vii. Matthew shows up at Mary's door at 9:00 the next night with a girl beside him. Her name is Caroline, and she is wearing a yellow quilted jacket that Mary remembers seeing on a sale rack at Saks two winters ago.
"Hey, Mary," Caroline says, bouncing up on the balls of her feet."Thanks for inviting me."
"I didn't."
Caroline smiles uncertainly. "I mean, thanks for inviting Matthew and then inviting him to invite someone else and–"
Matthew clears his throat and Caroline looks down, blushing.
"Of course," Mary says coolly. "The more, the merrier."
The elevator ride to the ground floor is cramped and slow. Caroline smooths her hair and glances at Matthew. He shoves his hands deep in his pockets and stares at his shoes. Mary's stomach turns over.
"Caroline," she says, eager to break the silence, "I really like your coat."
"Oh, thanks. I mean, the color's a little too bright."
"But that's nice, especially with this kind of weather. You'll never get lost in a snowstorm, that's for sure."
"Yeah, I guess," Caroline says, laughing a little. "I like yours, too."
Mary looks down at her black peacoat and bites back a smile. Of course you do, she wants to say, but Matthew is watching her with bitterly expectant eyes, so she thanks Caroline and looks away.
The elevator reaches the ground floor and the doors slide open. Caroline walks out but Matthew stays behind, blocking Mary's path.
"Come on, Mary," he says, his voice low, "you don't have to be mean to her."
"Mean? What are you talking about? I complimented her coat."
"Please, that wasn't real."
"Matthew–"
"You hate color. And that thing about getting lost in a snowstorm? What was that?"
Caroline has reached the other end of the hallway and is waiting by the door. Mary feels a hot rush of guilt.
"I was just trying to be nice, okay?"
Matthew leans in. "She may have thought that's all it was, but I know you. You let people think you like them, but the whole time, you're playing games, and you're laughing at them. That's not nice, Mary, that's poisonous."
He gives her one last look and then leaves the elevator, walking down the hallway towards Caroline. Mary follows behind, eyes fixed on the floor.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," Matthew says. "Just had to work something out with Mary."
Caroline's answering smile is small and nervous. "Oh, no problem. Ready?"
"Let's go." Mary pushes the door open, and the cold air rushes in. "We're late already."
They cross the courtyard and head out onto the street, where a gust of wind keeps Caroline tucked close against Matthew. As they near the upperclassman dorm, the low thump and the high whine of music grows louder and Mary can't help the smile that spreads like a smear of blood across her mouth.
Andrew is waiting for her just inside the door. He hangs up her coat for her and smiles graciously when he notices Matthew and Caroline waiting in the entrance.
"Hey, guys, come on in. Are you Mary's friends?"
"Yeah," Matthew says, taking off his jacket. "Hope you don't mind that we came along."
"Of course not. Everyone's welcome." Anthony smiles down at Mary, his hand brushing against hers. "You want a drink?"
"Yeah, sure."
"A drink would be great," Matthew says loudly. Next to him, Caroline ducks her head, embarrassed. Anthony glances at Mary with a bemused smile, and she shrugs.
"Well, come on. Everything's this way."
He leads them through the main room, dark and full of people, to a small kitchen. Liquor bottles are lined up haphazardly on the counter, and the fridge is propped open by stacked cases of beer, revealing more cans inside. Next to it, a small trashcan nearly overflows with red punch.
"So, Mary, what can I get you?" he asks. Matthew clears his throat behind her.
"I don't care. Surprise me."
Anthony fills two plastic cups with punch and hands one to Mary. She drinks half of it quickly, swallowing hard and ignoring the empty clench of her stomach.
"How are you liking Ancient Lit?" he asks, smiling at her over the rim of his cup.
"It's not bad. I mean, Williams isn't the most exciting professor but I'm enjoying the reading."
"Matthew," Caroline asks, "can you grab me a drink?"
"I'm with you on Williams. He's as boring as they come. I'm surprised he hasn't fallen asleep during his own lecture yet."
Matthew takes a beer from the fridge and pops it open. He comes back to stand by Mary, his elbow pressing against her own, and takes a long sip. She shifts away a little, moving closer to Anthony.
Caroline sighs. "Never mind, I'm not thirsty anyway."
"Well," Mary says quickly, "I'm just happy to be reading all these books,"
"Really?"
"Yeah. I've always been interested in classic literature. What about you?"
"I needed a last class to fill out my schedule and this was the only one that fit."
"So it's not quite your favorite?"
Anthony laughs and shakes his head. "Not quite, no."
"Hey, Matthew." Caroline tugs on the sleeve of his shirt. "Do you want to go dance?"
"What is your favorite, then?" Mary asks, and Anthony's smile widens.
"I'm in this fantastic lecture on the politics of North Africa. Really, really cool stuff."
Caroline twirls her hair around her finger and steps in closer to Matthew. "Or we could go somewhere and talk, if you wanted. It's so loud in here."
"Is North Africa the part of the world you're most interested in?"
"No, my thesis is on Russia, and its relationship with the West."
"Look, Matthew, if you're going to ignore me, I'm going to leave."
"You're writing a thesis?" Mary asks loudly, trying to ignore Caroline.
"I'm working on one, yeah. It's been a bitch to manage it along with the writing for my Honors seminar, though."
Caroline walks around the corner and into the main room. Mary waits for Matthew to follow, but she can still feel him at her elbow.
"You must be so busy," she says. "I can't imagine how you get everything done."
"Oh, believe me, I don't. I'm always so behind in my work that I never know what's going on in half my classes."
Matthew makes a sound that's almost like a laugh and Mary knows that if she looks at him, his eyes will be the shade of blue that makes her love aquariums and the ocean and the Greek flag and so she stares instead at Anthony's jeans, which are, she thinks, a much safer shade.
"Like this morning I got to my lecture and I realized I'd totally read the wrong thing." Anthony says, and she laughs.
"I'm sorry. That's the worst."
"Yeah, but I'd read something similar for a class last spring, so I got through it."
"That's so lucky," she says, swaying forward a little and laying her hand briefly on Anthony's arm.
"Yeah," Matthew says, "it must've been touch and go for a while there."
Mary looks over at him and smiles, sweet like rotting fruit. "What a wonderful addition to the conversation. Do keep it up."
"I'm just saying."
"Well, don't."
"Everything okay?" Anthony asks, and she laughs, stepping closer to him. Matthew's frustrated sigh hits the back of her neck.
"Yeah, everything's fine."
"Awesome. Well, I need another drink. You too, Mary?"
"That would be great." She goes to the counter with him and looks briefly back at Matthew. The angry set of his jaw makes her press herself into Anthony with a hazy, wicked smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Matthew walk away.
Anthony reaches for a beer, and she grabs his wrist lightly, making sure to slide her fingers over his pulse point as she does.
"I have a better idea," she says.
Fifteen minutes later, Mary has had two shots and three dances with Anthony and she is starting to hate the feel of his hands on her hips. As the song changes, she takes a small step away from him and looks around. Caroline is across the room talking to a boy Mary's never seen before, and Matthew is gone.
"Hey," Anthony says, leaning in close. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm just… have you seen Matthew?"
"Who?"
"My friend Matthew. He was here a little while ago and now I can't see him anywhere."
"I'm sure he's fine. Do you want another drink?"
Mary pushes her hair back from her face and sighs. "No. Okay? No. I don't want another drink."
"Do you want to go somewhere else?"
"Yes," she says sharply, "but not with you."
Mary doesn't wait to see the hurt bloom on Anthony's face, just pushes through the closely packed crowd until she reaches Caroline by the far wall.
"Caroline, where's Matthew?"
"What? Mary, I'm in the middle of a conversation."
"I know, and I'm sorry for interrupting. But I need to know where Matthew is."
"I haven't seen him in a while. I think he probably went home."
"What? Why?"
Caroline rolls her eyes, looking angry in a way that Mary can't quite place. "Are you serious?"
"Am I serious about what?"
"God, never mind. Check the stairs – maybe he's out there."
Mary shoulders her way through the crowd and into the hallway. From the landing she can just see Matthew as he disappears down the first flight of stairs. She hurries after him, the slam of her feet on each step echoing loudly in the stairwell.
"Matthew!" she calls, slowing down. "Where are you going? "
He stops on the landing, but does not turn around. She can see the tension in his shoulders from where she stands halfway up the staircase. Noise from the party filters in and out and somebody closes the suite door, leaving the stairwell empty.
"I'm going home, Mary."
"No, you can't go now. Everything's just starting."
"I think I've had enough for one night," he says, turning and looking up at her. "And I think maybe you have too."
She shakes her head. "Please, I'm fine."
"Are you, Mary?"
She is not sure why she starts to walk down the stairs towards him, but she thinks it has something to do with the way his voice curls around her name – softly, and without fear.
"I wish you wouldn't ask me that," she says. "I never know how to answer."
Something in his face shifts and he takes a step away from her. "What are you doing out here, Mary?"
"I'm coming to get you."
"What for?" His voice is tight with something that is not quite anger, but Mary isn't sure what else it could be, and her head is spinning from the vodka and the lights and the urge to push back the stray piece of hair that's fallen in Matthew's eyes.
"Look," she says, "let's go inside. It'll be fun. Just come with me."
"What, so I can stand around listening to Anthony for another twenty minutes? I had enough the first time, thanks."
"What is the matter with you?"
"It's just not my idea of a fun night to watch you fall all over some guy."
"My hand was on his arm. That is hardly falling all over him."
Matthew rolls his eyes and paces away from her. "No, you're right. That wasn't anything at all. And I'm sure you went to dance with him just to hear his opinion on the state of the economy."
"Matthew–"
"I don't know a damn soul at this party and you're off dancing and doing God knows what and you just leave me standing there like–"
"Is that what you're mad about? That I left you alone?"
"I'm not mad, I'm just–"
"Because you definitely weren't alone."
"What are you talking about?"
And suddenly Mary steps towards him and she's angry, so angry her hands are shaking. "Are you being thick on purpose? I'm talking about Caroline, your date."
"Caroline's a friend."
"Please. You invited her to a party."
"Because you told me to!"
"You could've invited anyone. You could've invited John or one of those idiot boys from the pre-law club but you picked her. She's your date."
Matthew sighs wearily and tilts his head back. "Look, I asked her to come because she's my friend. We were just going to hang out. That's what friends do. And anyway, she hardly counts. She disappeared after five minutes."
"Yes, because you weren't paying any attention to her. That's not friend behavior." Mary's voice is getting louder and louder and she wishes it would stop.
"What–"
"Oh, come on, Matthew. She has the biggest crush on you. It's so pathetic I want to cry. I mean, hearts are practically coming out of her eyes."
"Well, that's something nobody could say about you."
"Yeah, okay," she says with a short and bitter laugh. Matthew looks at her sharply.
She knows that she should go back inside, back to Anthony and his hands and the loud music. But Matthew's eyes are as hopeful as she has ever seen them and so all she can do is shrug and look down at the floor, at her pair of sleek, black flats, at his feet as he steps closer to her.
"What are you saying?" he asks quietly.
"I don't know. Nothing."
"Come on, what did you mean?"
"Nothing, okay? Just forget it. I never mean anything."
"No, Mary, that was something."
"Let's go back inside."
"No. We're not going anywhere."
"Matthew–
"God, you can't just say things like that and expect me not to–"
"To what?"
They look at each other, Matthew's eyes turning dark, and suddenly she can't breathe quite right, can't get enough air as he takes a step forward. She's seen this moment in all the movies and it always looks so fast but this is slow, slow like honey, and it's burning her up. And then his fingers curl carefully around her jaw, her knees tremble, and he kisses her.
His lips are too chapped. The stair rail is pressing into her hipbone. He's pulling a little too much on this one piece of her hair and it hurts. But her eyes slide shut and it's Matthew. It's Matthew.
When she opens her eyes, his face is an inch from her own and her hands are clutching the front of his shirt. He's looking at her expectantly. She takes a shuddering breath.
"Mary?"
"You're from below 59th," she says in a rush.
"What?"
"59th Street. You're from… I can't believe I just kissed someone from Tribeca."
He laughs. "It's pretty nice in Tribeca, Mary. Have you even been down there?"
"Once, on a school field trip." She lets go of his shirt and tries to take a step away, but the stairs are at her back and she stumbles a little. Matthew's hands go to her hips to steady her and she bats them away.
"Why does where I'm from matter, anyway?" he asks.
"It just does. I mean, you've seen my house. You've met my parents."
"I did, yeah, and they liked me, remember?"
She turns and starts back up the stairs towards the party. She can hear Matthew behind her rushing to keep up.
"Oh, believe me," she says, "I remember. That's a whole other problem."
She pulls the suite door open and goes inside, stopping suddenly by the coat rack. She can see Caroline in the other room, dancing with the boy from before. She smiles.
"Mary." Matthew's voice is low in her ear. "Let's go."
"What?"
"Come on. Let me walk you back."
She turns and looks up at him. He's not smiling but he looks like he wants to and he's holding her coat carefully, like he knows how expensive it was.
"Okay. Yeah, let's go."
On the way back to their dorm, Mary waits for him to reach for her hand, for him to bump her shoulder with his. Instead, he walks apart from her, his head down and mouth silent. By the time they reach her door, Mary's hands are clenched into fists and her heart is turning to stone.
"So. Goodnight," she says, turning to unlock her door.
"Hey, hold on."
"Oh, now you have something to say?"
Matthew looks at her calmly and nods. "Yeah, I do. Look, I've been thinking about this for a long time and after tonight, I'm sure. I think we should date."
She laughs and leans back against the door. "Why? Why should we?"
"Because I like you."
"Hardly a convincing argument."
"And because I'm fairly certain you like me."
She stiffens. "Don't tell me how I feel."
"Okay. Okay, then you tell me."
"No." She looks away, frowning. "I'm not doing that. I don't do that."
"You–"
"Is that all you wanted to say? Because I'm tired and I really don't need–"
"We kissed, Mary. You can't just ignore it."
"I didn't," she says, anger flickering to life. "You're the one who didn't say anything the whole walk back."
He is quiet for a moment, frustration pulling at the corners of his mouth. When he speaks, his voice is even and firm. "What do you want? I mean, you won't tell me how you feel and you practically ran away from me after that kiss, but you're mad because you thought I was ignoring it. Do you want this, or don't you?"
She opens her mouth, waits for the words to come – of course she knows what she wants, of course she does – and feels them stick in her throat. She looks away.
He sighs. "I wasn't ignoring it, Mary. I just wanted to give you time. So you could be sure. I'm sorry it came across the way it did. Look, It's okay if you need more time. You don't have to answer me now. Just think about it, all right?"
She nods. He takes a few steps down the hall towards his own room, and then stops, looking back at her.
"Can you do one other thing for me?" he asks.
"What?"
"When you're deciding, don't think about your parents. Or about Tribeca or any of that. None of that matters."
"It does. Of course it does."
"Not to me."
"So what should I think about, then?"
"Just us," he says. "That's it. And it's enough, Mary. You're enough."
He turns and keeps walking down the hall. Mary unlocks her door and goes inside, shutting it behind her. The room is dark and the air cold. For a moment she's back in her house and Kevin Palmer is a shadow in the corner but then she turns on the lights, and he's gone.
When Anna comes back, Mary will laugh and smile and recount the whole night, and when Anna sighs and says how romantic it is, she'll nod along. And she'll think about it. About him. About being together and being enough.
For now, she leans back against the door. Closes her eyes. Remembers the kiss, the honey-slow stretch of the before and the sweet smoke haze of the after. Lets it sink into her skin, inch by golden inch.
