EDGES Page 7

“I thought you would like him,” Tiffany said, slightly defensive.

  “I do! I just don’t know how much yet.”

  “Well you need to figure it out,” Tiffany said. “It’s been three weeks. That’s long enough to know.”

  “I’m not on a schedule,” Simone said.

  “You can’t break him,” Tiffany said. “Patrick will be pissed at me if you do.”

  “That’s ridiculous. It has nothing to do with Patrick, and I’m not going to break anyone.”

  “I know him,” Tiffany continued. “And I’m telling you he will be pissed that I set you up and then you just diss his boy.”

  “‘Diss his boy’?” Simone laughed. “Look, I’ll do whatever I want and that’s all there is to it. It’s been three weeks. And I’m not ending it, but I won’t be pressured either. If something goes wrong and he’s crushed after three weeks, then I’m sorry but the guy’s a pussy.”

  “Amen,” George said, lifting his cup.

  Tiffany nudged the back of her hand against George’s arm. “I have an idea. You can talk to him. Yeah. Talk to Josh tonight and see if you can find out how much he likes her.”

  George pinched the bridge of his nose. “Guys don’t operate like that. We don’t sit around and ask each other how much we like the girl we’re with.” An idea suddenly struck him. “If you want to really know, he needs to see you with another guy. Maybe even kiss a guy. The more pissed he gets, the more you’ll know how much he really cares.”

  Simone set down her drink, lifted her hands to her mouth, and rubbed her palms together. Finally, she gave a shake of her head. “That’s really manipulative.”

  “Think of it like… Manipulove,” Tiffany chimed, giving George a high-five.

  “I’m not doing it,” Simone said, waving her hands.

  Tiffany pointed at George, struck with an idea. “You could kiss George. Just a long peck on the lips. Nothing weird. Just a peck. Let Josh see and if he goes ballistic then—”

  “Yeah,” George said, cutting in, “if he pounds my face in, we’ll know he really likes you!”

  “Exactly!” Tiffany gleamed.

  They all laughed.

  “We’ll see,” Simone said. “What if he doesn’t do anything?”

  George couldn’t believe they were actually considering following through with it. It was a terrible idea. His heart began to pound with excitement.

  “Then we’ll know he’s only lukewarm. And you can move forward with him, not feeling pressured.”

  Simone shook her head again. “Yeah, because I want to know if a guy is lukewarm on me.”

  “Just do it,” Tiffany urged. She then looked to George. “Is that okay with you, George?’

  “Uh…”

  “C’mon!” said Tiffany. “What, you don’t want to plant a smooch on this beauty?”

  “Fine,” he said, giving in, playing it up like he was the one sacrificing.

  For a long moment, he and Simone stared at each other, her blue eyes tight with trepidation.

  She was probably playing out scenarios in her mind, but he was playing out exactly how happy it would make him to be able to kiss her, even if he was only taking part in some playful hijinks. Looking at her across the table, George got lost in how beautiful she was, what he’d considered for years to be as close as you could come to feminine perfection. Her and Tiffany both. She couldn’t see it, of course, but his soul was dancing.

  Simone

  TIFFANY’S HUGE SILVER TOYOTA SEQUOIA was parked in a dimly-lit parking lot, the six of them in it, passing a pint of fireball whiskey around. Sitting in the front passenger seat, Simone took a small sip, enjoyed the candy burn, took a second, larger swig, then passed the bottle back to Ariel, their shorter, slightly chubby friend with dirty blonde hair, sitting between Josh and Patrick. And so it went, all the way into the back, where George sat alone.

  “Try not to catfish that shit this time,” Patrick told him.

  “I can try,” George replied with a laugh. “I have big lips though.”

  Josh had his arm draped lightly across the back of the seat. Ariel’s head leaned against it slightly. Simone had noticed it when she turned to pass the bottle back, but she didn’t let it bother her. It took a whole hell of a lot to draw jealousy out of her, or at least she prided herself on never showing when it did. Appearances.

  When the bottle came back to Patrick, he reached up and gently pressed it against Simone’s shoulder, offering her the next drink before taking some for himself. She looked at him, saw the way he was smiling warmly at her like it was only the two of them in the car, and took it from him.

  It was those tiny things that made it impossible to not care about him. Almost once a week, just when she thought he couldn’t get any more narcissistic, cold, or shallow, he would out of the blue show some simple kindness to her. Sometimes it was a drawn out, friendly look across the table that showed her that she was on his mind, or occasionally, if she was having a hard day, he would come up behind her while she was sitting down and gently massage her neck and whisper funny, stupid jokes in her ear. Or even a few times, knowing she wasn’t the best student, he came into her room and helped her with some homework. He’d sit down with her, wouldn’t hit on her, wouldn’t tease her, would just be friendly and help her understand the problem simply because he wanted to help her get through it.

  He spent time on her when he didn’t have to. Even when they were most fed up with each other, these acts were a glimmer—that behind it all, he really cared about her.

  Turning back around in her seat, holding the bottle, Simone reminded herself that it was a lie to hope for such a thing. That it was likely all part of his game to con her into loving him.

  She drank from the bottle.

  “You passed me,” Tiffany said.

  Patrick reached forward and set a hand on Tiffany’s shoulder. “Babe, you’re driving later. Gotta take it easy.”

  Simone looked across at Tiffany, sitting behind the wheel. She and Patrick hadn’t spoken for much of the night. There was something off, especially in the subtly uninterested ring in Patrick’s voice.

  Simone swigged one more time. It was enough to make her feel comfortably hazy as she held the bottle in her lap. Tiffany put on some dance music, making the Sequoia thump with bass.

  Just as Simone was about to take another drink, Josh leaned forward, close enough for her to feel his warm breath on her ear. “Will you shotgun it to me?”

  She laughed. “I don’t think so.”

  He snatched the bottle from her with cobra-quickness. “Then I guess you lose your privileges.”

  She twisted in her seat. “Give it back, punk.” His playfulness made her forget all the sad thoughts she’d been ruminating over.

  He smiled, took the bottle to his lips and sipped carefully, filling his mouth with a precise amount of liquid. He puckered his lips and reached for the back of her head. Simone squirmed and gave a whimsical laugh.

  “Not in my car, guys,” Tiffany whined.

  It was too late. The whole car sat in silence as their mouths met. Josh forced the warm whiskey into her mouth and the burn persisted as she had to carefully manipulate her lips to receive it. A few drops ran down her chin. A few drops splashed on the console.

  “That’s how you take a shot,” Ariel said, clapping her hands.

  Simone swallowed it all and pulled away. Her lips tingled and the liquid cascaded down into her stomach. Josh pulled away with a grin on his face, brushing back his light brown hair, then held up the bottle. “Now who wants to be next?”

  “Who else wants the herp?” Patrick chided, joking.

  Ariel raised a hand. “Ooo, me, me.”

  Simone looked at Josh. He lifted an eyebrow suggestively, as if to say, You think I should?

  She lifted an eyebrow right back that said, Suit yourself.

  Josh sipped the pint bottle carefully once more, drawing the right amount of tawny whiskey into his mouth, ran his hand up the side of Ariel�
�s face and clasped onto the back of her head. The girl’s eyes fired open wide, like she couldn’t believe he was pushing his way into her personal space, that he was actually doing it.

  Simone titled her head, noticing that Ariel, her friend, feigned shock but didn’t even slightly turn her mouth away from his.

  An inch from their lips meeting, Josh dodged his head away, diverting at the last moment, and released her. He tilted his head back, and his Adam’s apple clicked, pushing the liquor down his throat.

  “Ha-ha, you were scared,” he taunted, pointing at Ariel, breathing out hot wafts of cinnamon breath.

  “I don’t want your lips on me,” she replied.

  The girl was a terrible liar. Simone glared at her. “You didn’t turn away.”

  Patrick slapped his thighs. “All right, all right. Let’s head to the bar before feelings get hurt.”

  Josh handed him the bottle. Patrick took it and then handed it right to Ariel to finish it off. Ariel’s eyes danced around nervously, and she wouldn’t even look at Simone. Everyone in the car sensed the shame coming off the girl. Ariel gulped down that last inch of tawny liquid, killing it.

  They walked as a group down from the parking lot on 2nd and 8th to a bar located on ground level of the historic Strater Hotel on Main, a hotel built in the late 1800s. The otherwise warm night carried a chilly breeze that caused Simone to lean into Josh as they walked arm in arm.

  “You feeling okay?” Josh asked her.

  “I feel fine.”

  “Buzzed?”

  “Meh,” she said.

  “Cold?”

  “I’m okay.”

  He smiled. “Let’s get some wine at the bar.”

  “Wine?”

  “Yeah, I was thinking we could get a bottle and share it. Just us two. Make a night of it. What do you think?”

  She hesitated. There was something possessed in his eyes, in the way he looked at her, like he had some sort of plan he hadn’t disclosed. But still, she agreed. “Whiskey and wine. Sounds like the beginning of the end.”

  “If the end leads us to my bed, then I’m okay with it.”

  “Even if I’m puking in your bed?”

  “You would never,” he said.

  She poked him in the chest. “Don’t presume anything, mister. We have a lot to learn about each other. Like how you almost kissed my friend back there.”

  “You know I wouldn’t have.”

  It was a moment for her to take pause. “What’s with you tonight? Something’s wrong.”

  “Everything’s right,” he replied, grinning sheepishly. They walked on until they reached the bar.

  Inside the packed hotel bar, which had a charm only found in the Old West, Patrick put his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “You get the drinks, I’ll get the table.”

  He gave Josh a long wink which Simone found too obvious. Patrick whistled and led Tiffany, George, and Ariel away to look for a table. Gussied up bar-staff girls in purple corsets with feathers in their hair weaved through the throng, working frantically to get drinks onto tables.

  Josh took Simone’s hand and led her to a gap between two fat, older men leaning over on the bar. Something was definitely amiss, she could sense it. He was usually so careful and thoughtful—sometimes to a dizzying degree—around her, even when he was buzzed. But tonight he was leading her around with almost no hesitation. Josh hollered at the bartender for a bottle of wine. She rolled her eyes and huffed but went off to get it anyway.

  Simone saw that Patrick had indeed commandeered a table and was watching her from afar, staring back across the sea of people. Something was about to happen, she could tell he was waiting for it, wanted to witness it—whatever it was.

  Josh grabbed the bottle from the bartender. Paid cash. Poured two glasses to half full, handed her one, wrapped his arm around her waist, and clinked his glass against hers.

  “What is this?” she asked. “No more show. What are you doing?”

  “Before we sat down I wanted to have a minute with you.”

  “For?”

  His hazel eyes had never looked happier. “To tell you that I think we’re good together. Really good.”

  It was like she’d suddenly developed a kidney stone, sharp pain in her lower back, cold chills swelling like waves through her body. She didn’t want this. Why was he forcing this?

  He saw her displeasure. “Don’t you want to be with me?”

  “I am with you. We’re standing right next to each other.”

  “I know that, Simone. I’m asking, do you see a future for us?”

  There was so much sincerity on his face, it made her want to cry. Because she wished she could be right there with him, but she wasn’t, deep down.

  “Possibly,” she replied. Ugh. That was bad.

  His head slumped for only a moment and then raised back up. “I don’t want to force you to answer right now.”

  “Really? ‘Cause I feel like that’s what you’re doing.” She combed her dark hair back behind her ear with one sweep of her finger.

  His hand suddenly slid off her waist. “I feel like I know everything I need to know about you.”

  She shook her head. “We barely know each other. I don’t know how you can think that.”

  “Have I done something wrong? I thought everything was all good.”

  “Everything is all good. And I just want to keep it that way. That’s all.”

  He went silent and looked visibly hurt.

  “Josh, listen, I just… you need to know…” she felt the correct, gentle words that needed to be said brushing her tongue, but ultimately she couldn’t get them out. “I have trouble committing, I guess.”

  “So don’t commit. Just tell me you like me.”

  “I definitely like you.”

  “Good, because I like you a lot. I just want to know that you won’t be with anyone else. I want to at least have that established between us.”

  She set the wine down on the bar hard enough that the stem of the glass made a clack noise. “I don’t think that’s fair after only a few weeks.”

  “It seems fair to me,” he told her.

  “Well, it’s not. Summer’s coming up, and I don’t know if I’m even going to stay in town.”

  “Patrick told me that you told Tiffany you were definitely staying.”

  She took a slow, deep breath. “Listen, I appreciate—”

  He shook his head and his hair swayed. “You appreciate? Please don’t start a sentence like that. If you still want to be able to see other people while you’re with me, it must mean that you don’t value this all that much. Am I wrong?”

  “Yes, you’re wrong.” She wasn’t sure if he was totally wrong. “I just turned twenty-one like four months ago. I want to have fun. That’s all.”

  “Have you fucked anyone else?”

  “What? No!” She couldn’t believe the words passed his lips. She looked at the people around them to make sure no one was watching their exchange.

  “Then what’s the issue?”

  “The issue is,” she said, “that we’ve only been hooking up for a few weeks and already you’re clinging to me like I’m a life raft.”

  His mouth zipped shut, the pain written in his eyes. He took the bottle and his glass, turned, and made for the table without another word.

  “Josh!”

  It was too late. Her heart drummed against her ribcage at the damage of what she’d said, but along with it, in equal measure, there was a faint sense of relief, like she’d loosened a noose that had been strangling her. She breathed in the air that came with space.

  She drank the glass of wine all at once. One of the sloppy-dressed old men turned his head toward her and watched it go down with awe. He’d heard everything.

  Simone looked at him. “Don’t even fucking say anything.”

  He ripped his eyes away and focused on his drink.

  God damned men. She flagged the bartender and ordered a shot of whiskey.

  ***


  The night sped along like a hurried, foggy dream. They moved all around Main Street, getting drinks at one bar and then more at the next and so on, until they were all drunk.

  But while the others enjoyed themselves, Simone only pretended. Usually the happy drunk, she couldn’t help but feel like she needed to just go home to get away from Josh and the black cloud that now hung over the two of them.

  Ariel was rapidly sliding into more gregarious and scandalous behavior as the drinks fell. Simone watched at the second bar, a martini lounge, as Ariel subtly rubbed her hand across Josh’s back while they leant up against the bar, talking closely. Knowing Josh, he was probably pouring his heart out to her about how disappointed and hurt he was. It made Simone angry more than jealous. They weren’t best friends, her and Ariel, but they were close enough not to do that.

  Josh had finished the whole bottle of wine himself at the Strater, so Simone couldn’t hold it against him too much that he couldn’t pick up on Ariel’s opportunistic advances, but she still wished he would get away from her.

  At the next bar, a brewery, Ariel was kissing his cheek, running her fingers through his hair, and hugging him in plain view of everyone else. Simone watched from a distance the whole time.

  As for her and Josh, they hadn’t shared a single word since the Strater.

  Their final stop of the night was at a subterranean bar with loud music, dancing, and the whole show that came with it. Simone had stayed close to Tiffany and Patrick the whole night to try to prevent anything dramatic from happening, but there was a problem: George.

  He came up beside Simone at the bar just off the dance floor. She was standing with Tiffany and Patrick as his hand inched across her mid-back until it had wrapped completely around and his fingertips brushed the padding of her bra. She held both arms straight down in front of her rigidly, rods of awkwardness extending through her bones.

  Either he didn’t have the social tact to realize that their arrangement to kiss each other in front of Josh was now just cavalier and cruel, or he was too drunk to stop himself.

  She had worried about George moving to Durango all along. She suspected what his intentions were when his eyes kept lingering on her. For the last several years it was clear that there was something growing deep in him, lying dormant under his glossy niceness. Never had a guy just wanted to be her loyal friend. Never.