Page 36 of Rent: Paid in Full
The next sound is lower. Lower and louder. Longer. I know that sound too.
Usually, when I hear it, I start swallowing.
I stand and watch, several feet away, nowhere near close enough to touch him, and swallow reflexively. Hungrily. Greedily. Thirsty and uncomfortable at the thought of his seed being laid to waste.
My phone pings, sobering me and reminding me that I want no part of this. I look at the screen. It’s Emily, checking to see if I’m still on for a drink at The Pardon.
“Who’s that?” asks Miller, craning his head toward me as he washes his hands.
Ordinarily, I try not to give him much information about my whereabouts, just because with him, you never know what’ll bedone with that information. I try to think of something bogus to tell him but hear myself say, “It’s Em.”
His eyes flash. “Oh, so it’sEmnow, is it?”
I sigh loudly. “Em is a common diminutive for the name Emily, Miller. It’s quite well documented.” When he doesn’t respond, I say, “Fine, it’sEmily,” drawing the word out and pronouncing it unnecessarily clearly.
“What did she want?”
“She wants to know what time I’ll be at The Pardon tonight."
“Hmph.” His eyes are weird for a second, then he corrects, and they’re a picture of pleasant precision again. “Well, that actually works out pretty well. Trip and Dean wanted to hang out. I’ll tell them I’ll meet them there. What time did you say?”
“Eight.”
Well, color me confused.
I started this ridiculous conversation, not intending to tell him anything about my plans, and just look at me now.
He sends a few messages when he gets out of the bathroom and his phone immediately starts blowing up.
“Sienna’s coming too,” he says. “And she’s bringing your friend, Lori.”
“Cool,” I say, though I have no memory of having met her before and the fist is unhappy that a quiet night with one person I’m starting to think I can trust has turned into a circus. It clenches to make its feelings about the matter known. My chest and skin feel tight. I rub my palms on my legs, scraping them on the seams of my jeans, but it doesn’t help.
By the time we’ve both showered, I’m seriously questioning my life choices. At least ten more of Miller’s friends are coming. And that was at last count. I’m losing track of the messages he keeps reading out, so there are probably a lot more.
“I think maybe I’m gonna—”
“Don’t even think about it. You’re coming. Everyone’s waiting.”
He takes a dusty-blue beanie out of one of his drawers and pulls it on. It’s one of those beanies only a very specific type of person can pull off. You know the kind of thing I mean. All slouchy and devil may care. Sex on a stick instead ofOoh, look, my mom dressed me for a snow day.
“Shall we swing by Emily’s room on the way out?” Miller asks.
“No, she said she’d meet me there.”
Night has taken hold. It’s warmer than it has been, but it’s still crisp and eerily dark. The moon is an opalescent sliver partially hidden by clouds and several streetlamps are out. A black cloak has been draped over campus. A cloak that quietens some things and heightens others. The sounds of cars and people seem muted and far away. The sound of Miller’s shoes on the sidewalk and the soft sigh of air entering and leaving his lungs is unnaturally loud.
The fist has had it up to here with my plans for tonight, and it’s making its objection plainly known. My heart is clamping painfully with every beat, and it’s taking everything I have to keep breathing.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I snap. He stops moving and looks at me. His eyes look different. They’re reflecting the color of his beanie. They’re blue-gray now. Dusty, but clear. So clear they seem to reach inside me and rattle something loose. “I-I just don’t like big crowds, that’s all. I’m not all that great in big groups of people.”
“Eh, don’t worry about it. You’re not all that great one-on-one either.” I fight a highly uncharacteristic urge to laugh at something he’s said. It’s surprisingly difficult to keep the sound in. He moves closer to me, butting his shoulder against mine and keeping it there for a few paces. “Anxious, huh?” He says it softly. Like balm. Like he understands. I don’t answer, but I alsodon’t move away. “I get it, Ry. But don’t worry.” He leans in a little closer. “Nothing bad’s going to happen tonight.”
His voice is soothing and calm, totally sure. It disarms me. I speak without thinking, without wanting to. In fact, I speak despite the fact I actively don’t want to hear myself sound this pathetic.
“How do you know?”