A tight circle of people across the patio lit a joint, and the wind carried the smell over. The good-stink of weed smoke reminded him of camping trips. High school and trees. The afterglow of sore feet and burning eyes, late nights at the lake restaurant, the moonlight on the glassy black water. All the moons he’d lived under. Seeing the consistently ever-changing moon felt like a gift. He gazed up at it like he was seeing it for the first time as Lionel began talking about some businesses he’d invested in downtown, near the coffee shop.
When Emmett noticed Tallie looking at him again, he winked at her. He knew they were pretending; he hadn’t forgotten. He thought he’d heard someone say his real name when they were on the third floor, and his face flushed. A guy in a Han Solo costume was staring at him in the kitchen, and he imagined him pointing, asking him what he was doing there. But Tallie could almost make him think what they were pretending was real. She’d ramped up her flirting, barely stood beside him for more than thirty seconds without touching him or holding his hand. He watched her dance, his cross hanging around her neck.
“Dancing Queen” by ABBA came on, and Lionel hollered, “This is for you, Lulah!” before turning to Emmett and adding, “You know this is her jam.” Tallie—the dancing queen—blew Lionel a kiss through the air. “Maybe I’ve seen you there…at the coffee shop on Rose. I know I’ve seen you somewhere,” Lionel said.
“You seem familiar to me, too,” Emmett lied. He waited a moment before asking Lionel about the house. What year it was built, how long it took. He was relieved when Lionel launched into the details. Emmett pulled a cigarette from his inside pocket, offered one to Lionel, who took it. They lit them, smoked. Emmett leaned, watching Tallie dance to Pet Shop Boys, Donna Summer, Oingo Boingo. Zora reappeared with the other goddesses, and Tallie got lost somewhere in the middle. People popped up to talk to Lionel, to remark on his costume. People asked Emmett who he was dressed as before they saw his X-Files badge. One guy said nothing, only whistled the first six notes of the spooky theme song as he passed. Lionel introduced him to a couple more of his and Tallie’s cousins, usually opting to call him Tallie’s boyfriend, at which Emmett just smiled.
（Lionel is handsome, charming, and hilarious. Possibly the most confident man on earth, as if he’s never been told no. Not even once.）
“Joel was my friend. They met through me. So I still have some guilt about how that went down,” Lionel said when it was just the two of them. Emmett could’ve blown his mind and repeated what Joel had confessed in the email, but instead he blinked. Nodded.
“Well, she has nothing but glowing things to say about you. She’s proud of you. It’s not your fault Joel’s a dick.”
Lionel laughed. “I’m glad she’s back out there. I’m glad she brought you tonight. Your chemistry is more than obvious.”
“I’m crazy about her,” Emmett said, spotting Tallie in the crowd.
Slow and intoxicating: “Don’t Dream It’s Over” by Crowded House soared from the speakers as she walked toward him. When she got there, she threw her head back and held out her hand, pulled him toward her. They walked next to the pool, where everyone was dancing. When Emmett looked at Lionel again, Lionel lifted his cake plate to them in cheers.
“I love this song so much,” Tallie said, putting her arms around his neck.
“I told your brother we met at the coffee shop,” Emmett whispered into her ear.
“Good boy,” she said into his. “You feeling okay?”
“I am,” he said, with his arms around her waist.
“By the way, the unicorn said you looked familiar, too. I told her lots of people say that to you. We’ll have to scour the internet for your celebrity doppelg?nger later.”
Tallie reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, took out her lip gloss, put it on, and returned it where she’d found it. They looked at each other, their faces so close with the night-blue music lifting, spilling out across the stars. If only the sky would open and zoom them up.
“You look handsome,” she said.
“You’re striking. You’re lightning.”
“Sweet Emmett,” she said. Emmett. He needed to tell her the truth.
“Tallie—”
The air popped above them; a rocket shot across the sky. Tallie gasped and looked up. Emmett, startled by the sound at first, relaxed upon seeing a chandelier of glitter against the black. Fireworks. And maybe it happened all at once. Maybe he leaned down to her. Or had she gotten on her tiptoes? At first, the kiss was chaste, kindergarten-sweet. Was this pretending? But when Emmett pulled her closer, the music got louder. The kiss swelled. Their kiss: surprising, dark crush like a jewel wrapped in velvet. Their kiss: a real but different, better version of Klimt’s. Emmett opened his mouth a little to let her in, keeping his hand on the small of her back, pressing her body against his. He pulled away, turned his head, put his mouth on hers until she stopped and looked at him, bit her bottom lip.