A Toast to the Good Times

Chapter 6



The logical thing to do would be to go to sleep. But the shed is a hell of a lot colder than I remember it being, maybe because I’m older now and used to sleeping in an actual bed in an actual insulated apartment, and not a cot in some drafty-ass shed. Maybe also because the remnants of my hangover are wearing away in the frosty night, and the residual warmth the last vestiges of alcohol in my system offered is all gone now.

I kick the door open and stalk back to Paisley’s car, then remember I have no keys. I can just go in the house. The upstairs hall light is on. Paisley is probably bunking down in her bed. Henry is probably up playing video games. Dad is waking Mom with his quiet, brooding fury. And I could head down to the basement apartment I used to play grown-up in and catch up on some much-needed sleep.

But I’m not ready, and my renewed irritation at running into my father led me to catch a dangerously sleep-deprived second wind. I scroll through my phone as I stalk down the street through the bitter cold and see that I have a friend request on Facebook. I have no idea why I’m even on the stupid site. I never bothered to access my account until my a*shole ex-girlfriend got it on with my business partner, and then all I used it for was self-torture and stalking. Looking at pictures of the two of them together and knowing they would probably head back to Jersey is part of what kept my ass firmly planted in Boston.

The friend request is from Toni, sent a few minutes before.

So she’s still up.

Mila updated her status an hour ago to: “Spoonful’s of decadent amaretto-laced chocolate mousse and back-to-back Firefly and Serenity marathons can remedy even the most disastrous night. Right?”

Damn it.

F*cking damn it.

She hasn’t pulled out those Blu-rays since the douche she had a crush on for eight months wound up having a pregnant girlfriend tucked away in the dorms he never bothered to mention during all the time he spent trying to crawl up Mila’s ass.

Now I’m the douche. F*cking perfect.

I accept Toni’s friend request and stare at my phone. Mila is still up wishing Mal Reynolds wasn’t just some fictional man in a weird space Western TV show.

I could call her. My thumb slides over the screen, ready to push ‘send’ and try to make an impossibly bad situation partially right.

I scroll back instead.

To my most recent added contact.

And I do hit send this time.

Ten minutes later Toni pulls over to the curb in a red Audi, and I’m back in the heaven of a warm car interior, rubbing my hands in front of the vents and trying to think of what the hell to say to her in the glow of the car’s dash.

“I’m sorry I called so late.”

Stupid.

Stupid because I’m not remotely sorry and because she was up and I knew it, so why pretend?

“I knew you would.” Her words are so sure, it makes me narrow my eyes in her direction.

“Oh, yeah?” When I smile she rolls those baby browns, but not before she quirks a quick smile back in my direction. “And how exactly did you know that?”

“Because grown-up Landry isn’t all that different from high school Landry,” she says, her words short and a tiny bit bitter.

We coast down back-roads and roll through stop signs on deserted streets in the silent night of our tiny hometown.

“Look, about all that, back then? I swear, I’m sorry.” Now that I already said I was sorry and didn’t mean it at all, my actual apology sounds pretty pathetic and rings totally false.

“You’re apologizing for being seventeen? Really not necessary.”

Toni pulls into the parking lot of The Queen, the lights over the booths so dim, it almost looks closed. It isn’t, but it has a kind of abandoned quality that makes me depressed before we even go in. This was probably a really crappy idea.

I rub my hand down the thighs of my jeans and look over at her profile. She’s staring into the front lobby of the diner, her expression unreadable.

“I’m apologizing for being a complete a*shole. There were lots of really decent seventeen-year-old guys who would have jumped all over a chance to date you, Toni. Why me?”

I press the button on the vent and adjust the flow of warmth, letting it get cooler on my side as Toni chews on her lip. It’s an old habit, reserved for her most worried, uncertain moments.

Like just before a pop quiz she didn’t study for because I convinced her to make out with me during our ‘study date’ instead of actually reading the material.

Or on prom night, when we almost missed getting our picture taken because I was trying to convince her to get it on with me in the backseat of my father’s old Bronco.

Her hair looked pretty crazy in the picture. And I look pretty pissed.

I didn’t manage to convince her to do anything more than some intense making out.

It was an old tug-of-war routine, and the bite of her lip reminds me of all the times I tried to talk her into going along with my stupid plans.

“Why me?” I ask again.

“I’m hungry,” she announces, switching off the ignition and opening the door to the incredibly cold night air.

She doesn’t pause to look and see if I’m following her, just walks, hands deep in her pockets, head down in the wind.

I follow and manage to hold up two frosty fingers to the hostess before Toni can tell her how many are in our party. Because I’m a guy, and I feel the need to do guyish things like announcing our party number to the hostess and letting her sit first and handing her her menu. But it’s all just a stupid show because Toni is obviously the one who’s more in charge in this situation.

We order a large plate of disco fries, and I am so starved for the melted mozzarella and salty brown gravy, I feel like the last time I ate must have been days ago.

Only I can remember the last time very clearly, and twenty-four hours hadn’t even passed since then.

Since I’d f*cked things up with a really amazing friend and left her hanging.

Since I’d had dinner. And then kissed Mila.

And it was both incredible and something I needed to forget. So I launch into conversation.

“I think I was asking you why you stuck around with me if I was always being such a total dick.” I watch Toni shred her straw wrapper into tiny pieces of white confetti. She doesn’t look up. “C’mon. I know for a fact most girls love talking about what an a*shole I am. Try it. I bet you’ll like it.”

She shuffles her little pile of torn-up paper to the side and looks right at me, her mouth set in a flat line. “Do you remember the night before Thanksgiving, senior year?”

My brain shuffles through the hazy memories of those long-gone high school years, and I do draw up some blurry mental images of a huge smokey bonfire, the smooth, heavy weight of a bottle of liquor I pilfered from my father’s bar, the feel of Toni’s curves pressed against me in the freezing late fall air.

“That was the night Jagger had that huge party. The year his parents went on that cruise and left the house to him over Thanksgiving break.”

I relax back against the persistent dig of the springs through the torn pleather of the booth seat, remembering that smoky, hazy, fresh-air-fueled feeling, the one I can’t quite put my finger on in the midst of all this stress and stupidity I have to deal with in my annoyingly adult present. It was that feeling of being purely free, of having nothing to worry about except exploding into the best time, staying out under the dull stars as long as we could manage to keep our eyes open, drinking until our heads spun, crashing on some random bed or couch, or, if we were drunk enough, in some tub or on the bare floor.

“I was planning on sleeping with you that night,” she says, her hands folded tightly on the scratched, dull laminate.

“Excuse me?” The memories of debauchery fall away, and I attempt to replace some of the chaos with even one clear image of her from that night: what she was wearing, some moment we shared, some quiet, secret opportunity that got interrupted.

But I’ve got nothing.

“I was planning...to...um, to f*ck you.” She tries to make it sound all brazen, but she looks totally uncomfortable with her word choice. “I was planning to drag your hot ass into one of Jagger’s guest rooms, and I had these tiny little lacy underthings on...I covered myself in this powder, this sexy powder that was all sweet because it was made with honey or something and you’re supposed to be able to lick it off.”

She tries to laugh at herself, but the sound that comes out of her mouth is too shaken and cracked to register as anything close to a real laugh.

“Toni.” I slide my hands across the laminate and she drops hers, still folded tight, into her lap and away from my touch. “What happened?”

“Wow.” She looks up and takes a deep breath. “You really don’t remember?”

I’m still so shocked by her announcement, I have no clue what my face looks like, but she must be able to read the truth in my blank look.

She lets out a long breath that seems to deflate her a little. “Wow. So, this was kind of what I was afraid of, but I had this really stupid minute where I believed that maybe I was so wrong, and I was just remembering things...like, with all the mixed-up emotional crap of that night...”

A few long, awkward seconds tick by.

“You should tell me.”

I watch her press her long blonde hair back, and that gorgeous face, so sure and brave on the train, suddenly looks stripped of any confidence.

My neck burns when I realize I was the one who stripped all that beautiful strength away.

That I started doing it when we were in high school, and I’m still the one who does that to her now.

I suck.

I sucked yesterday and I suck today and, apparently, I’ve been sucking hard since I was a stupid teenager.

“You were only a little drunk. I thought it was no big thing. You’d tried to get me to sleep with you when you seemed so much drunker. But I guess that night was just a whole new level. Anyway, I got all ready...um, meaning I got almost naked...and you were, uh, supposed to meet me in this room. And I waited, like, forever. Finally the door opened, but it was Dominick and that Tracey girl, the one from Sparta he’d had a crush on forever? And they were all embarrassed, and I was wearing, like, half a foot of lace and some edible powder...”

She ducks her head so her hair curtains her face and hides her features.

Not that there’s any need to actually see her face to know exactly how humiliated she is.

It’s incredible how the powerful, smart, sexy New York City version of Toni who jumped me on the train has just crumbled, and, even though I don’t remember that night at the party at all, I feel like it’s being replayed, fresh and raw for my horror. Her embarrassment kills me, and I feel a tsunami of shame that’s dragging me under fast and hard.

“I had no idea, Toni. I didn’t realize.”

Before she replies in a way that will make me want to find the nearest bridge fast, the waitress comes over and sets our plates down.

The fries I was starving for a minute ago aren’t remotely appetizing. I push the plate towards Toni and expect her to push it back, but she doesn’t.

She hooks a finger along the hot lip and yanks it closer, grabs at the crispy, still-sizzling edges of a few fries, and pulls them out in all their gravy-soaked, mozzarella-coated glory. She pops them in her mouth and does that distractingly sexy eat-moan-and-close-her-eyes combo.

If she’s eating and enjoying her food that much, she can’t be all that upset.

Right?

As soon as she’s a few bites in, she seems to relax a little. She glances up from under thick, dark lashes and says, “Look. I know...I know that what I’m telling you about that night sounds all ‘woe is me.’ And it was. Back then. Especially when you were, um, standing there with Danielle Levy wrapped around you like a pretzel. That wasn’t easy.”

Danielle Levy.

Danielle. Oh. I remember Danielle.

I’d be pretty surprised if any guy from my graduating class didn’t remember Danielle Levy and her super tight jeans and her almost nonexistent skirts. She was all curves before we even understood how good curves could be, and she had these distractingly sexy legs that she used to cross and uncross over and over during civics.

I still don’t know dick about the electoral college, but I remember every inch of Danielle Levy’s legs.

I also remember, suddenly, that Danielle was at Jagger’s and that she backed me into a room and started kissing me.

And then I remember her whispering all kinds of crazy hot things that made swallowing incredibly difficult.

And I remember her kissing down my chest, pieces of loose hair caught in the buttons on my shirt until her breath was hot over my dick, and my mind was in a thousand places.

I pushed her away, because I wasn’t always particularly good to Toni, but I was never a cheater.

Danielle pawed at me for a while, but I eventually got untangled, stumbled away, and passed out in one of Jagger’s back rooms, on the floor, cradling the cool glass of my empty liquor bottle.

I didn’t think about Toni that night, other than that one second I decided not to cheat.

Honestly, I didn’t give her a lot of thought during my sober moments, let alone when I was drunk. Hell, I didn’t give her a ton of thought when I was on a date with her. Toni was, for me, always there but never really all that noticeable.

And I guess I didn’t notice that night when she was trying to take it to the next level, and I was ignoring her and getting sexed up by Danielle.

“You broke up with me after that night.” I rub a hand over my face.

The break-up wasn’t exactly a huge shock. I was a pretty shitty boyfriend, after all. But it did seem like it came out of nowhere. I figured she finally just wised up and decided to move on.

She chews on her fries and shrugs. “It was a real turning point for me. I stopped chasing guys who had no interest in me.”

“I was an idiot for not being more interested in you,” I lament.

“Yeah. You definitely were.” She pushes the plate my way, and I scoop up some fries reluctantly, regret and self-disgust kind of destroying my appetite. “But I didn’t come here and tell you all this to make you feel like shit.” When I raise an eyebrow at her, she laughs. “Honestly. I swear.”

“So, what was the point of all this, then?”

I dip my fries in gravy and take a salty bite, half hoping she’ll tell me that the point is that the only thing that could make her feel better would be her and me in the backseat of her car or, better yet, her apartment.

“Well, I was just going to send you a letter or an email or whatever.” She sits up straighter and shakes her hair out of her eyes. “I actually have a draft of half an email in my inbox right now, but I could never get it to come out right. And I guess it was better to actually see you and...” She clears her throat. “And it wasn’t totally awful to kiss you again. I’m about to accept a study abroad opportunity, and my New Year’s resolution is to take every negative I’ve been hanging onto up to this point and make my peace with all of them.”

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I’m one of your negatives, Toni.” I drum my fingers on the edge of the table.

“It’s okay.” Her smile is a cool punch, like a strong Tom Collins on a hot day. “The thing is...I started thinking about you, about us, and, I kept waiting to get really mad. I mean, you were kind of a huge dick to me the entire time we dated, and I was so completely heartbroken and hung-up over you. But...I don’t know, I’ve always had this soft spot for you. And, even though I tried, I just couldn’t get pissed at you. And now that I see you, I feel...honestly? I feel kind of bad for you, Landry.”

“Why?” I back up to the corner of the booth and catch my own reflection in the dark diner window.

Alright, so I look pretty rough. It’s been awhile since I shaved, I need a couple good nights’ sleep in a row, I’m a little haggard and a bit hung-over, but I’m not exactly a guy to be pitied.

Am I?

“Because you’re still running from anything good and solid in your life. I heard about Heather and Tyler.” She takes a deep breath. “Seriously, Landry? It’s like you handpick people who suck. I guess I just want to say that you deserve better. When everything happened with me and you and especially right after that night, there was someone, this one unexpected person, who sat me down and he told me that I deserved better. And, even though I couldn’t really process it then, I’ve held onto his words for years. They helped focus me whenever I felt like things were a mess, whenever I felt like I should just give it up or that I should just try to make it work with you even though we were both miserable. I didn’t realize for a long time how much what he said meant to me, but now I feel like...I finally get it.”

“Who was it?”

I think back to the guys who threw me envious looks when I walked around with Toni. The problem isn’t remembering who did that; the problem is so many guys did, the list is crazy long.

“It doesn’t matter.” She pretends that she’s shaking my question off, like it’s no big deal, but she shifts her eyes and smooth’s her hair and her shirt, that way she does when she gets super nervous. “What matters is that now I’m going to tell you something as someone who honestly has your best interests at heart, and I want you to seriously listen to me.”

She looks right at me, right into my eyes and speaks slowly, clearly.

“You can do better. You should do better. Because I truly believe you’re a good person. I’ve always cared about you, and I always will. But you need someone to tell you to pull your head out of your ass, or you’re never going to be happy.”

“And that someone is you?” I grin at her, and she chuckles.

“I don’t see anyone else lining up to help your stupid ass out.” She sips her soda, her lips gorgeous around that straw.

She’s damn gorgeous. All of her. And it occurs to me that maybe this is my chance to get something back that I threw away when I was so damn young and dumb. I’ve been an ass, but maybe it isn’t too late to change that.

There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for the chance to see her in a few scraps of lace and some sweet body powder now.

I lean over the table and try to communicate my regret, the chance that I’m willing to take with her, my intentions, my apologies. I look at her and hope it all comes through, because I know my words won’t really be enough.

“Maybe I don’t have to look all that far to find someone way better than I deserve.”

She snorts and half-chokes on her soda. She gasps and grabs some napkins to cover her mouth. I get nervous, but she’s telling me that she’s fine through more wheezy laughter.

“Oh, that was so damn corny, Landry! Thank you.” Her laughs bubble up again, and, honestly, she’s losing cute points right and left. “Oh my god, look at you pouting! You’re actually pouting? We’re nothing but wrong for each other. Is that not beyond obvious?”

“But you just said...” I lift my hands. “On the train, you kissed...you kissed me.”

“Yes.” She pushes her eyebrows together like I’m a word problem in an impossible math class. “You are so damn hot, Landry. Seriously. And I was feeling sentimental, and I have a stupid, stupid soft spot for you. I do. But that was definitely a kiss good-bye. I’m on the verge of starting a whole new life. And all I really want, is just to let go of the past. Not relive it. And it would make me happy to know that you’re doing well, that you’re not wasting time with stupid people and running away from things. I feel like you’re at this same point I was at a while ago. And you have the chance to switch directions before you self-destruct. And you should.”

“This is the weirdest date ever,” I gripe, slumping back in the booth.

“I know.” She grabs the check that the haggard waitress drops before I have a chance to reach for it. “But I feel like it was fate that we saw each other today. And I feel...I have no idea, really. I feel like I had to tell you all this, and now I have this sense of total peace. And those disco fries were so amazing. I’m really glad we did this.”

She sighs and pats her stomach. “This was really good. But I’m beat and need to sleep and so do you. You look like death warmed over. Can I give you a lift back home?”

And she’s serious.

I realize that I’m not getting any more kisses or anything else good, and my pout deepens. I don’t give a shit if it makes her laugh. I’m pouting with good reason.

Toni looks at me and, even after all the childish bullshit I put her through, she sees something really good, something important. She sees potential in me, and that’s wildly attractive. I need that because she’s right; I’m at the edge of something amazing, and if I don’t grab on and go with it, it’s going to pass me by, and I’ll wind up a bitter old man.

And it feels like this is a moment I should be able to grab.

I should be able to scoop her up and make all my past mistakes right.

I have my hands deep in my pockets while she pays our tab, which I hate, but she insisted on it.

I walk her out into the glass lobby, and I pull at her delicate, tiny wrist before she gets to the doors, before she can go back into the bitter cold that’s going to blow the last of this hot thing we’ve got going away.

I lean down, and I can see from the way her lips shake and her dark eyes widen that she wants to kiss me again, no matter what she says. I’m eighty percent sure I’m getting that damn kiss when she pulls back sharply and presses hard on my chest.

“No.” It’s firm out of her mouth. So firm, there’s no questioning it, and I know better than to press my luck this time.

I rub my hands up and down her arms and watch her close those soft brown eyes and breathe in, deep and slow.

I swallow hard and lower my voice so I can control it. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She blinks a few times and nods. “Yes.” She cups my face with one hand and rubs her thumb over my cheekbone. “You...wow, you’re hot. You really are. Please find a girl who doesn’t care how hot you are, Landry. A girl who doesn’t notice how cool and suave and tortured you are, okay? Find a girl who can laugh with you. Laugh at you. Hard. That’s the kind of girl you need.”

She gives me a shove. “Now back away. Seriously, you really are so hot, Landry. It’s just that whole first love thing, I guess. I’m a hopeless romantic.” She fans her pink cheeks with one hand as she marches to her car, shaking her head the entire way.

On the drive back to my house, she’s silent and guarded, sitting military straight and working to maintain the distance between us. I could push it, could try for another kiss and probably get it.

But I decide to actually listen to what Toni said to me, and, as I work it through in my head, it makes a hell of a lot of sense.

Heather was wrong for me in so many ways. I knew that.

And the string of gorgeous girls who’ve been jumping in and out of my bed for years? They haven’t been doing me any good either.

I’d say I need to take a break from girls in general, but that’s sort of impossible for me.

Toni’s car slows in front of my parents’ house. Creepy Santa shines bright from the upstairs window, but the rest of the house is pitch black.

“Thanks.” Not enough, definitely lame, but all I can think to say that isn’t pushing my luck or ruining things in a new and fresh way.

She presses her lips together and gives me this weird, tight smile. “You’re welcome. I hope...I hope you take what I said to heart.”

My hand is on the door handle. “So, tell me who he was.” She looks at me, her eyes narrowed with confusion. “Your lifesaver. The guy who swooped in to help you after I dicked you over like an a*shole.”

There’s that sweet blush again.

“None of your business, Landry.” But she’s smiling in a way that makes me instantly hate whoever he is, especially because he’s obviously a smarter, better man than I am.

But I’m trying to take a cue from Toni and not be such a reprehensible douchebag all my life. “Alright. I can take a really, really obvious hint. Sometimes. Maybe I’ll see you around before I head back to Boston and you get all Euro-awesome.”

She drums her fingers on the steering wheel. “I think we might. I’m helping your parents get their books in order before I head out. I think your dad’s been having a pretty hard time with the bar.”

I lean my forehead on the icy window glass and let my breath make a huge fogged ring. “Yeah.”

“Feeling guilty over leaving?” Her voice is soft.

“Yeah.”

“Well, you should.” There’s a definite bite to her words. “What were you thinking, Landry? Or, I guess, you weren’t thinking.” She clamps off the sentence before she can add the as usual I know she wants to tack on.

“I’ll fix it.”

I feel weird saying that because I don’t know how to fix my own shit, let alone my dad’s, and I had no plans to fix anything for anyone until those words popped out of my mouth, probably mostly influenced by my sickening overtiredness and the deep need to make Toni forgive my crazy a*shole behavior and like me again, at least a little.

But she turns those eyes on me and her features are all softened like she’s looking at some returning hero instead of me, Landry Murphy, resident f*ck up.

“I know you will.”

I lean over and kiss her at the place right on the side of her lips, half-regretting I lost permission to do more through my own jerkoff behavior. But I’m glad, too, because Toni as a friend is doing good things to my mostly shit present, and I know that’s worth more than a few memory-inspired rolls in the hay.

Not that I’d actually regret getting her in my bed, even as a temporary thing. I just get that it’s better if I don’t.

Sadly.

I watch her car pull away, let myself in through the always loose basement window like I’m some sad high-schooler sneaking around, and crash on the futon bed.