“You eat ice cream like a little kid, Bomber.”

Then he kissed me. Just briefly, just lightly enough to pass as brotherly but yet decidedly not.

“You shouldn’t be afraid of the future.” He pulled back, as though just realizing what he’d done. “There was always going to be an after.”

Liz Wants the Truth

AT THE social the next Friday, Edward makes a rare appearance. Watching him, I’m surprised anew at what a graceful dancer he is.

“It’s funny with dancing,” Cali says, settling in next to me on the cozy, voluminous couch. “Men go one way or the other the moment they’re on the floor. If they’re good, they become a thousand times sexier, if they’re awkward, their appeal just leeches right out of them. There’s no neutral ground.”

“You’re right. That said, I’m surprised Edward isn’t out here all the time.”

Cali smiles to herself.

“Hi, girls,” Gianluca says, stopping by between dances. He gives us each an equally brief kiss on the cheek. I’ve been warned that he won’t be overly affectionate when we’re with the dance crowd. It’s just business, he tells me, he can’t appear taken. Maybe that’s what did Angelina in. How can I not wonder if there’s some other girl, some other “special project” he’s dancing with, whispering in her ear that he wants to fuck her? My anxiety isn’t helped by the fact that my period still hasn’t arrived. In the back of my head a tiny voice replays the damning question over and over: Am I pregnant, am I pregnant, am I pregnant?

“Save me a dance?” he says as he goes back off to the floor. “Both of you?” he adds.

Cali gives me a hard look as he walks away.

“It’s fine,” I say, not feeling fine. “It’s work.”

“Okay, Liz. Okay.”