By the time Trent’s band goes on for their unrequested encore, I’m so drunk they almost sound good. Of course I’m also so drunk that I think I see Raychel and Asha. Worse, Asha appears to be walking toward me.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
Oh. Crap. “Same as you, probably.” I tip my drink back so I don’t have to look at her.
“You’re also here to pick up Keri?” she asks, putting a hand on her hip.
Raychel walks up with a staggering Keri in tow. I feel slightly chagrined. “No,” I slur. “I’m just here for the music.”
“Wow.” Raychel looks at the band and bites her lip. “I didn’t realize that was Trent. That is … wow.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Wow.”
Spencer returns with two more beers, saving me from conversation, but he completely misses Asha’s presence until he’s right in front of us. “Shit. I mean, hey,” he says, bobbling the cups. I take one to be helpful, and also to drink as quickly as possible. He tries not to stare at Asha, who’s staring at him.
“Where’re your glasses?” she blurts.
Spencer feels for his shirt pocket, pausing halfway. “I got contacts.”
It’s silent, or as silent as it can be with the blaring off-rhythm chaos behind us. Then Keri yawns theatrically. “I’m ready to go home.”
I’m going to have to leave my car here, because there’s no way I can drive. “Could you take me home too?” I ask.
“Keri’s not driving anywhere,” Raychel argues. But Asha looks at her pleadingly, and she sighs. “I’ll take you both in Asha’s car and then come back to get her.”
*
Keri and I decide to sing in the car. We turn up the worst of the worst Top 40, and I pretend it’s to be chivalrous to Keri, but it’s mostly because I know it’ll set Raychel’s teeth on edge. Payback for years of her doing the same.
Keri’s so drunk she gives herself a Pringles duck beak, which means I have to do it too, and then we try to sing through those and end up laughing so hard that Raychel has to pull over to let Keri puke. Keri’s not as much fun afterward, but luckily her house is near campus, in the historic district. I sit in the car as Raychel walks her to the front door, where Mrs. Sturgis meets them with her arms crossed. I can tell from the way Raychel bows her head that she’s apologizing, but Mrs. Sturgis pats her shoulder as she leaves.
“Well, Keri’s grounded for the rest of her life,” Raychel says, getting back in the car.
“Bummer.” Being so close to her makes my body react in embarrassing ways. Luckily it’s too dark for her to notice, but it sours my buzz. Just get home, I tell myself. Go to bed and don’t make a fool of yourself. I turn off the music and sit quietly. “How have you been?” I dare to ask.
She glances at me. “Fine. You?”
“Great. Dandy.” I make a nonchalant gesture and whack my hand on the window.
She shakes her head. “You seem dandy.”
“I’m drunk.” I realize how stupid it sounds, but oh well. “Mom’s gonna be pissed.”
Raychel swallows a laugh. “Your parents are chill,” she says, her tone changing. “You’ll be fine.”
“My brother fell off a cliff, Raychel. My parents are anything but chill these days.” She flinches, hard enough that I reach for her out of habit and pull back at the last minute, staring out the windshield instead. The oncoming headlights make my head hurt. “They’re already pissed, because I’m going to Rhodes next semester.”
She glances at me. “For real?”
“Yeah. Headed to Memphis after New Year’s.”
“Wow.”
A minute passes. “I’m too drunk,” I say, closing my eyes.
She snorts. “Good thing you got a ride.”
“Good thing Dad taught you to drive.”
“My mom taught me,” she says, cutting off my argument. “Your dad just took me to the test. That’s why I did so much better than y’all.”
It’s true. Even when Andrew and I tried to distract her, she was always the best. I still can’t drive a standard without stalling out. And my brother— I open my eyes before I can finish the thought. Raychel parks a few houses away from mine and cuts the lights, but opening my door turns out to be harder than I expected. She sighs loudly and gets out, walking around to help.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say, trying to sound sincere, but it’s hard to sound anything but stupid when your mouth won’t work right.
“Sure. Can you make it?”
“Pfft.” I turn around and crash into a mailbox. “Crap.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake,” she mutters, and hesitates. “Okay. Come on.” She puts an arm around my waist, making me drape one of mine over her shoulders.
My body relaxes, even as hers tenses. My mouth relaxes too. “I’ve missed you, Raych.”
She doesn’t answer. “Which door?” she asks.
“Back. But Raych…”
“No,” she says. “How’d you get so drunk?”
“It was surprisingly easy.”
That elicits a tiny smile. She drags me through the back door and up the stairs. I pretend to need more help than I do as a pathetic excuse to touch her, and insist that I have to brush my teeth so I can stare at us together in the mirror. My girl, I keep thinking, hating it. But it won’t stop. Mine, I’m thinking as she turns off the bathroom light. Mine. I’m reduced to nothing but this basic, demanding need, and when she makes me sit on the bed, I tug her by the hand until she’s standing between my knees. “Raych,” I say quietly.
“Matthew.”
I hug her, pressing my head to her stomach. Her fingers run cautiously through my hair. It sends tingles down my neck and arms, and I shiver. I can feel her abs through her shirt. But she pulls away. “Raych,” I say again, and it sounds a lot closer to a sob. This is not quite what I had in mind with Don’t embarrass yourself.
She lowers herself to one knee. “Hey,” she says, making me look at her. “Hey. It’s going to be okay.”
“No, it’s not.” I sound like a five-year-old. “I lost you both.”
She blinks, like she’s trying not to cry. “Yeah. I lost you both too.”
I tip her chin up. “You’re still my girl, Raych.”
“No, I’m not.” She pulls away, lowering my hand from her face to my own leg.
“We never even talked…” I start, but she closes her eyes and stands up.
“Not tonight,” she says. “If you still want to talk in the morning, you know where I am.” She stops at the door. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
RAYCHEL
It is so, so hard to be in this house again.
The familiar smell when we walked in was like falling into a sad dream. I navigated Matt up the stairs without turning on a single light. I got him ready for bed like he did for me a thousand times. It felt like home.
But it’s not.
He said a lot of things—the beer said a lot of things, anyway—but I’m setting them aside. Taking it as a stolen moment, one of the last I’ll ever get.