“I think that’s a home run!” Reece declared.
He rounded the table to help her look for it. They wandered through the overgrown backyard, dodging partygoers and gently kicking over empty cardboard cases of beer. She struggled to keep her focus on the grass when Reece’s body was suddenly so much closer to hers, the long table no longer between them.
The ball was nowhere to be found, absorbed into the chaos of someone else’s party.
“Does this mean you win?” he asked.
“That’s no fun.” Charlotte pulled out her cell phone and turned on the flashlight. She shined the bright light at the ground and saw nothing but her loafers and Reece’s sneakers.
Reece waved her concern away. “Forget it, it’s just a ball.”
“I want to beat you fair and square, Krueger.”
“Oh, last names! Spicy.”
She shoved him in the shoulder, smiling against her better judgment. He snickered, never losing his balance. He probably had fifty pounds on her. “Such aggression.”
“I’m annoyed!” she cried as she turned off the light, her grin giving her away.
“No, you’re not,” Reece teased. He stepped closer.
All six feet of him demanded her absolute attention. The impulse to back up flared through her mind. She wasn’t used to standing this close to anyone.
Was it only last night that Reece clung to her body in a smoldering hug?
But that had been unplanned, a sudden crush of limbs when they couldn’t help themselves. This felt intentional. All their interactions since then had been a careful dance, a steady give-and-take.
Charlotte stood still, blinking up at him as he studied her face. That smile still played at his lips. He raised his hand and rubbed at her cheek with his thumb.
“Your kiss is smearing,” he said. “We can’t have you looking sloppy.”
His touch was gentle, the softest pressure, a flower petal in an open palm. She held her breath as Reece examined her cheek. Then his eyes moved to her lips, parted in surprise. For a heartbeat Charlotte thought he was about to kiss her, his hand moving to cup her jaw. He looked spellbound, giving her that same look of wonder that used to make her so nervous.
His eyes met hers. “There you go,” he said, licking the lipstick off his thumb. “All better.”
He stepped back, just a careful foot or so. Just enough for Charlotte to mourn the loss of his heat, her mind blank. She couldn’t think of anything but how he touched her with such reverence.
How long had it been since someone soothed her burning skin with their fingertips? Had anyone ever brushed their thumb against her cheek like she was something fragile, something precious?
Reece held out his hand, a muted smile on his face. “Dance with me.”
Charlotte guffawed. The noise escaped her throat before she could stop it. In that instant she wanted so badly to roll her eyes and hated herself for the impulse. Five years in New York City had hardened her against public displays of earnestness. Five years of being alone hadn’t helped.
The dissonance of what they felt and where they were hit her just after her cynicism. Sweaty, screaming bodies surrounded them. Students shoved each other and yelled and cried and made out like it was the end of the world, probably because it was for them. In two days they would graduate from college and be thrown into adulthood, whether or not they were ready for it.
She couldn’t separate the soon-to-be-graduates from the young alumni—everyone had that same glaze of drunk mania on their faces, the same desperation to pretend that this was all there was. Two kinds of alumni returned for R&C weekend: the adults, and the adults who wanted to pretend they were twenty-one again. She could hear Liam giving a drunken TED Talk about Frank Ocean somewhere behind them, his voice growing hoarse. Bro, seriously. He’s a genius. How can you discount Blonde? What’s wrong with you?
Rihanna blasted from the nearest porch, clashing with 31 Atwood’s trap music. Charlotte couldn’t imagine anything less appropriate for this shockingly intimate moment.
“Here?” she asked, her voice nearly drowned out by the snarl of competing bass lines. “To this?”
Reece was undaunted. Charlotte marveled at his lack of self-consciousness, how unafraid he was of his feelings. The real world hadn’t changed him: Reece did whatever he wanted, no matter how much it might hurt. He turned his face toward the sun and grew in the direction of happiness.
How had he learned to do that, in spite of everything he’d gone through? Reece had experienced the worst kind of loss that Charlotte could imagine and yet he remained an open soul. Beaten up and flawed, sure, but brave.
Reece had walked away from her last night in the hallway, guarded and hungry. But here he was again, leaning into the déjà vu, one hand extended to her in the middle of so much chaos.
“Yeah, to this,” Reece said. He waggled his fingers. His smile contained a promise and a question: I will take your hand when you are ready, and only then.
Was it just a dance? She’d come to the party thinking they might hook up, sure, but she hadn’t let herself think about what that meant. What might happen after.
She didn’t know if she could trust herself with him. Didn’t he understand how much this might hurt when Sunday turned into Monday and they resumed their nine-to-five existence? This could only be a temporary slow dance down memory lane.
Her head hurt. Her heart hurt.
It was too loud here.
Temporary. This was temporary and impulsive and not real. It couldn’t be anything more than a hookup.
This couldn’t mean anything. This weekend was all that they would have.
At twenty-one, she wouldn’t have hesitated for a second. Even last night in the hallway, she would have mauled him, bitten his lip, and drunk his desire in deep. But where she was once wild and reactive, she now only felt exhaustion.
“Are you teasing me?” she asked. Her voice quivered, betraying her nerves.
Fine, it was true: She was scared shitless, and she knew he could tell. He could read her like a damn paperback.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m a very serious person.” His smile widened.
