Page 18 of Don't Tell Me How It Ends
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The bell above the dooris still announcing my arrival when Liv’s welcome scream rings out through the packed bar area. She bounces over and her infectious energy draws a little shoulder shimmy from me. The whole display is very on-brand for us, and I immediately feel like an idiot for thinking she was blowing me off.
“Oh my god, Kai!” she squeals into our hug.
Liv’s basically abubblein human form—that airy, flighty,POP! POP!And though on the surface she looks just as delicate, fragile even, that’s never stopped her from finding the light in any room and bending it to her will. But right now, instead of her usual rainbow refraction, she’s a bubble goingPOP!in black leather and lace.
“Oh my god, hi!” I mirror, glancing around the bar to make sure I didn’t miss the costume memo. “What are you wearing?”
I barely get the words out before Liv grabs my hand to drag me through the crowd of mostly familiar faces. Though I’m pretty sure I spot a nose job or two. She leads me down the oh-so-elegantly wood-paneled hallway to the bathroom at the bar’s end.
If it means avoiding small talk with guys who peaked in highschool and the women who love them, I’ll gladly stay in this dingy stall watching Liv pee for the foreseeable future. And we might need that long for me to wrap my head around the story she’s telling.
A few weeks ago, when Liv texted about her drunken graduation night hookup, she’d sounded embarrassed to have chosen the leastLivguy in that particular Lower East Side bar, but like any good confessional, the sanctity of the women’s restroom has revealed a new truth.
Today, to my abject horror, Liv is in love.
“Are we talking about Leather Vest?” I ask, praying it’s anyone but Leather Vest. “Is that why you’re in cosplay tonight?”
Liv follows me out to the sinks. Her blond ponytail bounces innocently in the mirror ahead, but her grip is surprisingly strong when she yanks me back to face her pout.
“Okay. We cannot call him that anymore.” Her green eyes are alight with excitement or hope or one of the other painfully naïve emotions she embodies so easily at the start of every new something with every new somebody.
This is usually the point where I’d warn her that she’s doing it again and remind her that if history has taught us anything, it’s that this feeling, like this relationship, is temporary. But right now, she’s looking at me like a little kid who still believes in Santa Claus.
So, for now, I choose the path of least resistance.
“What’s his name again?” I ask, pulling my phone out to stalk him a little. It’s more than I usually offer at this stage, and my reward for my generosity is watching Liv vibrate out of her skin.
“Travis!” she screams at a decibel that should be criminal.
“Does he have a last name?” I ask at a more reasonable volume. “Or should I just type inTravisto see if Instagram guesses the right one?”
Liv steals my phone to pull up the guitarist formerly known as Leather Vest. I yank my pineapple to the side, clearing the curls from my eyes to stare at the screen. I’m going to need all my senses for this one.
“Liv,” I warn, scrolling through the Marilyn Manson parody before me.Can you even be a parody of a parody?
“Don’t!” she whines. “You have to get to know him.”
“Ihaveto?” I ask, already brainstorming excuses tonot.
Her expressive-ass ponytail bobs with her nodding head.
Fine,I mime, with a dramatic shrug that looks more tortured than I feel. Because, even clad in black leather, Liv makes me feel light. Well, light-er.So it’s no wonder she’s always been able to bend me to her will too.
I missed that. I missed us.
When we open the bathroom door to make our exit down the hall, I’m smacked in the face by the deafening wave of our hometown friends’ hometown conversations, floating around this hometown bar.
A not-so-small part of me wishes I could click my heels three times to be back in that tow truck rerouting us anywhere but here. But after my earlier performance, I might not be welcome. The thought upsets me more than it should. The thought of him, and the way he looked saying my name that last time. I can’t believe I never even asked his name.
I only notice Liv’s come to a stop ahead of me when I slam into her.
“Why do you look like that?” she asks, blocking my path. “What just happened?”
“Nothing,” I say, because itisnothing. “It’s a long story.”
Liv’s silence urges me to tell it anyway, so of course I do.
