Page 61 of All That We Are Together

“You’ve met a bunch of guys, then…”

“Quite a few. Isn’t that what you wanted, Axel?” She twisted around without letting go of my hand.

I pulled her in, and my hands slid from her waist to her hips, which were swaying with the music. Her eyes stared into me beneath their thick lashes, and I wanted to hold on to that look forever.

“What was it you said, exactly? I’m trying to remember…” She brought a finger to her lips.

“Don’t bother, I remember perfectly.”

“What else do you want to know, then?”

“Whatever.”

We went on dancing as though there was no one else around. Maybe the alcohol was speaking for her, but despite the words of thanks from an hour before, at that moment, I sensed she was enraged. And resentful. And disappointed.

“You don’t remember anything interesting about them?”

“About the guys I was with?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“Did you enjoy them?” I held her tighter. I was horny and angry and jealous at the same time.

“Sometimes. With some more than with others.”

I struggled to keep up with the song while I imagined those other hands caressing her and my own voice encouraging her tolive, go out, fuck, when deep down what I wanted was to be the only person who ever touched her.

“Did you always come?”

She squeezed me around the neck.

“Axel, you’re going too far.”

“I thought friends talked about stuff like that.”

“Don’t ruin the night,” she begged.

I didn’t want to, so I closed my mouth and danced and watched her and felt my hair stand on end every time our bodies touched. Leah let herself go, closed her eyes, uninhibited, tranquil. I smiled, knowing that I’d at least managed to keep her from spending a sleepless night in bed. When I realized dawn was just a few hours away, I convinced her it was time to go home.

We returned to the bar to get her sandals.

“They’re gone!” she shouted indignantly.

“Wait, I’ll help you look for them.”

I put mine on and tried to find hers among the barstools we’d been sitting on. But she was right. There wasn’t a trace of them.

“Now what?” she slurred.

“You can walk barefoot. Who cares, babe?”

“Don’t call me that! We’ve got to walk on a dirt road. I’m gonna step on a rock!” She was hilarious, yelling and screaming like that.

“I’ll carry you, come on.”

She followed me toward the boardwalk. When we reached the dirt path, I crouched down and told her to hop on my back.