Garrison
“You’re totally shitfaced,” Oakley says, handing me another flute of champagne and wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
“Am not,” I argue as I stumble from his big ass knocking into me.
He laughs and sips his own champagne. His mom laughs, sitting on the couch next to mine. “Oh, you boys. It’s just a little fun.” His mom takes a drink from her own flute. “It’s New Year’s Eve, after all.”
“Damn straight,” my dad says, tossing back a shot of whiskey with Oakley’s dad.
It’s a New Year’s Eve tradition, celebrating with the Eastons. Although, now that we’re eighteen, I guess it’s champagne for us, too, instead of sparkling grape juice. Laws be damned, apparently.
“You know who I saw yesterday at the supermarket?” Oakley’s mom perks up in her seat, her eyes sparkling in our direction. She doesn’t wait for us to answer though. “Jenny Perkins. That girl is such a sweetheart. Don’t you think, Oakley?”
I smirk because his mom is always trying to set him up with nice girls. “She’s fine, Mom,” Oakley says.
“Well, she is adorable,” his mom goes on, fueled by the liquor a little, I’m sure, based on the redness of her cheeks. “But I think she might be a little more interested in you, sweetie.” Oh shit. Her eyes are on me.
Oakley grins wider and laughs. “She’s had a crush on him for years. Her little doe eyes track him through the halls.”
A hot, uncomfortable feeling sweeps over me now. My whole body goes rigid because I know they’re just teasing me. I know that’s normal, but I have no interest in Jenny. Or any other girl. And while I’m screaming that on the inside, I know I can’t say it on the outside.
My dad walks over to us, elbowing me playfully in the side. “Well, of course she’s obsessed with him. Takes after his old man.”
“You have the old part right,” Oakley’s dad jokes.
“Hey fucker, I’m only three months older than you.”
I should be laughing and having a good time. They’re all certainly having a good time, so much so, they don’t even realize I’m dying inside right now. The room is cramped and hot, all of a sudden.
I make a quick excuse, slipping outside to the backyard and hope no one notices how weird I’m acting. I hear them still laughing, so I think I’m good, but I feel like my insides are crawling right now. My skin too tight.
I hate living this lie. They’re my family. And I can’t tell them any of this.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, seeing a message from Bates. I know it’s crazy, but it feels like somehow, he just knew.
Bates: Families are kind of bullshit.
I laugh at that, surprised by the sound when I was panicking only moments ago.
Me: Yeah. Not having a fun New Year’s Eve?
Bates: It’s fine. Just talking about the future they’ve planned.
I know what’s expected of him, and I also know from the months of hanging out and maybe even before, it’s not what he wants.
Me: You don’t have to, you know.
It takes a while for his reply, and it’s totally a Bates reply.
Bates: Happy New Year, Dixon.
That means he doesn’t want to talk about it. Shocker.
Me: Happy New Year, Bates.
I put my phone away and wish like hell we were in that loft above the barn together. Or in my room. Or in my truck.
Wherever we are, it’s always better with him there.