College Ruled

twenty-one

| 21 |
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I SPEND the first hour measuring my sobriety by touch.

        Grayson's, to be specific.

        Two drinks in and I still freeze up when his hand climbs my spine. When he trails loose, delicate fingertips all the way up to my shoulders. Four drinks in and I find myself initiating touch—draping myself over him when I come back to our booth with a fresh drink, wrapping his hand around my waist when I think there's too much space between us, whispering unimportant things (mostly about how much I need to pee) in his ear when I notice Andy watching us.

      I spend the second hour measuring my sobriety by the amount of violent thoughts passing through my head.

      "Can you imagine how much fun the three of us could have had if this Emmy was around a few years ago?"

      Thirty minutes ago, I would have had to grind my teeth into dust to stop myself from scowling at the innocent smile Andy thrusts over the three empty sugar-coated, fruit-smudged glasses in front of her. I would have imagined jumping across the table and pulling her hair. Snapping at her to keep my name out of her mouth.

      Now, I just take another sip of my Long Island iced tea and smile. She's right after all, I suppose. I'm sure she's not the only one of Theo's friends who felt like I was holding him back.

But there were versions of him they didn't know. The version that would make me pancakes every year on my birthday—burnt on one side, undercooked on the other, and always formed into whatever lopsided, run together number I was turning that year. The Theo that would spend his spring breaks tucked into his beach house with his sister and his mom. Sticking together puzzles and drinking hot chocolate even in the sticky heat of March.

Or the one that would go out with his team just to turn in early so he could show up to my dorm with Chinese takeout in his hand and an I missed you on his lips.

I glance at Theo now, smushed up against Andy, sixth glass of water nearly drained.

He's doing what he did at Gabby's—sinking into himself. I never noticed it when we dated. How he could disappear without even trying, letting you see only enough to keep you from asking where he was. What he was thinking.

I've learned it's a skill he perfected years ago. Probably before I even knew him.

There were so many versions of him I didn't know, either.

          "Like, seriously, Gray." Andy blows out a humorous breath. "What the hell have you done to her? Because I swear—and Theo does too, we were just talking about it..." She twists around and swats Theo on the chest, who physically jumps at the contact. "Weren't we literally just talking about this?—that we would have never, ever, thought you'd go for someone like her. I mean—"

"What do you think, Rem?" Grayson drags me closer to his side. I hadn't even realized I'd inched away until I'm reminded of the heat he emits. Of the hardness of his chest as I'm pulled into him. "Why would I go for a girl like you?"

His words are as dramatically laid out as hers, and I have to smother my laugh as I tilt my chin toward him. Our faces are so close our noses nearly touch. His breath tastes like whiskey.

My stomach dips at our proximity, my body annoyingly not catching up to the fact that my mind is currently subdued and thriving.

If I was sober I would have said a simple, you wouldn't. But I'm not. And if his heavy-lidded eyes and lazily curved lips are any indication, he isn't either.