Beautiful Together (21 page)

26

The days went by in a pleasant haze after Amy was freed from her school obligations. We ended up scheduling a sober recovery day on Friday since we had been drunk every single night and worried that we were going to get sick and spoil our big plans for Saturday night.

Amy had tickets for us to go to a warehouse rave, one that promised to be one of the biggest parties of the year. A big name DJ was going to be there spinning all night, and she claimed it was one of the best places in the city.

So when Saturday night rolled around, we dressed up in our most colorful clothes and headed out to a pub near the warehouse to chug Red Bull cocktails. It was going to be a long, exhausting night—but also a good one.

"Can it really be better than that other rave?" Arielle asked after finishing her first drink.

"It is," Amy said confidently. "This is an invite-only thing. I know the promoters. You're gonna be blown away. It's not like anything you've ever seen."

I was both nervous and excited.

After several rounds, we were ready to party.

The venue was a huge open space, with well over a thousand people crowded inside. The bass sounded like bombs in a warzone.

"It's time to get crazy!" Amy shouted.

We all screamed and pushed our way into the crowd. The light show was absolutely nuts, and paired with the music, it was out of this world. The pulse of the music kept us moving relentlessly, and the heat of the crowd kept us sweating like we were in a sauna.

We bought more drinks from the bar, and although we were all pretty drunk, the environment—and the caffeine, of course—kept us moving no matter how lethargic the alcohol should have made us.

Song after song roared by. It was definitely one of the most exciting nights of my life. The light show consisted of both pulsing colors and moving patterns, the ceiling covered with morphing geometric shapes and rapid flashes.

Sometimes they turned into the outlines of animals, and we kept pointing up at the ceiling and laughing as the transformations surprised us.

A little after midnight, a reasonably cute guy joined our group, dancing
very
close to Arielle. And unsurprisingly, as the night went on, they started moving away from us, the pace so slow that we barely noticed it happening.

By two, they were completely out of sight.

"Where'd they go?" Amy shouted suddenly, her eyes scanning for her missing cousin.

"They've been creeping away for a while now," I said.

"Well, she'd better come back and tell us what's up," Amy said, a disconcerted look on her face. "I can't wait around all night if she's planning on disappearing."

"It'll be okay," I reassured her. "I'm sure she'll be back." Sometimes she'd be talking to a cute guy at a bar then she'd just disappear like a puff of smoke.

And sometimes she came by to tell me that they were leaving, and other times she didn't contact me until the next morning when she was on her way home. And that was Arielle in a nutshell.

We kept dancing for another half hour, and it was clear that Amy was wearing out. We had been going at it for almost five hours straight.

When I slowed down for a second, I realized how sore I felt. That much dancing could really be a killer.

"Do you want to get going?" I shouted to Amy. Her enthusiasm had seriously dropped, and it seemed like she was ready to leave.

"But what about Arielle?"

"C'mon," I said, pointing toward the open corner near the bar. We pushed through the crowd until we emerged at the other side.

The music wasn't so overwhelming in that open space, so we could talk. "Did you text her?"

"I just did," she said, staring down at her phone.

We stood in silence, our eyes peeled, looking for Arielle in every corner—but there was nothing. Amy's phone trilled suddenly.

"Oh, she already left. Wasted all this time looking for her. Fuckin' great," she muttered, frowning.

"Did... something happen?" I felt bad for Amy. I was used to Arielle's behavior, but it was clear that she wasn't.

"Are you hungry? Let's go get something to eat. I feel like I haven't eaten in days. We'll talk then."

"Yeah, that sounds cool," I said.

We left the warehouse and hailed a cab. Amy gave an address when we hopped in, but I didn't know what it was.

After driving a short distance, we ended up in front of the Heron Tower, which I only was able to identify by the big sign on the front. Amy paid the driver, and then we hopped out.

"There's a twenty-four hour restaurant on the fortieth floor called Duck and Waffle. Let's go."

I shrugged and followed along. We took the elevator up and sure enough, there it was.

We got a table near the window, and I was blown away by the view of the city. I could see for miles. "This is great," I said.

"Yeah, I love this place," she said.

We ended up sharing a cinnamon ice cream Belgian waffle and a pastrami and grilled cheese. All of the food was amazing, and after so much dancing, it felt necessary for survival.

Our conversation never ceased, and I took advantage of the situation and asked her all about veterinary school.

"If you can get over the fact that not every day is going to be a super cute cuddly animal day and that you're probably going to see a lot of stuff that makes you want to cry, it's a great career. We've saved a lot of kittens and done surgery on puppies and all that. And when an animal that was near death and opened up on a table two days ago is jumping up and licking your face, it makes it all worth it."

Her perspective was refreshing. I was happy to hear it, and found that it definitely renewed my interest in the field. She gave me her email address in case I wanted to ask her questions in the future.

Once the conversation slowed and our food was digesting, I went back to the
other
present situation.

"So what's up with you and Arielle?" I asked finally.

She frowned. "Oh,
that
."

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," I said. "You just seemed... well, upset."

"No, no," she muttered. "It's okay. I mean, I'll tell you."

As it turned out, the last time Arielle was in town, they had been out drinking and dancing just as we were tonight, only the group of people was larger, and it included a guy friend, Jack, that Amy had had a crush on for a long time. She wanted to ask him out, but it hadn't happened yet.

Well, Arielle went home with a guy that night, and that guy happened to be
Jack
. Amy was devastated, and when she told everything to Arielle the next day, she of course felt terrible and vowed never to run off with guys and leave Amy alone again.

"I feel like a bitch about it," she said. "Like I don't have the right to control her life like that. I mean, it's not like I'm opposed to hooking up; I just hate how it feels when it happens this way. I don't get to see her that often, so I don't like it when she disappears. And the whole thing with Jack was just bad luck, I guess. Arielle didn't know about him."

I felt bad for her. It was clear that she was conflicted about her position, and unable to quell her emotions. "I'm sorry," I said. "She's really a free spirit sometimes."

"Not
sometimes. All
of the time, you mean," Amy added with a smile.

"Yeah. I definitely had to get used to it. She's always loyal, though."

"I know. That's why I feel so bad about this. I still love her. I'm closer to her than anyone else in my family."

Suddenly it hit me that
Arielle
had the key to Catherine's apartment. "Dammit," I muttered, groaning. "She's got the key to your mom's place." I felt a brief, fluttering wave of rage that killed my previously warm mood. All of my stuff was there, including my
bed
, which I desperately needed soon.

Amy shrugged. "See? This is what I'm talking about. If the hookups didn't inconvenience anyone else, it would be fine." She smiled. "You can stay on my couch. I'd be happy to have you. It's a comfortable couch, actually. I do have an extra key to my mom's place, but it's currently buried in my closet."

"Awesome," I said. "That's fine. I don't really have a choice. I'll take whatever I can get."

"Don't sweat it," she said.

Amy was such a great person, but it was obvious with her, unlike Arielle.

Once you dug deeper, it was clear that Arielle would basically die for you given the right situation. But if you initially turned away, disgusted by her brashness and aloofness, you'd never see it.

Even though I hated to say that Amy was basically obligated to give me a place to stay, she didn't seem hesitant at all. She
wanted
to help out.

"Thanks so much for taking us out tonight," I muttered, sipping my water slowly. "Sorry that Arielle did... well, what Arielle does."

"It was my pleasure. And it's not like we can stop her, can we? If she gets drunk enough, she'll basically do anything short of murder."

I laughed. "Yeah."

Amy looked at her cell phone. "Well, shit, it's almost four. Do you wanna get going? I'm ready to crash."

"Of course," I said.

She took care of the check and refused my money. Everyone's constant hospitality was actually starting to wear on me.

We walked out together into the lobby, approaching the elevators. "This is the highest meal I've eaten," I announced. "Fortieth floor."

Amy smiled, but said nothing. It was late, and fatigue was beginning to cripple our interactions. She pressed the button and we waited.

A few seconds later, there was a ding, and suddenly the door to my right opened. A group of raucous guys were inside the elevator, goofing around and laughing. They sounded like they were from the United States, and didn't seem to notice us at all.

And then, as they started filing into the lobby, I recognized one of them. I did a double-take, exaggerated and obvious.
Was I really so drunk and tired that I was seeing things?
I did a triple-take.

Then a quadruple-take—always the same.

Time slowed to the point that it wasn't moving at all. And then I heard one of them say
his
name, and all of the doubt in my mind vanished. I felt like I was going to faint.

I wanted to hide behind Amy, but that wasn't possible because he already saw me.

It was Jesse Evans.

"Hey, are you coming?" Amy asked as she started into the elevator.

"
Naomi Miller?
Is that... you?"

It had been almost five years since I last saw him, and I assumed I would never see him again. His stubble was thicker and less patchy now, lightly covering his strong jaw line. His light brown hair was trimmed short, yet still perfectly messy somehow. His hazel eyes burned me like hot acid. Beneath a blue thrift store sports jacket was a tight black t-shirt, and a pair of optimally tight jeans.

His muscles were still taut like they used to be, and I could see the hard curves of his biceps and forearms. He looked kind of like a rock star—in an almost nerdy and professional way.

His lips curled into that familiar grin I knew so well from my youth. I felt comforted, felt at home, felt aroused, oddly enough.

He had become the sexiest man on earth for some reason I couldn't even begin to comprehend. The feeling spilled through every pore, every cell of my body turgid and overloaded, about to explode from the pure sex that had flooded my circulatory system.

My heart seemed to stop. Even though I could feel it thudding, it seemed fruitless. I was dead inside.

"Jesse," I gasped. "What... what are you doing here?"

"I was gonna ask you the same thing," he said, approaching me rapidly. His arms reached out to embrace me, the most obvious first gesture after so much time apart. Yet, I was terrified of his hug, terrified of touching him.

When his arms were around me, I lost it, wrapping him up with my own, pulling him close. I could smell him; it was a combination of musk and light cologne. I breathed it in as I clutched him, totally intoxicated in a new way.

For a brief moment, I felt completely sober—and then freshly drunk again.

"Oh, God," I whispered, still in the embrace. "I never thought I'd see you again."

"I thought the exact same thing," he said hopelessly.

After what felt like an eternity of standing there with him in the lobby—a perfect sort of eternity, to be honest—someone spoke. "Jesse, are you coming, man?"

It jarred me back into reality.
What the hell was I doing?

"You guys go ahead," he said. "I'll be there in a minute." He returned his gaze to me. "God, Naomi, I couldn't believe it when I saw you. I really couldn't believe it."

"Me either," I said.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Well other than
also
suffering from jet lag."