Page 41 of The Two of Us

The moon is full and gleams brightly against the dark sky. Loosening the straps on my heels, I slip them off and stretch my ankles with relief. I close my eyes, enjoying the silence.

The door behind me opens and I jump backward, cloaking myself in the shadow of a pillar. Ambrose walks forward by himself, hands on his hips, pinching the bridge of his nose. I take a step to get a better view of him and step on a sharp rock.

“Ow, shit!”

Ambrose whips his head in my direction.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

The only way out is through the door from which I came, which leaves me no choice but to walk out into the light of the moon.

Ambrose narrows his eyes. “Did you follow me out here?”

My face screws in disgust. “There’s only one door, brainless, so if anyone followed anyone out here, it was you.”

I wait for him to ream into me but instead his chest starts to shake with silent laughter and before long, I’m laughing along with him.

“Nice tie,” I snort.

“Nice dress,” he says. But when I meet his eyes, he looks utterly serious. My body hums.

Ambrose tilts his head. “You look older.”

“I am older.”

He nods, contemplating that, and we’re silent for the next few moments.

“Dances,” he says.

It only takes me seconds to cling to the game we haven’t played in years. “Overrated.”

He smirks and my heart leaps. “People.”

“Dancing.”

“Bodies.”

I regard the lack of space between us and something tickles at my spine. “Close,” I whisper.

Ambrose’s gaze latches on to mine and there are a million conversations being had without words attached. He runs his hand through his hair, destroying its perfection, before inhaling forcefully through his nose. “Go inside.” He points.

“What? Why?”

He swings his head toward me, his expression is pained. “Mara. Please go inside. I have a girlfriend.”

I jerk my head back. “I know you have a girlfriend...what does that have to do with—”

“I have a girlfriend,” he breathes, stepping closer to me. “And right now you’re making me forget about that very fact.”

His admission shakes me to my core. Not because I think it means he loathes me any less, but because I could have never fathomed he would look at me in such a way. That I would have that kind of effect on him. He tears his eyes away like the very sight of me hurts. And I understand completely. Because it’s how I feel every time I look at him.

My heart seizes, but I heed his demand. I push myself through the door, gladly disappearing amid the crowd filling the hallway as they talk over snacks and drinks.

I spot the girls’ restroom and shove my way inside, seeking the safety of the first available stall. I hold out a full ten seconds after I lock the door before allowing the sob to claw its way out of my throat. Mr. Moinyhan’s words resurface in my memory.

It’s not homecoming without a girl crying in a bathroom.

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