Page 89 of Blitz

Her hand is in mine as we walk into the party. Immediately my senses are assaulted by the odor of stale B.O. and pot. The shitty rap music is set to a decibel above deafening. People are packed in everywhere like sardines. Girls are wearing short skirts and impossibly high heels. Guys leer at them.

The track girls are all wearing a combination of leggings or jeans, long-sleeved sweaters, and tall boots. They’re effortlessly casual. I had to ask Greg what to wear to this stupid party—a simple button-down shirt and jeans, a dash of the cologne Jamal got me for Christmas, no tie, no sweater. We hand our coats to the freshman running the coat check and enter the actual party.

“I’ll get you girls some beer,” Micah announces.

I guess that’s my cue to join him. I kiss Mason on the temple and together we shoulder our way through the crowd to the line of kegs in the kitchen. It’s only slightly less crowded in here. I feel like I can’t quite catch my breath. There’s an elephant sitting on my chest.

“So this is Newton,” Micah says as we wait for our turn.

“I guess so.”

He hums. “You really don’t party much.”

“I don’t really see the appeal.” I shrug. “Mason likes this kind of stuff, so I guess I’ll be coming to more of these things now.”

“You don’t drink, you don’t hook up,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, man, but I just don’t see this lasting. You and my sister are too different. Why the fuck won’t you sleep with her?”

“That’s between Mason and me,” I tell him shortly. “I don’t go asking you about your sex life.”

“Come on. That’s my sister. I deserve to—”

“You deserve nothing,” I say, more sharply than I intended. “Our private life is just that—private. I don’t go blabbing about our sex life to anyone who asks. Some things are personal.”

He laughs and claps me on the shoulder, a reaction I didn’t expect. “You’re a good man, Tucker Kingsley.”

“I’m still not good enough for her.”

“On that, I’ll agree with you.” He shakes his head again. “Then again, I don’t think there’s anyone else in the world who is. As long as you make her happy, I won’t stand in your way.”

“How gracious of you,” I say dryly. He doesn’t go here. He doesn’t see her every day. To think he has any control over who she dates, who she spends her time with… It makes my blood boil. This isn’t the 1950s. He doesn’t get to control her life. He doesn’t own her.

They’re twins. She values his opinion. Of all people, she’s going to listen to him first. Maybe I shouldn’t antagonize him…

We reach the front of the beer line.

“Five,” he says to the guy running the keg.

I do a quick count. “Four. I don’t want one.”

Micah laughs. “I’ll drink yours.”

“Fine, five.”

With two cups in hand, Micah with three, we make our way through the party to where we left the girls. Beer sloshes over the side of the flimsy plastic cup, the putrid scent stinging my nose. Mason, Fred, and Melissa are talking to two guys—Mark and another guy I think might be a pole vaulter.

Mark gives me the nod as I hand Mason the cup. She takes it with a smile, wrapping her arm around me and resting her head on my shoulder.

“You guys are cute together,” he says.

“Thanks.” She looks at me with her heart in her eyes. She rises onto her tiptoes to brush her lips lightly against mine.

Conscious of her brother beside me, her friends surrounding us, the enormity of this party, I keep the kiss chaste. She tastes sour like beer and a little sweet like the protein brownie she had after dinner. Her tongue runs along the seam of my lips, requesting entrance. I cup her face in my hand and run my thumb across her cheek.

Micah gags theatrically, like he has every time I’ve kissed her this weekend. I flip him off, and the girls laugh.

Mason wraps her arm around my neck, melting into me. I let her deepen the kiss and a burst of affection threatens to overwhelm me.

“Fuck this party,” she murmurs against my lips. “We should go fuck somewhere.”