Track 3 Magnetic
“Magnetic”
A FEW WEEKS later, school was out, which meant days at the beach and nights at the parties—if you were anyone but me.
If you were me, you would spend your sixteenth summer taking care of your cousin’s baby while she lived in your basement, trying to get back on her feet after ending up nineteen and pregnant, like your mom had.
I don’t mean to sound rude about it. I loved my cousin and her adorable baby girl, and I respected the way she was navigating the ripples of her choices.
I just didn’t want to wake up at six A.M. every morning and have a job until five every day.
It was her mistake, not mine, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was being punished for it.
But that’s how my mom used us, or at least me.
She’d offer my services in any way she could, like I was her own personal workhorse.
Someone needed a bed to sleep in? Sydney has one.
Someone needed clothes to wear? Take Sydney’s.
Someone needed free childcare Monday through Friday for an entire summer? Guess who’s available.
What made it even worse was that I had to quit my job at the hair salon for the summer just to help, which was a major setback for my car savings.
In hindsight, it might have been a good thing I spent my afternoons walking a baby to the park instead of day drinking with my friends. Maybe that was my mom’s plan all along. But if she thought it would stop my evening endeavors, she was terribly, terribly wrong.
By nightfall, I was chasing chaos, and with my time restrictions, I went harder and faster just to catch up. Sometimes, without a care in the world about how I’d get home or what would happen if I didn’t.
We were at Enzo’s again. Lara, Kasey, E, and quite a few others had gotten there well before me. We were chasing Jack Daniel’s with Miller Lite, and the music was keeping us alive. Bodies moved like they belonged to the beat, and laughter sang louder than the lyrics.
Someone passed me a bottle, and I didn’t ask whose it was. I didn’t even look for who it came from. I just put it to my lips and tipped it back, letting the burn remind me I was still real, still young, still dumb enough to believe nights like this could last forever and never have a consequence.
E caught my eye from across the room, and in that moment, the crowd blurred. It was just him and me and the unspoken tension that had been brewing all month—thick, electric, and impossible to ignore.
It was wrong of me to feel that way, and I knew it. E was Enzo’s friend. I only knew E because of Enzo, and though Enzo and I weren’t a thing, we were involved enough for this infatuation of mine to resemble betrayal. At least enough for me to feel guilty about it.
I think E felt it, too. Whenever we’d get close enough to crossing that invisible line, he’d pull back, just like me. As if he knew we shouldn’t give in to what we both clearly wanted to. He was loyal to his friend, and so was I. Or at least, I was trying to be.
“Let’s play a game!” A chippy random girl piped up, and it broke me out of my trance.
“What kind of game?” Enzo asked with a hint of amusement sparkling in his eyes.
“Never have I ever.” Her voice carried over the music with her sultry grin. Enzo reveled in its implication. I remained silent.
“That sounds interesting. I’ll start.” Enzo took a minute to consider his first selection. “Never have I ever gone streaking.”
Two girls I only knew by face, drank their beers. Chippy Girl did the same, her gaze so hot on Enzo it was almost uncomfortable to watch.
“My turn,” she said with seduction. “Never have I ever fucked in my car.” My head snapped to her and her explicit claim, then to Enzo as he took a drink, and she did the same.
It wasn’t lost on me that she specified her car, something she could have only gotten recently, and only they were drinking.
“You’re supposed to say things you’ve never done,” I said, irritated.
She barely glanced my way. “Oops. Guess I forgot the rules.” Enzo smirked at her, clearly intrigued by her invitation, or re-invitation, apparently.
“You go, Syd,” Enzo said with a challenge.
“Fine.” I narrowed my eyes. “Never have I ever driven a car.”
Chippy snorted. “Way to keep it PG,” she said as she downed the rest of her beer.
“Why not just say ‘never have I ever had sex’?” She chuckled, and I wanted not to be embarrassed, but I was.
I felt the heat kiss my cheeks with a flush, and I tried to swallow it down.
Then she got excited, like she’d had a brilliant idea—as if there were any brains in that pretty little head of hers.
“That’s the one! Never have I ever had sex!” She exclaimed, pointing around the room. “Now, all of you drink.”
And everyone did.
Except for me and E.
She spun around haphazardly and laughed when she noticed us.
“Ha! Would you look at that, Syd and E both didn’t drink.
Maybe you two should—wait! That’s so good.
‘Syd n’ E’…Sydney.” She mocked. “You prudes are a match made in heaven.” She laughed again, bringing the bottle to her mouth, and suddenly I recognized Chippy.
It was Sarah Cashman. The pretty blonde from geometry. The one the boys drooled over, though I couldn’t fathom why. The one E bailed on two weekends in a row… to hang out with me.
“She’s no prude,” Enzo said with a wink, and I barely smiled back at him. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to help me save face or if he was making a suggestion, but I hated the implication either way. The idea that he knew me in a way he never had made my skin prickle with discomfort.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Sarah scoffed.
“Get a fucking hobby, Sarah,” E spat at her. My stomach sank.
“Fucking is my hobby, Emanuele,” she snarled back as she spun off to dance with one of her girlfriends across the room.
I didn’t say much after that. I was silenced by the bashful sickness swirling in my belly coupled with a deep unshakeable malaise.
Instead, I drank a lot more. A poor attempt to drown my embarrassment.
I ended up staying somewhat close to E, feeling oddly connected to him because he stood up for me.
Eventually, Enzo pulled out a joint, and everyone headed outside to smoke it.
It was just me, E, and a fading song I surprisingly didn’t recognize.
“Thanks for not drinking with me before. You didn’t have to lie for me.” His eyes flickered to mine, then back to the can in his hand.
“I didn’t,” was all he said, and the realization made me nervously excited.
“You didn’t lie.” It was a question, but it wasn’t asked as one.
“Nope.” I watched him silently as he finished his beer and opened another.
“You didn’t lie.”
“You asked me that already.”
“So you’re a virgin.”
“Are all of your questions statements?” He crushed his empty can and aimed to toss it into the garbage can like it was a free-throw shot.
I noticed how his muscles flexed. He curved his freshly tanned shoulder towards the cut of his bicep, creating a miniature mountain on his arm.
I watched the deep groove of his triceps form with his extension, the way his shirt lifted on one side with his reach, exposing the flatness of his bronze abdomen.
Suddenly, I was filled with a burning heat.
But instead of it scaring the hell out of me like it usually did, I liked it.
My eyes made their way up to his neck, his bulging Adam’s apple. The straight line of his just full enough lips. His squared jaw, which led to perfectly tossed dark hair. When my eyes wrapped around and found his, they were set on mine. Watching me study him. Unreadable.
Liquid courage formed my next words. “Why not just sleep with Sarah? She clearly wants to fuck you.” The jealous judgment that dripped from them should have been humiliating, but the beer and whiskey formed a perfect emotional veil.
He smirked, amused. Playing my game. “I don’t want to fuck a girl who fucks everyone. No one does.” He took a sip of his fresh beer. “They fuck her because they want to fuck, and she volunteers.”
“And you don’t want to fuck?” The room thickened. Inwardly, I was shocked. I couldn’t believe what I was saying, but I couldn’t stop the words from pouring out. He raised a brow at me, his expression both shocked and amused.
“Oh, I want to fuck. Just not Sarah.” His sexy crooked grin gave way, and I realized how explicit our conversation had become at my doing.
I drank my beer again, the warmth of my cheeks starting to burn from the flame that was settling much, much lower.
“What about you?” His eyes flickered to the beer in his hand, then back to mine.
“Why not just hook up with Enzo? He’s clearly interested.
” The mention of Enzo eased the flame like a bucket of water.
I noticed how modest his choice of words was compared to mine.
A gentleman’s way of asking the very same question.
“It’s different for girls,” I said, and he didn’t ask why. He didn’t question me further; he just accepted my dismissal and dropped it.
When Enzo walked in, I noticed the time.
It was past two A.M., and since I had an early wake-up and was already well in the bag, I decided it was time to go.
Enzo offered to walk me home, but it was a twenty-five-minute walk each way, and he had guests.
I felt bad pulling him away for nearly an hour, so I declined.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. I walk it all the time.”
Even drunk and high, Enzo was serious. “Not in the middle of the night. And not drunk. You’re not walking home. Wait until five. Take a nap in my room and walk back in the morning.”
“Enzo, that’s a lot. I’d rather just walk back now and be there for the morning. Plus, the baby doesn’t wake up until eight, so I’ll get more sleep if I go home now.”