If Only I Had Told Her(32)

“I wasn’t even wearing a sexy costume.” Autumn giggles.

“You were radiant,” I tell her.

I was particularly moonstruck that night. Her pale skin and the dark shine of her hair have always had the power to hypnotize me. That Halloween, she was particularly bewitching, her laugh dazzling and her every movement like an alien ballet.

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you,” I confess. “Before you ran into me, I looked away so you wouldn’t see me staring, but I misjudged your speed and we—”

We both laugh at the memory.

I can see her reaching back in her mind. “You were worried Jamie and I would have sex that night.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because, if I had been in Jamie’s position—”

She bites her lip as a smile creeps up. “I guess we know now what would have happened,” she says.

“Well, I can’t imagine how we could have possibly reached that point.”

Autumn’s gaze shifts like she’s watching a movie I can’t see.

“Say that when we collided,” Autumn muses, “my drink spilled on me instead, and I said, ‘Come up with me and stand guard while I change my shirt.’ I’d have wanted to have a moment with you, and I bet you’d have done as I said.”

“Sure,” I say, encouraging her to continue.

“And then upstairs, you’d have finished your drink while I changed shirts.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes,” Autumn tells me. “Because you would have been nervous, right? You said the Halloween magic had you enthralled, and you weren’t driving for once.” She doesn’t wait for me to agree with her. She knows she’s correct. “You would have downed that drink while staring at my door, trying not to think about me taking off my shirt on the other side. And when I came back out, I would have smiled at you, a little drunk too, and gazed up at you for a little too long…”

Suddenly, I can see it exactly as she describes, as if it had happened that way. Autumn’s lips curling up as I look down at her face in the shadowy hallway, the thumping hum of the party beneath us somehow making it more intimate, secret. I feel the tempting circumstances she’s painted us into, and in this version of events, neither of us would be able to resist each other.

“If you’d kissed me, Finny, I would have been astonished, but I would have pulled you right back into my room and—well, like I said before…” She smiles.

“I don’t think we would have gone all the way,” I say as I return her grin. “I’m not reckless. You know that. And besides, would you have been ready?”

“It was never about not being ready with Jamie,” she says. “It didn’t feel right with him, but I didn’t know that until I kissed you. If we had made out that Halloween, you’re probably right. We wouldn’t have done it.” Autumn giggles. “But we’d get in some state of undress before we came to our senses and realized that we’d be missed or caught.”

“And what about that?” I say. “The party is still going on, we’re in your bed, and…”

She grins, but I want to hear this story!

“Okay then. Hold on.” Autumn’s eyes get that distant look, and she mumbles, “We recognize we have to stop before we get caught, and as we detangle our limbs, we make a few whispery, alcohol-fueled confessions. There isn’t time for much. Neither of us would be brave enough to say the L word, I think. We’d fix our clothes and hair, but we’d know we couldn’t be seen going back downstairs together.”

I’m fascinated. This is what she’s thinking in her head when she gets that look?

“We’d agree that I should go first,” Autumn decides. “Since it’s my house, I’d be missed first. I’d sneak back to Jamie and pretend to be more drunk than I was, and you would wait and sneak back to the party a few minutes later.” She looks at me again in this reality. “Do you think we’d get back in our places in time? That our excuses would be believed?”

I’m pleased that she wants my opinion. I think about our classmates, the layout of her house, and my memories of that night.

“Someone would have seen something,” I decide. “But nothing big enough for anyone to say anything about it until the next day.”

Autumn nods and continues, “We’d have to pretend to act normal and try to avoid each other for the rest of the party. We’d probably both drink more to disguise our emotions, both try and fail not to watch the other across the crowd.” Autumn is back in the story she’s writing to please me. “Before the night was over, I’d be wondering if our encounter had really meant anything to you or if you’d just been drunk.” She looks at me for confirmation.

“Yeah. Same,” I say.

“In the morning, I’d pretend to be sick…nah, I’d probably be sick in the morning and use the excuse to get my friends who stayed the night out ASAP. Where would you have been?”

This question is easy. “At home. Alone. I would have called you the moment I saw Jamie’s car leave.”

Autumn smiles, pleased either by my contribution to the narrative or by my obsessive nature, I’m not sure which.

“Okay,” Autumn says. “Over the phone, through the pain of our blinding headaches, we’d stammer confirmations of last night’s heartfelt whispers, offer more detailed explanations of our true desires. One of us ends up over at the other’s house and…” She motions with her hand to our current situation, and we smile. “I mean, that’s about it.”