Page 24 of Colossal
He can’t hide his disappointment that I’m shutting down his line of questioning. “Fine, we won’t talk about it.”
Even though he’s letting the subject drop, I can still sense his irritation that I won’t open up to him. Doesn’t he know I would if I could guarantee he wouldn’t break up with me afterward? I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ll see you tonight,” I whisper, slipping out from between his big body and the locker.
“Wait. Baby, wait.” He lunges after me, pulling me into his arms, leaning down to angle his mouth against mine, kissing me with so much affection, my worries temporarily slide to the back of my mind. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. Always. That isalwaysgoing to be my number one concern. I’m sorry if I sounded upset with you. I’m not. How could I ever be upset with my Fairy Tale?”
“I love you,” I blurt, my chest prying open and letting out the truth.
Moisture pools rapidly in his eyes and he’s forced to blink it away, his chest heaving once, twice. “God, I love you, too.”
My heart squeezes until I gasp. “Then be patient with me.”
“I will,” he says, nodding, obviously wanting to press for more of an explanation, but holding himself back. “I will.”
I believe him.
I also wonder how soon that vow will be put to the test.
It’s nine thirty before I attempt to sneak out. I’m late to the party—a party where both of my stepsisters are in attendance. They walked right out the front door with their straightened hair and cropped tank tops. Meanwhile, I’m getting ready to jump from the second-story window in a slip dress and heels.
I’m not sure why I decided to wear the naughty little dress that I found at the thrift shop and hid in the back of my closet. Maybe I desperately need to assert my power or wrestle back my freedom. If that’s the case, it’s working. As I run through the wooded area beside my house and cut down the block toward the party, I feel giddy with excitement. I’m in love. The boy I love returns my feelings. I’m on my way to see him. Sure, I’ll have to return to a house that stifles me and paints me as a villain later, but I don’t have to think of that for the next few hours. I can embrace this lightness and just be.
It takes me ten minutes to reach my destination.
The music is pumping so loud, it’s a miracle the neighbors haven’t called the cops yet. Silhouettes move in the windows, seniors are crammed into doorways passing vapes and red solo cups back and forth. I look for Eric among the crowd, but I don’t see him yet. I’m not accustomed to walking into parties at all, and I have this pressing urge to call Eric and ask him to come outside and get me. I don’t want to seem needy, though, or green, even though I am. So I fix my wind-mussed hair and slide through the group blocking the door, taking a deep breath when they all stop talking, the men openly checking me out.
“Goddamn, where didshecome from?” one of them says behind my back.
“Bro, that’s Colossal’s girl. Let me know if you’re going to hit her up so I can start working on your eulogy now.”
“Oh shit.”
“Oh shit is right.”
I duck my head and smile, moving further into the party, searching through groups of dancing seniors for someone I recognize. For Eric. It’s not until I reach the kitchen that I see him, pacing in front of the alcohol laden island, staring at his phone.
“Relax, Colossal,” says Tony, his arm around my sister’s neck. “She’s coming.”
“She’s probably waiting for my mom to fall asleep on the couch,” says Suzie, giggling when Tony kisses her neck.
“Why does she have to do that?” Eric shouts over the music. “She’s eighteen years old. You’re both treated like adults, but she’s not? Make it make sense.”
“I’m here,” I say quickly, stepping into Eric’s path.
He draws up short, his expression transforming from stressed out to relieved. At least, until he sees what I’m wearing and does a double take. His Adam’s apple freezes mid-swallow, his gaze darkening so rapidly, I wonder if it’s a trick of the light. “Christ, Marlow. Please tell me you didn’t walk here dressed like that.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
“I want to start picking you up any time you leave the house,” he says. “I want to escort my girl door to door.”
I nod, knowing it will never happen, but my easy agreement temporarily appeases him.
He rakes a hand through his hair, closing the distance between us and blocking me from the rest of the kitchen. “How am I supposed to think straight with you in that outfit?”
“You don’t have to think straight,” I say, going up on my tippy toes, so I can slip my arms around his big neck. “You only have to think about me.”
“Hell, baby,” he groans, stroking his hands down the cheeks of my bottom and lifting me up, my legs opening naturally to wrap around his hips. “You’re here less than a minute and my cock is already stiff as fuck. Thinking about you is my default.”
“Eric?”
