He’s discreet. It’s a slight nod of the head as he descends the steps and walks out into the dark, away from the party. I follow him across the yard.

He sits on one of the swings and starts to open the bottle of bourbon, picking at the plastic hugging the rim.

“You think I’m going to break this thing?”

“The bottle?”

“No, the swings,” he says.

I shrug. He might. It’s meant for children. Small humans. He is not a small human.

I wonder what it would feel like to be with him. To have him pick me up and throw me around. He could. Easily.

It’s like a match has been struck somewhere inside me. It’s attraction. Want.

He gets the bottle open. I down the rest of my cocktail and hold out my empty cup to him.

“I thought I told you I wasn’t sharing,” he says.

“Don’t make me use this,” I say, raising my bow and arrow.

I can’t keep a straight face about it. I start to laugh; then he laughs.

“Did you lose a bet?” he asks, pouring me some bourbon.

“What makes you say that? Don’t like my costume?”

“I prefer your cheerleader uniform,” he says.

“How dare you?” I say, tossing my bow and arrow onto the lawn and sitting on the other swing.

“Do you still have it or . . .”

“No.”

He takes a swig from the bottle. “Damn.”

“To ask me such a question. The audacity.”

“I’ll go back to being the shy one,” he says, smiling.

He’s more confident now than he was when I first knew him. He’s grown into himself. Is that what’s different? Is that what’s causing this shift? Or is it me? For years I’ve been fucking strangers, finding the obscurity exhilarating. There’s something wildly liberating about being so close to someone physically but remaining unknown to them. Keeping myself a secret. I never considered it could feel just as good to be with someone who does know me. Who knows my history like Ian does.

“I totally forgot I was a cheerleader,” I say, sipping the bourbon.

“Cheerleader, student council president, lacrosse . . . what else?”

“Debate.”

“Makes sense.”

“What about you? Band.”

“Yeah, band geek.”

“Not geek,” I say. “Well, yeah. But you were in legit bands outside of school.”

Ian was a touring musician for a while, before moving back here. Now he teaches guitar and works with his dad remodeling houses. Pretty sure he remodeled Ash’s kitchen.

It’s a nice kitchen.

“What was your band called again?” I ask him, picking the cinnamon stick out of my cup.

“If you don’t remember, I’m not going to tell you,” he says, adjusting his glasses.

“I’ll just ask Scarlett.” Scarlett’s first boyfriend, Rich, was in the band, too.

“Is she here?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I should probably go find her.”

“I’ll see you inside.”

“You’re staying out here?”

“I’m gonna smoke.”

“All right,” I say. I swing myself to stand.