “I’ll join you later.”
She sails onto the dance floor and is immediately joined by several men vying for her attention. How would Carter respond to this? I take another sip of my cocktail.
“I’m going to the restroom,” Maeve says into my ear. “Want to come?”
I shake my head. I have no desire to fight the bodies crowding the floor to get there.
She becomes lost in the throng of people. A quick glance proves Pierce has also deserted us, leaving only Heath and me at the table. We’re sitting across from each other, making it obvious we’re not together, because within seconds a willowy brunette seats herself next to him.
Something clenches beneath my ribs. She runs her hands through his hair and into the collar of his shirt. He smiles and doesn’t push her away, but when she whispers something in his ear, he shakes his head. She pouts, but when she realizes he’s not going to be swayed, she saunters off.
This process is repeated several times. By the time the third girl has walked away and my second cocktail is almost gone, I have the courage to say, “You don’t need to turn them down on my account.” It’s such a Heath thing to do, it doesn’t even occur to me how presumptuous it sounds.
He lifts his head and smiles. “I know.”
That smile would be enough to make my knees buckle if I were standing. Good thing I’m securely planted on this bench with no intention of moving until Maeve and Lux are ready to go.
A waiter brings us another round of drinks, and I accept mine eagerly. The temperature is climbing. Even without the red glow in here, I’m sure my cheeks are scarlet.
I studiously avoid Heath. Yesterday at the Archives gave me practice, but I need to improve my skills.
Rhett is making a fool of himself on the dance floor, but it seems to be working for him, because he is surrounded by fans who only further encourage him.
Lux is rubbing her ass on a guy I’m pretty sure is not her boyfriend.
I can’t see Pierce or Maeve anywhere, but since they haven’t returned to our table, they must be out there somewhere.
“Hey,” Heath says, breaking the bubble I’ve erected to keep him out and scooting a little closer. “Wanna dance?”
Whether it’s the fact that I’m on my third cocktail or that I’m tired of sitting and watching my friends have fun, I think I surprise us both when I say yes.
He wraps my hand in his as he leads me to the crowded dance floor. There’s no way to ignore the sparks traveling up my arm from our point of contact. It’s been two years since we last touched, but my body says it was just yesterday.
If he were much taller, I wouldn’t be able to reach his head. As it is, my fingers are tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck. It feels as silky as I remember. It’s a good thing he’s taking the lead in swaying us back and forth, because my brain has become a scrambled mash.
His hands are resting on my hips, and there’s nothing sexual about it. It would be like this no matter who I was dancing with. In fact, you could argue he’s being more of a gentleman than most of the guys here tonight.
So then why is that the only thing I’m aware of? When I move my hips even the slightest bit, they slide under his palms, leaving the impression that he is dragging his hands all over my body .
Someone bumps into my back, sending me straight into Heath’s chest. He catches me with ease, but not before I get a lungful of sandalwood. When I meet his gaze, I find his eyes dark and hooded, his expression impossible to discern.
When the music shifts to a faster beat, I expect him to let go. Instead he tugs me a little closer. Our bodies brush against each other with every move. It’s a good thing it’s so dark in here, because my nipples are screaming the state of my libido to anyone who will listen.
Rhett chooses this moment to drape his arms across our shoulders, panting like a dog. “You pick your prey yet?” he asks Heath.
Heath gives him a dark look and shakes his head. “Not in the mood tonight.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Rhett says with a laugh. He slaps Heath on the back and whoops his way back to the center of the dance floor.
I drop my hands, and Heath does the same. The moment is broken.
“I’m going to use the ladies’ room,” I say, as breathless as Rhett. The only difference is, I’ve hardly been moving.
Heath nods and looks relieved as I walk off the floor.
I have no idea what just happened out there.
But whatever it was, it can’t happen again.