Chapter 1 Never Get in a Car with Your Boyfriend #2
“I get it, Ellie,” Nina interrupts before putting her hand on my shoulder and squeezing gently.
“I’m glad we’re still good to hang out with him and the other boys, but that doesn’t make this any less heartbreaking!
I really thought you and Daniel were going to be in love forever. ” She sighs, shaking her head slowly.
“Let’s look at it from the bright side,” I say, swallowing hard. “At least now I won’t have to go to that summer camp with him. I’m sure my parents can still cancel, which means I’ll have a whole lot more time to do fun things with you instead!”
When Daniel asked me to join him at a beach volleyball camp called SMASH!
a few months ago and I said yes, Nina was upset we’d have less time to spend with each other this summer.
So much so that she even considered coming along herself, though that might have had to do with my brother being a SMASHER!
—his words, not mine—too. Ultimately, though, the thought of, and I quote, “sweating and rolling around in the sand” was a big enough dealbreaker for Nina to not want to go.
“So I’m your second choice for summer plans?” she teases now, but the smile quickly fades from her face, turning into a groan. “I need another drink to process this news.”
Before I know it, Nina has not only grabbed herself a new beer but pushed one into my hands as well.
“Thanks,” I force out before taking the tiniest sip known to humankind.
Either there is more wrong with me than I originally thought, or people who say you get used to the taste of beer are all liars.
Because even after trying it at various parties, I still have to use all my willpower to keep the disgust off my face.
I can’t be seen as that one boring girl who refuses to drink, though.
So, at each party, I let people offer me one drink and then spend the rest of the night holding on to that very same cup, occasionally bringing it to my lips but never getting close to finishing it.
The illusion that I’m drinking is all it takes for people to leave me alone.
I guess that’s the thing about fitting in. The key to it isn’t to be exactly like everyone else. It’s just to make them believe you are. In all the right ways, at least.
“God, I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that you guys broke up.
Romance is officially dead to me,” Nina declares after downing half her drink.
She taps her cup against my full one, giving me a small smile.
“The only love I’ll ever need is your friendship.
Who needs boys when we have each other, right? ”
Warmth gathers in my chest at her words, and I’m about to tell her I sure don’t when she adds, “Though I’m also here if you do want to rant about boys, of course.”
She looks at me expectantly, eyebrows raised slightly as she waits for me to take her up on that offer.
But I won’t, which she should know by now.
After all, talking about how I’m feeling isn’t exactly a good idea with the existence of Rule #4: Always keep the topic of the conversation on the other person.
If you start rambling about things you feel strongly about, you won’t know when or how to shut up.
I clear my throat, trying to come up with a new topic of conversation that Nina will find interesting enough to drop this without thinking twice. Preferably one that does not revolve around my brother.
I fail.
“About you wanting to give up on romance, though…if I were you, I’d reconsider,” I tell Nina.
As soon as the words are out, I’m already regretting every single life decision that has led me here, to this exact moment.
“I overheard Noah talking to one of his summer camp friends on the phone. Apparently he regrets not asking a girl out in the past, so he said that if he has another shot with her, he definitely won’t make the same mistake again. ”
A smile slowly creeps onto Nina’s face, getting brighter and brighter every second until she’s practically glowing, lighting up the room in a way that the cheap disco lights can only dream of.
“I knew it!” she says. “Oh my god. We’ve been sitting next to each other in history for so long, but lately something has just…changed between us. He’s constantly trying to find an excuse to talk to me now.”
She grabs my hand excitedly, telling me about all the things they’ve been talking about during class. One thing is for sure: We are not passing the Bechdel test tonight.
While Nina rambles on and on, I make sure I don’t forget about Rule #5: Make eye contact when people talk so they know you’re listening to them.
If they’re talking about how they are feeling, nod so they know you think their feelings are valid.
Don’t forget to smile casually if it’s a lighter topic.
Right now that means forcing the corners of my mouth to lift, hoping my smile doesn’t falter as I listen to Nina thirst after my twin brother.
Aside from the fact that it’s weird as hell to hear this, I generally don’t like giving my best friend hope when I know for a fact that my brother doesn’t like her at all—especially not in a romantic way.
Even though we barely speak to each other nowadays, that much is clear.
Although it is strange that he’s been talking to Nina at all…
My best friend is still rambling when Blake jumps on a table and cups his hands around his mouth to yell, “May I have your attention, people!” Conversations all around us pause as pretty much everyone turns to him, almost like he’s some sort of god.
That might not even be that far off—at least, if a god of alcohol exists.
Blake and his older brother have been hosting Willowmoor High’s parties and sneaking in drinks since my first year of high school, though Blake’s legacy is now nearing its end.
After being held back for two years, this is finally the summer before he leaves for college.
For now, though, he stands on top of the table with a grin, enjoying the fact that all eyes are on him. He ruffles his blond hair, then screams, his voice already a bit hoarse, “It’s truth-or-dare time, everyone!”
A mixture of groans and excited squeals fill the room, and I even hear a loud “Yeehaw!” from somewhere in the crowd.
“Basic!” someone else yells.
Blake turns around at that, pointing his cup toward the girl who said it.
His face is all serious, and for a second, I really am convinced he’s going to throw a tantrum because someone called the classic game boring.
But what comes out of his mouth is a simple “Your mom.” Then he dramatically drops the red cup he was holding, and before it even hits the floor, people are howling with laughter.
Nina rolls her eyes but immediately drags me to the middle of the room, where people are quickly sitting down in a circle. After a minute or so, it seems like everyone who wants (or, in my case, is being forced) to play is here, so Blake claps his hands once and continues talking.
“Okay, the rules are simple. I spin this bottle, and whoever it points at gets to pick between truth or dare. Either you tell the truth or take a shot, or you do the dare or take a shot.” He grins, positioning an empty beer bottle in the middle of our circle. “Now, let’s begin.”
With that, he lets the bottle decide whose turn it is.
First up is Abigail, a girl from my year who chooses dare and immediately regrets that decision when she’s told to reveal her crush by kissing them. A blush colors her cheeks, one that deepens once the crowd starts booing her for reaching for the shot of tequila.
“What a coward. Next!” Blake demands. Everyone laughs, and even though I can see Abigail’s hands trembling as she sits back down, I laugh along.
Guilt lodges in my throat, but I have to push through it, just like I do every time.
I can’t afford to think about how it makes her feel, can’t afford to realize I was in her place just a few years ago, unless I want to end up back there.
Still, relief fills my chest when everyone moves on.
Another dare follows after that—this time one that’s fulfilled. Stephan gets blindfolded and has to kiss two girls. Luckily, he correctly guesses that the second one is Stephanie, his girlfriend. Through the next few rounds, she smiles so brightly that you’d think she won the dating lottery.
More dares keep coming, most of them also involving kissing, of course. Because what else can we possibly do if we’re not constantly sticking our tongues in each other’s mouths?
No matter how often it happens, though, people cheer every single time, like others kissing because of peer pressure is a movie scene nobody can get enough of.
I much prefer watching four seasons of a slow-burn romance show in which the touch of hands makes everyone lose it, but maybe that’s just me.
I cheer along.
Eventually, for what feels like the thirteenth time tonight, the bottle spins and spins and spins around again…
until it doesn’t. Gasps and oohs fill the room in an instant, and as I follow everyone’s gazes, I find Daniel across the room.
He’s sitting with his usual friends—Mike and Oliver—who are both laughing because of course they are.
The bottle pointing at him is so hilarious, top-tier humor for sure.
Daniel, however, drinks from his cup, not a single trace of laughter to be seen on his blank face as he looks right at me.
Even from this distance, I know what it means. Not that he wants this to stop or that he’s miserable because he already misses me. The truth is far simpler: He’s drunk. So. Very. Drunk.
And even though people at school like to say alcohol makes everything and everyone more fun, my ex-boyfriend is the living proof that that’s not the case at all. Because, to be completely honest, Drunk Daniel is a total asshole—one who makes impulsive decisions that hurt the people around him.