Page 17 of Shamed
“Uh, n-nothing. Nothing is wrong.” I clear my throat, an uncomfortable breathy laugh coming out. “Sorry.”
“Didn’t seem like nothin’.” He lingers close, as if he’s going to touch me again, maybe feel my forehead or something.
“It’s fine.” Jersey steps between us, virtually shooing him away. “You can go ahead.”
Embarrassment has my cheeks feeling hot. Sure, it was a little presumptuous and overly friendly of him to put his arm around me, but I’m sure he meant nothing by it. Then I react likethat.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Yes, thank you. We’ll be inside in a second.” Once he’s walked away, Jersey turns to face me, placing both hands on my shoulders. “What happened?”
Puffing out my cheeks, I give a little head shake. “I don’t know. He touched me and I just . . . froze. Suddenly, I was there again.” Lips pursed, her gaze roams over my face, simultaneously concerned and puzzled as to what to do with me. “Maybe I should just go home. Then you guys don’t have to worry about me.”
Her face falls along with her hands. “I don’t want you to leave.”
My insides twist. I hate that she feels this responsibility toward me. But I also hate that I feel so conflicted. If I go, she’ll be upset, but if I stay, I’ll feel like a burden—like someone who needs babysitting. That’s all I’ve felt like lately.
“We don’t have to stayfor long.”
The pleading in her eyes is what does me in. She’s been so careful and accommodating to me these past months. Ishouldbe able to handle one night of hanging out with a few people.
And I did say I’d fake it for her and Marni tonight, didn’t I?
Pasting what I’m sure is an awful smile on my face, I loop my arm through hers and turn her toward the building. “Okay. Let’s go inside.”
With an excited squeal from Jersey, we walk through the entrance and join the others in the foyer, then ride the elevator up to the third floor.
I avoid eye contact with Kyle, though he seems to have already switched his interest to Marni, probably deciding I was more trouble than an easy lay.
As soon as the elevator doors open, Marni and the three guys rush out ahead of us and head straight for the apartment, while Jersey and I move at a steadier, slower pace.
I can already hear it from here in the hall: the music, the people, the bass that’s thumping in time with my pulse as we approach.
My suspicion that this is no “small gathering” is confirmed when we walk through the door into a full-blown party. Bodies in costumes fill the space. Music blasts from the speakers. Flashing lights. Halloween decorations everywhere. And the air is thick with sweat and the smell of alcohol.
My shoulders curl forward and the back of my neck prickles, moisture gathering along my hairline, possibly from my body preparing for flight.
I turn to Jersey, finding her eyes and mouth rounded in surprise as well, like she wasn’t expectingthis, either. At least I know she didn’t lie to me about it.
But where my eyes are round and filled with apprehension, hers are alight with interest. Regardless of anything, this is her scene. This is fun for her.
It used to be fun for me, too . . .
A smile starts tugging at the corners of her lips, but when she meets my eyes, it switches directions, making a concerned pout instead.
Fake it, I tell myself.
Jersey opens her mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Matt—only half-dressed—appears from the crowd and lifts her by the waist, slinging her over his shoulder. She screams and laughs, half-heartedly hitting his backside and telling him to put her down.
They’ve been dating sincethat night, and I’m happy for her, I really am. But his presence means I most likely won’t see much of her tonight.
“Hey, Jen!” Matt yells over the music, but he doesn’t stick around for a reply. With a quick spin, he carries Jersey back the way he came, her body still folded over his shoulder.
She lifts her head and our eyes meet, hers filled with an apology because she’s leaving me here, standing just inside the front door. And then they disappear through a group of dancing partygoers.
Circling my arms around my body, I run my gaze around the room, my teeth scraping across my lower lip. I recognize a few faces here and there, but the majority are unknown, and some are wearing masks so I can’t tell who it is.
What am I supposed to do now? I don’t want to dance. I’m not going to drink. So why am I even here?
