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I had forgotten to thank him. I
quickly dried my hands and opened the door, expecting to see him,
but he wasn’t there anymore. He must have gotten tired of waiting
and gone in search of another bathroom. By the size of this house,
there had to be at least five or six.
    As I squeezed my way back to the living
room, I spotted Robin over by the bar, sitting on a stool and
talking to Devon and, you guessed it, the cute boy from the
bathroom line. My heart did this weird fluttery thing and I slowed
my pace, which wasn’t difficult considering people were cutting in
front of me every five seconds.
    “Taylor!” Robin called, waving her arm above
her head. “Over here!”
    I shouldered my way through the bodies to
get to them. The music was deafening now and people seemed to be
getting drunker with each passing minute, including my friend, who
flung her arms around me as soon as she could reach me and breathed
wetly in my ear, “Just in time.”
    In time for what, I didn’t know and didn’t
even want to guess.
    As I looked on in amazement, Robin threaded
her arm through the hot guy’s arm, and then clutched my shoulder
with her free hand. “This is my friend, Taylor Brogan,” she said,
swinging her other arm over my shoulders and pushing me into a
sweaty, chubby guy who was wedged somewhere behind me. “The girl
I’ve been telling you about for, like, months now. She’s finally single.”
    I wondered if one could actually die from
humiliation. The guy smiled at me, feeling my pain. My forehead
felt damp with sweat and I knew my eyeliner had probably
smeared.
    “Taylor,” Robin went on, “this is Michael
Hurst. He’s single too.”
    I found that hard to believe. His type
usually had at least three girlfriends and a few others on a
string, hoping.
    “I thought you guys should meet,” Robin
finished, and then leaned over to whisper in my ear, “He’s perfect
for you. Trust me.”
    I found that even harder to believe. His
type was better suited to beautiful girls…girls like Robin. Not
short girls with untamable hair who couldn’t go two hours without
needing to pee.
    “Hi,” he—Michael—said to me.
    “Hi.” I disentangled myself from Robin’s
clammy arm. “Hey, thanks for before.”
    Robin had been preparing to mix a drink at
the bar but looked up when I said that. “Huh? You guys met already?
See? I knew it.” She pointed the vodka bottle at us. “Destiny.”
    I felt like kicking her. Instead I shot her
a dirty look, which she ignored. She went back to her drink,
turning away to presumably give me a chance to talk to Michael.
However, if talking was what she’d intended for us to do, then this
was certainly the wrong place for it. The music and noise would
make it impossible for either of us to use a tone below screaming.
But Michael was looking at me, expectant. My heart thumped in my
chest, and all of a sudden I felt like I was in an elevator that
was stuck between two floors.
    “I think I need some air,” I said. The heat,
the noise, the vodka…it was all too much. Michael didn’t catch my
words so he leaned in close to hear me better. When he did I could
smell shampoo and shaving cream and the intoxicating scent of boy
and felt like I was about to faint dead away. “Air,” I
squeaked.
    “Are you okay?” he asked, his brow creasing
in concern. When I didn’t answer, he put down his beer and led me
over to the basement door and the wonderful, blessed fresh air. We
walked past all the smokers and down the driveway toward the road.
I closed my eyes and breathed, in and out, in and out, until my
head began to clear.
    “Thanks,” I said. “Again.”
    He leaned against a black Jeep.
“Better?”
    “Much.” This was far more
embarrassing than my father overhearing me talking about my
breasts.
    The breeze had turned chilly, so I pulled my
sweatshirt on. I planned to wait out here for Lynn, who was due to
pick Robin and me up in about forty-five minutes. Michael didn’t
have to babysit me