J. Fynn - The Long Game

Kay, still attached to my arm, pushed her way through. “Hey, Spence. Look who I found.”

Spencer tried—and failed—to hide her surprise. “Oh, hey. Shane, right?”

I nodded, still getting used to the extra consonant at the end of my name.

“What are you doing here?”

“Jeez, way to be rude,” Kay chastised, bumping her shoulder into Spencer’s. “He found your phone and wanted to return it.”

I took my cue and produced the cell phone once again. I held it out to her, and she scooped it out of my hand, her fingers brushing against my palm as she did. “I think it fell out of your bag when we bumped into each other,” I lied. “I looked for you in the library, but that place is huge and I had an appointment with my advisor, so I figured I’d just bring it here.”

Spencer tilted her head, considering what I’d told her. “How’d you know I live here?”

I’d anticipated the question and had my answer ready. “The picture on the lock screen.” I pointed to the phone. “You’re wearing an OIA sweatshirt.”

“Gorgeous and clever. You’re like the total package, Shane,” Kay said. She wriggled her eyebrows at Spencer.

“Thanks for returning it,” Spencer said, purposefully ignoring Kay.

“No problem.”

“All right!” Kay clapped her hands together, either oblivious to or undeterred by Spencer’s resistance to her matchmaking efforts. “I guess I should go find Gary before he gets too drunk to remember what I look like. I’ll see you guys later.” She turned on her heels and disappeared before anyone had the chance to protest.

Left alone with Spencer, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my shorts and looked around. “So, you guys know Lúnasa is supposed to be celebrated at the beginning of August, not the end, right?”

Spencer eyed me with curiosity. “You know about Lúnasa?”

“Sure,” I said, but then feeling like I needed some sort of explanation, I added, “My family’s Irish.”

“You might be the only person here who’s ever heard of it, and that’s including most of the OIAs. These parties always have a theme based on Irish festivals, but mostly it’s just an excuse to get drunk and dance. We don’t make too much of an effort to be culturally accurate. Sorry.”

“No, I get it,” I said. “Lúnasa celebrates the transition from summer to fall. Makes sense for the beginning of a new school year.”

“Sure,” she said. “Let’s go with that.”

I grinned. “So have you been a member of the sorority since you started here?”

“Since my first semester, yeah,” she said, though she was looking at something over my shoulder when she spoke.

“You look really great tonight,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I’d complimented her to win the battle for her attention or because I just couldn’t keep myself from saying it.

Either way, the result was the same. Spencer’s full attention returned to me. “Thanks,” she said, her cheeks pink.

“That’s a great dress.”

She glanced down at herself. “It’s okay. I always wait until the last minute to pick something. Fashion isn’t really my thing.”

“You’d never know it to look at you.” I swept an admiring glance from her face to her feet.

Spencer fidgeted with her neckline. “So listen, thanks for bringing my phone back, but I really should mingle a little.”

She moved to walk around me, but I caught her arm before she could go far. Spencer tensed so quickly I worried one of her tendons might snap. I pulled my hand back. “Think you might want to dance later?”

She didn’t look at me, but the corner of her mouth twitched when she gave a faint nod.

I grinned. “Good. Looking forward to it.”

On my own, I scanned the crowd for a second time, looking for another group to make myself a part of. There was only one person here I wanted to spend any time with, but my hope was that if Spencer saw me talking to someone else, it might make her more interested in spending time with me.

A thin, pale girl with shoulder-length hair dyed an unnatural shade of red perched on the arm of a sofa about twenty feet from me. She stared at me openly, and I assumed her boldness had more than a little to do with whatever was in the plastic cup in her hand. She’d serve my purposes just fine.

“Hey,” I said as I approached her. “I’m Shane.”

“Anna,” she said with a flirty smile.

I leaned my hip into the back of the sofa. “Are you an OIA sister?”

“Not so much.” She snorted. “They throw decent parties and all, but I’m not really into the whole ‘sisterhood’ thing.”

“Yeah, I’m not much of a joiner either,” I said, telling her what I figured she’d want to hear.

Apparently, I’d guessed right. Anna slid an inch or so closer. “So are you a loner, Shane?” she asked, laying a hand on my arm.

“Not always,” I said with a wink.

She eyed me wantonly, pressing a hand to my chest as she laughed. “Good to know.”

If I took this much further, I’d spend the night fending her off instead of getting closer to Spencer. I lifted my head to glance around the room and met Spencer’s eyes. She was at the bottom of the staircase, standing with a guy who leaned against the banister, probably to keep himself on his feet as much as to look cool.

I leaned in closer to the faux-redhead on the sofa, but my eyes never left the genuine redhead who stood across the room. Her eyes flashed, and she turned back to the guy next to her. He gulped down what remained in his cup and set it aside on a marble tabletop that was already overflowing with abandoned paper plates and beer cans. He held his now empty hand out to her. She slipped her hand into his and, with one last glance at me, let him lead her through a doorway on the other side of the staircase.

“You wanna get out of here?” Anna asked.

I’d almost forgotten she was there. “Yeah, I do actually. It was great to meet you.”

“But I thought—”

I didn’t wait to hear what she thought. I just left her on the couch wearing a stunned expression.

It was dark in the alcove on the other side of the stairs, but I could still make out the guy’s considerable bulk. His back was to me, and he leaned against the wall on one arm. Spencer was just visible, her back pressed into the wall like she was trying to put as much distance between them as possible. When she tried to move away, he planted his other arm against the wall to bar her exit. He pressed his face into hers in a poor imitation of a kiss. Spencer thumped her fists into his shoulders, but he pinned both her wrists with one hand, the effort barely slowing his attack on her lips.

I cleared the distance so quickly it even surprised me and clamped a hand down on his meaty shoulder.

“What the hell, man?” He spun around to glare at me, his face flushed red with anger and alcohol. “Can’t you see we’re a little busy?”

“She doesn’t look like she’s that into it.” I tipped my head at Spencer. “Maybe you should let her go back to the party.”

“Maybe you should mind your own damn business.” He shoved his thick fingertips into my chest, knocking me backward a step or two.

“I don’t think you want to do that.” I brushed a hand over the shoulder seam in my shirt. “Come on. Have a little respect for the girls who were nice enough to invite you to their party.”

“Listen, dipshit,” the guy said. He took a step toward me, but I didn’t flinch. “You have about twenty seconds to get the hell out of my face before you get your ass beat.”

I chuckled. “How about you go ahead and try now and save us both the twenty seconds?”

His red face purpled, and he swung. I leaned away from his clumsy right hook easily, then dodged his left. Frustrated, he barreled toward me, hunched forward like a wrestler. I sidestepped his charge and pushed my hands into his back as he passed, using his own momentum to send him sprawling to the floor behind me. He slid into the wall with a grunt. I didn’t know whether he’d stay down or not, but I wasn’t waiting around to find out. I grabbed Spencer’s hand and pulled her from the alcove.

I FOLLOWED THE music back into the main room of the sorority house. The crowd had thinned, but there was still less chance of the drunk coming back for more out among other people. I pushed past a few dancing couples, pulling Spencer along behind me until we were in the middle of the room. I stopped and turned so fast that she crashed into my chest. She tipped her head back to look up at me. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks were flushed, but she didn’t try to pull away when my arms wrapped around her. She gripped my shoulders with trembling hands.

“I’m sorry—” I said.

“Thank you for—” she said at the same time, then smiled. “Go ahead.”

I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry about that.” I gestured toward the hall with my chin. “I know it was none of my business, but…” I shrugged.

“Shane, don’t apologize. That was… I don’t know what that was, but thank you. I knew that guy from my chemistry class, and he said he needed to talk to me about something. I can’t believe…” She pressed closer to me, and I could feel her heartbeat slowing to a more normal pace.

I shrugged a second time. “To be honest, it’s not the first fight I’ve been in and definitely wasn’t the worst.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Is that supposed to be charming?”

The song ended, and a new, slower one started. For half a second, I thought she might pull away, but when she didn’t move, I tightened my arms around her waist and looked down into her face. “That depends. Do you find it more charming when guys tell you what you want to hear or tell you the truth?”

“It has to be one or the other?”

“It doesn’t have to be, but it usually is.”

I’d finally succeeded in coaxing out a smile. “I guess, if I have to choose, I’d go with the truth, even if it’s not always what I want to hear.”

I smiled. “Good choice.”

Spencer dropped her face and relaxed into my arms, resting her cheek against my chest as we swayed together to the haunting melody of a tin whistle. The warmth of her face soaked through my shirt to the skin beneath. Her hair smelled faintly of honey and vanilla. I couldn’t help pressing my face to the top of her head and inhaling deeply. Breathing her in.

Another song ended, and I felt her pull away just a little. I scrambled to find a reason why I wouldn’t let her go. “It’s getting a little close in here.” I pulled on the top button of my shirt to make my point. “Do you want to go outside? Get some fresh air?”

Spencer gave me a long look. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth—no doubt a nervous habit, but an adorable one. Still, it meant she was wary about being alone with me, which didn’t do much for my cause. I adopted a mask of casual indifference. After another few seconds of silence from Spencer, I shrugged and moved my foot as if I were about to walk away.

“Anyway, thank you for the dance,” I said. I flashed a grin and stepped around her.

“Hold on.” She caught my hand. “I’ll come with you.”

This time I let her lead the way. We weaved through the party and toward the back of the house, passing through a formal dining room. Spencer took in the mounting piles of trash that littered the table with a frown as we reached a pair of French doors, and she pulled on one of the brass handles to open it.

We emerged onto a stone patio where a handful of guests had come to enjoy the warm night air. Despite the heat, a fire crackled inside a clay chiminea on the patio. Another nod to the Celtic holiday, I guessed, though I wasn’t sure why they’d even bothered trying to mimic the bonfires usually associate with Lúnasa in this heat.

A welcome breeze blew through the trees surrounding the backyard of the OIA house. It lifted the wide strand of ribbon that cinched the waist of Spencer’s dress, and I caught it in one hand, ran my thumb across its silky surface, and then let it unfurl from my fingers. The breeze set it to its rippling dance again, and I took her hand. We descended the stone steps that led down from the patio and followed a path through the backyard to a mercifully deserted courtyard hidden behind a circle of hedges. Spencer pulled her hand from mine and walked to a wooden swing set off to one side. I pushed both hands deep into the pockets of my shorts and followed after her. I held the swing still and waited for her to get situated before I sat beside her. She rested her hand beside her leg and gripped the swing’s edge. I did the same, careful to leave a small distance between our fingers.