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All this staring through the fishbowl is nice, but the muscles in my forearms are burning. I need to offload this platter and shake out my hands.
"Where's the door?" I yell louder than last time, like that would make the glass less soundproof.
Even though eyebrow guy is still staring me down, she takes pity on me and points to her left as she nods her head.
I follow her over like a fish following a finger trailed on the glass. She opens a door I would have never found on my own. A loud din of voices and music escape from behind her as she pokes her head outside while leaning on the door handle. "Are you lost?" She's still smiling and still really pretty. Eyebrow guy is back where I was before. He didn't follow her to the door, but he has one bushy eyebrow on me.
"Yes, uh. Thank you."
She holds the door open and arches back to make room for me to pass. Carefully, ignoring the burn in my arms, I clink and rattle up the steps. It's warm and stuffy in here and the noise is deafening. Several people instantly grab glasses from my tray. The remaining glasses wobble, but I focus on stabilizing them and pulling the tray closer to my stomach.
Don't look in the pool, Foster.
Don't look in the pool.
I looked in the pool.
Dammit. It looks deep.
A narrow walkway crowded with drunk people.
One false step away from plunging to my death.
I'm just going to close my eyes until all these drinks are gone. Then I can turn and get my ass away from this pool, this party, this girl. All of it.
The tray lightens, and when I open my eyes, it's empty!
Success! I delivered the drinks and didn't break anything. My hands rejoice at the lost weight on them. Time to make a run for it.
I turn to head back the way I came and the girl is standing directly in my path. She's the only person in the room looking at me. Everyone else is so wrapped up in their stupid conversations and champagne, they have no idea I'm standing here fighting off a panic attack.
I don't dare smile at her, but we definitely make eye contact. Her over-sized princess eyes stare at me like I'm a freak on display. Or maybe she sees me struggling and she's truly concerned. The corners of her mouth turn up and her eyes brighten with her smile. For a brief second, the lump of terror in my throat is gone. We connect and I feel like I have an ally in this room full of strangers.
Scowling eyebrow guy moves in front of her, blocking her from my view and forcing my eyes up his. He has thick dark hair combed back. His eyebrow marks the end of a very long, flat forehead. He's wearing a jacket and shirt with tight jeans. He looks like he's going to an interview for prep school, not a pool party in the Hamptons.
He spreads his legs and crosses his arms over his chest. There's no way for me to pass. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Oh shit. Oh shit. No. Please don't notice me. "Excuse me. I need to go."
"You checking out my sistuh?" He speaks with an old-school Brooklyn accent.
This is bad. Very bad.
"I'm sorry. I was looking for the door. I'm sorry. Uh... goodbye."
I tuck my head to squeeze by him but he sidesteps and blocks me.
"You crossed a line and you know it." He pokes my shoulder. "You serve the drinks. That's it."
My breath sticks in my lungs. There is no air. The pool is right there. The deep, scary pool and this big guy. I'm stuck in hell. "Please just… I'm sorry. Let me pass."
"You're sorry? Ya know, I'm sorry too." He presses his forearm up against my chest and pushes me back. I bump into something hard, and when I turn, there's another guy there looking down on me.
"Who is this?" the other guy asks.
"Some stupid waiter getting his nards off on your girl."
His girl? This guy behind me is tall and broad shouldered like a polo player. He has that fresh clean look only a stuck-up snob can pull off.
