Under the Lights (20 page)

Royce must be saying something to her I can't hear because she cracks up laughing, unconsciously tightening her grip on my waist and pulling me close. My mouth goes dry, and I grip Josh's shoulders and say, “I need to grab some water.”

“I'll come with—”

“Aww, were you leaving?” Shannah swoops in like she has some crazy radar detector. “Make sure you send my love to Zander.” There's so much insincerity
dripping from her voice I have to walk carefully to make sure I don't slip in it.

“Wait up,” Bri calls, and I do. “Didn't even realize how thirsty I was until I saw you heading to the bar.”

I glance at her, wondering if I'm imagining the extra meaning that seems loaded into that sentence. She's not looking at me, but the quirk of her lips suggests that I'm not.

The adrenaline is back, working its way through my system double-time. My heart thuds against my ribcage as we near the bar, and I force myself to focus on the singular goal of getting water. Thankfully, the bartender practically dives over to us, ignoring everyone else demanding his attention. We get a couple of icy glasses and sip them as we make our way back to our seats.

Neither of us says a word for a couple of minutes, instead watching the guys get down and dirty with the other three girls. I think about Bri laughing at whatever Royce had said, and I wonder again if I have things all wrong.

“You don't actually have to babysit me, you know,” I tell her. “It's cool if you wanna go back and dance with Royce.”

She snorts. “Thanks, but I think I've spent enough of my night being poked in the back by unwanted objects. I'll stick with you, if you don't mind.”

I inexplicably feel a little weight lift off my shoulders, and laugh. It's not like that means anything. It's not like I want it to.

Do I?

“This is probably at least a little more fun than having some sort of ring ceremony with Zander tonight would've been, no?” she asks, plucking an ice chip from her glass and slipping it between her teeth.

“Oh, shut up,” I say, shaking my head.

“You don't want to talk about it?”

“I'd rather talk about nuclear physics. Or Shannah's hair. Anything. Please.”

Those perfect lips curl into a smile around the ice, and then she sucks it into her mouth. I swallow and look away.

It's too late. A hot, buzzing ache is already snaking its way through my body. I try to remember the last time I felt this way, but I know the truth—I never have. I've never
wanted
this badly. I've kissed Liam Holloway and Josh Chester and Zander Wilson—hell, I've hugged Brad Freakin' Pitt—and never have I felt lightning striking me from the inside out the way I do right now, with just Bri's cool breath on my skin.

“Are you down for another shot?”

Her voice is playful in my ear, promising, knowing. My brain is already swirling; one more shot and I'll be unconscious, despite the fact that I haven't had that much to drink. I don't want to be any foggier, though. I don't want to come down off this feeling at all.

I shake my head. I don't have any words other than ones too dangerous to speak aloud. Instead, I simply slide to the end of the banquette, tugging my dress down to cover my thighs, and squeeze her wrist once before getting up and making my way as calmly as possible to the restroom.

My heart is pounding so hard that I'm trembling in my stilettos as I push through the crowd. I have no idea whether she's following me, but I want her to so badly, my skin feels too tight for my body.

And just when I'm sure she won't—that I've misunderstood or misread or
something
—there's a warmth at my back, a “hey” holding a hint of question.

I barely even glance around to make sure no one's watching before I swing open the door to the bathroom and yank her inside.

“Jesus, Park.” She takes a deep, slow breath. “What are we doing here?” Her voice is faint, and I almost miss it over the blood rushing through my ears. She's backed up against the door, and she grips the knob like she wants a way out. Only she doesn't take it.

“Go if you want to,” I say, my voice equally quiet. I can't muster any more than that. I'm straining too hard to keep my body still, to keep from doing something I shouldn't.

“I don't.” Her thumb presses the lock on the knob, but she continues to grasp it. “You know I don't.”

“I don't know anything.” My pulse is racing and my palms are sweating and I truly don't know—how this is happening or what comes next or any of it. “I just…” I can't say it. I can't. But I want it. I do. “Help me,” I whisper.

Soft hands cup the nape of my neck and then her lips are on mine, or my lips are on hers. She made the move but somehow I'm the one in control, pushing her up against the door, gripping her wrists. Beneath me, she's warm and pliable, and when she parts her lips, I don't hesitate for a second to accept the invitation.

She tastes like vodka and lip gloss, sweet with the tiniest bit of bitterness, and it's perfect. All of it. I know it should be weird, and I should
feel
weird, but I just feel…good. And so does she. Her lips are soft and her skin is smooth and she is one hundred percent girl, but there is no one on earth I'd rather be kissing.

And I really do love her mouth.

My hands slide from her wrists to her hips, thumbs seeking out the soft skin just above the waistband of her jeans. Her fingers clutch at the stretchy fabric of
my dress as she pulls me closer. It's sliding dangerously high up my thighs, and I'm not sure if she notices.

I hope she does.

She pulls back, though, just enough to whisper, “What the hell is happening right now?”

Oh God.
“Am I doing it wrong?”

Her laughter is breathless against my lips. “God, no. Not at all. But…you're straight.”

“Actually,” I say, my voice shaky as my fingertips travel higher, “I'm not so sure about that.”

I wait for a jaw drop or a look of shock or
something
, but all I get is a slow grin over her kiss-swollen lips. “I knew it.”

I yank my hands out from under her shirt and step back. “Seriously, Bri?” I drop my voice as low as humanly possible, despite knowing no one can hear us over the pulsing music. “I tell you I like girls and your reaction is to be smug about it?”

“Crap, Van,
no.
” She reaches for my hand, and I let her take it, watching as she intertwines her fingers with mine. “I just…hoped. I've
been
hoping, ever since we met at Josh's party. I've imagined this so many times that at some point it just became impossible to imagine it
wouldn't
happen.”

Our hands swing naturally, delicate and girly, indistinguishable except for the darker tone of my skin. “You've pictured this, huh?”

“Nonstop,” she says sheepishly, her black-painted thumbnail tracing an arc over the back of my hand. “You haven't?”

“If I hadn't, we wouldn't be here.”

“Oh, I think we would've ended up here one way or another.” She slips her free hand into my hair and rests her forehead against mine. “But now what?”

“I have no idea,” I admit. “You're the PR pro. And this is a mess.”

“It is, isn't it?” She glances back at the door. “We probably don't have much longer in here, and we can't exactly go back to my place, or to yours. Even a hotel's out of the question.”

I've never wanted to kick myself so hard for the fact that I still live with my parents.

Oh God
—my parents.
What the hell would my mother say if she found out I'd just kissed a girl? If she knew I
like
one? I'm a big enough disappointment to her now, choosing my acting career over college and a traditional career path. She's never really voiced her thoughts much about my relationships, but she also hasn't taken them seriously. Pretty sure that, in her mind, I'm still gonna get over all of this and settle down with a nice Korean boy someday.

I look down at where Bri's thumbnail is still caressing my hand, and a little shiver racks my body.

No, I'm pretty sure I won't be getting over this soon.

“You okay?” she whispers, stopping the path of her nail and squeezing my hand instead. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to joke. I know this is a big deal.”

I just nod. I can't say anything else. It is a big deal. I need to talk about it. I
want
to talk about it. But I need to gather my thoughts first, to understand what it all means. All I've really considered is how much I want the girl in my arms right now; I've barely put any thought at all into what it means to be…

Gay.

Holy crap.

Am I gay?

I gulp in a breath of air and step back from Bri, leaning against the sink. I need my own space right now. I need to breathe. I need to think.

Except now that I'm a step back, I'm just staring at her boobs.

I am so, so gay.

“Hey.” She cups my cheek in her palm. “You look like you're gonna be sick. Maybe we should just get you home.”

Except the thought of going home makes me feel even sicker. I can't see my parents right now. My normal go-to escape is sleeping over at Ally's, but even if I wanted to stay there without her—and I'm sure her mom would be more than cool with it—it's too late to call and ask. The idea of staying in a hotel, surrounded by more strangers, nauseates me even more.

“Van?”

I blink up at her. Her eyes look softer than I've ever seen them—with concern, but also, my stomach flips as I realize, with hurt.

Right. Having someone look like she's gonna hurl two seconds after you've made out with her probably isn't the most flattering.

“It's not you,” I blurt instantly. “It's me.”
Oh God. I did not just say that.
But it's obvious from the way her face falls that oh, yes, I did. “Okay, that's
not
what I meant. It's just…a lot.”

“I know.”

I can tell she wants to mean it, but she's wringing her hands, and her eyes won't meet mine. Seeing her in pain, and knowing I'm the one who did that, feels worse than everything else combined. No matter what I'm worried about and how messed up I am, the one thing I know for sure is that I really, really care about her. I can't have her thinking any less.

Sliding my hands into her hair, I pull her mouth to mine for a kiss I hope makes my feelings crystal clear. It takes her a second to relax into it, but only that. As she steals my breath completely, I tell myself that, in the end, this should be what matters—how perfect and right this is—but I've been in this business too long to forget that my life doesn't entirely belong to me. That even the personal decisions I make affect my job and my future. And given how uncertain that future
is
post-
Daylight Falls
, I know this isn't as simple as most people would think it should be.

As I'm sure Bri thinks it should be.

Either way, I know we've been missing for far too long, and I reluctantly pull back. “We have to go,” I say softly, hating doing so because I'm not sure when I'll see her again. Not sure when I'll feel like I
can
.

“Oh, right,” she says sheepishly. She steps to the side so she can check herself out in the mirror, and I let myself watch her readjust that absurdly hot shirt for just a second before I get to work touching up my own dress, hair, and makeup. “I'll go first, I guess. Keep an eye on your phone, and I'll tell you when it's safe to come out.”

I watch in the mirror as she slips out the door, and then I apply another coat of lip gloss to replace the one I just left on her mouth. My hand is shaking like crazy, and it takes three attempts to get it on neatly. I have one eye on my phone the entire time, but it never lights up. I toss the gloss back in my purse and pick up the phone, opening my own text.

I know you're asleep
, I text to Ally,
but I really need to talk. Can you call me when you wake up?

A tiny part of me expects her to respond a few seconds later, as if she'll sense just how badly I need
her, but she doesn't. Instead, my phone lights up with a text from Bri that says,
OK go.

I let myself out of the bathroom and start back for the table, only to see that Josh and Co. have already made themselves comfortable there under the watchful eye of the camera. I don't, however, see Bri anywhere. Then Josh spots me, and I know I can't go looking.

“Hey, where the hell have you been?”

I'm still holding my phone, so I just hold it up with a little wiggle of my hand to imply I was on a phone call and plaster a smile on my face as I join them. “Where'd Bri go?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral as Josh pulls a chair over for me.

“Said to tell you she went home. I gotta say, she's a lot more fun than I thought she'd be.”

Tell me about it
, I think as a dull ache starts forming in my chest at the knowledge that she's gone for the night. “Maybe now you'll stop calling her Mini-Jade?”

He grins. “Probably not.”

The subject turns to what it'd presumably been when I'd shown up—stupid gossip no doubt planted by Chuck and his team—and I return to thinking about where I can possibly go tonight to get some time alone with my thoughts and away from my parents. And then I realize the answer's right next to me. I kick Josh in the ankle, startling him from the conversation he didn't really seem that into anyway.

“Ouch. What the hell?” he mutters at me.

“Can I stay in your guest house tonight?” I ask, taking care to keep my voice out of the range of his mic.

He shrugs. “Sure. No problem.”

Huh. Of all people, Josh Chester is the one to come through in my time of need. Just when I thought this night couldn't get any crazier.