My Favourite Part

53(b): good to know

Scott Kellerman

"Scott!"

 When she sees me, Evangeline hops to her feet, and my entire heart melts when my eyes are drawn to what's on them: pink ankle socks, spotted with little white stars.

She rushes towards me on the tips of her toes, but misjudges the distance between us, or the slipperiness of her socks, and almost start to slip about on the red oak floor. She panics slightly, and lets out a yelp as she sticks her arms out to steady herself on the first thing she can reach... Me. She hurtles across the smooth floor right into my outstretched hands, grabbing hold of my biceps when I catch her by the waist. Well, this isn't the reception I expected...

She lets out a blithe laugh, but her cheeks colour up anyway, and I immediately want to hug her for instantly dissipating any face-to-face awkwardness between us – either her or the guy who created whatever alcoholic beverage made her so carefree. Preferably her.

"Déjà vu," I smirk, remembering when I saw her almost trip up at Ascot. "I think your balance needs some work, Evangeline."

She laughs again, letting out a sound so merry and musical that I don't even mind when she steps out of my grasp.

"I didn't know you were coming tonight!" She shouts over the music. "Well, I did, but I only found out a couple of hours ago, but then I didn't see you, so I thought maybe you changed your mind, but now you're here! Hi!"

I blink briefly, trying to focus on the actual words she's said, and not on the fact that we're finally talking face-to-face, or on her soft, short, floral dress that's clinging to her svelte waist and then to curve of her hips, and leaving her smooth, milky shoulders exposed in the nightlight, and the fact that she was in my hands and-

"Yeah," I shout back, enjoying how close we have to be to hear each other over Post Malone, "we got a bit lost, but we made it in the end. It's a good party."

"Aw, you think so?" She beams, and up close, her carefree smile's even brighter. "We spent forever on the decorations, and the music, and then forever and a day on hair and outfits and all that."

She touches a hand to her head self-consciously, smoothing down the curly strays, although I wish she wouldn't.

"Have you done something with your hair?" I ask, like I didn't notice the difference the second I saw her. "Like, something different?"

"Yeah! Well, not really – I just never have it up. I feel like it makes my ears look fat. Sorry, I don't know why I said that."

She laughs, looking down to play with the swirly straw in her drink, and I laugh too because she's already beyond adorable sober, and this is almost too much to handle.

"I like your hair," I say, smiling before adding, "and your ears."

And you, I want to say. But 'friends' don't say that, so I stick with hair and ears.

"Well, thank you," she curtsies playfully, hiccupping on her way back up and making us both laugh again.

"Angie! It's almost your go!" Someone calls from the circle.

"M'kay, one sec!" She turns back to me with a gasp. "You should come play! We're playing Never Have I Ever Judged a Book, or something."

I raise a quizzical brow as I follow her. "Or something?"

"Mhm. I think the way it works is that someone says a 'never have I ever', and then we pick two people by spinning the bottle two times. Then, they have to drink if they think the other person has done the thing before.