Page 9 of Guy's Girl
The thought hits her like a shovel to the head.
I want to feel like this all the time. I want to move to New York.
At some point, through the haze of realization, Ginny becomes aware of Adrian talking to a girl in the corner. She’s petite, draped with mousy brown hair and a snow-white romper. She stands on her tiptoes to yell into his ear.
Well, Ginny thinks,that won’t do at all.
Adrian has never known what to do with his good looks. To him, they’re a gift he never asked for. One that he doesn’t mind but has ultimately brought him more confusion and unwanted attention than anything.
Take now, for example. All he’s trying to do is have a night out with the boys, but girls whose names he cannot remember keep coming up to him and practically screaming into his ear.
It’s not that they’re ugly. The girls who hit on him at bars—who offer to buy him drinks, lean in too close to his collar, or place their hands on his shoulder—almost never are. They’re confident, beautiful, obvious in their interest. If he wanted, he could have any of them.
It’s just that he never wants them.
He’s never had a serious girlfriend. Never actively pursued a woman for much longer than a few weeks. Never wanted to. He’s not gay. Or, at least, he assumes he isn’t, because he’s never wanted any men, either.
It’s as simple as this—every time Adrian tries to let himself fall in love, he fails.
While White Romper vies for his attention, Adrian notices something out of the corner of his eye. It’s Ginny. She’s swaying her hips around the rim of the dance floor, moving toward him. Adrian breathes a sigh of relief. She’s coming to rescue him.
As the music changes to an Outkast song, Ginny enters Adrian’s orbit. She doesn’t touch him or even look at him. Just dances nearby.
Ginny is different from most girls he knows. Loud. Unfiltered.Lives in Minnesota. Works for a beer company. Likes to roller-blade. Beat them all at poker. If he’s being honest, she’s sort of weird.
He thinks he likes it.
Which is why, without any of his normal hesitation, Adrian pats White Romper twice on the shoulder, then turns to Ginny and holds out a hand.
Adrian doesn’t normally ask girls to dance. He’s more of astand on the side and watch the actionkind of man. But something about this girl makes him want to grab her hands and spin her around. To sing along with her. To mirror her smile.
Ginny dances without inhibition. She spins and sways and laughs so hard he can hear it over the pounding music. She watches him with these enormous green eyes that flash in the lights moving over the crowd. A slight smile seems to invite him closer, telling him to pull them chest to chest and dip her backward.
He can’t remember the last time he had this much fun.
Adrian pulls Ginny back to vertical, and she stares up at him. They’re so close now that he can feel the heat echoing off her body. Can watch as an unreadable set of emotions flickers across her face. She looks like a puzzle he desperately wants to piece together.
He can feel his heart beating in his stomach. Is that normal?
Maybe it’s her strangeness. Maybe it’s her smile. Most likely, it’s because she lives in Minnesota, which means this can never turn into anything real. It’s low stakes. It’s safe.
Whatever the reason, right there in the middle of a hundred flailing bodies, Adrian takes Ginny’s face and presses his mouth to hers.
***
In the cab on the way home, Adrian cradles Ginny’s hand like a child in a swaddle.
Ginny collapses onto the boys’ sofa, tequila and Corona swirling the corners of the apartment into a vivid dream.
“Should I get out the blow-up mattress?” asks Clay.
“Why don’t you sleep with Finch?” Tristan says. “Reprise of freshman year.”
Ginny’s cheeks turn pink. Tristanlovesmaking uncomfortable jokes about her and Finch. Just as she opens her mouth to tell him to shut up, Adrian appears in the living room, dressed in nothing but boxers and a button-down.
“You can sleep with me if you want.”
He says it so simply, so matter-of-fact. There is no implication in it, no innuendo. He might as well be offering her a sandwich.
