Matters of Circumstance (17 page)

Farrah started playing with the hem of her hoodie, debating with herself. She wanted to take it off quite badly. It would be so much cooler without it, she could almost feel the relief already.

Then she froze. What was she thinking? Partially intoxicated or not, had she seriously been considering exposing her wings to all of her peers? Her hands fell empty to her sides. She needed to get outside. At least out there the hoodie would make sense. She couldn’t lose control like that again.

That was when she felt someone begin dancing behind her, hands lightly touching her hips and breath like magma on the back of her neck.

Farrah’s heart could have exploded out of her chest, she was so scared. If this person moved any closer they would be able to feel her wings through her sweater! She had just stopped herself from blowing it, she couldn’t afford to have anyone else ruin things for her.

She started to turn around, but then those hands held her a little more firmly. Just when she really began to freak out that breath came by her ear to say, “It’s okay, it’s me. It’s Neal.”

Her reaction to that was dramatic at best, a warmth that had nothing to do with alcohol gushed down every branch of her bloodstream, made her go lax. Their torsos brushed as the music began to take her over again. After a minute or so she turned her head and said over her shoulder, “I didn’t think you would be here tonight.”

“You weren’t supposed to,” he replied just loud enough for her to hear, which meant that he was basically shouting.

He didn’t react when Farrah put her hands over his. She was just beginning to think that she had done the wrong thing when he pulled her a little closer, causing energy to zing throughout her entire body. It bounced off of her bones, cutting her breath short and making her skin raise and become sensitive. Farrah had never been sexy a day in her life, but for whatever reason she could never be more desirable than she felt in this moment.

“Then what is this supposed to be?” she asked, perhaps a little softer than she should have. Neal might not have been able to hear.

At first he only continued dancing with her, rocking back and forth with his palms very firmly cemented to her hips. Then he surprised her, for he said, “I’m not exactly sober right now, and you were all alone.”

She probably looked like she was going to reveal their secret, too, but she wasn’t going to mention that. “So you thought you’d give me a heart attack and say hello from behind?” she said, making sure that she was looking back enough for him to see that she was teasing.

“Pretty much.”

The music was too loud to keep talking like this, truly, so they just danced. Almost before she knew what she was doing Farrah had her arms in the air, or a steadying hand on the side of his neck, or she was tugging his arms further around her. And she certainly didn’t know where the rocking, rolling and grinding came from, but as she was a little intoxicated, it was fun, she was sexy and Neal wasn’t complaining she didn’t see what the problem was.

After several songs, though, the mass of dancing people was considerably less. They had all either gone somewhere private or to drink and/or smoke some more, and since there were so few dancers now the music was turned down a few notches. At that point Neal said in her ear, “I know I’m not exactly sober and all, but this music still isn’t my cup of tea.”

Farrah smiled, but when she laughed she barely heard herself. “Let’s go somewhere quieter, then,” she said. “I’m thirsty, anyway.”

“I’m down.” And just like that, he was standing next to instead of behind her, and his arms were at his sides again.

They went into the kitchen and got two clean paper cups and filled them with water from the fridge. As the place was empty (where had Michael and Bianca gone, Farrah wondered?) and mostly free of music, they just sat at the table, Farrah at the end and Neal at the corner.

He was smirking. “Just for the record, I had no idea you danced like that.”

“And I thought you said you hated dancing,” she retorted, draining her cup of water much the same way she drained it of beer.

“I did, but I have to say—it was pretty intense back there.” And his smirk became a genuine smile.

Farrah found herself automatically copying the expression even as she asked, “Would that be a good intense or a bad intense?”

“Good intense.” A peculiar expression had entered his captivating blue eyes. She wasn’t sure she wanted to put a name to it right now. “Like I said, I had no idea you danced like that.”

In that moment it occurred to Farrah that maybe she hadn’t been the only one feeling sexy on the impromptu dance floor. It made her proud of herself, because she would have felt like shit if he hadn’t had a good time, too.

That was when she remembered something. “So what else have you been doing, besides keeping my lonely self company?”

Neal gave her a funny look, but replied nonetheless. “Tried playing beer pong, but that didn’t work out so well. Ditto with Wii Sports. I was better off cracking jokes on the sidelines.” Then he let out a sheepish little laugh. “Well, they called me to play when they wanted some comedy relief. I was good for that.”

“Hey, at least you served some purpose.”

“Yeah, it was fun.”

Farrah nodded and glanced down, unsure of what else she could say. “I actually haven’t seen Dalton at all tonight. Have you?”

“Yeah, we were hanging out at beer pong.”

“Nice. I’ve heard he’s pretty good.”

Neal shrugged. “He’s not the best, but I don’t think he can complain.”

There was another silence, and Farrah loathed it. Acting on a crazy impulse, she left her chair and gingerly lowered herself onto his legs, wrapping her arms around his neck and moving their faces close. For some reason, her breath was shallow.

It was probably because of how fast her heart was beating to be this close to him, and the way his ever-compliant self had placed hands on her thigh and waist bracingly. His expression was bemused, however, and that worried her.

“I’m not too heavy, am I?” she asked in a self-conscious whisper when he didn’t volunteer anything.

For a moment their eyes met, and then he pressed his lips to her cheek. “Not even if you had proper marrow,” he said, and after a beat she realized that it was a reference to her hollow bones. Just like him, she didn’t weigh near as much as she used to.

“Okay.” In a sudden rush of earnestness, she dipped her head down (it was so weird, feeling taller) and touched their mouths together. It wasn’t as firm or confident as Neal—it only lasted a split second—but she hoped that it conveyed something of what she was trying to do.

It seemed to, because then his hold on her became an actual hold instead of a brace. “You seem a lot less uptight now,” he murmured.

“I am. I think I needed this,” she said honestly. “And I really owe you an apology for how I’ve been acting.”

Neal tugged her nearer and shook his head a little. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad that you’re back to normal.”

“I’ve been such a bitch. I’m so sorry, Neal.” She tried to convey in her voice just how much she meant that, but somehow it didn’t feel like it had come across the way she hoped.

“You were never bitchy,” he told her. “It was more overwhelmed.”

“I still shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Farrah.” He didn’t need to say more for her to meet his eyes long and hard. “It’s in the past. Let it go.”

She felt like he was letting her off easy, but the look in his eyes told her that he wasn’t going to hear about it anymore, so she reluctantly let it go. After a long staring match she ended it by blinking and asking diffidently, “Did you ever find out what breastsummer meant?”

For a moment he looked like he couldn’t believe what she was asking, but then he let out a small laugh and said, “Yes, actually. A breastsummer is a supporting beam that goes across windows or doorways. Totally weird, right?”

Now it was her turn to laugh, and in that moment everything between them felt completely and utterly comfortable again. “Definitely not what I would call it,” she said. “Was that the weirdest one?”

Their faces had been close throughout this whole conversation, but she felt energy crackling between them when he crossed even that distance. He was a hair’s breadth away from kissing her when he said, “Not unless you want to know what a skeezus is.”

She initially debated with herself about replying at all, but eventually decided to say, “Sounds like the spit that sometimes comes out when people are talking. You know, like,
‘hey, you’ve got a little skeezus on your chin.’ ”

Neal laughed in his throat, smiling charmingly. Affection surged in Farrah’s gut; even with that snaggletooth, he was the handsomest boy in the world. “That sounds strangely appropriate, but no. It’s actually someone who fakes an accent to make fun of accents. Crazy specific, skeezus.”

“You’re not kidding,” she muttered just before their lips met. It wasn’t a cute little peck this time, either. Neal was pliable and warm and welcoming, and even though they weren’t making out she could feel his passion acutely. Farrah’s whole body curled towards him, humming with energy that gathered and rocketed tendrils of electricity through her limbs wherever he touched her. Once again she felt that strange attractiveness, as if she could be the most desirable girl in the world just because Neal thought she was worth this.

Just as her mouth opened he jerked his head back. Then he collected himself and looked into her intently. “No matter what I try to say or do tonight,” he said in a somewhat husky voice. “Please, don’t let me kiss you any farther than that.”

“What? You mean making out?” she asked a little breathlessly, trying to understand. “Or—”

“No, that.” He leaned their foreheads together, the tips of their noses brushing past each other. “It’s not the right time for that yet.”

Suddenly things snapped into perspective. “So that’s what this whole kissing thing is about. You’re waiting for the perfect moment.”

“You probably wouldn’t believe it, ‘cause guys aren’t supposed to think about those things, but it’s more for me than you.” His eyes were closed now, but she didn’t need them to be open to see that it was taking something out of him to admit this.

Once again she was impacted by how dynamic Neal was. He didn’t fit any one stereotype, he was little bits and pieces of them all rolled into one incredible person. If he were any less than he was—any more predictable—then he would not be near as attractive to her.

Yes, physically she was a little frustrated that he had interrupted that last kiss, but emotionally she was okay. Emotionally, he was so important to her that she would support anything he wanted to do. If that meant waiting for what he dubbed The Perfect Moment, then Farrah wouldn’t give in to what her body wanted. She didn’t want to be ignorant and self-centered anymore.

However, she was unable to resist kissing him again, softly, stopping exactly where he had asked. “Then I’m expecting you to tell me when,” she told him.

For a moment Neal looked somewhat insecure, but then he beamed at her like the sun and every seeming sacrifice she thought she was making was totally and completely worth it. “That’s the thing,” he said. “When the time comes, I don’t think I’ll have to.”

When she heard her cell phone ring Farrah nearly had a heart attack. As far as she was concerned it was way too early to be awake, much less calling people. Catching herself right before she rolled off her bed, she groped blindly around on the bedside table for her still-ringing cell phone.

“Hello?” she muttered groggily into the receiver.

“Farrah? Is that you?” That was none other than Neal. And he was disgustingly energetic.

She rolled onto her back and threw her free arm across her eyes. “You’re actually up at this hour? And happy about it?”

“Oh shit, did I wake you or something?”

“Yeah,” she groaned. “Just a little.”

“Hey, I’m sorry about that—but I couldn’t wait. I had to tell you.” There was an appalling amount of excitement in his voice. For the life of her, she could not see why.

Faintly, she registered that it was pouring rain outside her window. Rubbing at her face and clearing the sleep from her throat, she asked, “What is it?”

“I flew.
Farrah, it was incredible. I was about six inches off the ground, and I maintained it. I had to talk to somebody about it, and I would have let you sleep, but my parents are too stoned to understand right now. I flew, Farrah. Flew.”

At first the knowledge didn’t sink in. “That’s really awesome. It was only a matter of time before you—” then it really hit her and she jerked awake and into a sitting position. “What a minute, you
flew?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time. I was doing my wing exercises, you know? Just sort of beating my wings, but I’m strong enough and lightweight enough that I got off the ground,” he said, still as psyched at ever.

“Holy crap, you freaking flew.” She could hardly wrap her mind around it. If Neal could fly…

“Of course, it didn’t last long,” he confessed hastily, but that obviously wasn’t keeping him down. “But I still did it!”

“Holy crap.” No other thought was formulating in her brain. It was so impossible, but Neal wouldn’t make something like this up—and he certainly wouldn’t be able to force this kind of enthusiasm into his voice if he was. “Holy crap…”