Love Show by Audrey Bell Page B

god!
Sorry. I'm totally mortified. I'm sorry."
    "No worries," I said.
"I'm Hadley."
    "Reese."                                    
    "Nice to meet you," I
said.                      
    Jack laughed again. "See you
around, Reese," he said. He wrapped his arm around me. “It’s too fucking
hot in here,” he said, pulling at his thick flannel shirt. His hair was damp
with sweat. Mine was, too, but it was a good look on Jack. It made him look
strangely alive.
    “Want to get back out there?” he
nodded at the dance floor. I pulled my hair into a high ponytail. The air against
my neck felt delightful.
    “Sure,” I said.
    The alcohol and the heat got to me
quickly. Jack got cuter and cuter. We danced and danced. My legs ached. And
every time he spun me, I started to laugh.
    "You want to get out of
here?" he asked, when we were both breathlessly and giggling.
    I looked at him. His sweat-soaked
hair, his rumpled plaid shirt. And I said exactly what I wanted to say. “Yeah.”
    He pulled me through the crowd and
out the door into the winter night. For five fleeting seconds, we both stood in
the chilled air without our coats.
    “This feels so good,” he said
holding out his arms and walking up the sidewalk, in between two banks of snow.
    But we quickly started to shiver
and I pulled on my down coat and he slid on a Patagonia fleece and stuffed his
hands in his pockets.
    “So, what’s your deal, Hadley
Arrington?”
    “No deal,” I said.
    “Please. Everyone has a deal.”
    “What’s your deal?”
    “I’m an underachiever,” he said. He
smiled. “Your turn.”
    I grimaced.
    “I bet you’re an overachiever.”
    “Not really,” I said.
    He glanced at me. “Editor-in-Chief
of the newspaper?"
    I shrugged. “I like it.”
    “Because you’re a masochist?”
    “Because—because I feel like I’m
actually creating something instead of just...flopping around aimlessly.”
    “See, I flop,” Jack said. “You
should try it. It’s not nearly as dreadful as you just made it sound. It has
some advantages.”
    “Like what?”
    “Well, you’re never disappointed in
yourself. Flopping is easy.”
    The frat house wasn’t far—four
hundred or so yards down the road. And we walked through the unlocked front door
to the sounds of video games and the smell of pot. I crinkled my noise and he
laughed. “Come on.”
    His room was upstairs, down the
hallway and in a corner. It was small and cozy and absurdly clean. He had countless
books, lined on shelves. And an open sketchbook on his desk. I walked over to
glance at it, but he closed it before I got there.
    I didn’t know what to do with
myself, where to sit, what to say, or how to say it. I looked at him and tried
to sound cool. “So, what do you want to do?”
    He closed the door and put his
hands lightly on my waist. His hands had rested there all night, but the
dancing had been more about fun than about sex. Now the light hands made my
heart beat quickly in anticipation. He leaned forward and kissed me again,
pushing me back onto the bed.
    "Jack..."
    He stopped kissing me and frowned.
“You okay?”
    I rolled my eyes, took a breath,
and disentangled myself from his grip. "Fine. So, how do you know
Reese?"
    He grinned. "The most clueless
girl on campus? How could I not know her?"  He raised his eyebrows. " I'm guessing you never went in for the
sorority thing."
    "I went to rush," I said.
    "Seriously?"
    I nodded. "Yeah, I was trying
to cut through the student center to get to the library, went right through
some kind of cheer. Lots of clapping. Very weird."
    "Ha. I thought so." He
got up from the bed and took off his shoes. He started unbuttoning his shirt. I
watched him pointedly.
    He grinned, unabashed. "So,
Hadley Arrington."
    "Yes," I said.
    "You're not a bad
dancer."
    "I'm not a good dancer
either."
    He smiled. "Don't be so hard
on yourself."
    "I don't get flowers and you
don't get to lie to me," I