Forever With You (Silver State Series) (2 page)

“Thanks, Tawny.  Later.”  It comes out more brusquely than I had intended.  I quickly swivel around to follow Les and Leila out the swinging glass door.

Chapter 2 – All Nighter

Friday & Saturday, July 15-16

Tawny – Friday, 10:45 PM

I
’m lying on my bed watching reruns of “The Cosby Show” and hoping against all hope that my social life will improve substantially when I finally get out of this town.  My original plans for this evening included seeing a late movie with my old friend Becca, but she flaked out at the last minute, leaving me to the solitary joys of mint chocolate chip ice cream and syndicated television.  My parents have been sound asleep for well over an hour, and my ancient dog Sophie is curled up at my feet as if in a coma.

I scoop up my phone just as the credits start to roll on the episode where Denise announces she’s pregnant.  A quick glance at my inbox reminds me I still haven’t responded to a text message Rhiannon sent almost an hour ago:

Wanna go halvsies with me on getting Mom’s sewing machine fixed for her birthday?

I move my ice cream bowl off my lap before typing a response.

Yeah that works

A minute passes before the text alert chimes her response.

OK deal.  What are you up to tonight?

Whole lotta nothing
. 
Was considering staying up all night just for kicks.

Really?  Why?

No reason.  I’m just not tired.

Anything you want to talk about?  Blake’s out with a friend, so I have plenty of time on my hands.

I love my sister probably more than anyone else I know, but sometimes she reads too much into things.  It may not be obvious to anyone else, but I can tell from that last message she’s already jumped to conclusions about what she likely considers to be my fragile emotional state.  Even though I’ve been healthy and cancer free for a few years now, she still reacts to my mood swings as if she’s solely responsible for rescuing me from my every downward spiral.  Most of the time I don’t really mind her protective nature, even finding it endearing at times, but tonight she’s missed the mark.

No I’m good. It’s just that I don’t work tomorrow so it’s not like I have anything better to do.

OK.  Well call me if you change your mind.  Night T.

Night
.

Slowly I roll up off the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping dog, and tiptoe down the hall to rinse my bowl out in the kitchen sink.  The rest of the house is dark except for the pale, filtered light of the moon shining through the skylights in the living room.  I turn on the faucet and let the water heat up until it’s steaming.  I’ve just shut off the spigot and upended my bowl in the dish drainer when my phone chimes again; the noise is piercing against the silence of the dark house, and it causes me to stumble back in surprise.

The text message is from an unknown number with a local area code:

Hiiii what r u up to

I blink at the display, confused.  It’s probably a wrong number – I’ll just ignore it.  I wipe my damp hands on my shorts and start out of the kitchen, but then something makes me stop.  Instead of rounding the breakfast bar to head back down the hall, I hoist myself up onto the counter and type a message back.

Who is this?

I’ve just about given up on hearing back when the reply comes.

Kyle

Oh
.  I swallow the lump forming in my throat, completely clueless about what to say next.

Oh hey.  Nothin much, you?

There.  Poetic.

Why aren’t u at jared minks party

Come to think of it I
had
heard Jared was throwing a party for those members of our graduating class who’ve made it back to Winnemucca for the summer.  Now I can’t remember where… Facebook maybe?

I don’t think I was invited

That’s bullshit.  Come over here.

I’m at an impasse.  On one hand, this could be the perfect answer to my horridly uneventful evening.  On the other hand, I’m pretty sure Kyle is drunk.

I set my phone down on the counter beside me and sit on my hands while staring at the glowing green numbers on the microwave – 11:09 PM.  It’s pretty late… Maybe I should just stay in.  I didn’t tell Mom I was going anywhere, and I don’t want her to worry.

I pick up my phone and tap out my answer.

Thanks but I’m already settled in for the night

I hesitate before pressing Send.  My mind ricochets between staying and going at least a dozen times before I finally jab at the backspace key to erase the text. 
Screw it – I deserve this. 
I hold my fingers over the screen, mulling over a reply, but then I think better of it.  I’ll just go over there.

I hop down off the counter and walk back to my room as quickly and quietly as I can, before I can change my mind.  I go to my closet and begin rifling through hangers in search of something more suitable than the t-shirt and boxers combo I’m currently sporting.  Sophie lifts her head as she yawns and regards me stoically before lowering her chin back to her front paws. 

My heart is hammering in my chest as I yank on a pair of fitted black Bermuda shorts and a yellow racerback tank top.  Walking out of my room, I stop in the bathroom down the hall and let my hair down out of its bun.  I wet my fingers and comb them through the mane of tangled waves.  Quickly I brush my teeth and dab on some Chapstick before deciding I look as good as I’m going to.

I leave a note on the kitchen table for Mom just in case she gets up and decides to check on me, then head out the door, car keys in hand.

Kyle – Friday, 11:30 PM

T
he last time I got this plastered was at the Sigma Nu Lifeguard Bros & Surfer Hoes party back in April.  Jared’s parents are out of town this weekend, and his older brother Greg kindly supplied the alcohol that’s now sloshing through my bloodstream at a concentration I can guarantee far exceeds the legal limit for operating a vehicle.

Les and I just won the championship round of beer pong, and I’m now taking a much needed timeout on the sectional sofa in the family room amid masses of other sweaty bodies.  I look up in time to see Taylor Rich weaving through the crowd toward me, looking hot in a denim miniskirt and tube top.  She was in my grade in school; we fucked around some junior year before she started dating Devin Greeley.  Word has it they broke up a couple of months ago, and judging from the seductive look she’s giving me I’d say she’s back on the prowl.  She’s been batting her eyes at me all night, and now she seems to be zeroing in for the kill.

“Hey Kyle,” she says as she sits down next to me, so close our thighs touch.

“What’s up, Taylor?” I say, lifting my ball cap to plow my fingers back through my hair, which is matted to my forehead with perspiration.

“That was an impressive game of beer pong,” she says, leaning back beside me and propping her elbow on the back of the sofa.  She’s gazing at me with half-lidded bedroom eyes as she not-so-subtly pushes her tits forward.

“Thanks,” I reply, leaning forward slightly, testing the waters.  “I saw you play earlier.  You’re not so bad yourself.”

She beams, clearly overjoyed I noticed.  “Just one of my many talents,” she purrs as she flips her hair back over her shoulder.  Her body is now angled toward mine in a way that’s just begging for me to touch her.  I think back, trying to remember if Taylor was any good at kissing…or anything else.  My brain is too muddled to recall much of anything specific, however. 

“Oh yeah?” I say as I move my hand just enough to touch her bare thigh.  I lower my voice.  “I guess I’m the kind of guy who has to see it to believe it.”  Taylor arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow and leans the rest of the way in, until her face is just a fraction of an inch from mine. 

“Let me show you then,” she says huskily.  She offers me a coy smile before rolling her eyes upward, indicating the bedrooms located on the floor above us. 

I grin back, questioning whether to stand up and follow her, when suddenly someone calls my name.  I glance over Taylor’s shoulder to see Josh Harbaugh standing there holding up a blue plastic cup. 

“Dude, you’ve gotta try this,” he says.  “Shit is
lethal
!”  He crashes down next to us on the couch, and Taylor quickly scoots over away from Josh, all but crawling into my lap.  A look of disgust mars her meticulously groomed features.

I’m not easily distracted from the prospect of getting some, but Josh’s persistence has me taking the cup from him to try a taste.  I’m to a point where all alcohol tastes the same – the only difference with this particular concoction is its immediate effect on my already considerable buzz.  For a moment the racket of the music and partygoers around me is replaced by a high-pitched droning in my ears, and everything blurs into a hazy streak of color and light.

As soon as I’ve returned to my senses I hand the cup back to Josh.  “God
damn
, what the hell
is
that?” I ask, using the back of my arm to wipe my mouth.

“I know, right?!” he exclaims.  “We need to figure out how to make these.”

I open my mouth to disagree with him, but something makes me glance up; I’m surprised to see a familiar face hovering in the doorway. 
Tawny
.  My mind spins in reverse – didn’t I text her a while ago?  I fumble around in my pocket to pull out my phone, but I don’t see any new text messages.  Maybe I’m seeing things…

When I look back up Tawny’s eyes are locked on mine; her poker-faced expression isn’t giving anything away.  My mind shifts gears to catch up, and I realize I still have my hand on Taylor’s leg.  Meanwhile, Taylor’s eyeing me wearily, her eyes cutting between me and Paul Donahue, who’s leering at her suggestively – he must be my runner-up in terms of conquests for tonight.

Quickly I withdraw my hand and stretch my arms over my head, leaning away from Taylor.  “Shit, I’m beat,” I murmur as if to no one in particular—that’s all it takes for Taylor to shove off the couch and move on to option number two.  Unperturbed, I glance back up at Tawny, but she’s no longer looking at me – her attention has shifted to Mason Frye, who appears to be offering her a drink.

I brace my hands on my knees as I rise slowly from the couch, careful not to make any sudden moves.  My head is still spinning a little when I take a step forward in their direction.

Tawny looks fucking amazing tonight.  Her hair cascades in coppery chestnut waves around her shoulders, framing her heart shaped face.  Her shorts ride low on her slender hips, and her tank top is just slightly too short, showing off a ribbon of lightly tanned skin around her waist.  She’s standing up perfectly straight, taking on the regal air of a dancer, but she seems almost too rigid.  Her hand is wrapped around her purse strap so tightly her knuckles are turning white.

Mason holds up a bottle of Corona, but Tawny shakes her head, granting him an apologetic close-lipped smile.  She takes a step backward as if she’s going to turn around and walk away, but I break through the crowd just in time.  She freezes when she sees me and bites her lip as she gazes at me questioningly, like she isn’t sure if I’ll recognize her.

Tawny – Friday, 11:45 PM

O
n the drive here I replayed in my mind the memory of Kyle beaming up at me at Frank’s the other day, and the way he’d asked for my phone number.  By the time I parked in the crowded street outside Jared’s house, I’d even gone as far as entertaining the notion that he might have invited me here because he actually liked me
in that way.
  My fantasy was quickly laid to rest, however, the moment I walked in the room and saw him fondling Taylor Rich in the corner nook of the sectional.  Now he’s swaggering toward me with a smug grin on his face, and I feel naïve and silly for ever even
thinking
Kyle might return my feelings.

Even in his clearly intoxicated state he manages to look gorgeous – his disheveled appearance just makes his handsomeness seem that much more off-the-cuff and effortless.  He’s wearing a red t-shirt that showcases the muscular curve of his biceps, and his lips are twisted into a diabolical grin as he approaches me.  

“You came!” he says, then startles me by throwing his arms around me and bundling me up against his chest.  Mostly he smells like alcohol, but beneath that I can make out the musky fragrance of his deodorant.  My head begins to spin, and I slump against him, unwilling to trust my legs to support my full weight.

Kyle pulls back but keeps his hands wrapped around my shoulders.  He drops his gaze to my feet, and I watch incredulously as his eyes roam leisurely from my toes all the way back up to my face.  When he looks back at me, licking his lips with an appreciative gleam in his light brown eyes, I can feel myself blushing at the same time I’m vaguely offended at his clear display of chauvinism.  I swallow, allowing myself a second to calm my nerves, then roll my shoulders back in an air of false confidence.  “Are you objectifying me, Kyle Freeman?” I ask, cocking one eyebrow at him.