Everything irritated me. Because I was leaving when I didn’t want to. I hadn’t even said goodbye to Dave or Marcy. I really needed to do that.
Worse, I was worried Kayla was going to think I was blowing her off.
“I gotta go back,” I said.
“Fuck that.” Brody had shed his jacket, and sweat trickled down from his temple. “My girlfriend’s pissed I left her alone in there. She doesn’t know anyone.”
“I didn’t say goodbye to Dave.”
“It’s cool. I’ll tell him.” He gestured to the passenger seat of my car where Jeremy stared at his phone screen with an idiotic grin plastered on his face. “Thanks, Jay.” Brody’s voice was sincere. “Gotta be honest . . . I thought you’d have too big of an ego to even come to this thing. I’m glad I was wrong. Good luck this year.”
Bugs swarmed under the lights illuminating the parking lot, and before I could say anything, Brody took off, disappearing toward the country club’s entrance. I frowned. What the hell was that supposed to mean? I did my best to balance my talent with humility. To try to be confident without being cocky.
I climbed into the driver’s seat and glanced over at my passenger. Jeremy was still smiling like a fool, only now he wasn’t staring at his phone. His glassy eyes blinked at me.
“This is for you.” I shoved the trashcan into his lap. “Drink this.” I opened the water bottle and put it in his hand.
He stared down into the garbage bin like it was a bottomless pit. “I feel bad. I didn’t get you anything.”
A humorless laugh escaped from me. “That’s okay. How are you? How you feeling?”
“Awesome.” He beamed a smile. “Everything is spinning.”
“Great. If it starts feeling less awesome, aim for the can, dude.” I put my seatbelt on and started the car, cranking up the AC.
“Where are we going?” he asked. “Let’s go find some girls.”
I sighed as I pulled out of the parking spot and shifted into drive. “We’re going to the hotel, Jeremy. You’re going to sober up, and hopefully your drunk ass hasn’t ruined my chances.”
“With who?”
I wasn’t the type to talk about girls, but what was the likelihood he’d remember this convo tomorrow? “One of the bridesmaids.”
He slapped his hands onto both the console and the doorframe like the car was moving too fast for him. “Which one?”
“Kayla.”
“Fuck, the tiny blonde?” His head lolled forward. Was his neck suddenly made of jelly? “She’s so hot.”
Yeah, I was aware. Not just hot, but funny, and smart, too.
“I’d hit that,” he added. Only it was barely coherent, and made me want to shove his head in the trashcan.
“You’re going to be hating life tomorrow, Jeremy.”
“Nah. I feel great.” He shifted in his seat toward me, and the trashcan slipped from his arms. It clattered noisily against the dash. “I want to find some pussy.”
Jeremy was four years younger than I was, but it felt like he was a generation beneath me. The age gap between eighteen and twenty-two had to be the widest one possible.
“Sorry, buddy. You’re welcome to look for pussy in my hotel room, but I doubt you’ll find any.”
I glanced at him when we rolled up to a stop sign. At first I thought he was upset I wasn’t taking him to the bars, but then I realized what was happening. I grabbed the rim of the trashcan and shoved it back into his lap.
I turned up the volume on the radio as Jeremy emptied the contents of his stomach into the can. It only lasted the chorus of Run the Jewels’ newest release, and then Jeremy’s head lifted upright.
“Better?” I asked.
He nodded. Under the light of the streetlamp, he looked ashen and waxy.
“Repeat after me,” I said. “No more shots until I know my limit.”
He didn’t speak. Instead he gripped the trashcan tighter and heaved a second time.
“Close enough,” I said.
-7-
KAYLA
When I came into the house after midnight, I was surprised to see Cooper was still up. My younger brother sat at the tiny kitchen table, leafing through the “College Football Preview” issue of Sports Illustrated while inhaling a bowl of Froot Loops.
“Oh my God,” I said, peering at the bowl and breathing in a whiff of the colorful sugary goodness. “I’m starving. Gimme.”
Cooper’s gaze swept over my bridesmaid dress critically, and he cradled his bowl of cereal closer, knowing it was in danger. “No way. Get your own, freak. How was the wedding?”
Our kitchen was what our mother called a “step-saver” which was a nice way of saying it was microscopic, but the house had been in our family since my grandparents bought it. I went to a cabinet, pulled down a bowl, then opened the silverware drawer and dug out a spoon. I struggled to put the evening into words. “It was nice. Marcy looked beautiful.” I moved toward the pantry, on a mission to put food in my stomach. “Mom and Dad in bed already?”
He nodded his head of golden-brown hair and turned the page in his magazine.
“Holy crap, Coop.” I stared into the pantry. “How much Froot Loops do you go through in a week? There are three jumbo-size boxes in here.”
“I like ’em.”
I grabbed the box in front, shook it, and realized it was mostly gone. “Apparently.”
The cereal rattled as I poured it into the bowl. I snatched the gallon of milk from the fridge, made my way to the well-worn table, and dropped down across from him. He seemed far more interested in studying the pre-season predictions than talking to me, but I couldn’t help myself.
“I met a guy.”
His gaze didn’t waver from the print before him. “Yay for you.”
What was I thinking, trying to talk to him? Cooper was about to be a senior in high school. He was at the pinnacle of self-absorption. Yet, I pressed on. “His name’s Jay.”
“Okay.” My brother couldn’t have sounded less interested if he’d tried. He turned another page, and the only sound was me crunching on my Froot Loops. He must have sensed my heavy gaze on him, because Cooper finally turned his attention to me. “You know,” he said, “I love all this bonding and shit, but why are you telling me?”
I frowned. Normally I went to my best friend Chuck for advice, but he was still in Europe with his family. “I don’t have anyone else to talk to about it tonight. I need—” Dear God, was I actually doing this? “I’m looking for some advice.”
Cooper glanced around, searching for who I was speaking to, because there was no way it could be him. “Advice from me?” His tone was pure disbelief. “About a guy?”
I skewed my mouth to one side. “My options are limited.”
He leaned back in his seat, considering. “All right, hit me. You met a guy named Jay . . .”