Page 38 of All Your Tomorrows

I looked at her, confused.

“What?” she asked. “He’s here, right?”

“Yeah,” I said as we stepped outside and made our way to the sidewalk.

“No reason we can’t make him a little jealous,” she said as our wedges carried us toward the music pouring out of the house on the corner.

“Why would he be jealous?” I asked.

“Because you look hot.”

I glanced down at myself and wondered if that’s what he saw when he looked at me.

“And, because something’s going on with you and the spirit—"

“Stop. It sounds ridiculous hearing you say it out loud,” I said. “Nothing’s going on with us.”

She scoffed as we walked up the path to the house. People we knew from school waved or called out to us as we made our way inside and to the bar in the kitchen.

“Izzy!” Al, one of the guys who lived there, called as he grabbed her in a bear hug and lifted her off her feet.

She threw back her head and laughed, definitely missing her carefree college days.

“Hey, Nora,” he said once he set her back down. “Where’s Red?”

“We don’t run in the same circles anymore,” Izzy explained, saving me the explanation.

“That’s a shame. She’s hot,” he said.

My stomach churned. People didn’t know the real Zoe. Hell, I didn’t know the real Zoe.

I watched Al pour multiple liquors into our red cups and very little of anything else.

“Drinks for my neighbors,” he said as he turned and handed them to us.

I sipped my drink, wincing as the burn traveled down my throat. “I guess it’s gonna be that kind of night.”

“The best kind!” Izzy declared with her cup raised.

We spent the next couple of hours dancing in the cleared-out living room with guys we didn’t know and who were probably too young for us.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” a guy whispered in my ear from behind, his hands guiding my hips.

“You already know. It’s Beautiful,” I lied.

“No shit?”

“No shit. My mom was eccentric,” I said.

I watched as Izzy had her own freshman grinding up on her. I laughed, loving the attention but knowing full well we’d be going home alone.

“Nora!” Hannah, a girl I knew from my dorm sophomore year, danced over to me. “Where’ve you been, girl?”

“Working at the café,” I explained.

“You need to come out with us to the clubs,” she said. “Being legal rocks.”

“I’ll go,” my dance partner offered.

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