Juliet Immortal

Gemma presses a cup with a pink monster on it into my hand. “It’s the last semester of senior year. We’re almost free and I want to celebrate with my best friend.”
    “Gemma, I—”
    “Say ‘yes, ma’am.’ ”
    “Really, I don’t—”
    “Say it!”
    I sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Now, you’re going to drink, and you’re going to like it.”
    So I drink, and Gemma is right—I
do
like it. The wine is smooth—sweet, but not too sweet—and leaves a buttery taste lingering on my tongue and warmth spreading through my chest.
    It’s been years since I’ve had a glass of wine. I haven’t allowed myself the luxury. I can’t afford to have my senses clouded even the slightest bit. But today it seems unavoidable. I take tiny sips—only one for every two of Ben’s and Gemma’s—but by the time we’ve been sitting on the floor for half an hour, I’m getting tipsy. My cheeks feel flushed, my lids droop, and my muscles are looser than I can remember.
    I stretch, relishing the tingle in my toes.
    “No more school talk,” Gemma says, putting an end to our discussion as to whether or not the physics teacher realizes his nose hair touches his upper lip. “Let’s play a game.”
    “I hate games,” Ben says.
    “I hate people. And yet, here I am, with both of you,” Gemma counters with a grin. “How about I Never? Or do we want to go old-school with some Truth or Dare?”
    “Not Truth or Dare. Please,” I say, some fuzzy memory of Ariel’s reminding me that she hates the game.
    “I Never it is, then,” Gemma says. “I’ll start.”
    “But I don’t know how to—”
    “Shush.” Gemma waves her hand, silencing Ben. “Listen and learn—I’ve never stolen wine from the Sloop vineyard.” She tips her cup in our direction. “Now we all drink because we
have
. That’s how it works. If you’ve never—you don’t drink. If you have—you do. Easy.” We all take a sip of our wine. I hold it in my mouth for a moment, relishing the taste before letting it slip down my throat with a sigh. “Your turn, Benjamin.”
    “Okay … I’ve never …” Ben stretches his legs out toward the center of the circle we’ve formed. It’s darker inside the barn than it is outside, but I can still see the paint on his jeans. It’s a different color than what he used today, a mix of lavender anddark blue that makes me wonder what he was painting the last time he wore them.
    I’m suddenly possessed by the longing to see Ben’s work, to see how it compares to Ariel’s, how it compares to the landscapes and portraits I painted as a girl.
    “Come on, Ben,” Gemma urges, knocking his shoe with her black dance sneaker, making me jerk my eyes away from his legs. “While we’re still young enough to remember the things we’ve never done.”
    Ben smiles. “I’ve never snuck out of my house in the middle of the night.” He drinks, Gemma drinks, and I force my cup to remain in my lap. The thought’s never crossed Ariel’s mind. Where would she sneak off to? In a town like Solvang, when her best friend prefers to spend her evenings with the male of the species? My own exploits out my balcony and down the trellis don’t matter.
    “Your turn, Ree.”
    “I’ve never …”
    “Something good,” Gemma says. “Something even
I
don’t know.”
    I sigh, head spinning pleasantly as I search Ariel’s memories for something a little scandalous but not too intimate, and come up empty. I sense secrets in Ariel, but those are shadowy places in her mind, memories she’s worked so hard to forget even I can’t recall them. I give up, deciding I’ll just have to lend her one of my scandals. “I’ve never hitchhiked after dark.”
    Gemma sticks out her tongue. “No fair. I already knew that.” She doesn’t drink. Ben doesn’t either. I feel some small satisfaction in that as I take another sip of chardonnay.
    “Okay, my turn again. I’ve never gone skinny-dipping.”Gemma and Ben drink, sharing a knowing smile over the edge of their cups.
    I’ve never gone skinny-dipping. Ever. When did they? Did they go
together
?
    Just how far has Gemma and Ben’s relationship progressed? I know Gemma has been with a
lot
of guys from the private school. I’ve never seen her and Ben do anything but hold hands, but that smile is … telling.
    I clear my throat and stare at my knees, refusing to admit that the thought of the two of them happy together in
that
way isn’t a pleasant