Myer doesn't necessarily dislike school dances, but they don't rank high on his list of Favorite Things To Do On A Friday Night. It is a part of social networking--to see and be seen. Practice for adult social occasions.
Jessica and her flock of friends have fluttered off to the girls' restroom to do probably arcane things to hair and makeup and dresses. Experience tells him they'll be there a few minutes, giggling and comparing and criticizing the fashion choices of others. They like to say they dress for their boyfriends, but in actuality, they dress for competition against themselves. He's amused by the wolf-ish hierarchy, from alpha to omega, that is no less fierce than that of any wolf pack.
Myer begins working his way across the noisy, decorated gymnasium. He pauses if spoken to but otherwise doesn't deviate from his destination, which is the punch bowl. He's thirsty, and while whatever to drink might be awful, at least it's wet.
Most are dancing, so the crowd around the table isn't very large. Adam stands there, chatting with Katie. No, Myer thinks, amused, Katie is talking in his direction and Adam's maintaining a polite face. Myer's seen that expression before.
Katie spots him first, her face lighting up, offering him a little wave. He arranges his face in the right sort of expression. Being around her doesn't make him uncomfortable, even if they have broken up. It had been mutual--mostly.
Katie goes for a kiss, but Myer shifts just enough that her lips brush his cheek instead of his mouth. He catches her hand, gives it a little squeeze, then promptly steps back a respectable not-dating distance. He's aware that people watch them. Gossip and sex and drugs are the only entertainment in a small town, after all.
Myer nods at Adam, who looks relieved--Myer's well aware of Katie's chattiness--and tense. Sullen, maybe. Myer talks with Katie a moment, doing the right thing and complimenting her--she is pretty--and then insinuates that Jennifer Burton is looking for her, possibly with something very interesting to tell her. Katie takes the bait and goes off in search of titillating gossip.
Myer picks up a plastic cup, stirs the punch with the ladle. It looks both wholesome and foul. And probably at this point, a few hundred proof. He pours a bit into the cup, then steps out of the way, closer to Adam.
As he swirls it in the cup--from the smell alone, it should be strong enough to strip paint--he glances at Adam from the corner of his eye. There's tightness across his shoulders, in his big hands. Myer wonders why.
"I've seen happier-looking people sitting in a dentist's office," he says. "I think this actually meant to be a fun evening."