Under the Stars

“Can I get a drink first?” I shout to Joshua.

“Sure!” He leads me to the bar, and we face each other. “I’ll get you a Capri Sun.”

“What’s that?”

“Cherry vodka, pomegranate liqueur, limoncello, and sprite.”

My nose wrinkles, but he waggles his eyebrows. “You’ll love it. It’s better than the Dreamcicle shit you were having last time.”

“I didn’t like that one either.”

We stand waiting for the drinks, and Joshua studies me. “I’m not sure what you’re up to, but I like you.”

Pressing my lips together, I nod. “Thanks. I like your hair.”

He grins sheepishly. “I did it for Molly… I mean, oops! Maggie.” Our eyes meet, and he starts to laugh. “It’s okay. A lot of kids around here change their names. Look at Candi. Her name was Gert. I’d have changed it, too. That sounds like a bodily function.”

“Why did you change your hair for Molly?” I ask, trying to stay focused.

He shrugs. “Candi was kind of hard on her.”

“She can take it.” I lift my drink and sip it. It’s not terrible, way less sweet than the neon blue disaster I had before.

“Think she likes me?”

My nose wrinkles, and I search for an answer that won’t make Joshua feel bad. “She doesn’t really talk to me about stuff like that.”

He nods, and his eyes return to the bar. I don’t know if he believes me, but I’ve taken another sip of adult Capri Sun, and I know I have to do this now. Straightening, I lift my drink and step away from the bar.

“I’d better get this over with.”

He waves to me. “I’ll be here.”

He enters a lively discussion with another couple at the bar, and I’m not sure if he knows them or if he’s doing with them what he did with Molly and me—making new friends. Just like that.

Either way, the drink has taken the edge off my nerves, and it enables me to hold my hand the way Mark said. I only feel a little squeamish as I cross the crowded space to where Gavin stands at a back wall, his eyes on the band tuning and tweaking their instruments.

I’m within two feet of him when his blue eyes flicker and land on mine. It’s like a lightning strike, and the rest of the bar disappears. I’m trapped in his sinister gaze, the once-placid expression transforming into a frown as he recognizes me.

My lips part, and I do my best to control my breathing.

Inhale…

Exhale…

Slowly in and out.

No hyperventilating.

“Lara,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

“Gavin.” I lift my chin slightly. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“What about?”

I swallow my fear, still my hand trembles as I hold the neon orange drink at chest height between our bodies. Mark is here…

“Are you afraid?” I manage to sound coy.