Chapter 10. In Which Thou Shalt Not Get Drunk with Wine, for That Is Debauchery, but Be Filled with the Holy Spirit—Exce #2
“No, I’m serious. I’ve never considered leaving my family’s legacy behind. But I understand wanting to finally do what you want.”
Benedict searches every inch of me, up to my forehead and down to my chest, like he’s still deducing if I’m telling the truth.
Thoughts are racing through his mind, but I can’t read them.
He’s talented at keeping his expressions skillfully locked behind a key.
Maybe we were given the same media training.
Whatever conclusion he draws must be in my favor because his shoulders lose some rigidity. “Thank you.”
I lose some, too. If we start getting along and Benedict starts actually participating, then who knows what our cabin could accomplish? All we’d have left to do is take our morning and evening study sessions more seriously. “And I’m sorry. About your parents. My parents are a lot, too.”
Benedict nods a few times. His cheeks are red now. He really must have drunk a lot.
“Luca!” someone shouts through the cabin.
Every head in the room turns toward the door.
Conversations stop. Bodies still.
By the time I start to step toward him, Luca is already getting mobbed by others, ruining any chance of my getting to him first.
Leaving Benedict’s side, I shove myself through the bodies until I reach the front, keeping Luca’s varsity jacket locked in my sights. Ophelia from Cabin Chi is in the middle of asking Luca for his number.
“I meant to ask you yesterday after lab,” she says, laughing off her nerves, which are palpable from here.
“I’m not the best texter,” Luca says, rubbing the back of his neck. His curls are more unruly than usual. One drapes down his forehead in a way that I would describe as cute if he hadn’t ruined my life thirty-six times over. “It’d be a disservice to give it to you.”
As Langston goes in to give Luca a bro handshake, Ophelia’s eyes well with tears. She walks out the door in the aftermath of her rejection.
I watch, dumbfounded by the drama. Once again, Mom and Dad are right. It’s pointless to think about dating. Heartbreak is how it always ends.
Yet my mind lingers on the rejection. Is Luca truly too busy to text? Is it from managing perfect grades? Or because he’s too busy making out with his hockey puck?
At least Ophelia’s heartbreak leaves me with a chance to make my move. I wave at him to catch his attention, taking the empty space she left behind. “Luca!”
It takes a moment for him to find me with the conversations whirring around us. He grins from ear to ear. “Prince Charming.”
I rattle an imaginary version of him until his head snaps off and rolls along the floor. “Thanks for coming.”
“Of course.” He glances toward the table at the back that’s covered in illicit goods. “What are we drinking?”
I lead Luca to the table, ignoring the eyes that aren’t thrilled by his usurped attention.
Picking up a plastic cup, I gesture at the fifteen bottles of vodka and two liters of mixer Jade convinced the kitchen staff to give to us for “studying purposes.” A land mine of distraction, and nothing Jesus would approve of despite his presence hanging quite literally above us. “What do you want?”
A corner of his mouth quirks up. “I don’t think I have a choice.”
Idiot. Idiot, Rory. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess vodka is all we got.” I point at the two liters. “What else, though?”
“Surprise me.”
“S-sure.”
Alcohol usually gets mixed with juice. Or soda.
I know that much. But what’s the correct ratio?
Chemically speaking, fruit juice is generally denser than alcohol, meaning that for the same volume, fruit juice would weigh more than alcohol.
Fruit juice contains a significant amount of sugar, too, which increases its density compared to pure water.
“You okay?” Luca asks over my shoulder.
“Yes!” But it accidentally comes out like I’ve been tased. I grab the vodka and fill the cup halfway, then the nearest liter of soda—Sprite—for the other half. I spin around with the drink, holding it out as assuredly as I can.
Luca accepts the cup, his gold rings glistening in the dim cabin lighting. The moment the drink touches his perfect golden ratio lips, his whole face scrunches, his brow soaring and eyes squinting. Like he’s in pain.
“You’re a generous host,” Luca says.
A compliment?
Maybe not in pain, then.
“We want to form a better bond with Cabin Gamma,” I say with more confidence. “And the other cabins we invited.”
Luca’s arm brushes against mine as he picks another cup off the table, sending an unexpected rush of warmth through me. After pouring in a dash of vodka, then a lot of orange juice, he hands me a drink, too. “Here’s my recommendation for you. To help us bond.”
A wave of anxiety rolls through me as I accept the cup. That is poison for your body, Rory. More importantly, your mind.
I want to listen to Mom and Dad. I always do. But Luca is looking at me expectantly. If I want him to cave in to distractions tonight, I might need to drink, too.
Just one. Just for now. To reach the Medal.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
Luca knocks his cup against mine for a cheers. As we bring them to our lips, I prepare for my tongue to be zapped with a taste equal to W3(OH), the giant cloud of methyl alcohol 6,500 light-years away from Earth. All I taste is orange juice.
“That’s a screwdriver,” Luca says, pointing at it.
“What? It’s a cup.”
“No. The name of the drink. That’s what it’s called.”
“Oh.”
Luca laughs, light and feathery, his brown eyes squinting at the sides.
It’s the same way he looks at the end of my video, after the smoothie collides with his head.
When I first saw him react that way in Mom’s office, it only came off to me as hostile, like he reveled in my pathetic disqualification.
But now it’s playful. Innocent. The voices around us may grow louder with each passing second, and new bodies keep waltzing by, yet his focus remains on me. Like no one else in this cabin exists.
My cheeks heat from the unexpected attention.
“Hello, everyone!” Christiana announces as she stands upon a chair, the PEACE BE WITH YOU sign hanging behind her. Her quiet voice is no match for the chatter of the cabin.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP,” Jade shouts beside her. Big Papa Huge Time squats on her shoulder with attentively lifted paws as if he said it, too.
The conversations plummet to silence.
“First, please keep your voices down.” Christiana points at the pillows and index cards now placed around the floor. “Second, it’s time for our pillow talk session! We’re eager for everyone to get to know one another tonight. To start, grab a partner and sit with them.”
Plenty of eyes dart to Luca.
Panic surges through me. Without thinking, I latch my arm around Luca’s bicep—which is solid even without him flexing and with his thick jacket in the way. My face heats all over again, surpassing the temperature of Earth’s core.
“You must have a firm handshake,” Luca remarks. His voice is strained, and he’s looking down at his arm. Rather, at how hard my fingers are digging into him.
I quickly let go, summoning the fabricated laughter I whip out every fifteen seconds with Prince List investors. “I just … I have a fear of being chosen last. You know, like, in gym.”
“Oh,” Luca says, like the concept never occurred to him.
Of course it wouldn’t.
We all claim spots around the room. As Luca and I sit on pillows at the back, I feel eyes boring into me, drilling me with silent questions. Why him? Why couldn’t I get to Luca first?
“At each station, you’ll find a stash of index cards in the bowl at the center,” Christiana explains from her makeshift chair for a stage.
“Our Expert Social Science, Jade, has provided thirty-six questions for you to ask each other. These emerged during the 1990s through a study by researchers Arthur Aron and Elaine Aron, who argued that they make people fall in love.”
My blood runs cold. I lock eyes with Luca across from me.
Luca stares blankly back.
Christiana clutches her heart. “We believe peace is a form of love. Getting to know one another in such a vulnerable way will improve our time at brAIN. You may pass if you don’t wish to answer a question your partner asks. Although it is discouraged.”
“And you will have to take a drink,” Jade adds, holding her own cup high.
“Now,” Christiana says, waving her hands in the air, “fall in love!”