Page 66 of Kiss Collector
“I need another drink.” Monica holds up her empty cup and Lin agrees, so the three of us head back up the steps to the sliding glass door. The kitchen’s even more crowed now and harder to get to the punch bowl, which Quinton is filling with generic-brand cartons of random juices, lemon-lime soda, and bottles of rail vodka and gin. He tosses the empty bottles to the counter. I find Dean just getting his cup. He walks over to me as the girls wait in line. My eyes slide over the room, wondering where Joel went. Then I remember how I ruined my last chance with Dean, and I force myself to focus.
“Wanna go downstairs and dance?” I ask.
He sips and nods. I smile. This is my chance.
Two of his giant football friends show, and we wait together while the girls get their drinks. Dean and his guys down their punch, and then Junior, by far the largest linebacker on the team, takes out the case of beer he’s been carrying under hisarm. The three of them guzzle beer after beer while I gawk. I glance around for Joel again, but he is nowhere. I wonder where he went. I wonder why I care. He’s just a friend.
I’m tryna burn that list.I shiver. He didn’t mean it.
By the time Lin and Monica are back, the guys are sufficiently buzzed and we squeeze our way down the crowded stairs to the basement. My heart bangs when we pass the place where Joel and Kwami were standing before, but they’re not there.
The entire main basement room has turned into a dance floor, and the only light comes from a single dim lamp in the far corner. A thumping beat shakes the walls, and the football players lift their muscled arms into the air. We dance and dance. Junior lifts me high into the air by my waist and I squeal, locking my arms on his shoulders, and tucking my head so I don’t hit the low ceiling. When he sets me down, I stumble into Dean, who smiles as he rights me.
I’ve been avoiding trying to dance with him, worried about upsetting Monica, but when he places a hand to my back and pulls me forward, I go with it. This is what I’ve been waiting for. I see Monica pull Lin from the dance floor, and Lin looks back to mouthbathroomto me. I nod and let myself focus on Dean.
Dancing with him is effortless. He smiles the whole time, and it’s contagious. Everywhere I place my hands—his arms, shoulders, chest, waist—is hard with muscle. When he leans down, my heart pounds. But he’s only trying to tell me something.Ugh!
“I’m gonna get another drink!” he shouts.
Impatience and frustration flare.
He holds up his cup to Junior, who yells, “Get me one, bro!”
Dean is proving to be a difficult target.
Across the basement I see Elliott still dancing, one hand up as he jumps to the beat. He’s got a limitless supply of energy, sweat dripping down the sides of his face. I dance with Junior and the other guys for what feels like forever. My friends don’t come back. Dean doesn’t come back. An icky sensation slithers through me. Are they okay? Did they get caught up in a conversation somewhere and forget about me? Or is this like the Rex thing in middle school where he left me hanging at the dance with no intention of coming back? No. It couldn’t be.
Without explaining to Dean’s friends, I make my way off the dance floor. Down the small hall is a line for the bathroom, and an opening to a dark, doorless room that looks like a workroom. I catch sight of Lin’s shoulder in that doorway, her back to the room. She’s looking down at her phone.
My heart begins to gallop faster with each approaching step I take. I peer past her into the dark room, and sure enough, Monica and Dean are going at it. Kissing. Hands everywhere. I step back, stomach churning. Lin suddenly looks up and her eyes bulge.
“Zae...”
Oh my God.
I spin and press through the people on the stairs. I go straight up. Up through the packed kitchen, where Sierra and Meeka give me small waves, to where Quinton sits on the edge of the sink. I’ve been holding my water cup this whole time, long empty. I hold it out to him.
“I’m ready for a drink.”
His grin is huge as he nods. “That’s right.” He scoops some into my cup and grabs a marker. “This one got your name all over it, girl.”
Sure enough, it saysZay, ZAY, zayall over. I ignore the misspelling and thank him. Without moving from that spot, I chug the entire cup, not breathing through my nose. When I finish, my throat, esophagus, and stomach flame and I exhale in a hot rush. I hand him my cup and he gladly refills it. I chug again.
“Dang, Zae!”
I’m on the verge of either screaming or crying, so I hold up my cup again. “One more.”
Now he slaps a leg and laughs before he fills it.
“Zae!” Lin’s voice catches me halfway through my third cup. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be our DD!” Everyone in the kitchen turns to watch. The music thumps in my ears, making my head throb.
I think about how Lin kept guard for Monica.
“Get a new ride,” I say.
Lin’s expression wars between disapproval and guilt. I tilt back the rest of the cup and her jaw clenches.
“Who are we supposed to ask?” Lin demands. “Everyone’s been drinking!”
