Chapter Seventeen

As the night goes on, I eat a considerable amount of chips, cheese and handheld food and down a few cocktails. I'm careful, however, because when I'm drinking, I'm not in control of my wandering eye or measured commentary. If I drink too much, I'll blurt out the wrong thing.

I try not to watch when Kate collects Adam's hand the minute he releases his drink or fork. I keep my head down when she drags him onto the dance floor. I try to appear unfazed when they return, Kate a little breathless each time.

"You didn't bring any money, did you Vee?" David asks from over the top of his beer.

I stare right back, crunching a carrot.

Francesca stumbles around the table and clutches my face. She slams our cheeks together. "Oh, we'll take care of you. You'll be like our little baby tonight."

"Let's get you some water, Franny," David orders.

"I do not respond to that nickname," she snaps. "The only nickname I've ever endured was when they called me Fran chest ca in the seventh grade." She pops her shoulders back proudly.

Kate claps a hand over her mouth and snorts a laugh behind it.

David stands. "How about some fresh air instead?"

"I developed early," she slurs to the table.

"No one needed the explanation." David grabs her elbow and takes her outside.

Kate stands up with her phone. "Well, I need blackmail, don't judge me." She follows them out of the door.

Maggie chuckles into her chair. She holds her glass to her face. "I like you people."

Adam smirks and responds, "I think you like all people right now, Mags."

"I think you like some people, too," she says with a matching smile. Her cheeks flood pink. She hiccups and giggles.

He taps the side of his water glass. "Yeah. Maybe."

"No, no, brother," Maggie says. She points a finger at his face. "That's not what I mean. You know what I mean. You know ."

His jaw clenches. He tries to work out her meaning, as do I, while Diego people watches and hums quietly to himself. Adam hikes up the roll of his sleeve. His fingers dance through his hair. Muscles ripple on his forearm. His movements are loud, his voice silent.

Maggie explains, "She's a sweet girl, don't get me wrong, but I don't know if she's your type. Right, Vienna?"

I sink into my shoulders. "Young, beautiful and smart? Hell, I might marry her."

"That's not what Adam wants in a girl," she argues.

Adam shifts froward. His white shirt spreads audibly along his back. "Good thing I don't need my sister's approval. But I do need this conversation to end."

"Oh, you want my approval." She licks her lips and waves him away. "More than dad's even. And I know you Adsy Bear, that little girl is a sweetie pie, but she's not your sweetie pie."

"How about pie?" Adam shoots air from his nose. His chest heaves. "Let's get some pie."

Maggie continues. Her drink sloshes as she waves her glass in the air. She says, "You want a girl who doesn't chase after you or change herself. Someone you like to be around, who is herself . Who you can laugh with and feel proud of."

He grabs a dessert menu and wonders, "Do they have pie?"

"A girl who's weird and funny and practical."

"I'll find some bakery within the state limits and buy us pie," he says, raising his voice.

"What do you think, Vienna?" Maggie asks.

My jaw unhinges. "Me?"

Adam pretends to still look at the menu, but I've noticed he has stopped flipping the heavy, narrow pages.

"I don't really have an opinion on the matter," I reply.

He closes his eyes.

Maggie leans over her drink. Her eyes glisten. "Oh, I think you might…"

"Okay, Maggie!" Adam slams the menu shut and announces, "I think it's time to go home."

She raises her lip in disgust. "But I'm not done with my drink."

Diego says absently, "Let us finish our drinks."

I didn't think he was paying attention. Not that I know what I'm paying attention to.

"I'm getting to my point." Maggie licks her lips.

Adam growls, "I know your point. But I'd rather keep this conversation a little dull ."

"No, no, it's time to have it out," she insists. "Before it's too late."

"Maggie," Diego warns. "He doesn't want you to."

Maggie begins to sway. "See, Vienna, the thing is –"

"Dance with me," Adam interrupts.

I look to my right side. He stands there, his hand stretched toward me, his eyes squarely on my face. My shocked, confused face. I go between he and Maggie, not sure what just happened, what is happening right now, and if my legs have any feeling to them.

With a tight jaw, Adam begs, "Please. Please dance with me, please. Right now."

I check Maggie and Diego's interested faces and whisper, "Or what's going to happen?"

"The world will implode." He stretches his fingers emphatically.

Brain says, bad idea.

Gooey insides say, I wonder where he will put his hands.

I exhale and place my hand in his.

Adam deftly pulls my chair from underneath me, spins me around to his other side and pushes in the chair back hard enough for the table to shake. Some kind of message for his sister. He doesn't say anything or look what me while I'm led through the tables and onto the hardwood dance floor. My heels clack once and then they're quiet.

Adam stands opposite me, a foot's distance between us. He bites his lip, stalled, a pained expression on his face. He stares at the ground. Then, suddenly, his hand is in front of me, as it was five seconds ago, and he's asking again. It just took him longer this time to decide if he wanted to go through with this.

It shouldn't matter if I do. We're neighbors and strangers, nothing resembling friends. He's been dancing with Kate all night, had his arm slung on the back of her chair and laughed at her stories. He thinks I'm boring and clumsy. He probably doesn't remember an ounce of how he made me feel that summer.

So, I take his hand. We cross the space between us, and I hook my arm on the outside of his right shoulder. When he touches my waist, I flinch.

"Sorry," he mutters.

"No, it's…" I force a polite smile.

We look everywhere but at each other. The song shifts from slow to slower and a lump begins to grow in my throat.

His hand feels stronger and more calloused than I remember. The ridges of his shoulder blade more pronounced. His spine straightens as my thumb slips when it would have relaxed years ago.

"Thank you," he mumbles.

"For what?"

He looks over the top of my head. "Getting me away from that table."

"Maggie doesn't seem happy about it."

He turns his neck. "She'll be fine at home. The box brownies were buy one, get one free. She baked some weed in the second batch."

"Oh. I'll come by later."

"Better be quick."

We're quiet a moment. I say, "I felt like I was in the middle of something back there."

"And I felt like the glue holding it together," he groans.

I smile at someone dancing beside us who keeps staring at Adam in obvious recognition and wonder, "Was that some decades old family feud coming to light?"

"Trust me, if I hadn't walked away, there would have been choreographed dancing, snapping. It would have gotten ugly."

The lights above us turn pink. I wonder how long we have to keep this up, when we can call it quits and return to our corners. Adam doesn't make any moves.

"How's your leg?" he says. His face turns to regret. "I already asked you that."

"Yeah."

He turns our grasped hands and opens them. "That's a nice unicorn Band-Aid."

"Alice would only part with one." I sigh. "I decided it should be visible to the rest of the world, seeing as the unicorn is vomiting rainbows."

"I thought they poop rainbows?"

"You think about unicorns a lot?"

"Well." He shrugs. "The Roman Empire. Unicorns. A man's gotta think."

He flickers his eyes to mine and his lips slam together to stop from smirking. It makes me lightheaded, when we find each other through the haze of everything else. That, or the bourbon.

Back at the table, his sister holds her phone up in our direction, a clear and obvious sign of amateur photography.

So, I comment, "You and Maggie seem close."

"Uh, yeah. We are."

"She's still eyeballing us."

He turns around and wheels us further into the crowd of couples. "Then let's not give her the satisfaction."

I observe Maggie smiling and pointing at us, smacking Diego on the shoulder and encouraging him to look as well. The unspoken context of she and Adam's disagreement finally fits together. The clouds part and a giant lightbulb drops down from the sky.

I freeze. "Oh my God. Does she know?" I turn my face to him.

Adam finally dips his chin toward mine. "…know what?"

"About that summer?" I say. "About us ?"

Adam squints painfully. "Oh that. Well, kinda, yeah."

I pull myself a half inch closer toward him. "Kinda? How much kinda ?"

"Like…" He turns his head and releases stream of hot air. "The whole thing."

My jaw drops. A carousel of secrets she might know rolls through my head. I mutter, "The sneaking out and the tree house and the -"

He stares sharply to see where I go next.

I won't go there . I shake out the memories and demand, "What happened to keeping it a secret?"

"Well," he begins, taking a bite of our distance. "That was a fourteen-year-old pact and I never signed anything in blood. Besides, Maggie didn't know you guys. I figured it was safe. And then…that changed."

"The fish bowl," I say.

"Now, don't go blaming the fish."

"If you can't blame a fish, then what have we got left? I don't have a dog or homework."

"Blame the cruel winds of fate," he groans.

The energy shifts. Our first real conversation has taken us headfirst into the deep end of our relationship. We're swaying. We're touching. People watch it happen, take photographic evidence. Lines have been crossed. If Kate sees me, torches will be lit aflame.

Adam mentioned fate. Called it cruel, that doesn't feel great, but he still dressed our reacquaintance in the language of destiny.

I lower my voice. "But why did you tell her?"

No one can hear us anyway, but he does the same. "I had to tell someone," he says. "You really never told Fran or David?"

"No. They don't know anything."

The sides of his mouth curve downward. "Cool. Then it's still pretty much a secret. Almost like it never happened."

We wouldn't be having this conversation if it never happened. I wouldn't be wishing I could tattoo the feel of his hand on mine or bottle up his voice and listen to it when I need to feel safe. I wouldn't want to close my eyes against his gaze because the heat of it warms better than the sun.

I study his face, following his lowered eyes. My grip tightens on his hand, pressing the Band-Aid into his palm. I whisper, "Did it happen?"

Adam snaps back to attention. We stop moving. Even through fabric, my skin burns where he touches it. His eyebrows relax, his lips part to respond.

Maggie calls out, "Yoo hoo! Ads! We're all done!"

He and I keep focus on each other.

"Coming," Adam calls out over the noise. The music changes. The lights turn yellow. He drops his hands and rips his gaze away.

He nudges through the crowd at a speed I can't comprehend while I stand frozen, watching David scan the room for me, Fran chest ca half asleep on his arm.