Robert picked me up a bit after 8 o'clock, just as he planned. I was surprised at how different he looked. There was something to be said about the physical difference between high school boys and men well into the middle of college. He was muscular and at least a foot taller than me, with dark hair and a certain boyish charm about him that was almost reminiscent of TJ. Almost.
"You look good," he said, looking me over, appraising me. I didn't like how shamelessly he did so, but then, he was leagues ahead of me as far as dating experience goes.
"Thanks. You good, too," I said. I would have blushed, I think, had I had any feelings for him beyond attraction. But I didn't, and I'm sure he didn't either. He lived so far away and we both knew this wasn't really going anywhere.
"So what do you want to do? A buddy of mine is throwing a party later on. We could get some food and head over."
"I'm cool with whatever," I said. In the back of my head, I imagined TJ and Ashley A. out for dinner by now. He would have said something nicer than just stating that she looked good. His eyes probably didn't comb over her body is whatever absurd, probably frilly dress she was wearing. Then, he probably had feelings for her that ran a bit deeper than physical attraction. Oh, God, I was getting angry. I needed to push those thoughts and feelings as far away as I possibly could. I was with Robert, I was going to have a good time.
"That's what I like about you, Spinelli. You're not like all the other pretty girls I've met. They're used to having things set out all perfect. They're spoiled brats."
The compliment made me feel uncomfortable, mostly because it seemed like he really meant it, and I wasn't interested in this going deeper than a few dates whenever he visited, but also because it hit home with the situation regarding Ashley A.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself, Robert. Let's just have a good time," I said, smiling a little. He returned the smile. Grinned, actually.
We walked to his car, and he drove us to a local pizza place. Some girls from my school walked by, decked out in their formal attire. Oh, God.
"Hey, is it Homecoming this weekend or something?" Robert asked, looking at the girls.
"Yeah," I said, wanting to move past the subject.
"Why didn't you go? I would have been your date, even though high school stuff isn't really my scene. It'd have been cool to see the old place."
"High school stuff isn't really my scene either," I said as we sat down.
He looked at me for a second. His eye narrowed. A smile danced on the corners of his lips. "You're a really cool girl, did you know that?"
"Nah, I just don't care about stuff like that. I'm counting down the days until I can get to college and study about stuff I care about."
He chuckled. "I don't know, I'm studying a lot of stuff I don't care about still."
"Maybe you've got the wrong major," I answered. Our pizza had arrived by then, and I took bit, hungry bites.
"What are you going to major in?" Robert asked, watching me eat. It made me feel uncomfortable, the way he was staring at me.
I swallowed. "Art, I think. Something with no career options," I laughed.
"So cool," he said quietly.
When we pulled up to the house, the party was in full-swing. The music was blaring, and I was a little nervous that the cops would get called on a noise complaint.
"I'm only going to drink a beer or two since I have to drive you home," he said. He grabbed my hand, and I would have pulled it away if I weren't so interested in where he was going with this. He brought my hand to his lips. "But I don't mind taking care of you if you get a little too drunk," he added, smiling devilishly at me.
I pulled my hand away and rolled my eyes. "You don't have to worry about me," I said. I'd made up my mind that I would drink that evening, but not too much. Just enough to take the edge off of the fact that my best friend was currently grinding on someone I would be happy to never see again.
We entered the house to shouts of "King fuckin' Bob!" and "Robert, my bro!" and I couldn't help but feel a little awkward, being his date and therefore somewhat the center of attention. I'd really, honestly forgotten how popular he was when he lived here. I very, very rarely thought about things so impermanent as popularity.
Almost instantly, someone handed me a cheap beer. I cracked it and took a sip. I sort of liked the way it tasted. It reminded me of wrestling matches, of evenings with my brother and father. I took a deeper drink and smiled. This was fine. I didn't mind this. I was having a good time, talking pleasantly to people who I hadn't seen since they graduated from my school two years ago. All these people, it seemed, had transcended the ridiculous hierarchy that high school presents. They cared more about what you were planning to do with your life than what you were wearing.
Before I knew it, my beer was done. I wandered to the kitchen and found a new one. Absent-mindedly, I glanced at my phone. Two texts from TJ. I nearly groaned. The first one just wished me luck on my date, and the second one was send an hour later asking me what I was doing with "King Bob." It wasn't like TJ to text me like this. Usually, we'd talk for a few hours on the phone or he'd just show up at my house. But then, usually we weren't on dates.
I pushed "reply" and told him I was at a party with Robert. Spitefully, I added that it was far more stimulating than a high school dance would ever be. Really, truthfully, it was. But TJ's texts had still peeved me just a bit. It was a reminder that I was mad at him. Without a second thought, I downed the beer I'd just opened. I stood there for a minute before retrieving a third. I felt a bit dizzy, and perhaps a little flushed, but other than that I was perfectly fine. I walked back into the main room and was greeted by everyone happily. I felt special, having so many people happy to see me after I was gone for only a few minutes. I wondered if that's how Ashley A. felt every day. I banished that thought the second it entered my head. All these people were interested in my personality, not what I was wearing. Here, no one was popular and no one was unpopular. We were all equals and that's how I liked it.
After an hour or so, Robert came beside me and nudged me. "Which beer is that?" he asked.
"Fourth," I answered.
"Is it your last? I'd hate to take you home drunk."
"Why?" I asked, my judgment somewhat gone. Otherwise I wouldn't have asked, because obviously it was a bad idea to return home drunk.
"Well," he answered, leaning over me and putting his hands on the wall on either side of me, "I can't kiss a drunk girl goodnight. It's against my morals." He smiled boyishly, looking down at me.
"Don't act so charming," I said. "I can't kiss someone with such ridiculous pickup lines. It's against my morals." I smiled in a similar manor as he did, and slid from under his arms.
He grabbed my wrist and turned me around. "Spinelli, lines aside, I'd really like it if you drank a glass of water before we went home. Speaking of which, when would you like to go? It's 12:15."
"I don't know, I don't really have a curfew," I said, a little stunned that he was concerned about me. I'd almost, in the most cynical part of my mind, expected him to want me to get drunk so I wouldn't refuse his advances. I'd misjudged his character. "When do you think people will be passing out?"
"Maybe two or three."
"Do you want to stick around for an hour or so? I can try and sober up by then." For some reason I couldn't quite explain, I suddenly wanted to impress him. In the shallowest parts of my mind, I wondered why I hadn't spent more time on my makeup. Why I hadn't bothered to wash my hair. It was silly, really, but I felt like my heart could perhaps open to him. The only other person who showed concern for me like this was TJ, and even then it was in more of a brotherly way.
"That sounds good. And hey, if we had an hour you could probably start another beer and still sober up." He winked at me, and I blushed. Maybe it was the alcohol talking. Maybe not. I smiled.
I didn't sober up. In fact, I got quite a bit drunker. To his credit, Robert politely offered me a piece of toast, which I politely refused as I was worried I'd throw up. He offered me a glass of water as well, which I chugged. It didn't do much to get rid of my spinning hear though.
"You'll thank me in the morning for making you drink that," he said. "I'd make you eat the toast, too, if I were a meaner guy."
He helped me to the car and buckled my seatbelt, something I felt fully capable of doing. I nearly pouted at the fact that he was coddling me like this. He saw my expression and laughed.
"You know, you're awfully cute when you're drunk. In the least creepy way possible."
He drove the several blocks to my house and I sat there, thinking about what he'd said. We pulled up to my house at 2:05am and I knew what I wanted to tell him.
"I read you wrong."
"Oh?" Robert said, opening my door. He wore the same smile he'd had all evening.
"I remembered you as shallow. I only went out with you because I thought it'd be something to take my mind off of things." Fuck, that came out wrong. I wish I hadn't drank so much.
"Twist the knife left, now," he answered. His eyes were bright and I knew he was giving me a hard time. "Spinelli, I haven't seen you in a while and I've grown up quite a bit. I used to be shallow, I see where you're coming from. I wish I were as cool as you when I was in high school. You have the right idea. You don't care about all the stupid shit that I did when I was your age. You care about important stuff."
I stared at him open-mouthed, still sitting in the passenger seat of his truck.
He looked at my face. "What am I say?" Robert said. "This is a conversation for when you're sober. And when I can say in town for longer than three days."
He took my hand and guided me out of his truck and towards my front door. He stopped and turned me around, kissed my forehead, and pushed me forward.
"You have a guest," he said. "I don't want to intrude. But call me in the morning so I know you're alright."
I wasn't sure what he meant, and to tell the truth I was a little miffed he hadn't walked me all the way to the door. I walked up the steps and stopped dead. TJ was sitting on my porch, looking enraged.
"H-how long have you been here?" I asked, humbling around in my pockets for my keys.
"An hour, Spinelli."
"An hour?" I said, finding my keys and nearly falling into the door. Whatever mask of sobriety I was trying to wear was gone now.
"Have you been drinking?" TJ asked, holding onto my arm to steady me.
"Yes, TJ, I was at a big kid's party," I said. I was being rude, I know, but I was angry.
"Let me help you, Spin," he said, opening the door for me.
"Go home. You opened the door for me. Thanks. I bet Ashley A. is waiting for you at your house."
"It's past 2:00am. You know that girl doesn't have the time to wait around that long," he said, smiling at me.
I started laughing, and then caught myself. "Please, TJ, go home. I can do this," I said, walking towards the stairs and falling on my first step.
"It looks like you can't," he said. I was sure I could detect a bit of smugness in his voice.
"Just go home!" I nearly screeched. "Haven't you hurt me enough?"
His eyes look wounded. "I hadn't realized I'd hurt you at all."
I saw what I was doing but I couldn't stop myself. "Really? Really, TJ Detweiler? You didn't see what you were doing?" My anger felt like barbed wire against my heart. "I'm going to bed, asshole." I turned to the stairs and again stumbled.
"You don't mean that," he said, catching me. His voice grew serious, "I'm going to help you now, Spinelli." He guided me up the stairs and into the bathroom. "Do you need to wash your face or something? I'll give you a minute." He closed the door. A few minutes later, he opened it and found me sitting on the sink sounter.
"Come on," he said, lacing his arm around my back.
"You don't need to do this," I protested.
"Yes, I do," he said resolutely.
He guided me to my bedroom and laid me down on my bed. He sat on the floor next to me.
"You don't have to do that," I said.
"I just told you," he said, almost impatiently. "Yes, I do."
"I meant sit down there. You can sit up here if you'd like."
"Oh," he mumbled. He stood up and sat next to me. I curled around him and before I passed out I murmured a thank you, and I couldn't be sure but I thought I felt him stoking my hair, some pressure against my forehead, and then blackness.
