Page 85 of The Two of Us

Hearing his sister’s laugh, Ambrose starts making his way toward us. I pretend to be oblivious, suddenly intrigued by the red Solo cup in my hand.

“Hey, Mouse.”

I turn around. “Oh, hi!” I smile and I fail to sound casual.

“What am I?” Cat interjects. “Chopped liver?”

Ambrose slings an arm over her shoulder and plops a loud kiss on her head before giving her a noogie.

“Cut it out!” Her laughter is a mixture of annoyance and love. She returns to the game, leaving me and Ambrose alone.

I search for something to say. “How’s school?”

“Good. A bit of a transition, but I think I’ve got the hang of things for sophomore year.”

The hand holding my cup shakes so bad, liquid sloshes out the sides, wetting my shoe.

Ambrose gently tugs the drink away from me, downing what was left and I swallow at the sight of his sharp jaw on my cup. “Um. Happy early birthday.”

“Thanks. Are you going to be at the party tomorrow?”

“Do you want me to be?”

He pretends to think about it and I swat his arm. He laughs. “Yeah, I do.”

I haven’t been invited to any of Ambrose’s birthday parties since I was twelve and so I’m not sure what to do with this moment.

“Okay.” I grin. “Then, I’ll be there.”

His friends call out to him, announcing they’re ready to leave. He grabs my hand and rubs my palm with his thumb. The thought of Cat seeing us mortifies me, but I don’t dare move. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.

“See you then, Mouse.”

The nickname doesn’t sound so harsh then. It’s the first time he’s said it where it makes my pulse quicken in anticipation.

He leaves and I return my attention to the game.

“Go for it,” Cat whispers, handing me the little white ball. Her expression is serious, heavy with something I can’t quite make out and a part of me thinks she may not be referring to the game.

***

Ambrose has more friends at his party than I’ve had in my entire life. Cars are parked bumper to bumper, overflowing from the driveway onto the street and a handful of cars trudge through the front yard. Alima will not be happyabout that. But I guess you only turn nineteen once.

Watching the people enter, I’m glad I’ve dressed up. I didn’t have time to buy a new dress, so I’m wearing one that toes the line of too short, thanks to a recent growth spurt. Growth spurt, meaning I’ve grown from five feet to five-four. I’m not going to be recruited to a D1 team anytime soon. I’ve left my hair down, thankful that my curls are having a good day, and spent a little more time than usual on my makeup.

The small gift box hangs at my side as I push my way through the crowd of people loitering near the door. Music blares from speakers I can’t see and couples grind against each other in the den. I try to hunt down Cat but when I can’t find her, I go to the kitchen for a drink.

I’ve just finished pouring soda into my cup when Sasha enters. Her eagle eyes zone in on me immediately and she scoffs. “The night just keeps getting better.”

Her voice is heavy from the drinks she’s already consumed. Drinks I’m sure weren’t of the soda variety. I don’t want to cause a scene, so I turn to leave, but she stumbles forward, blocking the doorway. “Where ya goin’?”

“Excuse me, Sasha.”

“Excuse me, Sasha,” she mocks in a diminutive voice.

I push past her to go anywhere she’s not. She stumbles when she runs to catch up with me. “You’re such a fucking saint. I’d give you some of my backbone if I could.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I just came to wish Ambrose a happy birthday. I’ll leave, okay?”

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