by Dahlia Adler
Shannah wrinkles her nose—as much as she possibly can, given it’s her third. “I don’t share,” she says coldly. “Are you gonna get me a drink?”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I say honestly. Van and Brianna crack up at that, and the fact that they’re both a few sips in to whatever Royce brought them probably helps. “You should totally get something, though. Actually, could you get me another Jack and Coke?” I glance at the camera guy. “And, by that, I mean a Coke. Because I am nineteen. And drinking alcohol is both illegal and irresponsible.”
Van and Brianna crack up again, and I can’t help grinning as Shannah fumes. “God, you know, this is why I broke up with you for Garrett,” she snaps. “You’re so freaking immature.”
“Garrett got arrested for wagging his dick out of a limo window,” I remind her. “Pretty sure I’m still winning this contest.”
She shoots me a disgusted look and turns on her heel, with Kaia following her to the bar. Natasha winks at me and licks her lips before following.
“That’s so great that your friends could come join us!” Bri gushes, taking another sip of her drink and settling into the arm Royce drapes around her shoulder. “They seem really sweet.”
“Shannah’s great,” Van says enthusiastically. “Remember how nice she was after she got caught yelling at that fan? So sweet.”
“And she seems to really like you, Josh.” Bri covers my hand with hers, which is cold and damp from her sweating glass. “When she’s not being a little jealous of this one over here.” She nudges her shoulder into Vanessa’s side, and Van laughs and nudges her back harder, almost spilling both their drinks. They crack up, and I’d think they were hammered, but they still haven’t had all that much.
“Well, how could anyone not be jealous of K-dra—Vanessa? I mean, look at all that natural grace right there.”
She sticks her tongue out at me.
“See what I mean?” I wrap my hand around her glass and help myself to a sip. It’s a vodka tonic, light on tonic.
“Of course, this one’s taken,” Royce points out, tipping his own glass at K-drama. “Where’s your boyfriend, anyway? How come he never hangs out with us?”
Oh, shit. I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to mention Zander. Though, watching the way her face screws up at the mention, I’m glad I didn’t. Bri looks a little weird about it, too, and I wonder if Jade’ll be pissed that her golden boy client was mentioned around the likes of me.
“He’s got a tour coming up—needs to protect his vocal chords,” Van says after a minute, then nabs her glass back and takes a long drink, bypassing the straw. Around us, the song changes, and she laughs. “Speaking of which…”
It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if Chuck was behind having the Wonder Boys’ newest hit, “My Girl, My Woman,” play at this exact moment. Even when he’s not here, Zander Wilson is everywhere.
“We should dance.” Royce tosses back the rest of his drink and holds out a hand to Bri. “I think Park’s boy toy would appreciate it.”
“I bet he would,” says Bri. She takes one last long drink and then plucks a cherry from the glass, sliding it between her lips as she follows him out to the dance floor.
I watch K-drama watch them go, and I wonder if she really is down about the fact that her boyfriend isn’t here. She definitely looks…something.
And I definitely need more alcohol.
Reaching up the back of my shirt, I flick off my microphone and gesture for Van to do the same. Chuck starts to protest, but I hold out the mic and say, “I think you guys got enough for now, don’t you? Why don’t you all take a break and let me get a fucking drink or twelve.”
To my surprise, Chuck agrees, though instead of disappearing, they just focus on Shannah whispering in a corner with the other chicks. Whatever. I don’t give a shit what they do; I just know I need a drink, and I’m willing to bet K-drama can be convinced to do a shot with me.
It takes even less urging than I expect, and we grab Royce and Bri from the floor and do a round of shots—to Zander, despite Vanessa’s eye-rolling—before finally just dancing and chilling out.
I’ll say one thing for K-drama—the girl’s pretty damn good on the dance floor. As the Wonder Boys’ track transitions into Beyoncé, she lightens up, and before long, she’s filled with just the right amount of tipsy energy. People start to crowd around and watch as she rolls her body against mine, waves her hands in the air, and sings along to the music. Her voice is pretty terrible, but she’s having so much fun that no one even cares.
It’s kind of awesome to watch her letting go like that. Not that I’ve never seen her have fun before, but right now, she looks…like she’s glowing or something. Royce has nudged Bri closer to make the two girls dance up on each other, and if she minds being sandwiched between us, it doesn’t show. I’m certainly not complaining about the view down Bri’s top, but the truth is, I kinda want them to disappear. I kinda want everyone to disappear. For weeks I’ve been feeling like everything is spinning, and right now, Van’s hips beneath my hands, even as they rock to the music, feel like exactly the stability I need to keep myself grounded, just for a night.
Doesn’t hurt that her hair smells really fucking good. Sweet. Like strawberries or something.
Fingers brush mine, and I look down to see that Bri’s now got a hand on Van’s waist, too. She’s pulling her closer, and I’m doing the same, and we end up merging like an Oreo while Royce whistles. I’m pretty sure the cameras are on us, but I don’t give a shit. I don’t give a shit about anything. Right now, all I want is the scent of strawberries in my nose, the sound of her crappy singing in my ear, and her little body beneath my hands.
I don’t wanna think about Chuck. I don’t wanna think about my mother. I don’t wanna think about my shitty future.
And I don’t wanna think about what it means that I don’t wanna let go of Vanessa Park at the end of the night.
Chapter Sixteen
Vanessa
I don’t even know how many songs I dance sandwiched between Bri and Josh, watching the flashing lights and singing along. I feel drunk on pure adrenaline, though I know there’s some vodka mixed in there. There are flashbulbs going off, and I know I’ll see myself on websites tomorrow if I spend two seconds looking, but I don’t care.
Zander would hate this.
Jade will kill me.
I don’t care. About either of them. Any of it. In front of me, Josh looks like he’s having every bit as much fun as I am. Behind me, Bri seems to be enjoying herself, too. Every few seconds, I feel her hair or breasts graze my back, her breath on my ear, and my brain short-circuits.
Royce must be saying something to her I can’t hear because she cracks up laughing, unconsciously tightening her grip on my waist and pulling me close. My mouth goes dry, and I grip Josh’s shoulders and say, “I need to grab some water.”
“I’ll come with—”
“Aww, were you leaving?” Shannah swoops in like she has some crazy radar detector. “Make sure you send my love to Zander.” There’s so much insincerity dripping from her voice I have to walk carefully to make sure I don’t slip in it.
“Wait up,” Bri calls, and I do. “Didn’t even realize how thirsty I was until I saw you heading to the bar.”
I glance at her, wondering if I’m imagining the extra meaning that seems loaded into that sentence. She’s not looking at me, but the quirk of her lips suggests that I’m not.
The adrenaline is back, working its way through my system double-time. My heart thuds against my ribcage as we near the bar, and I force myself to focus on the singular goal of getting water. Thankfully, the bartender practically dives over to us, ignoring everyone else demanding his attention. We get a couple of icy glasses and sip them as we make our way back to our seats.
Neither of us says a word for a couple of minutes, instead watching the guys get down and dirty with the other three girls. I think about Bri laughing at whatever Royce had said, and
I wonder again if I have things all wrong.
“You don’t actually have to babysit me, you know,” I tell her. “It’s cool if you wanna go back and dance with Royce.”
She snorts. “Thanks, but I think I’ve spent enough of my night being poked in the back by unwanted objects. I’ll stick with you, if you don’t mind.”
I inexplicably feel a little weight lift off my shoulders, and laugh. It’s not like that means anything. It’s not like I want it to.
Do I?
“This is probably at least a little more fun than having some sort of ring ceremony with Zander tonight would’ve been, no?” she asks, plucking an ice chip from her glass and slipping it between her teeth.
“Oh, shut up,” I say, shaking my head.
“You don’t want to talk about it?”
“I’d rather talk about nuclear physics. Or Shannah’s hair. Anything. Please.”
Those perfect lips curl into a smile around the ice, and then she sucks it into her mouth. I swallow and look away.
It’s too late. A hot, buzzing ache is already snaking its way through my body. I try to remember the last time I felt this way, but I know the truth—I never have. I’ve never wanted this badly. I’ve kissed Liam Holloway and Josh Chester and Zander Wilson—hell, I’ve hugged Brad Freakin’ Pitt—and never have I felt lightning striking me from the inside out the way I do right now, with just Bri’s cool breath on my skin.
“Are you down for another shot?”
Her voice is playful in my ear, promising, knowing. My brain is already swirling; one more shot and I’ll be unconscious, despite the fact that I haven’t had that much to drink. I don’t want to be any foggier, though. I don’t want to come down off this feeling at all.
I shake my head. I don’t have any words other than ones too dangerous to speak aloud. Instead, I simply slide to the end of the banquette, tugging my dress down to cover my thighs, and squeeze her wrist once before getting up and making my way as calmly as possible to the restroom.
My heart is pounding so hard that I’m trembling in my stilettos as I push through the crowd. I have no idea whether she’s following me, but I want her to so badly, my skin feels too tight for my body.
And just when I’m sure she won’t—that I’ve misunderstood or misread or something—there’s a warmth at my back, a “hey” holding a hint of question.
I barely even glance around to make sure no one’s watching before I swing open the door to the bathroom and yank her inside.
“Jesus, Park.” She takes a deep, slow breath. “What are we doing here?” Her voice is faint, and I almost miss it over the blood rushing through my ears. She’s backed up against the door, and she grips the knob like she wants a way out. Only she doesn’t take it.
“Go if you want to,” I say, my voice equally quiet. I can’t muster any more than that. I’m straining too hard to keep my body still, to keep from doing something I shouldn’t.
“I don’t.” Her thumb presses the lock on the knob, but she continues to grasp it. “You know I don’t.”
“I don’t know anything.” My pulse is racing and my palms are sweating and I truly don’t know—how this is happening or what comes next or any of it. “I just…” I can’t say it. I can’t. But I want it. I do. “Help me,” I whisper.
Soft hands cup the nape of my neck and then her lips are on mine, or my lips are on hers. She made the move but somehow I’m the one in control, pushing her up against the door, gripping her wrists. Beneath me, she’s warm and pliable, and when she parts her lips, I don’t hesitate for a second to accept the invitation.
She tastes like vodka and lip gloss, sweet with the tiniest bit of bitterness, and it’s perfect. All of it. I know it should be weird, and I should feel weird, but I just feel…good. And so does she. Her lips are soft and her skin is smooth and she is one hundred percent girl, but there is no one on earth I’d rather be kissing.
And I really do love her mouth.
My hands slide from her wrists to her hips, thumbs seeking out the soft skin just above the waistband of her jeans. Her fingers clutch at the stretchy fabric of my dress as she pulls me closer. It’s sliding dangerously high up my thighs, and I’m not sure if she notices.
I hope she does.
She pulls back, though, just enough to whisper, “What the hell is happening right now?”
Oh God. “Am I doing it wrong?”
Her laughter is breathless against my lips. “God, no. Not at all. But…you’re straight.”
“Actually,” I say, my voice shaky as my fingertips travel higher, “I’m not so sure about that.”
I wait for a jaw drop or a look of shock or something, but all I get is a slow grin over her kiss-swollen lips. “I knew it.”
I yank my hands out from under her shirt and step back. “Seriously, Bri?” I drop my voice as low as humanly possible, despite knowing no one can hear us over the pulsing music. “I tell you I like girls and your reaction is to be smug about it?”
“Crap, Van, no.” She reaches for my hand, and I let her take it, watching as she intertwines her fingers with mine. “I just…hoped. I’ve been hoping, ever since we met at Josh’s party. I’ve imagined this so many times that at some point it just became impossible to imagine it wouldn’t happen.”
Our hands swing naturally, delicate and girly, indistinguishable except for the darker tone of my skin. “You’ve pictured this, huh?”
“Nonstop,” she says sheepishly, her black-painted thumbnail tracing an arc over the back of my hand. “You haven’t?”
“If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Oh, I think we would’ve ended up here one way or another.” She slips her free hand into my hair and rests her forehead against mine. “But now what?”
“I have no idea,” I admit. “You’re the PR pro. And this is a mess.”
“It is, isn’t it?” She glances back at the door. “We probably don’t have much longer in here, and we can’t exactly go back to my place, or to yours. Even a hotel’s out of the question.”
I’ve never wanted to kick myself so hard for the fact that I still live with my parents.
Oh God—my parents. What the hell would my mother say if she found out I’d just kissed a girl? If she knew I like one? I’m a big enough disappointment to her now, choosing my acting career over college and a traditional career path. She’s never really voiced her thoughts much about my relationships, but she also hasn’t taken them seriously. Pretty sure that, in her mind, I’m still gonna get over all of this and settle down with a nice Korean boy someday.
I look down at where Bri’s thumbnail is still caressing my hand, and a little shiver racks my body.
No, I’m pretty sure I won’t be getting over this soon.
“You okay?” she whispers, stopping the path of her nail and squeezing my hand instead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to joke. I know this is a big deal.”
I just nod. I can’t say anything else. It is a big deal. I need to talk about it. I want to talk about it. But I need to gather my thoughts first, to understand what it all means. All I’ve really considered is how much I want the girl in my arms right now; I’ve barely put any thought at all into what it means to be…
Gay.
Holy crap.
Am I gay?
I gulp in a breath of air and step back from Bri, leaning against the sink. I need my own space right now. I need to breathe. I need to think.
Except now that I’m a step back, I’m just staring at her boobs.
I am so, so gay.
“Hey.” She cups my cheek in her palm. “You look like you’re gonna be sick. Maybe we should just get you home.”
Except the thought of going home makes me feel even sicker. I can’t see my parents right now. My normal go-to escape is sleeping over at Ally’s, but even if I wanted to stay there without her—and I’m sure her mom would be more than cool with it—it’s too late to call and ask. The idea of staying in a hotel, surrounded by more strange
rs, nauseates me even more.
“Van?”
I blink up at her. Her eyes look softer than I’ve ever seen them—with concern, but also, my stomach flips as I realize, with hurt.
Right. Having someone look like she’s gonna hurl two seconds after you’ve made out with her probably isn’t the most flattering.
“It’s not you,” I blurt instantly. “It’s me.” Oh God. I did not just say that. But it’s obvious from the way her face falls that oh, yes, I did. “Okay, that’s not what I meant. It’s just…a lot.”
“I know.”
I can tell she wants to mean it, but she’s wringing her hands, and her eyes won’t meet mine. Seeing her in pain, and knowing I’m the one who did that, feels worse than everything else combined. No matter what I’m worried about and how messed up I am, the one thing I know for sure is that I really, really care about her. I can’t have her thinking any less.
Sliding my hands into her hair, I pull her mouth to mine for a kiss I hope makes my feelings crystal clear. It takes her a second to relax into it, but only that. As she steals my breath completely, I tell myself that, in the end, this should be what matters—how perfect and right this is—but I’ve been in this business too long to forget that my life doesn’t entirely belong to me. That even the personal decisions I make affect my job and my future. And given how uncertain that future is post-Daylight Falls, I know this isn’t as simple as most people would think it should be.
As I’m sure Bri thinks it should be.
Either way, I know we’ve been missing for far too long, and I reluctantly pull back. “We have to go,” I say softly, hating doing so because I’m not sure when I’ll see her again. Not sure when I’ll feel like I can.
“Oh, right,” she says sheepishly. She steps to the side so she can check herself out in the mirror, and I let myself watch her readjust that absurdly hot shirt for just a second before I get to work touching up my own dress, hair, and makeup. “I’ll go first, I guess. Keep an eye on your phone, and I’ll tell you when it’s safe to come out.”
I watch in the mirror as she slips out the door, and then I apply another coat of lip gloss to replace the one I just left on her mouth. My hand is shaking like crazy, and it takes three attempts to get it on neatly. I have one eye on my phone the entire time, but it never lights up. I toss the gloss back in my purse and pick up the phone, opening my own text.
