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reach out and grab hold of his hand. At one point, I nearly do but get nervous and lean over to scratch my leg instead. Bold Ivy is long gone, replaced by a timid girl bubbling over with giddiness inside, trying to keep her cool over this boy.
    Talking with him has a calming effect on me. I don’t find my mind wandering to my family or graduation, or even what I’m doing next week. It’s refreshing. I’m right here in this moment with Phoenix, and everything is seemingly in its right place. At times, it’s as if his shyness matches my own which explains the need for a wingman … something has rattled his confidence.
    As we gently swing together, I take a long draw from my beer and discern that Phoenix is right. He definitely isn’t an asshole. He’s the kind of guy you’d want to bring home to Mom and Dad. Well, not my mom and dad, but rather nice, normal parents. But the best part is that he can hold my attention, a welcomed change from the roster of guys I’ve hooked up with and tossed away with the light of day.
    “Hey … nice phone case,” he says as I fish my phone from my back pocket. “I had a poster of Edvard Munch’s The Scream in my dorm room freshman year.”
    I smile at his admission and find myself impressed that he recognized not only the painting, but the artist as well. But I don’t tell him that I hung the same poster in my flat in Italy.
    I check the time on my phone and notice it’s nearly two thirty in the morning, much to my surprise. This party is still going strong and Phoenix and I have been talking with the greatest of ease for hours. It’s impossible not to notice the subtle frown on his face when I glance up from my phone. I want to reach out and caress his face, letting him know that I’m not looking for an escape route, but for some reason, I can’t muster the courage to make a pass at him. Under normal circumstances, the alcohol would have pushed me to make my move hours ago.
    But these aren’t normal circumstances.
    Phoenix intently looks at the bottom of his empty cup. “Can I get you anything?”
    “I kind of want to eat some waffles,” I say, playfully nudging him with my shoulder. While he may take that as a request to have breakfast with him in a few hours, I really do legitimately want some kind of breakfast food.
    Phoenix throws his head back in laughter. “I’m fresh out of waffles. And I think you’re a little tipsy,” he says, reaching out to gently touch my cheek with his fingers. His hand is warm and my face instantly melts at his touch. The look in his eyes is so endearing … God, I want to kiss the shit out of him right now.
    Yep, I’m tipsy. Maybe even more than tipsy. There’s no sense in trying to deny it.
    “And you’re cute,” I slur. “But seriously, eating breakfast food could solve all of the world’s problems right now.” It could help me sober up, for starters. I may need to call for a cab sometime soon if my nerves keep getting in the way of this thing with Phoenix. It appears that Rachel left hours ago, and Cassie is probably lost in a sea of drunkenness, and who knows where things with Phoenix will end up.
    “All right. Let’s go get me a refill and see if there’s anything to snack on for you.” He extends his elbow my direction as we stand and escorts me into the kitchen. By some divine force, I’m able to walk upright without tripping over my own feet.
    Entering the kitchen, I spot Sully sitting on the countertop with the tan, black-haired girl now perched between his legs like a poodle begging for a treat. His treat. Good grief, desperate much ? For one fleeting moment, I realize that is likely how I’ve looked time and time again. God, how pathetic. I will never be that girl again.
    We scan the kitchen and there is no food in sight. The hell with it … I grab another Jell-O shot, chasing it with the last of my beer. Jell-O is technically a food, right? And more liquid courage is just what I need to get my nerves in check