22. Hunter

Playlist: I Will Always Love You | Dolly Parton

Ideas for stress relief that aren’t masturbating

-take a walk

-take a hot shower

-listen to calming music

-this is ridiculous

-i just wanna masturbate

-commit murder and hide kelsey and becky’s bodies

Not one of Kelsey or Becky’s friends can sing.

I know it’s karaoke and that’s not the point and I’m not supposed to care, but I’m one of two sober people in this room.

I fucking care .

After Sorority Sister Number Seventeen takes several pictures like it’s 2016, complete with a solo sorority squat and duck face, Giovanna steps next to me.

“Having fun?” she asks teasingly.

“So much,” I deadpan. “Too much, really.” I turn to the makeshift stage where Becky’s sister is singing a very pitchy version of “Silver Springs” by Fleetwood Mac. I shudder as I lift my camera and take a few pictures of her.

“Did you know Stevie Nicks cursed Lindsay Buckingham while performing this in 1997?” I ask Jo after taking a few pictures.

Her brow furrows and head tilts. “Who cursed who?”

I stare at her. “Stevie Nicks. Cursed Lindsay Buckingham.” She shakes her head and I gasp. “Oh my god. Do you not know about the infamous Fleetwood Mac lore?”

“I have a feeling I’m about to find out.”

I grin at her. “Later. There’s videos that have to be a part of the presentation.”

“Ren probably knows about it.”

“Oh, that handsome brother of yours definitely knows about it.”

I see Jo’s body stiffen out of the corner of my eye.

“Handsome in an objective way,” I blurt out, spinning to face her. “Like, you probably don’t want to know this, but your brother is kind of the male beauty standard. Not handsome like ‘oh he’s so handsome I want to kiss his face.’ Handsome as in tall and white and muscular with fluffy hair.”

“You don’t want to kiss his face?”

“Nope. Nope, nope, nope. I’d love to be his friend. But like the purely platonic kind. He’s cool, but I usually only kiss people I’m attracted to, and I’m not. Attracted to him, that is.” I’m rambling and I want to stop, but I can’t. “Like he’s objectively handsome, but that’s it. Did I tell you I think I might be a lesbian?”

I slap my hand over my mouth, eyes widening as I watch Jo’s do the same.

“I thought you were bi?” she asks, confusion evident in her voice.

I laugh nervously. “So did I. But uh, my therapist and I have been unpacking shit and I think my attraction to dudes is more compulsory than genuine attraction. But maybe I’m wrong. I could totally be wrong. I haven’t been with a woman in twelve years…”

“Wait. What ?” Jo takes a step back, and I want to slam my head into a wall because why the fuck can’t I stop talking? “Twelve years?”

“I don’t know why I said that,” I groan, slapping my hand over my face. The room around us erupts in applause as the song comes to an end, and Kelsey takes the stage.

“Am I the only woman you’ve slept with, Hun?”

I peek at her between my fingers. “No. Yes. No. Maybe? Yes. Yeah. Um. Yeah.”

“This is for my fiancée,” Kelsey slurs from the stage. “I love you baby, and I always will.”

The opening chords of Dolly Parton’s “I Will Always Love You” fills the room..

“She’s going to butcher my favorite song,” I yell over the music.

Jo just stares at me.

“I made things fucking weird. I’m so sorry. Will you still let me tell you about Fleetwood Mac lore in the room?” I ask hopefully, pivoting my body to face the front of the room, getting some shots of Kelsey doing the worst thing a person has ever done to me.

“Since when has this been your favorite song?” Giovanna asks from behind me.

“What?” I ask, grabbing a few shots of the drunken bridal party singing along.

“Your favorite song was ‘Jolene’ that summer. When did this become your favorite song?”

I turn around so fast that I almost lose my balance. “You remember that?”

She ignores the question and takes a step towards me. “When did this song become your favorite, Hun?”

I open and shut my mouth, words not coming to me.

“Tell me. Please,” she whispers.

“You know when.” My mouth goes dry, heart pounding.

The fall after that summer, I’d cried myself to sleep listening to the song on repeat, thinking about how I’d been the one who told her Whitney Houston’s version was a cover of Dolly’s. Remembering how she hummed it in my ear when we were naked and wrapped around each other.

She stares at me, but only for a moment, because then she’s angling my face and pressing her lips to mine. She tastes like the lime sparkling water she’s been drinking all night, with a touch of buttercream from the cupcakes that were served.

I raise onto my tiptoes and wrap my arms around her shoulders as her hands run down my sides until they clasp my hips.

“Hun,” she whispers against my mouth, her breath hot in my mouth. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Fuck.”

She pulls away, just enough that the tips of our noses are still touching.

“Is this because Kelsey can see us?” I breathe.

Please say no. I beg whatever deity has a free moment. Please, please say no.

“No,” she cradles my jaw, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to my left cheekbone. The relief I feel is palpable, like the deep breath you take upon breaking the surface of the ocean. “It’s because you were brave enough to say what I wasn’t brave enough to say in Ren’s room.” She kisses the bridge of my nose, my chin, the corner of my mouth. “It’s because I’ve been trying to hold back, but I’m a fucking mess and I can’t do it anymore.”

“Then don’t.” I’m begging. I know I am, and I don’t care if I’m pathetic. “Don’t hold back anymore.”

She bites her lip and looks at a still-singing Kelsey over her shoulder, making my heart drop.

But then she’s pulling at my hand. “Come on.”