"No."
"Neither did I." Will was a little drunk, I saw.
"Wait a minute," I said. It was my turn to gape at Will. "He called you from Martini's? He was supposed to be breaking up a bar fight! I feared for his safety! Bastard."
"Yeah, I think the fight was over. He just talked to the manager for a second. Then he probably stood in the corner and glowered at people like he does, and called me, pretending it was Official Police Business." He imitated John in a low, serious voice. "Tin in charge of her while I'm at work, and I can't have my best friend hitting on her.'"
"Will, that sounds like he doesn't like me."
"He likes you, trust me. He doesn't want to like you."
"Why not?"
"Because you're leaving. And he's staying. That's exactly the problem he got into with Angie." He traced a heart in the condensation on his cup. "Personally, I didn't see why they couldn't stay together. Birmingham is only a twenty-minute drive from town. It would have been hard for them to see each other because of John's weird working and sleeping schedule, but they could have done it. It hardly even qualifies as a long-distance relationship. I think John just wasn't that into her." He rolled his eyes. "There's not a whole lot there, anyway."
"She broke up with him, though."
"Right," Will said, pointing at me. "But now she's interested in him again."
"It makes perfect sense to me that she'd be conflicted, if she has any sense. He's this awesomely handsome, really cool guy who's chained himself to a bridge. He's hot, he's cold." I moved toward Will, and I didn't care whether John was watching or not. This was important. "When you were a kid, did you ever watch The X-Files? Mulder is this smart, cute, funny guy who's obsessed with catching the aliens who stole his sister. He's totally oblivious to the red-haired Scully standing right in front of him—"
"I don't think John is totally oblivious to you. I don't think that's possible. You talk really loudly."
"—and if he happens to throw her a kiss, she'll take it. If he happens to think to screw her, she'll realty take it. And she says things to him like, 'Logically, Mulder, this doesn't make sense, please let go,' and she pats him on the shoulder and hopes he'll screw her again."
Will was staring at me with big eyes. I'd forgotten he was a virgin. Talking to him about sex was like talking to Tiffany.
"Well, I'm not Scully,'' I went on. "I can't pat John and comfort him. I want to put my hands around his neck and shake him and scream, 'What are you doing?'" I demonstrated in the empty air and I hoped John saw me choking his ghost. "He frustrates me. He makes me angry. And I don't think that's a good relationship, one built on frustration and anger. Do you?"
Will shook his head somberly.
"He's good for a lay, though," I mused.
"Oh, please don't say that."
I waited for Will to explain what he meant. He just stared at me.
Then he whacked himself in the forehead with the palm of his hand. "I can't believe"—he gestured all around us —"that I'm sitting here at a spring break party on the Redneck Riviera, warning a girl not to have casual sex with my best friend. I think we've entered a parallel universe. I keep expecting people to come out of the porta-toilets with their heads on backward."
"Exactly," I said. "Stop trying. K doesn't make sense for John and me to date. It makes sense for us to do it."
"But I'm telling you. that's not how John works. He's going to want more than that from you."
"I don't have anything else to give him," I said. "Not while he's chained to the bridge."
Will took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. "I wish there were some way to unchain him from the bridge, so he could go do his art. I've been trying to figure that out for years."
"I gave it a shot."
Will eyed me, then drained his beer. "What'd you do?"
"To get out of trouble, I had to write a proposal to the DA for a project to keep other teenagers out of trouble. I suggested that they put a camera at the bridge, with a feed to the police dispatcher. That way, they'll always know when someone tries to go on the bridge. John will have no reason to check for trespassers every five minutes. And the DA said the city is actually going to do it."
Will produced another beer from beside him in his chair and took a big gulp, then glanced at me. "Sorry. I need this worse than you do, because I'm a virgin."
He was still thinking about that? "No prob." I felt bad about my virgin comment, especially when we were talking about his friend hooking up. Boys were so sensitive about odd things. And sometimes I couldn't keep my mouth shut.
"What did John say about the camera?" Will asked.
"I haven't told him. They were supposed to install it today. But I doubt it will do any good. John has a short-circuit. Logic doesn't touch that part of his brain. It's going to take more than a camera to unchain him."
I wanted to hear what Will had to say about this, because he looked worried, and he was drinking fast. But John came back then with virgin (ha ha) drinks for us, frozen coconut and pineapple juice in plastic hurricane glasses with straws and paper umbrellas and monkey figurines stuck into the ground ice. Very spring break.
We sat with the cool tide scooting past our bare feet, sipping our drinks, watching the crush of dancers inside the tiki torches. Will chatted with us about the girl trouble Rashad and Skip had gotten into during the past four days, and the escapades of some of their other high school friends—now college friends, at least to Will. Then he made a Star Wars reference to John that was clearly boy-code for sex, and stood up unsteadily. "See you on Saturday at Rashad's party?" We both said yes and watched Will wander away into the crowd.
I settled closer to the John side of my chair. "You're not worried about him?"
John shook his head. "He'll go up to his room and watch movies, fall asleep. Rashad and Skip will come in with girls at about four a.m. and kick him out. He'll go run fifteen miles. That's what Will does on road trips."
"That's so sad!" Immediately I wished I could take it back. I didn't want John to think again that I was interested in Will.
I scanned his dark eyes in the moonlight. I thought I saw anger there, but no—it was lust. Oooh.
The throbbing dance beat inside the tiki torches transformed into a slow groove. John stood. "Don't be sad on spring break. Let's dance."