“It’s a nice place,” I said, admiring it. “Your parents don’t mind that you’re having a party?”
“Well, they’re out of town for tonight,” he admitted, looking around. “But they’re used to there being huge parties. My uncle Beau used to have these big blowouts every spring, and people from all over the country would come.”
My eyes widened. “Wow. And I thought this party was big.”
“Yeah.” He leaned closer to me then. “It’s kind of noisy down here. Why don’t we go someplace quieter so we can talk?”
I’d been taking a drink from my Pepsi, and I had to put my hand over my mouth when I started laughing.
“What?” Gabe straightened up, a confused expression on his face.
“I didn’t know people actually used that line.” I wiped at the soda from my mouth and smirked up at him. “Does it usually work?”
“Sometimes, yeah.” He nodded. “So?”
“So what?” I asked.
“So I do want to talk to you.” He stared down at me, a smile playing on his lips, but his eyes were hopeful. “And it is awfully loud down here. Will you go someplace quieter to talk? I promise I won’t try anything else.” He paused. “Not unless you want me to.”
I looked up at him and considered my options. I could leave this party and walk back to my trailer, where my mother and Blossom would already be asleep, and I’d either finish my V. C. Andrews novel or go to sleep myself.
Or I could stay here at this party and talk to this guy with bedroom eyes. Maybe he’d try to kiss me, and if he was nice enough, I might even let him. Or not, but the option of a real kiss was almost always better than a night in bed with a book.
“Okay,” I said finally. “Let’s go someplace quiet.”
“Excellent.” He grinned.
3. arcana
“Your bedroom?” I asked with a cocked eyebrow. “Really?”
Gabe stood in the doorway with a look of exaggerated innocence. He’d flicked on the light and gestured back to the room behind him.
“It’s just quiet. That’s it,” he assured me. “And there’s plenty of room. So you don’t even have to sit anywhere near me.”
I leaned forward, peering into his room, surprised by how spacious it was. It was probably bigger than my whole trailer, but I would never tell him that. His unmade bed had to be at least twice the size of the narrow twin mattress I slept on every night.
A small TV with a Nintendo hooked up to it sat on a dresser, and a beanbag chair sat in front of it. Band posters covered the walls, mostly for INXS and The Smiths, but there was one of a scantily clad Madonna. The stereo in the corner was buried underneath cassette tapes and records.
Dirty clothes were overflowing from a hamper. Otherwise, it looked fairly clean for a teenage guy’s room. Or at least compared to the guys’ rooms I’d seen.
“What do you say?” Gabe asked, leaning on his door with an imploring look in his eyes. “Are you in or are you out?”
“Well, I have come this far already.” I sighed dramatically, causing Gabe to laugh a little as I stepped into his room.
“You made the right call.”
He shut the bedroom door behind me, instantly muffling the noise of the party. The voices were almost silent, but the thumping bass from Run-D.M.C. still made it through the walls.
“Why don’t I put on music?” Gabe suggested. “But at a much more reasonable decibel.”
I slipped off my jacket and tossed it on his bed, while he rummaged through his cassettes. “Sure.”
“Do you like U2?” Gabe asked as he adjusted the volume.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I haven’t heard that much by them.”
While he played around with his stereo, I walked around, admiring his room.
The sense of permanence I felt in this room was something I would never feel in my trailer. No faux paneling. No crank-operated skylights that leaked whenever it rained. This was a home, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. Not necessarily of Gabe, but just of being able to have a life like this, of having a home that didn’t change location every week.
“So,” Gabe said when he finished adjusting his stereo, and music played softly.
I stood at the far wall and looked back at him over my shoulder.
His mouth was open slightly, and he stared at me with the strangest expression on his face. I waited a moment for him to say something, but when he didn’t, I began to feel self-conscious and rubbed at my arms left bare from my sleeveless lace top.
“What?” I asked finally.
“Nothing.” An embarrassed smile broke out on his face, and he shook his head.
I sat down on the bed, and he waited a beat before sitting beside me. “Have you lived here a long time?”
“Not really. I was actually born here, but we moved away for a while. We just came back this past summer.” He motioned around us. “This is actually the family home, like, my grandparents owned it, and their parents before them, and on and on.”
“I thought I hadn’t detected a Southern accent,” I commented.