THE MOON HUNG ABOVE US like a celestial disco ball, minus the disco, the shimmering, and I guess the panic. I had the luxury of attending a party, thanks to Piper and CJ for dragging me out of my dorm. "It's a house party," they'd said, "those are like, super rare!"
The appeal of the rarity of house parties was lost on me, but I came with them nonetheless. Nash had come too, after I'd told him about my plans. Said he didn't like parties. I told him I didn't like them either. They just weren't my scene. He said he'd meet me here, if only to make it the least bit more bearable.
If possible, I would've kissed him through the phone.
So, I hated parties, but I also did not. The type of parties I hated were the kinds we had back in highschool. The ones August made a habit of dragging me to. The kind his friends hosted. The kind he hosted. I would assume those parties weren't considered house parties, despite them taking place in houses.
There was so much I didn't know about a lot of things.
This party had fewer bodies. A lower attendance rate. More breathing space. It was easy to get by, to get around. There wasn't much reason to squeeze through groups of people. It almost seemed like our "get togethers" at Phi Kappa, but with more people than just my friend group and Carter's housemates.
A light breeze swept by me. By us. I'd nearly forgotten I had company.
Nash looped his arm with mine and twined our hands, interlacing our fingers. I tilted my head to get a better view of nature's clock.
If I were any less of a scientifically inclined student, I would freely express my connection to the moon. With words, most likely. Maybe pictures. Expressions. Actions.
I thought the moon and I shared a lot in common. For one, we were far from home, and drifting even further. And Nash? Nash was probably not the moon, or a moon, for that matter. Nash was more like earth. At least, to me. Except, if he was the earth, I couldn't be the moon. I wasn't drifting away from him as much as I was hurtling towards.
Maybe I was the sun. He did have a habit of "orbiting" around me. He had his own life, too, like the earth did. He orbited around himself, twirling in sync with his friends, his family. Giving life and purpose to the ones he loved. Looking after them. Doing so much for so many, while I was nothing but a huge ball of fire, lighting up the entire sky, making my presence known. Well, my sky. The sky in my tiny universe.
The sun wasn't much affected by gravity, was it? I wasn't so sure. It never strayed from it's position, it didn't orbit. All it did was give light.
I bit down on my lip. The sun wasn't so important after all. Perfect. There was no better fitting celestial body.
"You've been silent for a long time."
I let out another sigh. "Sorry. I got lost in my head." Could one get lost on the moon? "Did you ask me something?"
He was silent for longer than necessary. A taste of my own medicine, I thought, except, it wasn't really. The hesitance was pleasant. It contrasted the light booming music that seeped out to the veranda, the flashing colours that leaked from the space under the doors. The lights were off. They had strobe lights. I only enjoyed the party because I wasn't a part of it.
"I did not," he said. He nudged me. "Are you ready to leave?"
I glanced back at the half moon in its halfness. The moon that I wasn't, because I was a sun. Because I didn't orbit around anyone. Because despite caring about those who weren't me, I offered nothing but my presence.
I took a deep breath. I looked Nash in his eyes. He furrowed his eyebrows as he smiled, uncertain. "Let's go to your place."
His shoulders slumped. He let out a breath. "Lenny," he began.
"Nash, let us go to your place of habitation. I will never ask again if you don't want me to. I won't show up unannounced. I just don't think it's fair that you know so much about me, and I know next to nothing about you."
"Lenny," he tried again, "you're wrong. You're as much of a part of my life as I am of yours-I think."
"That's a lie."
He arched a brow. He crossed his arms. My hand felt a tiny bit colder. "If you're so sure about that, let's play a game. Twenty questions."
"Twenty questions helps you get to know someone, not test how much they know about you."
"We're playing non-conventionally. I ask you questions about me, you answer them to the best of your ability, and vice versa."
The sound of music was momentarily drowned out by chatter and screeching. Nash and I shared a look. We glanced at the door. The handle remained straight, unturned.
"What's my favorite snack?"
He smiled. "Honey biscuits."
I breathed a laugh. "That was an easy one."
Nash shifted his weight. "What's my favorite snack?"
"You don't have one. You love to try new things." I waited for him to tell me I was wrong.
"Your turn."
My heart skipped a beat. I was right? "Are you playing along so I don't feel bad? I already know I don't-"
"Lenny." He placed a hand over my own. "Your turn."
"How many ... How many tattoos do I have? In total."
He put a finger to his cheek. "Six," he said. "I don't know how to word this right, but, what birthmark of mine is least conspicuous?"
I bit my lip. "Trick question."
"Answer it."
"The one on the tip of your ear?" No, Lenny. I was wrong, as I should have been . No way was I going to actually answer correctly. I might've come onto him a little too strongly a few days ago, but my reasons were valid. I'd been drunk.
"I'll let it slide because I know you know." Little tingles shot across my hand under the soft caress of his thumb.
"My turn. What am I most afraid of?"
With every second it took him to speak, my heart beat a little faster. If he got this right, the game was over. Or not. The point was to prove I knew as much about him as he did me, but no one (probably not even I) knew the one thing I feared most in the world.
"I don't know. You're very closed off when it comes to things that are ... personal. You don't like vulnerability. You fear exposure. You don't want anyone to get close enough to know the ins and out of you because you're scared of getting hurt again. You're scared of failing, too, but you like to pretend that you don't care. You don't like to put yourself out there, but you want to make a statement. You're scared of being forgotten. You're scared of being remembered. You don't very much like thunderstorms. You're scared to feel fear. You're-"
I could not stand and listen to him rave anymore. I pressed my lips to his, but only briefly. Only to shut him up. It worked, of course. He was Nash, and from what I'd learnt, his thoughts had a tendency to fly out the window whenever we touched. When we kissed? His brain probably turned to mush. I found it cute.
"I hate you," I said amidst a series of heavy breathing. I may have gotten a little carried away with the kissing. "You said you didn't know. You said you didn't know, like you were not supposed to, and then you ... I bet if I didn't stop you ... you'd spit it all out."
His lips twitched. "Well, it's my turn now."
"You answered wrong. I said to state the thing I'm most scared of, not list all my fears."
"You interrupted me right when I was getting to the good part."
I shook my head. "How do you even know all that?"
Nash narrowed his eyes, but he bore an amused half smile. "You're either not as good at hiding it as you think you are, or maybe-" he shrugged "-maybe I do know you. A tiny bit."
Talk about downplaying achievements.
"Trust me, I'm good at hiding it." Of course I was. He somehow breached the walls surrounding my persona. I didn't think it was possible to fortify them. Even the Great Wall of China couldn't keep out a person who'd already gotten in. There was simply no point in trying. "Your turn."
"Final question," he said. "Who is my favorite person?"
I did not think this through, I thought. I was screwed. Screwer than screwed. I was screwn. Screwdriven.
"Bon Jovi?"
"That is not a person, and no. Try again."
"Kaylee." Nash shook his head. "Your dad?" No. "Your mom!" Not it. "... Darius?"
"Wow, you are bad at this." He chuckled. "Do you need a hint?"
No, I did not need a hint, or anything for that matter, because the answer was as obvious as the sun on a sunny day. And gosh, I wish it wasn't true, even though everything inside me yipped with glee at the very thought. Still, I could be wrong. I was probably reaching. Yes, I must've been. Surely it couldn't be ... "Me?"
There was a minute of silence. The air was heavy with the possibility of a massive disappointment. I considered taking my question back, but there was no actual way to take back words that'd been said and left to fester for so many seconds.
He broke the silence, thank Jah. "Do you still want to go to mine?" I blinked, dumbfounded. "My mates won't be back for a while, and ... I think that's for the best."
Oh? OH! WOAH. WOW. UM... WAS HE PROPOSITIONING?? "Uh, okay, sure."
• • •
NASH LIVED IN AN APARTMENT complex off-campus with three others. Walking there was a bit of a workout-at least for me-but I figured it'd be worth it. My dorm was relatively small. I didn't think an apartment would be as clustered.
"I thought you'd live in one of the dorms. Or that you'd at best be a frat member," I said. He'd told me he was on a scholarship, which made perfect sense considering ... Kaylee, so naturally, I wouldn't have thought he'd opted for a place he had to pay for.
"I lived in the dorms during my first year."
"And you don't want to be part of a fraternity?"
He shook his head. "It's not for me."
I left Nash to deal with the elevator controls and slumped into the metal wall, doing my best to downplay my sudden nervousness. Despite all the kissing, despite the one night we spent together, I still thought that maybe ... we were friends. Close friends. Closer than most. I knew how he felt about me, and I understood what that meant, but ...
"What's on your mind?" he asked, breaking me out of my thoughts. The elevator had begun to move. I could feel slight vibrations under the heels of my platforms.
"Nothing."
Nash placed both hands on either of my shoulders, facing me squarely. The vibrations reduced. My heart rate picked up. "Lenore," he said, "what's on your mind?"
"You ... You have ... really bright eyes, you know that?"
"You have really big eyes, you know that?" The elevator came to a stop on the third floor, and with it, the possibility of getting some. It might've been a ploy by the universe, but whichever way, it was for my own good. That night had already ruined enough. I hadn't had the time to get myself together yet.
How did people even get to that point? Drinks? Drugs? Conversations and gentle caresses? Soft touches? Whispers of sweet nothings?
None of that seemed the least bit enticing to me.
Nash had a key card. I'd never seen those up close before. The door opened to a surprisingly spacey living area. There was a kitchenette to the far left. It looked like one of those houses on HGTV, if I was being honest. I ran my finger across the couch. Dust-free. Of course. Nash liked to keep things clean, neat, organized. I liked things where I could see them.
Compromising wouldn't be so hard as long as everything was organized and visible.
He switched on a light, took off his shoes and planted them next to the door. I busied myself with undoing my laces. "Do you want anything?"
I thought it a little funny how easy it was for me to spin this around (and possibly ruin it) with a single word. "Water, if you have that," I said, instead of the more cheesy option, "yes, you." Besides, that moment was long dead.
"I feel like there's something you're not telling me," he said on his way to the kitchenette. I wrapped my arms around my torso. His apartment had a homey feel to it. "And I'm not sure I like that. Being in the dark." He opened the fridge. "What's on your mind?"
I huffed. I neared the black couch. "I can assure you, my mind is completely blank as of right now."
He set a tray bearing a glass of water on the coffee table. He took my hand, movements slow, measured, calculated to utmost precision. It's probably a math thing, I thought. He brushed a tendril of hair back, refusing to break eye contact. He understood the important of eye contact when it came to intimacy. If anything, I found that endearing.
My eyes settled on his lips for a second too long. He took the hint; a hint I never meant to send. It was almost like my body was giving him the permission my head didn't want to, but I couldn't argue. I couldn't stop myself.
He'd once said I should've come with a warning. He wasn't quite wrong, I thought, but if I needed a disclaimer, it would only be fair for a glaring neon billboard to precede him. He was everything I wanted and everything I didn't think needed.
It was touch-and-go whether I would ever re-master the art of redamancy.
With a kind of ease that could only have come with prior practice, Nash cupped my cheek in his hand, tilted my head to the side. I felt a jolt, like someone had switched gears in my control system. In my brain. But for some reason, the controls weren't working.
And he was still waiting for a final sign.
"Kiss me," I mouthed, hopeful, despite my initial uncertainty. Amusement, laced with trace amounts of mirth, danced in his eyes. For the briefest of seconds, I watched as his pupils dilated. For the briefest of seconds, I wondered if we were going about this all wrong. For the briefest of seconds, I let myself rethink all the choices I'd made tonight.
And then, he kissed me. The skin of his lips, softer than I'd ever known possible, met with mine, locking in place, much like a missing puzzle piece. I smiled despite myself. I accidentally bit his lip.
Nash let out a groan.
My smile only grew.
This was the part where we grew frantic. The part where we grew eager. My fingers quickly took to undoing the buttons on his plaid button down shirt, and his, well, it was no secret that he loved my hair.
We tumbled to the ground rather gracelessly, my head only missing the coffee table by about an inch. Nash's leg was supended on the couch. He laughed into my mouth, sending vibrations resonating through me. I cradled his head in my hands as I pulled away. It was a little difficult since my hands were ... otherwise occupied.
His chest, muscled as it was, panned out to a leaner waist. I didn't even know he worked out.
"What are we doing?" I asked with an unwelcome snort. Our chests were pressed together. I could feel his heartbeat. My unasked question hung in the air. Aren't we supposed to be friends? Really close friends, and nothing but?
Nash planted me on his torso.
"I think this what you medical science people call copulation, coitus, mating."
It wasn't that funny, but I laughed anyway.
"Does this mean we're not ... just friends?"
His brows furrowed. "Have I given you any reason to think that?" he countered. I had no answer, because I was damn sure friends did not sleep together, or kiss, or have awareness of bits and pieces of information, like a roughly heart-shaped birthmark located a few centimeters below the waist line.
We kissed again. And again. And again, until my hesitance, along with my top, slipped away. Until I finally came to accept the epiphany that had come so jarringly to me several weeks ago.