***
I straighten-up as soon as I'm sure he is gone, removing my head from Moose's chest. His hand stays on my hip as I give him a tight smile.
"Sorry, I just felt like giving you a hug all of a sudden." I lie, covering up my strange behavior with a bashful chuckle. Inside, my head is reeling, still trying to decipher who he was and why I felt so strongly that I couldn't let him see me.
"No worries, Em. Do you want to get some fresh air?" Moose jerks his head in the direction of the back door.
I push out the breath I didn't notice I was holding and nod, "Sure, that would be nice".
Moose grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd to the back door, neither of us bothering to apologize to those we bump into on our way across the room. Everyone is too buzzed to take offense, and if they do, they don't say anything.
We step outside into the frigid PNW winter air and I feel like I can breathe again. Goosebumps erupt on my bare arms, but the alcohol makes me feel warm enough on the inside that I don't shiver. Moose's hand is still wrapped around mine, warm and inviting. He looks over to me as he shuts the door, blocking out most of the sounds of the party and leaving us in an almost silence.
"I don't think you ever told me why you left." He looks down at me curiously, his 6-foot frame towering over my 5'5" self. I glance away and take a drink.
"No real reason," I lie. My second one of the night. "I just felt it was time for a change of scenery."
Moose hums in agreement, dropping my hand to sit-down on one of the deck chairs. I copy him, grateful for the lack of direct eye-contact in this position.
"It was weird at first--you being gone," he admits after a beat. "James didn't show it, but we knew he was worried about you out there on your own. I remember the first several times I came over to hangout after you left--it was like the house had lost it's familiar feel. Everything was the same, the carpet, the furniture, the paint on the walls, it was just you that was missing, but that one fact seemed to dull everything..." he sighs and then laughs, shaking the forlorn expression off his face. "I hope that doesn't sound too creepy or depressing. I know you leaving was the right call, we just missed you."
I stare out into the darkness of the backyard, slowly absorbing his words. Large, fluffy snowflakes had begun falling, just as they had earlier in the day at the supermarket.
The day I left had felt like I was leaving a large part of myself behind, too. Like life had taken on less of a vibrancy than it had before. I chalked it up then to being a dramatic teenager, but even four years later I still felt the same.
"Yeah. I get what you're saying, M... Let's not stay stuck on this for too long, I want to enjoy the night," I push my negative thoughts down, forcing a smile to my face as I look over at the man next to me.
He nods and sets his now empty can on the table in front of us, looking out into the night for a beat. Suddenly, he grabs my hand and stands up, pulling me up with him.
"Let's enjoy the night, then, shall we?" He smiles and enthusiastically leads me down the steps into the backyard, not letting go of my hand.
I laugh at the sudden outburst, wondering what he has in mind. Moose had always been the clown of the group, always focused on making sure everyone was having fun with his silly jokes and ridiculous antics.
He leads us to the center of the backyard, under the hanging lights my parent's had put up the summer before I left, where he stops suddenly and turns towards me, causing me to crash into his chest. I laugh even harder, wobbling around at the unexpected impact, my body unable to stabilize itself.
Moose laughs as I flopped around, quickly wrapping his arms around me to ensure I don't fall over. I stick out my tongue at him and copy his actions, snaking my arms around his torso and bringing us flat against each other.
I feel comfortably warm against Moose, my head and body slightly fuzzy from the alcohol in my veins. I drop my head back and stare up at the falling snow, watching as the overhead lights illuminated each flake, making the sky above me look like a snow globe.
"Winter is the superior season, you know." I state, continuing to watch the snow flutter down. "Fuck all that, 'but how could you choose a beach over the snow'-bullshit. Only Grinches hate winter."
Moose chuckles and begins to sway us slowly back and forth. "Agreed. I'd rather be here than on a beach, any day... Do you remember that time back in high school, when I had first met James and he convinced us to do an impromptu trip to Crystal Mountain on a Thursday night? He called me to let me know that he was picking me up, and that he didn't care if I wanted to go or not. Then showed up at my house, not even five minutes later, in that rust-bucket of a car, with you in the passenger seat and Russel in the back. I didn't even get a chance to tell him I didn't own any snow gear, let alone that I didn't know how to ski or snowboard." He chuckles and I can hear his smile.
I smile, too, still staring at snowflakes coming down. I remember that night well. I was a Sophomore and the boys were Seniors. It was the first major snow of the season and James had knocked on my bedroom door at 10PM, telling me to change into my snow gear and meet him out front in 10 minutes. Careful to not wake our parents, I hopped out of bed and quickly dressed, excited for whatever adventure James had in mind. I remember being anxious that it was a school night, but whenever my brother decided we were going to do something, there was no backing out of it.
"I seem to distinctly remember you climbing in the car with jeans and a hoodie. You didn't even have winter boots, just a worn pair of Vans and long socks. We had to go back to our house to pick-up James's extra ski jacket so you wouldn't freeze to death," I laugh, feeling Moose's chest moving against mine with his own chuckle. "It took us an hour and a half to get up the mountain and I remember we had to stop at a gas station to pick up at least a dozen energy drinks so we would be able to stay up all night."
"And then when we got there, we all got out of the car and stared at each other for a few seconds before absolutely dying of laughter because we had no idea what we were even going to be doing at almost midnight, at a ski resort, on a Thursday." We both laugh at that, the memory so vivid in my mind that it could have happened yesterday and not seven years ago.
An eruption of noise sounds across the yard as a group of people stumble out from the back door of the house and onto the deck, drunkenly arguing over who had the lighter last, tearing my attention away from the sky and causing Moose to stop swaying us.
I sigh and return my eyes to Moose, surprised to see him already watching me, our faces inches apart. I can smell his spicy cologne mixed with the cigarette smoke on his breath and the cold winter air around us. I don't particularly enjoy the smell of smoke, but in the moment I'm not finding it a turn-off.
Moose shifts his gaze slowly across my face, as if trying to memorize my features in case he never sees me again. I gaze back, finally noticing how eerily calm I am despite being in such an intimate position, drunk, with an undeniably attractive man.
Albeit, he is my brother's best friend and a friend from childhood, but I feel I should at least be slightly nervous. I furrow my brow, confused by my lack of interest. Moose notices my expression, returning his eyes to meet mine, searching them for the cause of the shift in my mood, though I know he won't find anything. I myself don't even know.
"I'm gonna go smoke," he abruptly drops his arms from around me and steps back, expression blank. I nod and watch him turn and make his way back up to the deck where the group remain, finally having found their lighter and lit up a few cigarettes, their faces slightly illuminated every time they take a drag.
I look back up at the sky for a few seconds before making up my mind to go back inside and get another drink. I cross the yard and climb the steps to the deck, making eye contact with Moose as he takes a drag, and point towards the door, letting him know I'm going back inside.
He nods and looks away, smoke blowing out from between his lips as he exhales.
I open the door and step inside, immediately overwhelmed by the noise and activity. Several people are playing beer pong on the kitchen table, a few I recognize from high school and I avert my gaze as I push my way over to the fridge. I have no interest in faking a conversation with someone I barely knew because I passed them in the school hallways every day for four years.
Pulling open the doors, I find a bottle of orange juice and grab it. Next, to locate some vodka. I turn around and scan the kitchen counters for a bottle, but all I am met with are cans of beer, cider, and seltzer.
"Guess I'll try the living room," I mutter under my breath and make my way through the archway, bottle of orange juice in hand. The living room is even more crowded, all the furniture having been pushed to the walls to create a make-shift dance floor. The music, some pop-rap mix, bumps over the speakers as people dance, talk, and laugh.
I turn on my heel and leave, not even wanting to attempt to look for vodka in there.
Instead, I head to the basement, knowing 100% that I'll find what I'm looking for in the bar downstairs. The basement is the least crowded of all and I breathe a sigh of relief as I carefully make my way down the stairs, holding on to the railing for balance.
Once I feel confident that I won't fall face first down the steps, I glance around the room and am excited to see my brother sitting on the floor playing King's Cup with a small-ish group of people. I notice that Russell is in the group, but the rest I either don't know or have their backs turned to me, making it impossible for me to determine if I know them or not.
James doesn't notice me come down the stairs, so I make a beeline for the bar and decide to make my drink before I join the circle. Setting the bottle of orange juice on the counter, I crouch-down and open the mini-freezer in search of the Grey Goose I know my mother always keeps on hand.
"While you're down there, can you grab the Maker's Mark?" A deep voice says from above. A deep voice that I recognize because it was yelling my brother's name an hour ago.
***
