Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I smirk and glance over the crowd. So many faces out there in the noise. Happy ones. Drunk ones. Aloof ones lost in the trance of the music. Peaceful ones, despite all the chaos around them.
I suddenly picture myself out there with Anthony. Are we finally letting loose, the two of us? Or is that some weird dream that’ll never happen? Why am I still thinking about him?
“Do … people from Spruce come to this place often …?”
Trey chuckles at my question. “Not that I know of. If they do, they don’t talk about it,” he adds with a laugh. “I heard Jimmy—one of the mayor’s sons, we should have him over while y’all are here—took his husband here once before they started dating. But they denied it, or I think they did. Marybeth isn’t the most reliable source of tea. You met her the other night, remember? From the clinic? Cody and I came here with Tanner and Billy, like, maybe a year or two ago, and all but one of the bathroom stalls were out of order, and the drinks were terrible, but we still had a nice—”
Trey has a lot more to say, but the DJ changes up the music, and half of his words get swallowed in the growling bassline. I try to follow, but my mind keeps stubbornly bringing me back to that damned Anthony, whose story I’ll probably never be able to figure out from any amount of questions. I keep gazing out at the dance floor, imagining us out there, feeling silly in doing so.
“Should we dance?” asks Trey. When I look at him, he smirks. “I see you eyeing the dance floor. You like the music?”
I laugh him off. “No, no, I was just—”
“Don’t be shy! Not a natural dancer? That makes two of us. Let’s hit the floor anyway and make the most out of our inflated cover charges.”
“No, really, it’s fine if we just …”
You’re so uptight, comes Anthony’s voice in my mind.
And Pete’s, which might be twice as annoying as Anthony’s.
Something inside me snaps. “Yeah, fuck it, let’s go,” I say, and after Trey laughs and downs the rest of his subpar drink, we ditch the bar and dive into the crowd.
I’ll admit, the alcohol sure helps me out, because otherwise, I’d be a two-by-four with zero rhythm out here. As it is, I probably still am, but with the little buzz I’ve got going, I care about it less.
We’re barely out here in the crowd for half a minute when I catch a set of familiar eyes on the far side of the dance floor closer to the DJ. It’s Anthony’s friend, the young woman with bubblegum lips and wide eyes, and she’s staring right back.
She appears as surprised to see me as I am to see her.
After a second, she lifts her fingers and wiggles them at me.
I nod back. She seems to be alone, dancing in a loose pink slip dress with her hair done up and curled tightly. Her makeup may have been nice when she got here, but it’s runny now with a large smudge under her left eye, and her skin is glossy with sweat.
Then apparently she decides to make her way to me, which is a comically difficult endeavor, falling one way or another as she dodges unpredictable arms flailing out and bodies dancing around. Twice she loses her balance and vanishes from sight entirely, only to suddenly pop back into view, blinking rapidly.
She nearly crashes into Trey when she finally arrives, clinging to him to stay upright. “Hi,” she greets me—or us, it isn’t clear.
Anthony might’ve mentioned it, but I can’t remember. “Never got your name,” I say, leaning in.
“Juniper.”
“Nice to meet you. Bridger.”
“Oh, you totally look like one!” she sings, suddenly animated.
“Really? Like a Bridger?”
“I bet you’d build really nice bridges. If you built bridges. You would probably make them really, really sturdy.”
I stifle a laugh. That makes Juniper smile for some reason. “I don’t believe anyone’s told me that before.”
Trey looks pleasantly amused, a big smile on his face as he glances from me to Juniper, probably feeling like a set piece in this strange scene between us, not even here.
“Are you looking for Anthony?” she asks me out of nowhere.
Hearing his name throws me right out of my body, like a can of secrets just spilled out at my feet.
I wonder if he told her what happened last night. Would he? Are the two of them that close, or is our fleeting park bench kiss something he’d hide?
“I wasn’t supposed to drink tonight,” she goes on before I can answer, “but then we decided to stay through Sunday, so I got us adjoining rooms at our usual place. Did you hear that part?” Still gripping Trey’s shoulder tight, she brings her face closer to mine. “Adjoining rooms. He has his own room. Without me. In case that piece of information happens to be important to you.”