Page 103 of Ecstasy
“Thanks, man.”
I know he’s not about to smoke a cigarette, and when he offers me a joint, I don’t hesitate to take it. I don’t drink that much, and I don’t smoke that much, but some nights just call for it.
Like tonight.
With Zara being so close but so fucking far.
Finally, after I’ve already smoked half of Dwight’s joint, Alex and Zara come walking back into the living room, and they take a seat on the couch across from mine.
Zara is wearing black, ripped shorts and a tight, white tank. Her sunglasses are pushed up on her head, and I imagine she left the rest of her shit in the room Alex usually stays in downstairs.
Her white hair is wavy and loose, kind of wild around her pale face. She’s got a cup in her hand and she’s done with her drink before Alex even takes a single pull of his beer.
While Alex and Dwight bullshit about next week’s upcoming game, and Kaitlyn runs her fingers up and down my arm while Nadia plays on her phone, Zara just stares at the floor.
And I stare at her, but she refuses to meet my gaze. Even though she knows I’m looking at her. She has to know.
Abruptly, she stands to her feet, sets her empty cup on the table.
“Where’s the bathroom?” she asks the room, raising her voice so she can be heard over the music. The guys and their girls at the table are playing another riveting round of Jenga, and Alex glances up at her but keeps talking to Dwight.
“Downstairs. To the right,” I tell her.
She doesn’t look up. She just tucks her hands into her pockets and nods, then walks away, practically scurrying for the stairs.
“Chick is weird,” Kaitlyn mutters beside me, so quiet only I can hear her. “I don’t know how Alex can stand to be in the same room with her after the shit she did.”
I glance at Kaitlyn, my head feeling a little less heavy from the marijuana.
Kaitlyn is pretty, she’s got long, dark blonde hair. Bright blue eyes. A fake tan. Her eyes are kind of freakishly big and her cheeks are kind of sunk in—nothing like Zara’s round face—but she’s got a fat ass and she gives good head.
She also happens to be a shallow bitch.
I stand to my feet, clear my throat. And I don’t say anything as I step between Dwight and Alex’s conversation, and head down the stairs into the darkness of the first level of Dad’s beach house.
Mom and I used to come here a lot. Dad rarely did, he worked. And working was for men and entertaining me was for her.
Didn’t work out so well for him when I turned thirteen, but I guess by then, she’d already done all the hard work.
The stairs creak with every step as I head downstairs, so it’s not like I’m a ghost drifting through the house, but even so, Zara fucking runs right into me as I step down onto the main floor.
I reach my hands out to steady her, and she’s clutching my shirt, just above my biceps.
“Oh my God,” she says, breathless. “Sorry, I…” She falters, maybe realizing it’s me.
I can smell her. Flowers and fucking coffee, like she’s a barista at a nursery. And her skin beneath my fingers…
Fuck, she feels good.
“What were you doing?” I ask her in the darkness. Light drifts down from the first floor, along with the music and the sounds of people talking, but it still feels like we’re alone right here.
It’s how we always meet.
Alone.
“I uh, I was just…” she chokes on her words, her fingers gripping my shirt so tight I can feel her knuckles brushing my skin.
“You were just what?” My hands are around her forearms, and there’s less than a foot between us. Less than a foot and when I take a step, I’m so close I can hear her breathing.
