“This is cause for a celebration,” Tasha exclaimed as she clapped her hands together.

“I don’t have the job yet,” I said. Again.

JC Engineering had invited me for a second interview in their New York office and I was trying to stay optimistic without getting my hopes up. Tasha was making that difficult with her assumptions that the job was as good as mine.

“I’m sure they’ve asked a number of candidates to fly out for an onsite interview. Plus, I’m still seriously considering grad school.”

“We’re celebrating,” she said leaving no room to argue. “Unfortunately, all we have on hand is wine.”

Tasha got out the wine glasses and two bottles of wine that had been sitting on our kitchen counter top for most of the semester. We made a picnic in the living room – sitting on the floor and using the coffee table to place the array of snacks we’d pulled from the cabinets.

I let her control the music and we sang and danced to Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran, wine glasses in hand. Singing, dancing, drinking, laughing. The night couldn’t get any better. Or so I thought.

A ringing caught my attention. We’d left our phones in our respective bedrooms, so we wouldn’t be tempted by the allure of social media or text messages, but the shrill ringtone carried into the living room and we both stopped singing and dancing and stood in the middle of the living room. We stared at each other sharing a look that asked if we should break this moment to find out who it was.

“Let me just make sure it’s not my family,” I said as I hustled to my bedroom. I unplugged my phone and carried it to the living room as I stared in shock at the screen. “It’s Court.”

Tasha’s eyes lit up and she turned the music down. “Answer it!”

I’d have blamed it on the wine, but my heart pounded with excitement that had nothing to do with the alcohol coursing through my blood.

“Hello?” I answered in a surprised greeting like maybe my phone was playing tricks on me and it wasn’t really Court on the other end.

“8B, what are you doing?” his smooth voice had me smiling before he’d finished uttering a complete sentence.

“Tasha and I are hanging out at home,” I said.

Tasha spoke louder than necessary and leaned toward the phone. “We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating, huh? Sounds like I’m in the right place then.”

“In the – what?” I asked, putting a hand to my free ear and pushing the cell into the other to hear him better.

He chuckled, and I heard the slam of a car door. “I’m outside. You want to tell me which apartment is yours or should I just start shouting until someone points me in the right direction?”

My face must have shown my excitement because Tasha looked at me with an impatient stare and mouthed, “What’s going on?”

Ignoring her, I walked to the front door and opened it tentatively. I stepped out, Tasha on my heels, and looked down the stairwell to the parking lot. There he was looking handsome as ever striding toward us with a paper bag tucked neatly under his arm. I waved, having lost the ability to speak, and Court lifted his chin in acknowledgement.

“What is he doing here?” Tasha whispered with bubbly excitement.

I had no idea and I didn’t care.

“Can I crash the party?” he asked winking at Tasha.

“Depends on what’s in that bag,” she said, hands on hips.

She moved allowing him into the apartment and he brushed past me leaving me stunned and still speechless.

He sat the bag on the counter and Tasha greedily examined it pulling out a two liter of diet coke, a bottle of rum, and then every type of candy known to man.

“Did you rob a gas station?” I asked, setting my phone on the counter and picking up a pack of Twizzlers in one hand and powdered donuts in the other.

“I didn’t want to come empty handed, but I had no idea what you liked,” he admitted.

I laughed and tossed them back on the counter and then stared at him in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my last night in Connecticut,” he said as if that was reason enough.

“Oh my God,” Tasha squealed as she tore into a Nutty Bar. Her eyes rolled back as she bit into the sugary delight.

Court’s fingers lightly brushed mine. “I just wanted to see you again before I leave. I’ll go if you want.”

“Stay,” I said softly at the same time Tasha called out. “Oh my gosh, B, he got pop rocks!”

Court moved his hand and a chill ran through my body. I missed the warmth of his light touch and I wanted more of it. And I wanted it everywhere.

In that moment, I finally stopped fighting the constant buzz of electricity between us. It wasn’t his wit or his knowledge on life and the male mind that I wanted. It was him. For reasons I didn’t understand and couldn’t twist into logic, I felt a connection with Court that I’d never had before.

A friendship and a mutual respect. And a desire. Current.

While Court and I made our way to the living room, drinks and junk food in tow, Tasha skipped off to her room, pop rocks and nutty bar in hand, as she sing-songed something about checking her phone.

Court’s presence in my apartment had disarmed me.

“I can’t believe you’re really here in my apartment,” I said and shook my head as if the movement would focus my eyes and I’d discover he wasn’t really here at all.

He shrugged. “I know it was probably presumptuous to just show up, but it felt too impersonal to send a congratulations text. When do you go to New York for the second interview?”

“In two weeks. The interview is on Friday and then I’m going to stay the weekend, so I can see my family while I’m there.”

“That’ll be nice,” he said, and his tone had a rough edge to it that I couldn’t understand.

We talked about New York – about the location of his office and apartment and I told him more about my family and where they worked and lived in the city. He was tight lipped about his past and his family. I didn’t pry – something about the way Aaron had mentioned Court “going through shit” made me hold back.

Tasha never reappeared and from the one-sided conversation I could just barely hear coming from her bedroom, I assumed she was having a marathon phone conversation with Lance. They were adorable like that – they both put on a good show of having nights out with their friends, but it always ends up like this, the two of them on the phone or, more often than not, them calling the night early so they could be together.

I’d have found it frustrating how often she dodged out on me if I didn’t also find it hopelessly romantic. I knew she didn’t do it to hurt me. I truly believed she just couldn’t help the need to be near him.

There was a lull in conversation and I heard the music for the first time in at least an hour, maybe longer. Big Pun played and as if Court was just hearing it now too he laughed. “You do know your old school rap.”

“Tasha’s playlists are always an eclectic mix. I made her add this one.”

“You did not,” he said with an unbelieving smile.

I lip synced to the chorus. “I’m not a player, I just crush a lot.”

I pointed to him as I sang, and he shook his head. “I am not a player.”

“Hey, they were your words, not mine.”

“Fair point,” he conceded. “What else you got on here?” he asked.

“Well, Tasha likes everything so some current hits and the classics like Destiny’s Child and Tupac.”

“Classics? God, I’m old,” he muttered. “So, this is Tasha’s playlist,” he placed a thumb in the air at the direction of the speaker, “but what do you listen to?”

“I like older stuff – Fleetwood Mac, for example. I’m into covers of older songs that my parents listened to.”

“You really do miss them, New York, all of it huh?”

“I thought it’d go away,” I said. “First semester all I wanted to do was run home, but my parents were so proud that I was out on my own. And it has been great here, don’t get me wrong, but I still miss my family and New York every single day.”

He nodded, and I thought he might ask more about my family or why I was considering staying when it was so clear I wanted to be with them. He didn’t.

“What’s your favorite cover song?”

I responded automatically. “Adele, I Can’t Make You Love Me.”

The look on his face was sad and his eyes looked at me with… pity. “Or the Thirty Seconds to Mars’ cover of Stay, that one is really good, too,” I added and stood under the guise of switching the music off.

“Play it for me,” he said.

“I –” my protest was cut short as Tasha strolled into the room.

“Play what?” she asked, turning the music off and then plopping into a chair in the living room.

Neither of us spoke for a moment and Tasha looked between us impatiently.

“Bianca is going to play me her favorite cover song.”

“Oh, God, not that sad song again.”

“It’s not sad, it’s beautiful,” I said with not enough gumption because it was sad.

“Oh, whatever, B,” Tasha said and turned her attention to Court. “Tell me this isn’t sad.” Phone in hand, she made a show of pressing play and then setting the phone down on the coffee table as Adele’s voice filled the apartment.

With nowhere else to go, I sat back on the couch and pulled my feet underneath me. When I peeked up at Court, he was looking at me – that stupid look of pity stamped all over his face. Tears pricked at the back of my eyes and I didn’t even know why except this song and Court’s face. And God I was pathetic.

As the chorus started, Court grabbed my hand. The familiar heat from where he touched me earlier returned and I inhaled. It felt too intimate and awkward to have him holding my hand like this, but just when I thought I might rather pull away than have his pity, he started singing along.

“And I can’t make you love meeeeeeeeeeee,” he sang off key, voice wavering between octaves. I laughed and grabbed Tasha’s phone.

“Alright, alright, it’s a sappy song,” I said as I paused the music. “What’s your favorite song?” I tossed the phone at Court.

He clutched the phone with a grin. Holding it in one hand, he brought his other up to his chin. “I can never pick a favorite. I listen to songs on repeat until I can hardly stand them and then I move on.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh my God, you can’t even be faithful to a song.”

“Okay, gun to head it’s this song.”

It took Tasha and I a minute to figure out the familiar intro – she recognized it first.

“Glycerine by Bush?” she asked with a laugh.

“Hey, Gavin was big at an important time in my life.”

I smiled because I thought it fit him, but I didn’t say that aloud.

“What about love songs?” Tasha asked.

He thought for another minute and then gave us a warning as the music started. “If you ever tell anyone I like this song, I’ll deny it.”

It was Brett Michaels voice that crooned out and Tasha and I both burst into a fit of giggles as Every Rose Has a Thorn played. When I recovered, I started to listen to the lyrics. Really hearing them for the first time. It was a sad song, really – an unrequited love, a man that thinks he’s not good enough.

The expression on Court’s face was open, like the lyrics had transported him and I could almost see the uneasy teenage boy who listened to this song and felt unworthy or unloved. I grabbed his hand, intent on singing like he’d done for me. I broke whatever trip down memory lane he was having and the taunting grin that was all confident man was back. Still, I forced myself to give him something, just as he’d given me. So, I sang – terribly, but as I should have guessed he’d do – he didn’t mock me, but instead he joined me, and we sang – terribly - together as we linked hands. Tasha took turns singing and laughing at us.

The song ended, and I found my face hurting from smiling so much.

Tasha yawned loudly. “I’m going to bed,” she announced. “Will you be back before graduation?” she asked looking to Court.

“I’ll be back in a couple weeks, but I’m not sure how much free time I’ll have.”

“Well, I hope you’ll stop by if you can.”

“I’d like that.”

“Night, B.”

“So, back in a couple weeks, huh?” I asked a moment later. I was nervous now that we were alone again, and everything started to feel too small, too charged. The apartment, the couch, the space between us.

“Yeah, actually I was going to ask you if –” he cleared his throat and suddenly I was excited. I couldn’t explain it, but whatever he was about to ask I already, unequivocally knew I wanted.