Chapter 14 Donovan
Wedged between Lewis, who’s gnawing on his pancake, and Adam, who’s been on the phone with his mother for twenty-five minutes straight, I stare at the bottle of orange juice.
I’ve been in a terrible mood since I woke up, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. It’s just one of those mornings.
Lewis swallows way too loudly, then points his knife at me.
“Sure you don’t wanna come to Adam’s? There’ll be cute girls and hamburgers. I plan on helping him unleash his inner man-beast.”
Those two grew up together. Same hometown. Every now and then, they crash at Adam’s mom’s place for the weekend—Lewis is like a second son to her, he even calls her Mom. I’ve joined them for barbecues and parties and stuff before, but this weekend I plan on staying put.
“Not feeling it, sorry.”
Lewis stares at me like I’ve grown a second head, or something. He’s my basketball buddy, my friend, and my roomie, all in one—he definitely knows when something’s up.
“Something has been up with you since school started, Don.” He squints at me. “At first, I thought it had something to do with your dad, but now I’m not so sure.” He waves a hand in front of my face. “I said the magic words—‘cute girls’ and ‘hamburgers.’ This should be a no-brainer, dude.”
I fiddle with the orange juice cap, staring down at the carton for inspiration.
“We’re still friends, right?” he asks in a baby voice.
“You’re my best friend ever!” I squeak back. “It’s just that seeing my dad floored like that kinda messed with my head over the summer.” I smile. “But trust me, bro—it’s all good.”
I should honestly be ashamed for using what happened to my dad like that.
He scours my face and starts chowing down on his pancakes again, chewing each mouthful impossibly slowly.
“Well, I’m here if you need me.”
“I know.”
“Just ask.”
Guilt is stabbing at my chest. I’ve always been totally transparent with Lewis, and he’s done absolutely nothing to make me think I can’t trust him. And yet… This whole thing with Amelia has touched a nerve. It’s kind of cracked open this piece of me I’m not ready to show the world.
The only person I can trust with it is Carrie—she’s just got this way of making me feel like none of it is that big of a deal.
Carrie. My mind wanders back to last night, and a tingle shoots through my belly, coursing all the way up to my fingertips. I reach for my phone and start stabbing out a message.
DONOVAN: Hey, you around?
Say the word, and I’m there.
I tap my foot as I stare at the screen, waiting. The three little dots spring into action, and my knee bounces up and down uncontrollably.
CARRIE: Nope. Cincinnati!
“Fuck!”
Two pairs of eyes swivel to look at me.
“What’s up?” Adam asks.
I wave him away.
DONOVAN: Oh, cool. You there all weekend?
CARRIE: Pretty much.
I fire off another message, asking what she’s doing there, but just before I hit send, I hesitate. It’s none of my business, after all. I weigh my options. Fuck it.
DONOVAN: Big plans?
CARRIE: Weekend reading challenge—finish a new four-book series.
DONOVAN: Intense. And you needed to head out of town for that? They got really comfy armchairs in Cincy, or something?
CARRIE: It’s home, you moron! My mom lives here.
Crazy. I never even knew that’s where she’s from—yet another thing I never thought to ask.
CARRIE: I come down for the weekend pretty often.
DONOVAN: I had no idea. You don’t tell me shit!
CARRIE: Life’s a bitch!
DONOVAN: Tell me, oh wise one—what do I do if my future girlfriend is an under-sharer?
CARRIE: Buy her drinks.
DONOVAN: That’s not a bad idea. Isn’t that what the guitarist in that one book does? You know, when he’s trying to get to the bottom of the singer’s deep dark secret.
CARRIE: Impressive memory. Shame you never remember the useful stuff, like what actually turns a girl off.
DONOVAN: Like when a guy says “Come for me, baby”?
CARRIE: Exactly like that.
Just the thought of it makes me want to puke.
DONOVAN: It was amazing!
CARRIE: It was terrible…
DONOVAN: It was fate!
CARRIE: Dude, I already told you not to take the stuff you read in books too literally. The “come for me, baby” line is the kind of thing that doesn’t translate to real life. Like up-against-the-wall fucking. It’s just not a thing.
My mouth falls open.
DONOVAN: Uh, I hate to break it to you, but—it is a thing.
CARRIE: Nope.
DONOVAN: Yup. Trust me. I know my shit.
CARRIE: Porn isn’t a reliable source of information, you know…
She’s definitely misjudged me—some very real memories are springing to mind as we speak, and though I can’t remember the chick’s name, I do remember what she looked like pressed up against my bedroom wall.
I remember the other four, too, but in every one of my memories, they all have Carrie’s face.
Shit. I was feeling horny before I messaged her, and that was bad enough.
Now it turns out she’s miles away from campus, and I’m all alone here—just me and my hard-on.
I sneak a look around the table and scrape back my chair.
“I’m gonna get some rest. See you Sunday night, guys.”
Keeping my back to them, I scuttle into my bedroom, and it feels like my shorts are about to burst open as I throw myself on the bed and check the new message that just popped up.
CARRIE: Anyway! Still got three books to get through, so I’m checking out.
Enjoy the rest of your morning!
Not so fast, little lady! This is way too juicy to end here.
DONOVAN: Wait, are you telling me you’ve never done it up against a wall?
CARRIE: As I said—checking out now.
DONOVAN: How about a window?
CARRIE: I’m sorry, the number you have dialed is unavailable!
DONOVAN: A tree, at least?
CARRIE: Make it stop! Delete my number, pretend we never met. I’m begging you!
DONOVAN: So basically, no vertical surface of any kind at all?
CARRIE: You know what you need? A girlfriend.
Donovan: When are you back?
CARRIE: Never.
DONOVAN: Because I’m thinking—You + Me + Wall = Good Times.
So let me ask again—when are you back?
CARRIE: Actually, I’ve decided to drop out and become a country star. It was nice knowing you.
DONOVAN: Sunday night?
CARRIE: I’m a country boy, I’ve got a 4-wheel drive…
DONOVAN: You know I could make your life hell, right?
CARRIE: Believe it or not, I *did* already know that.
DONOVAN: According to Google, I can be there in under two hours.
There’s only one Wolinski in Cincy. Tell your mom I’m on my way.
CARRIE: I’m back Monday morning!
DONOVAN: There’s a good girl. Enjoy your weekend.
CARRIE: You know, I can actually picture the face you’re making right now.
DONOVAN: This face?
I take a quick selfie of my smile, and when she sends back a close-up of her middle finger, I laugh out loud.
DONOVAN: Amazing profile pic!
CARRIE: Have a great weekend. Hope the wait isn’t too hard.
You have no idea.
I tug at my waistband and watch her go offline.
I swipe back over to her photo and snicker to myself, before saving it to my phone. Locking my bedroom door, Lewis’s secret code springs to mind. I’m going to have to look for something on my desk right now. And I don’t think it’s going to take me too long to find it.
AS SOON AS I WAKE up, I shoot her a message, but her phone must be off because it stays undelivered. Fuck. I liked texting her—how am I supposed to last a whole weekend?
After an entire Sunday afternoon training with Dad, I try again—but nada. Single checks all around. Damn. I hope she’s okay.
We’re not exactly friends, but we have spent a lot of time together building up my boyfriend credentials. We know each other well enough for me to check in on her. Right?
I try calling, but it rings out.
I promised not to call, I remind myself. I hang up without leaving a message, and I’m debating what to try next, when there’s a knock at my door.
“You asleep?” Adam asks.
“Nope.”
“Come play Mario Kart with us!”
“Gimme two secs!”
My roomies got back all of fifteen minutes ago, and I know hanging out with them will do me good. I’ve kinda ignored them these past few weeks, and that needs to change.
Leaping out of bed, I stride across my room and head for the living room, before turning back to grab my phone. Just in case.
“What’s up, sweet cheeks? You see your dad today?” Lewis asks, holding out a controller.
“Yup. He’s doing great.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“He’s stressing the fuck outta me, though. We need to get him back to work ASAP.”
Dad is on fire, and so are my muscles. My legs are already sore from today’s drills.
“Game prep starts tomorrow, right?” Adam asks.
I sink back into the couch, nodding.
“Well, at least you’re ready for action.”
“Uh, okay, Dad!” I offer him a smile. “How was home?”
“Let’s just say it was busy. I had to keep an eye on my mom, make sure she didn’t hit the bottle.”
Adam’s dad left when he was a teenager, and his mom started drinking way too much. Nowadays, she switches back and forth between being teetotal and going hard. She’s lucky she has such a protective, caring son.
“She going back to detox next month?”
“Same as every Thanksgiving.” He sighs.
“Dude!” Lewis yells. “Look what I found in the bathroom!”
Leaning across the armrest, he tosses one of Carrie’s books into my lap. If she ever finds out that I left her precious novel by the toilet (and that Lewis just threw it at me like a dirty sock), I’m dead.
Adam laughs. “You still ‘doing research’?”
“Someone has to do it.”
IT’S DISGUSTINGLY EARLY ON A Monday morning, and I’m hanging around a deserted parking lot. I check the time again—6:40 a.m. I’m slouching against the hood of my car, two coffees balanced next to me, one eye on my book and the other on the road.