“Yes,” I answer, settling back into my corner of the booth, clutching my libation for dear life.
“Another lifestyle blogger?”
“Kind of the opposite. He’s a paranormal blogger,” I say, carefully studying his face. From the furrow of his brow I can see that he still isn’t a believer and also that regardless of belief it’s clearly been a frequent topic of aggravating conversation in his life. “Deathstyle blogger, I guess?”
“I wouldn’t have guessed. Should we get back to the party?” he asks mildly, replacing his dubious expression with polite deference. “I was terribly rude to duck out without even saying hello to Kayla.”
“Yes,” I nod, preparing myself to rise. “We were both so excited to see one another. Manners go out the door, I guess.”
Erik grins at me and pulls out cash, and Greg pipes up behind the bar to tell him it’s on the house.
“Tip then,” he tells him and throws $20 on the table. Greg nods appreciatively and I wonder who he’s rooting for now.
We walk out and laugh at the music booming from our reunion. “I’m too old for this,” he remarks. “I need ear plugs.”
We easily find Kayla, who is dancing with Cara, and somehow still graceful while dancing to “Birthday Sex”, of all things. They both spot us and approach, laughing and gleaming with a light sheet of sweat.
The music has changed to slow song and we can finally hear one another and I thumbs up to the DJ.
Kayla hugs Erik and introduces Cara as we grab our glasses and start walking out to the patio as a group, with people ogling us left and right. Kayla’s poise is regal without being haughty and I feel her strength fortifying me against the questioning looks.
I push through the door and feel a blast of cold air, but it is so inviting despite my nipples puckering against the satin of my dress. My question of whether they are noticeable or not is answered swiftly as Erik looks down and I see his mouth part and breath quicken. He immediately looks away and takes off his coat and walks behind me to slip it over my slender shoulders, making them feel exceptionally dainty in the large garment.
“It is frigid out here,” he says, patting my shoulders.
I feel his radiating body heat still encapsulated in the wool of his jacket. It smells like him, masculine and woodsy, and I pull it in front of my breasts. I’m swimming in the jacket but I want to drown in it, in his warmth and scent.
“Thank you,” I manage, blushing at my rebellious nipples.
“What a crowd in there,” Cara says with a low whistle.
“Indeed,” Kayla says, chin held high. “They were incredibly nice one on one while you were gone, but the stares while they were huddled on the sides of the dance floor were unbelievable.”
“You guys must have been quite the high school couple,” Cara says to Erik and I knowingly as she pulls a silk shawl out of her delicate purse and wraps it around her shapely shoulders.
“They were,” Kayla confirms, gravitating to the heat lamp. “Everyone was jealous of them.”
Was that true? I’d always had the same insecurity as other teens, and had never felt envied or even particularly liked outside of my own circle. I glance over at Erik, and he’s nodding with a smile. It’s a good memory for him and I find it heartening.
Before I can speak, the door to the patio slams open and we all look over to see who has barreled through.
I’m shocked to see Mario, eyes red, hair disheveled as he stumbles out. He’s holding a tumbler and I can see it’s far from his first. His inebriation is pounded into his ruddy skin.
“Kat!” he yells, starting to lumber over as though he is a newborn colt or Frankenstein.
I tense up, unsure of how this interaction may play out. He’d been a part-time drug dealer just to a select few in the school. He’d been a decent student, and not your cliched bad-behaving burnout, which had made it all the more impactful when I’d been forced to name where I’d gotten the Ecstasy from the night our lives upended.
I look over at Erik, who registers my panic as he places himself squarely in front of me and into Mario’s drunken path. His imposingly large body looking like it could become a battering ram as he stumbles, though he stops short. When he raises to full height his 6’5 frame hulks above all of us.
“Hey, man,” Erik says, putting his hand out to stop Mario from coming too close. “What can we do for you?”
“Erik, man!” he greets, his face obtuse and voice benign. “How are ya?”
“Doing well, Mario,” Erik slowly lowers his hand, but his shoulders are tense in such a way that I know he has not been allayed and is still sensing a potentially troublesome situation. “What are you up to?”
“I just wanna see Kat, man,” he says, sloppily leaning over to try and view me. I fear for a moment that he may just keel over with how uncoordinated his ungainly movements are. “Kat, you back there, girl?”
I peek over Erik’s sturdy shoulder. “Hey Mario.”
“Kat!” he says trying to move around Erik who won’t budge. “Bro, move out of the way. I just want to have some words with your girl here.”
Erik gently places his hand on Mario’s chest, who looks down incredulously at the contact. “You’re drunk, man, and you’re being a little aggressive. What kind of words do you want to have with Kat?”
Mario backs up and lets his mouth drop open. “I ain’t here for trouble, man.”
“None of us are, Mario,” Kayla says coolly.
His head swivels over to her and it’s as though he’s a child who has seen a shinier toy. “Shit, girl, you are fine as fuck still.”
When she doesn't respond he stares at her and Cara with an openmouthed gape.
“I heard you’re into ladies now,” Mario slurs. “This
