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“Why don’t we go downstairs?” I said, tearing my gaze from her face. “We’ll ask my mom if she has anything for your headache. If you don’t take something, it might get worse.” I took her arm before she could argue, scooping up my champagne glass in my other hand. “She’ll want to fawn over you anyway.”
We went down the curving staircase, moved past the glittering tree, and negotiated tables of cookies, cakes, and canapés. I touched the small of her back twice, pretending it was necessary to guide her. I’d forgotten how tall she was, how she could almost meet me eye to eye. It was slightly easier to be close to her with others around us. They could pull me off her if they had to.Shewas safer now, though I felt equally fucked.
“Ma,” I said, when we finally found her in the music room. “Alice needs some Tylenol or something. Her head hurts.”
“Oh, my dear.” My mother cupped Alice’s heart-shaped face between her hands and frowned. “Let’s see what we can find for you.”
We?I had planned to pass her off to my mother and blow this party before my self-restraint snapped. Instead, my mother hooked my arm along with Alice’s and dragged both of us to the kitchen. It was as busy as the rest of the house, as the caterer’s assistants prepared artistic spreads and the hired waiters refilled trays of champagne. My mother found some ibuprofen and gave it to Alice, along with a tall glass of water. Once she took it, Ma led her to a chair at the long marble counter.
“The headache’s not that bad,” Alice said as my mother clucked over her. “I’m fine, it’s just a little crowded here. I mean, it’s a wonderful party. I just haven’t been to a lot of them lately.”
“Poor dear. It’s only going to get more crowded.” She turned to me, taking away my champagne glass. “Maybe you should take Lala home.”
“She goes by Alice now,” I said. “And I’ve been drinking.”
“Pah. A few sips of champagne.”
“It’s okay,” Alice cut in. “I took the train from Manhattan, so I can get home on my own.”
“You can’t ride back on the train if you’re not feeling well. Milo can drive you home,” said my mother, offering my services like a shepherd handing a sheep over to a fucking wolf. “Where are you living, dear?”
“In the old Michelin building, near Lincoln Center.”
“Why, that’s so close to you.” Ma grasped my hand, delighted at the coincidence. I tried not to frown. “You were going to leave soon anyway, weren’t you?”
She was prodding me to say yes, because she’d raised her Italian son to look after women, especially women like Alice, whom my mother hoped might entice me into a relationship. Her eyes twinkled as she regarded the two of us. Alice started blushing again.
“I guess it’s up to Alice,” I said, a little surly. “She said she could get home on her own.”
“But why should she, when you’re here?” My mom patted my arm. “You don’t enjoy a lot of noise and conversation either. You too are so similar.”
“Okay, Ma.” She was only going to get worse the longer we stood here. I turned to Alice, pushing down a sense of dread. An hour back to the city, stuck in my car together. She was so beautiful, so vital and lithe and talented.
Fuck.
Chapter Two: Alice
Ihuddled intothe smooth leather passenger seat of Milo’s sports car, resisting the urge to hug myself. I’d hoped to run into him at the party, but this was a wildly exciting treat. Milo Fierro, my longtime crush, had just opened the door of his car for me, and invited me into its interior. Then he’d shut the door and walked around the front while I sucked the drool back into my mouth, feeling like a creeper. The older he got, the more attractive he became. He’d always moved through my world with animal grace.
When he got in the other side and looked over at me, I could feel a scarlet blush rising under my skin, because that always happened to me.
“I’m not drunk,” he said. “Not even a little.”
“I know.”
“If I was, I wouldn’t drive you.”
“I know, it’s okay.” I stretched my legs, trying to be cool. “I’m only a little buzzed myself. Well, it’s mostly wearing off now.”
He didn’t answer. In fact, he let out a breath that sounded suspiciously close to a sigh as he started his car. The engine roared and settled into a hum, and we pulled away from his family’s house, the headlights beaming across the grand front stoop.
Neither of us talked, although it was quiet in the car. Why did I feel shy around Milo, considering I’d known him for as long as I could remember? Probably because I lusted for him, even though he always acted like a distant friend when he was around me. I still fantasized that he was more. Riding in his car—just the two of us, together—would provide masturbation material for months to come.
“So how does it feel, being back in New York?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
“Awesome.” I took a moment to steady myself, so I wouldn’t start acting weird or manic. “I mean, I love Stockholm. It’s beautiful, clean, all those things, but it’s not as big a cultural scene as Manhattan. There’s not as much to do, and the New York Metropolitan Orchestra is the best in the world, so when they invited me, I couldn’t jump fast enough.”
“Makes sense.” He shifted gears as we revved onto the main road. “Honestly, I’m surprised it took them so long to come after you.”
