Letting You In

by Nora Flite

  She sat on the floor in front of me, shaking her head in a blur of hair. “I should have let you know, there's a spare key under the small rock to the left of the steps. Grab it next time, until we can make you a copy.”

  “Make me a copy?”

  “Yeah,” she shrugged. “We can't keep leaving the door unlocked, or making you climb fences,” she said, another fit of laughs taking over. “And I don't want to not have a spare for emergencies. I'll make you a copy, you're going to be here awhile, right?”

  Thinking about the interview, the cold words from Marcus, my tongue felt fat in my mouth. “Yeah,” I mumbled thickly. “Yeah, I plan to be.”

  “So,” she beamed, scooting closer on the rug. “Did it go well? The interview? Are you our new intern?”

  My smile was fragile, if she pressed me, it'd shatter like glass. “I don't know for sure yet.” I couldn't say the bad news, not with everything so cheerful and optimistic as it seemed. Breaking the illusion felt like crushing her spirit. Mine's already in pieces, I can handle it, but not her. Not yet.

  Jumping to her feet, my friend slipped into the bedroom, calling out as she did so. “I'm sure you got it! Don't worry! Hmn, I should get changed if we're going to Deacon's place. He lives right up the road, did you know?”

  “Yes,” I answered flatly, “I know.”

  When she came back out, she'd managed to throw on a pair of skin-tight jeans, her top a gold, glittery thing with no sleeves. Dark makeup, dark boots, Vanessa was stunning in a matter of minutes. “Ready to go, then?”

  Standing beside her in my own outfit, even with most of my legs bared in my newly sheared skirt, my purple top enhancing my porcelain skin, I felt very boring.

  “Sure,” I said dejectedly, “I'm as ready as I could possibly be.”

  “Grab a jacket, it'll get cold later.” She swung a long leather one from off a hook by the door, the material glossy in the lights. Turning, I moved to reach for my sweater, but something else caught my eye. There, sitting on the floor where I had dropped it, was Deacon's tweed jacket. Lifting it carefully, as if it might explode like a bomb, I debated what I should do.

  “Come on,” she said impatiently.

  Gritting my teeth, I slid it over my arms, enjoying the feeling of warmth in spite of myself. The smell of cinnamon hit my nose, his scent still as heavy on it as it had been last night. Touching the small, hard buttons lining the front, I noticed the engraved designs they displayed. My thumb traced the raised script, feeling the letters 'DD' like they were braille.

  Deacon Day, even your initials intrigue me.

  ****

  We didn't walk long at all, and though I didn't know where Deacon lived exactly, it was clear that the apartment with all the people hanging around outside, noise piping from the open windows, was his.

  The crowd was laughing, chatting, enjoying the fading light and chill air of the late day. Hugging the jacket around me tighter, my legs felt exposed among the strangers, making me regret cutting up the skirt. I passed some faces I knew, many I didn't, all of them with cups containing what I was sure was alcohol.

  Vanessa led me up a set of stone stairs, the front door of the building standing open. Inside, the music was loud, the thrum of voices talking over each other even worse. I'm going to have a migraine before this is over.

  “Hey!” Greg shouted, pushing through the bodies. “You guys made it!”

  “Yeah,” Vanessa said, leaning in, giving him a quick kiss. She clearly perplexed him, his face went slack, eyes bugging out. It made me smile, especially over how flustered she proceeded to look. “What, what's that face about?”

  “Nothing!” He said quickly, lifting his hands for protection. “I just—you surprised me!”

  “Whatever,” she huffed, pouting overtly, stomping through the crowd towards the back wall. I could see stacks of bottles, everything from soda to beer. Looking up, I watched Greg chase after her, calling her name in quick succession.

  Well, I thought with a wry smile as the deja vu set in, at least there's no singing this time.

  Wandering deep into the packed house, I found it easy enough to avoid talking to anyone. My heart wasn't really in it, so I was relieved. In the short amount of time it took me to squeeze over to the drink table, Vanessa and Greg were already in the midst of making out against a nearby wall.

  “Those two are really going at it,” a rich voice spoke beside me. Twitching in surprise, I turned to find someone standing beside me. It was a young man who was, for once, almost my height instead of towering above. Rich skin like coffee, his eyes twinkled when they ran over me in a smooth motion.

  “Uh,” I said, forcing a sideways smile, “yeah. They really are.”

  “I haven't seen them so friendly in some time, usually they split, don't talk to each other all night,” he said, laughing softly, staring at them. It made me uncomfortable, imagining someone leering at me like that if I were kissing someone.

  Reaching over, I grabbed a bottle of beer off the table, glancing around for something to open it. “You talk like you know them well—thanks,” I stuttered, watching him reach out, holding the drink in my hand, his other flicking a metal opener out to peel the cap away. The carbonation hissed, the stranger smiling politely at me and my obvious nervousness.

  “No problem. I'm Carlo, by the way.”

  “Leah, nice to meet you,” I said, tilting the beer back for a sip. It tickled my throat wonderfully, my eyes closing. With a content smile, I turned my attention back to Carlo, only to find him staring at me with more interest than I was ready for.

  He caught how my mouth turned down, I was sure of it. “Sorry,” he laughed. “That was... never mind, never mind. Let me answer your question from before,” he said, leaning against the drink table, gesturing casually with his head towards Vanessa and Greg. They'd begun to move away, I saw her fingers entwined with his. “I'm not exactly super friends with them, but I've seen them pretty often since I came out here last year. I went to college with her, actually.”

  That news hit me with a spark of jealousy, a moment that made me chug more of my drink. “Did everyone go to that school in this group of people?”

  “Oh, no,” Carlo assured me, grabbing a beer, cracking it open smoothly. “Greg didn't, for example. But, yeah, I guess many of us did. It makes sense when you think about it, all of us hanging out like this, together.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, none of us are from here,” he explained, taking a large swallow. “We don't have any family structure out here, so we've sort of made our own little base, a surrogate family, you know?”

  I didn't really know, it caused me to think about how my parents had never been there for me, even when they were right in reach. Staring at my feet, I took another sip, musing over this concept.

  “What about you?” His teeth gleamed in the low lights. “Where are you from?”

  Clinking my finger on my bottle, I almost bit back my answer. “A small place, out in New England. Boring and cold, not worth talking about,” I apologized. Draining more of my drink, my ears picked out a loud voice in the crowd, then a ripple of laughter. Shifting, squinting into the mass of faces, I caught a familiar tone that melted like butter.

  Deacon.

  I spotted him, grinning delightfully, talking with a slim girl I didn't know. She touched his shoulder, whispered something, apparently sending him into a new wave of laughter. It made her beam, and made my stomach hurt.

  “It's his birthday,” Carlo informed me casually.

  “I know,” I shrugged, forcing myself to look away from that handsome face that wanted to pull me in. “I know that. So what?” My voice was glass, too sharp. Carlo watched me as if reevaluating my existence.

  He grabbed a cup off the table, filling it with a mixture of fizzing soda and caramel colored rum. “So, you should go say hello to him, wish him well, that sort of thing.”

  “Why should I do that?” I mumbled, finishing my drink in one deep sw
ish. The pressure it relieved on my brain was wonderful.

  “Because,” Carlo said, holding up the cup, offering me a small smile, “you clearly want to talk to him. Maybe just go give him his jacket back as an excuse to start a conversation?”

  My cheeks burned red, the shock on my face shutting me up. Carlo chuckled, cocking his head and speaking softly, but still loud enough to be heard over the music, even if it meant he had to lean in towards me. “I should have told you I was his roommate, sorry. I can spot his jacket a mile away, his grandfather gave it to him, did you know?”

  Licking my lips, I shook my head slowly. “I—no, no, I didn't realize.”

  “Yeah, it's pretty important to him. But I guess he thought letting you borrow it was worth it. Now, if you excuse me, it's my job to get him drunk tonight,” he said with a wicked grin. Carlo slipped away, pushing through towards Deacon, causing an eruption of new shouts of cheer.

  Looking on, I watched him take the cup, lifting an eyebrow at his roommate, saying something I couldn't hear. Carlo clapped him on the shoulder, bent to his ear to whisper, then looked my way. As soon as he did, I knew what was coming next.

  Curious, enigmatic, the stare that Deacon threw at me held me in place, my body frozen. Oh, dammit. I'm not ready to talk to him, not after last night! He started to move towards me, so in a burst of speed, I grabbed three bottles of beer and slipped to the side. My plan wasn't fully formed, I thought, if I could just find Vanessa and Greg...

  Something touched my arm as I pushed into the kitchen, a place that was less filled with people. “Hey!” Deacon called to me, his tone plaintive, cutting into my resistance. Turning, I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, the beers cradled in my arms. “Hey,” he said again, standing across from me, his lips tilted, unreadable.

  “Hey,” I responded, flushing with guilt over my attempted escape. “Um. Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks,” he said, his smile almost real. “I thought you were running away from me there for a second.”

  “Nope,” I lied, uneasy and sick inside. Lifting the bottles, I turned my head, scanning the room quickly. “I was just going to see if Vanessa and Greg needed a drink, I saw them earlier, they didn't have any, so, yeah.”

  There's no way he believes that.

  Deacon didn't call me out, he simply nodded, taking a drink from his cup. His face twisted, cringing at the taste. “Carlo makes these way too strong.”

  “I guess he's trying to make sure you have a good time tonight.” My voice was low, my neck damp from my sweat. “He's your roommate, according to him.”

  “That would be correct, we actually shared a dorm in college.”

  “That's nice.”

  “Yeah,” he said, looking at his shoes. In that moment, with his attention elsewhere, I felt my envy growing. I was tired of hearing about school, I didn't need to know how much of a great time everyone had gotten, how amazing the bonds they'd formed were.

  I opened my mouth, my brows angled low, the sourness in my blood ready to come to the surface. Deacon looked at me, green-gold orbs melting with a mixture of emotions I couldn't handle. “Leah, did I do something wrong?”

  “I—what?”

  “You're acting strange around me, I mean, unless I'm imagining it.”

  The chance to tell him the truth, it sat before me, so easily taken if I only chose to do so. Watching his face, his genuine look of dismay, I parted my lips, knew what I was going to say before it even came out. “Everything's fine, really. I'm just... I'm having a bad day. That's all.” I can't do this, I can't unload on him on his birthday.

  “So you're really not avoiding me?” He asked, a new spark warming his eyes, a smile that wanted to bloom into a grin.

  “No.” I was lying through my teeth. “I'm really not.”

  “Then,” he said, taking one more drink before setting his cup on the counter, “come dance with me.”

  “What?” I asked, stunned, unsure I had heard him correctly. He reached out, prying the beers from my arms, though I gave no fight. Setting them aside, his grip went gently to my wrist, making me wish the jacket wasn't blocking our skin from touching. “I—Deacon, wait, I'm not...”

  He wasn't listening to me, I let him lead me back into the main room, the place full of pounding music and dark shadows. People were standing in groups, grinding, twisting as they jumped to the song. Everything moved, everything shook, it was a living earthquake that I wanted no part of.

  But I wanted Deacon Day.

  Letting him pull me into the circle, the heat of the people around us swarmed me fast. He must have noticed, his fingers slid over the collar of the jacket, tugging it off my arms while I didn't fight back. “Thanks for bringing this back,” he mumbled, “but it's way too warm for it in here, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said, so soft I didn't hear myself.

  He placed his fingers on my arms, sliding them down, lifting them up between us. Each inch of me that he touched came to life, goosebumps and cells on fire. “I can't dance,” I abruptly blurted, glowing intensely while recalling how I had already shown I couldn't sing, either.

  “Everyone can dance,” he chided me, bending close to keep from being drowned out. The music thumped, reaching into my bones, my brain melting the moment he linked his fingers with mine. I didn't even feel any pain from my scrapes, they were forgotten.

  I let him guide me, our steps simple, his hands swaying, showing me how to move side to side with him. Around us, people were shouting, wrapped up in each other, hair tossing and hips swaying. Yet, Deacon and I, we spun in our own little bubble, a different dance entirely.

  Why do I keep letting him pull me in? I wondered, looking into his glimmering emerald eyes. Each time, when I think something will happen, he backs away from me. Even knowing that, terrified of repeating last night, afraid of rejection all over again, I knew I couldn't have escaped. Not then, not with his hands on mine, his torso inches from my own.

  “See,” he laughed, whispering into my ear, the hairs on my neck prickling. “You can do this, it's easy.”

  “This is easy.” My lips twisted, helpless to contain my joy. “But this isn't really dancing.”

  “No?” He murmured, pretending to be offended. “Let's try some real dancing, then.” One of his arms coiled around my body, his fingers pressing into my lower back. His other hand took my own, setting it on his shoulder, then returning to join its twin on my spine.

  Oh god, what do I do, what should I do?

  Numb, I found both my palms holding his shoulders, my chest almost brushing his when he started to rock side to side. “There,” he said slyly, “is that more what you were expecting?”

  At first I couldn't speak, so I just nodded. On the hot dance floor, which was truly just a living room, I danced with the man I had wanted to touch like this for days. Has it really only been days, though? I couldn't ponder that, my brain was struggling to keep up with him, his movement becoming more well timed.

  Holding me firmly, Deacon rolled us in a circle, and even though I stepped on his toes, he didn't flinch. His shirt felt smooth under my hands, as he twisted us to the right, my fingers slipped, feeling his warm neck. My heart was on the verge of swelling, it was a challenge to breathe.

  “You have a really nice smile,” he suddenly said, making me marvel at if I could blush anymore.

  “Am I smiling?”

  “Yeah, you've been smiling since we started,” he confided.

  The number of songs we moved to, our bodies coming close to pressing together, but never quite making it... I lost count. Perhaps I had never even started. All I knew, was that as the party began to wind down, I regretted that time even existed.

  I want to keep doing this, I want to stay like this. My plaintive thoughts didn't change reality. Soon, people were breaking apart, the lights turning on, farewells being uttered. Someone bumped into us, Deacon gripping me so I didn't fall. In that brief second, my chest against his, I felt his heart.

  It's
fluttering as fast as mine.

  “Hey, Leah,” Vanessa said, startling me so I jerked away from Deacon. His face, unsure, wore no smile any longer. “We should get going,” she continued to speak, even while I watched his eyes, and not her. “Tomorrow is the fashion show preparation, we should both get some sleep.”

  “Yeah,” I finally forced the word out. Yanking my gaze away from those distracting honey colored orbs, I smiled at Vanessa. “Yeah, alright. Where's Greg?”

  “Oh,” she blinked, looking towards the front door. “He's outside, he'll drop us off at my place. Sound good?”

  “Sure,” I answered softly.

  Vanessa grinned at Deacon, suddenly wrapping him in a tight hug. “Happy birthday, by the way! Sorry I didn't see much of you tonight.”

  “It's no problem,” he said with a gentle smile, glancing over her at me. “I was kind of busy, anyway.”

  Chapter 14.

  They dropped me off, deciding to spend the night at Greg's place, but I was fine with that. More than fine.

  My mind was whirling with emotion, information, trying to grasp how I felt about the evening. Getting some time alone, knowing I was too excited and conflicted to sleep, this seemed the best set-up to justify my late night soul searching.

  Using the key under the rock by the door, I slipped inside, turning the lights on. Wandering in a circle, I covered the ground between the bathroom, living room, then kitchen like I was stuck in a cycle. Did we really dance tonight? He even asked me to do it!

  Running my fingers through my hair, my eyes darted around the walls, body on edge, fully awake. I was too energetic, buzzing with delight over how wonderful the party had gone. Wait, wonderful? Turning, I stared through the patio doors to the blackness outside.

  The idea hit me so suddenly, I gave a sharp cry, cradling my cheeks.

  I need to talk to him right now.