Page 14 of All Our Almosts

“Yes, he is,” the girl said without hesitation, grabbing my arm. Her eyes pleaded, Go with it?

So I turned back to him and didn’t bother with pleasantries. “She’s not interested.”

The guy tried to counter with a pathetic “Whatever, she isn’t even that hot,” but the bedroom door was already slamming shut behind him.

Inside my room once again, the girl immediately dropped my arm and put space between us. She was pacing, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Are you… alright?” I asked feebly.

She scrubbed her hands over her face. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. I know you don’t want me in here, I just didn’t want to talk to that guy anymore but I also didn’t want to offend him and—”

“That’s okay—”

“—I don’t really know how this kind of thing is supposed to go. There were like 40 people in my high school class, so I haven’t really been to parties like this before. Should I not tell people that? You know what, it’s fine. I’m just going to go back out there. I bet with a few more drinks it’ll be very easy to have fun. Thank you, again… for… this…” She gestured vaguely at the room, herself, and the doorway. “And now I’m going to go.”

“You can stay,” I said without thinking. “If you want.”

Her body stilled facing the door, and I was utterly confident that I’d just made an ass of myself. But then she looked back over her shoulder and asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I, uh… needed a break too.” I reached towards my nightstand and lifted the book there in explanation.

The girl released the corners of her mouth into a smile—small but genuine—then flopped against the door in relief. “A man after my own heart. I swear I would give up my firstborn to be at home reading right now.”

In the span of only a few moments, she seemed to completely relax. Her shoulders were looser, posture more casual. I wasn’t really sure what to make of it. Did I do that? Did I make her feel more comfortable? There really was a first time for everything…

“Genre?” she asked, nodding to the book in my hand.

“Oh it’s uh…” I turned the cover towards her. “Biography.”

“Oof, tough. Will you still be my friend if I tell you I hate biographies?”

“I’m your friend now?”

“No, I guess not. You’re more like my savior. Unless you think you can handle being both? That’s a pretty big responsibility.” Her teasing smirk reached its fingers into my chest and grabbed hold.

“Well, I’ve never had a friend whose name I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t have any ghosts in your house growing up?”

“I actually did, but they were my enemies.”

The girl laughed loudly at that, a resonant sound that crackled out of her. The fingers in my chest tightened.

Then the silence fell.

I became acutely aware of our relative positions: me all the way by the bed, her all the way by the door. Should I walk up to her? Should I say something? I shouldn’t have asked her to stay. I shouldn’t have stranded her in here with me, some miserable stranger who couldn’t even remember how far apart people are supposed to stand, let alone remember enough words to form a sentence.

But when I actually looked at her face, she didn’t seem miserable. In fact, she was still smiling as she glanced around my room, like she didn’t mind the silence at all.

“The party isn’t too loud and distracting when you’re reading?” she eventually asked, and only then did I realize I was still staring at her. I snapped my gaze away—to the side, anywhere else.

“I—uh…” I cleared my throat. “I have a solution for that. Do you want to see?”

When she tilted her head in curiosity, I nodded towards the bedroom window. The glass pushed open to the warm night air and a fire escape just big enough for two. I climbed out first and offered a hand. She stepped onto the landing, then leaned forward against the metal railing, looking out over the dark street as the sounds of the party started to fade.

“Oh yeah, this is way better,” she said. “Thank you.”

I moved next to her, leaning against the railing and taking up all the remaining space. Our shoulders touched. She tilted her chin up to the night sky and squinted, trying to spot a few stars through the bright Boston lights. I had to consciously stop myself from watching her again.