“Ha.” I take a sip. “Just try.”
Garrett looks around at the scene. “So, I see tables, yet you’re not up there dancing on them.”
“I’m saving the floor show for later,” I tell him. “After my opening acts are done.” I nod toward the grinding girls, their moves getting more X-rated by the minute.
“Um, sure.” Garrett blinks, dazzled by the sight of Jaycee Carter’s gyrations. “Because you’ve got to bring your A game to follow that.”
We watch in amusement for a moment, then I let out a warning murmur. “Uh-oh. Crazy ex-girlfriend at three o’clock. No, don’t look!” I drag him back around. “You’re done with the drama, remember?”
“Relax.” Garrett carefully glances over at Beth, who’s talking with a couple of her friends. She’s wearing her red hair loose in waves, and even I have to admit she looks pretty tonight. For a jealous drama queen. “It’s not like I’m going to go beg her to take me back or anything.”
I fix him with a dubious look.
“That was one time!” he protests. “And I admit, taking over the lit mag with a love poem wasn’t the greatest idea, but are you ever going to give me a break?”
“I didn’t say a word.” That particular stunt was for Julie Sanders, a track star who dated Garrett for two whole weeks last year before breaking his heart. The public declaration of love held no sway with her; last I heard, she was at Bard, minoring in ambisexuality and drum circles.
Garrett looks back over at Beth.
“Garrett . . .” I warn. It’s all about focus with him — leave him gazing too long at a pretty ex-girlfriend and suddenly he’s got half a stanza already composed.
“No, it’s OK — I promise.” He turns his back on her, giving me his undivided attention. “And thanks.”
“What for?”
“Just . . . being you.” He smiles. “You always know what to do after these breakups.”
I shrug. “You’d do the same for me.” If, you know, I ever dated anyone.
“I know, but I appreciate it. So, how about we get out of range of her hotness force field before I’m brainwashed and reciting poetry in front of everyone?”
“Dear Lord, yes.”
We load up with snacks and find a quiet corner, away from the madness. Garrett sprawls out on the corner couch, I curl up beside him, and then we do what we usually do at parties like these: watch, gossip, talk about everyone and everything. Our own private club, just the two of us. “You know, I’m going to miss you,” Garrett says. He gives me a rueful smile. “It’s going to be weird not having you around at camp.”
“And they say codependence always ends in tears,” I joke, trying to make light of the impending tragedy. “You’ll survive,” I tell him, my tone still light. “You’ll meet a girl named Cadie in the coffee shop on your first day and forget all about me.”
“Never. We’ll have to come up with a system: Skype, or IM, or something. Make sure to stay in touch.”
“Speak for yourself,” I tease. “I’ll be off with all my new friends, having crazy parties every night.”
“Now you decide to be the social butterfly!” Garrett pushes me playfully. “Admit it, you’re counting the days until I graduate next year, so you can reinvent yourself into the Queen Bee of Sherman High.”
“Darn it.” I sigh. “My evil plan is foiled. And I was going to take the homecoming crown and everything.” We laugh, even if mine is tinted with panic. Never mind six weeks of summer camp. What happens next summer, after graduation, when he’s really gone?
“College will be fine,” Garrett says, as if reading my terrified thoughts. He slings an arm casually around my shoulders. “You’ll come visit. It’ll give me mad status when all the guys see my hot high-school friend.”
“Sure.” I laugh, but then I catch his eye. He’s looking at me with a kind of warmth — a new intensity behind that playful smile.
At least, I think he is.
“You’ll be the one to forget about me,” I say, hurriedly glancing away. I’ve fallen into this trap before: imagining things I only long for. “You’ll reinvent yourself and never look back.”
“Never,” he says quietly. “You and me, we’re set for life.”
I catch my breath. “Really?”
“Guaranteed.” He squeezes my shoulder, but not in his usual casual way. No, this is softer. Gentler.
My heart beats faster.
“You’re getting sentimental,” I say, forcing myself to sound casual. “All these seniors are rubbing off on you. You’re not graduating just yet.”
He shrugs. “Maybe so, but . . . I don’t know. I guess it makes you think about stuff — what you want from life, what’s really important.” He pauses, then gives me that half grin. “Who is important.”
“Glad I register somewhere in the top one hundred,” I quip, clinging to our old casual banter in the face of this new, uncertain terrain.
Garrett shakes his head. We’re close together now, me nestled in the crook of his arm, and I can feel the warmth of his body through his rumpled blue shirt. “Don’t talk like that.” He looks at me again. “You know how important you are to me.”
“Oh.” I feel myself blush. “You too. I mean, well, you know what I mean.”
“Only because I’m an expert in Sadie speak.” His fingers move against my bare arm, in what could almost be called a stroke.
“An expert, huh?” I try to stay calm. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
“Nope.” He smiles again, so warm and familiar. “I know everything about you.”
We’re silent for a moment, our eyes locked. There’s a heat now, an intensity that’s sending my pulse haywire. This is new territory. This is . . .
Too much.
“Then you know I need more soda!” I blurt suddenly. “How about a refill?”
I thrust my cup at him. He takes it, unfolding those long limbs as he gets slowly to his feet. “Your wish is my command. Don’t go anywhere.” He gives me a wink and then walks away, leaving me almost giddy with panic and delight.
Breathe, Sadie.
That was flirting going on right there. I’m not reading too much into something innocuous, stretching the realm of logic and reason like I’ve done a thousand times in the past. No, Garrett was flirting with me just then — that’s a fact.