"I know. She told me."
He leaned a hand on the counter. "I'm sorry."
"Why?" I asked.
"For not telling you. I was afraid you'd, you know, blow me off if you found out."
I shook my head. "I'd never blow you off, Corbin. You're a good friend. You always have been."
"I don't mean blow me off as a friend," he said and got quiet.
I looked into my drink. We'd been friends so long now, I'd thought it was clear that was all we'd ever be. But as he said it, I knew I hadn't really believed it, and that I'd almost expected this. Did it make me a bad person that I'd let him go through all this anyway? "Corbin-I don't . . . I'm not . . ."
He stepped a little closer. "Lake, I like you. I've told you this before."
"I know, but that was a while ago. I mean, so much has happened since then. You're in college with tons of girls, in a whole new city. We don't even live in the same state."
"We could."
We'd had this discussion on the phone before. Corbin liked to tease me that some secret part of me didn't want to go to USC. That I was only doing it to please my dad. It wasn't true, but after my conversation with Val and Vickie about schools, and before my USC acceptance, I'd been thinking what-if. "I got into NYU," I told him.
"What?"
"Nobody knows except Tiffany. And I'm not going. I already have a roommate and everything at USC, which is where I want to be."
He shook his head. "Come visit me for a week after finals. I'll take you around the city. You'll change your mind, you'll see."
"No. I didn't tell you so you'd convince me to go there." I flicked my nail under the edge of my Solo cup. "I just wanted you to know, I have thought about other options, and USC is still what I want."
"What about drama?" he asked. "I heard you were great as Sandy in Grease last year."
As the understudy, I'd only gone on two nights when Ashley Hurley, the real actress in our class, had lost her voice. It'd been so far outside my comfort zone, but thrilling, too. "USC has a great film program," I said, even though I hadn't worked up the courage to point that out to my dad.
"And New York has fucking Broadway." He took my hand, pulling me a little closer. "And it has me."
"Corbin."
"What?" His lips quirked into a knowing grin. He took my drink out of my hand and slipped an arm around my waist. "Want to dance?"
"We already did," I said, but smiled as we swayed back and forth. "Like five times."
"Sixth time is a charm."
I gave him a look. "Like you need any more charm."
"Yeah? You think I'm charming?" He lowered his mouth to my ear. "How do you resist?"
Could he feel my cheek warming against his, the uptick of my heartbeat? I hoped not. If he thought I was giving in to his advances, he'd never let me off the hook.
"If you guys were both seniors, you so would've been voted cutest couple," Vickie said, passing through the room. She spent enough time around me to know Corbin and I weren't more than friends, but she refused to believe it anyway. While I was looking at her, Corbin leaned in and put his lips to mine. Automatically, I kissed him back before a wave of guilt hit me. I started to pull away like I had on the couch, then stopped. Maybe it was the alcohol, but I wondered what it would feel like to keep going. Kissing Corbin felt more natural than kissing anyone else, probably even Manning. I knew I'd feel a lot of things with Manning, but I wasn't sure natural would be one of them.
Corbin pulled away. "So you had a good time tonight?"
"Yes."
"There's a game of Kings going in the other room," he said. "You want to go play?"
I'd enjoyed the first round, but I didn't think I could keep up now without getting too drunk. The day was beginning to catch up with me, and nothing really sounded better than just hanging out with Corbin. "I think I'm good," I said. "But I can watch if you want to."
"I don't. This is your night. Is there anything you wanted to do that we haven't yet?"
"Not one thing."
Corbin looped our intertwined hands around over my shoulder. "Come on. I want to show you something." He handed me my drink and took his before leading me through the suite. Some of our friends began to whistle, even though I was pretty sure all the bedrooms were occupied.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked.
"Away from these goons," he said, opening the front door to lead us into the hotel hallway.
I didn't want to think too hard about it. I leaned my weight on him, snuggling into his side. His cologne smelled good, but underneath, he was pure Corbin-surfboard wax and sunscreen. He took a sip of his orange juice and rum, then leaned down to give me a wet, citrus-y kiss. Was just kissing Corbin so bad? We zig-zagged down the hall, leaning left before overcorrecting to the right. Our drinks sloshed, our teeth clinked. He tasted good, felt good, too, but it was still weird to be kissing my best friend.