Body and Soul

“You okay?” Will asked. “You’re quiet. It’s kind of freaking me out.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, even though he probably couldn’t see that in the dim light from the dashboard. I was too tired to make more of an effort. It felt like it was taking everything I had to keep myself together…literally. “Just thinking.”

“Why start now?”

I punched his shoulder lightly.

“It’s going to be fine.” He held his hand out to me.

Sure, as long our two definitions of that word were not wildly different, which I wasn’t so certain of at this moment.

But I took his hand anyway, lacing my fingers between his and enjoying the sensation of security and warmth while it lasted, however long that would be.

The closer we got to Ben’s house, the number of cars parked on both sides of the street, in shitty attempts at parallel parking, increased, and I could hear the distant thump of music even over the sound of the engine.

Despite everything, and I do mean everything, some part of me reacted to the familiar stimuli, and my heartbeat kicked up a notch in anxiety and anticipation. Like this was somehow permanently encoded as part of my identity. And maybe that wasn’t far from the truth. Ben’s parties had been as much of my school life as cheerleading or classes. I’d been going since seventh grade, though those early parties were more “seven minutes in heaven” and spiked Sprite than sexual misconduct and full-on keggers.

I’d looked forward to them with equal parts eagerness and dread. I mean, hey, who doesn’t love a party? Except it was another couple of hours to be on my guard, another chance for my carefully constructed sham of a life to tumble down around me if I said or did the wrong thing, showed weakness, spoke to someone I should have ignored, or drank too much or too little.

Point of fact, I didn’t drink at all. Which only added another layer of complication, actually, seeing as that was not the norm. It was another thing that had to be, if not covered up, at least not openly acknowledged so as to avoid questions. It occurred to me now, thinking about all of this, how very little of my life had been real.

It had, however, been exhausting.

And yet I remembered laughing with Misty in the kitchen at finding a chip shaped like a more-than-generous representation of the male anatomy—a silly, stupid moment, but fun—and the brief feeling of safety that came from being surrounded by my friends and followers, people I thought cared about me.

Well, I’d learned better since then, but that hadn’t made the memories go away—just tainted them with a longing and nostalgia for a time that hadn’t really existed.

“You’re going to have to turn around to find a place to park,” I said. “It’s full this close to the house, and nobody’s leaving yet.”

“The driveway’s empty,” he pointed out, cocking his head toward the sweeping brick driveway. The drive was large enough for three cars across and probably four rows deep, and it had a huge circular turnaround at the far end. Ben’s dad was a car dealer; what can I say?

“Yeah, Ben’s rules. Something about making it less obvious where the party is being held or something.” Like his neighbors weren’t all too aware of that already. I suspected his dad must have bribed them. How much would it have cost for a dealer to give away a car or two, anyway?

Will’s lip curled, and he cranked the wheel hard to the right, sending the car into the driveway. Then he pulled all the way up to the four-car garage and a ridiculous stone fountain they had in the center of the turnaround.

“Yeah, that’s good,” I said. “Subtle.”

He gave a sulky shrug. Will did not like Ben. I didn’t blame him, but now was not the time.

“Can you just be less of a guy right now and focus?” I let go of his hand—making myself do so swiftly and without the reluctance I felt—and reached for the door. Everyone was already at the back of the house; nobody to freak out over a door opening by itself.

Will caught my arm. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Duh. Someone has to make sure Erin’s actually here before we go charging in.”

“But if she sees you—”

I raised my eyebrows. “As opposed to the dozens or more who will definitely see you?”

Will released my arm with a sigh and slumped back in his seat. “Just…be careful.”

He looked so dejected and worried I couldn’t resist. I let go of the door and slid across the seat. I leaned over him, bracing myself with one hand on the center armrest and the other on his door. I was only a couple of inches from his face before he figured out what I was up to.

He sucked in a sharp breath in anticipation, and warmth spread through me. Nice that I could still provoke that reaction.

I brushed his mouth lightly with mine, focusing on the details. His familiar clean-boy-and-laundry scent and the soft friction of his lips beneath mine.

Will surprised me then, leaning forward into the kiss and lifting his hand to the back of my head to hold me closer. His mouth moved fiercely over mine, and it was like he was pouring all the words he couldn’t say, all the complications we couldn’t unsnarl, all his frustration and fear, into this one moment.

And I couldn’t think, caught up in the taste of him, the feel of his heat inches from me, but I couldn’t touch him, not without falling…and I really, really wanted to. Both touch and fall.

My arms started to shake…No, wait, scratch that—all of me was shaking. But I didn’t care. I wanted to stay here forever.

Then Ed coughed and mumbled something in his sleep from the backseat, startling both of us. I’d forgotten he was there.

I leaned back away from Will, my breathing all uneven and my heart pounding, and slowly eased back into my seat. I caught myself wondering what it would have been like to be Ally during the kiss. It had been intense as it was, but I feltso much more when I was her. I shivered.

Will watched me retreat with a warmth in his gaze that suggested I wasn’t the only one who’d lost track of time, place, and circumstances.

I bit my lip, which felt puffy and tingly; I was so tempted to stay.

But for how long? That thought alone was enough to dump a metaphorical bucket of cold water on my overheated emotions.

I looked away from Will and fumbled for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

“Promise?” he asked as I climbed out.

I didn’t know what to say, caught between what I wanted and what I could control. So I didn’t say anything at all.

* * *

A long-established piece of wisdom from Ben’s soirees was that it wasn’t a party until someone was barfing in the bushes. Specifically, Mrs. Rogers’s rhododendrons. Fortunately, Katee Goode was filling that role quite admirably—and kind of impressively—when I came around the corner.

Such a sophomore.I shook my head in disgust and started to walk around her, and then stopped with a sudden realization.

Katee was a juniornow. School was starting up again in a couple of weeks. Everyone was moving on, getting older. Everyone except me.

I looked at the back of her blond head—plainly visible in the bright moonlight—bobbing above the greenery, and felt a sharp pang of envy. Katee would, in theory, put in another two years at Groundsboro and move on to college and then the rest of her life, where this moment would be a distant memory. She had her whole life ahead of her. I did not.

I felt my nails dig into my palms as I clenched my hands in fists. I, who’d never envied anybody anything—except maybe Lily for her family—envied the girl upchucking in the underbrush? No way.

It was pathetic.

Anyone dumb enough to come here and get that wasted, especially alone—a very sophomore, third-tier move—did not deserve to be envied.

Maybe. Maybe not. But it didn’t change how I felt.

I sighed and kept walking.