Chapter 19 Carrie
I’m sandwiched between Donovan and Lewis, staring straight ahead of me, stiff as a board.
I dropped into the Java with a single goal in mind—get over the chaos Wolinski has sparked inside me, flush it all out with a steady stream of alcohol.
Everything was ticking along nicely until he rocked up with his shirt and pants and tie and all. Obviously, he looks great. Obviously.
I side-eye him. What the hell is he doing here?
I turn my focus back to some imaginary point in the distance. He’s half turned into me, one arm slung around the back of my chair. I catch him glancing across me to Lewis. They exchange a look, and when he sees me looking at him, I look away, doing my best to ignore my racing pulse.
It’s still so early, I’m guessing his date was a complete fail.
Don’t be a bitch, Carrie.
I give myself a shake. I don’t want it to have been a fail—not really.
Not at all, actually. He needs a girlfriend, and I need my freedom back.
Facts. Though what I need most of all right now is another shot, but Donovan seems to have other plans.
A jug of water lands on the table in front of me.
He slides me a glass. Water? While I’m doing my best to drown out my demons, here he is, handing me a glass of water. Might as well pour it over my head.
I push the glass to one side. He slides it back over to me.
“You need to stay hydrated.”
You want hydrated? I’ll show you hydrated, Wolinski…
“It’s not good to mix your drinks,” I counter.
“You’re gonna be so sick tomorrow.”
“Okay, Dad…”
Dad.
My stomach churns. That really is the worst comparison I could possibly draw.
A rush of anxiety rises in me, and he suddenly feels way too close.
I leap to my feet and head over to the other end of the table, desperate to get some distance between us—anything to shatter whatever it is we have going on.
I sneak a sip of Lois’s beer, staring Donovan down as I gulp, daring him to say something.
“I’m down for more dancing, Carrie.”
I smile back at Jeff. Before Donovan showed up, I was having a great time with Lois’s brother—I had almost managed to forget a certain someone.
“Let me get myself ‘hydrated’ first.”
I raise my glass to Donovan. Just a little something to fire me back up.
I can sense Captain H2O seething at the other end of the table, and it turns out I’m not the only one he’s pissed at.
“Jeff, right?”
Lewis glances over in interest, and I hear Lane snicker, before Lois slaps his shoulder. There’s been a vibe shift, and we’re all picking up on it.
“Yeah.” Jeff smiles. “You must be Donovan? My sis said you’re the SHU team captain. Respect, bro.”
They fist-bump. The light has shifted in Donovan’s eyes, and I can’t get a read on him.
“Still in high school?”
Jeff nods. “I’m a senior! Gimme a few months, and I’ll be joining you guys. Well, not exactly,” he corrects. “Since you’ll have graduated. But you get me. The girls’ll still be here, at least.”
He elbows me affectionately. Is it my imagination, or did Donovan’s nostrils just flare? I shake my head. I’m seeing things. I must be. Girl, you need help. ASAP.
“By the way—Lane told me you’ll be needing new Campus Drivers,” Jeff continues. “Let me know when you start hiring! I’m saving up for a ’68 Mustang, and I’m this close.”
Lois leans across the table. “Since when do you give a shit about cars?”
“Since I got the world’s best brother-in-law.” He holds up a hand for Lane to high-five.
Lewis widens his eyes. “Dude—what? It’s way too early…”
Lane shrugs. “We need to start thinking ahead, buddy. This year’s going to fly. But don’t sweat it—we still call the shots. You can even haze the newbies if you want.”
“There’s that new girl, too,” Lois reminds them. “The one with the amazing car. What was it you said?” She pauses. “ ‘Fresh as hell rims’?”
Donovan pipes up. “Pontiac Firebird.”
I don’t know what or who the hell they’re talking about.
Who is this chick? Seeing how his face lit up when he mentioned the car, maybe she’s his type.
I should try to hook them up—I bet they have a bunch of stuff in common.
They could degrease engines together. Bond over changing tires.
Fall in love on the road. Just shut up and drink, Carrie.
“Is this the part where I go ‘sick, man’?” Lois asks.
“Something like that.”
“Sorry, but I just feel like… you see one car, you’ve seen ’em all.”
“You take that back!” Lane wags a finger at her, before planting a kiss on her cheek.
“Please, God, no! No more PDA!” Lewis covers his eyes.
Donovan stares at them for a moment, before shifting his attention back to me, and for a split second, we lock eyes. I turn away. There’s something there. Something in the way he’s looking at me that wasn’t there before. Okay, I’m officially losing it. Kissing him has fried my brain.
I gulp down some more beer.
“A girl on the Campus Drivers team? So cool!” Jeff cuts in.
“No!” Lewis growls. “It’s a guy thing. This would completely blow our rep with the ladies.”
Lois snorts. “How’s life back there in the fifties, Lewis? Absolute disgrace, dude.”
“Hey, that’s my line!” he snaps. “I’m just not ready for all this change, that’s all.”
He pouts, and I’m half expecting him to throw a tantrum—toddler-style.
Once Lane eases us back onto more neutral ground, the rest of the night flows nicely.
My attitude to friends is no different to how I feel about partners—opening up is a big deal to me.
But now as I glance around the table, the alcohol seems to be working its magic.
I’m chatting away, laughing and drinking, slapping Lewis down whenever I get the chance, hotly debating the merits of a niche movie with Lane—one nobody else has ever heard of.
The only person I studiously ignore is Donovan.
When I jump up to head to the restroom, I’m swaying on my feet.
He scrapes back his chair and makes to stand.
I wave him back down, but I can feel his gaze burning between my shoulder blades as I pick my way across the bar—and that’s when I realize I’m completely, hopelessly fucked.
He’s nothing like what I thought he would be—and the worst part is, I actually found myself missing our verbal sparring tonight.
The more I push him away, the closer I feel to him.
Somewhere along the way, he’s eased his way into the cracks, carving out space for himself in my perfect little life.
How did that happen? I never let anyone in. I never have.
Perched on the edge of the toilet seat, I run through all the fucked-up family examples I have right here at my fingertips. How screwed up my mom got, what my dad did…
I head back to the table, with renewed resolve to forget all about those stupid feelings. I try to slip back into the vibe, but the alcohol’s finally hitting.
“I’m checking out!” I announce, rubbing my eyes. “I’m seeing double—and two Lewises is way too much for anyone to handle.”
He pulls a pretend-hurt face. “You’re a meanie, Carrie Wolinski. If you guys ever get married and the pastor does his whole ‘Does anyone know a reason why…’ thing, I’m definitely speaking up.” He shakes his head at Don. “I expected better from you, dude.”
I roll my eyes. “And on that note… Have a good night!”
“I’ll drive her home,” Donovan says, springing out of his seat.
Nuh-uh.
“I don’t think so,” I mutter as I wrestle with my jacket.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Really?”
He snatches the coat off me, holding it up for me to shrug on. I’m feeling so much right now, and it’s only making me drunker.
I really need to get home.
“I’m not wasted, you know.”
He looks me up and down. “That’s some stagger you’ve got going on.”
“I’m not… I’m not fighting with you right now.” The words are thick on my tongue. “But if I did, I’d win.”
I stare at him, and he stares right back.
“I give up,” I sigh. “Take me home!”
Talk about the ultimate act of self-harm.
AS SOON AS I HIT the passenger seat, I fall into a deep sleep. All today’s bullshit has worn me out—and at least this way, I don’t have to engage with Donovan Wolinski.
Somewhere in the distance, I hear a car door slam shut, there’s a strong arm around my waist, and suddenly I’m floating up the stairs, a door is opening, and there’s a bed beneath me.
Footsteps disappearing into the dark. I don’t have the strength to thank Don for bringing me home.
I’ll do it tomorrow. All I want to do right now is sleep, and that’s exactly what happens next.
I jolt awake, desperate for the bathroom.
Everything’s a haze. I peel one eye open and feel my way through the darkness. It’s a small room—I know every corner of it by heart. I’m padding my way across the floor, when my foot collides with something huge slumped on the ground.
“Ouch!” I yell.
What the hell is that?
I feel my way across the mystery lump. A punching bag? I start. Wait a minute. Where exactly am I?
I widen my eyes and spin around, freezing as I catch sight of the bed. It’s dark, but one thing’s for sure—this is definitely not my room. And there’s somebody in the bed. It takes a split second for everything to fall into place.
“Donovan?”
“Come back to bed, baby.” His voice is husky, thick with sleep.
What?
I swallow, scrabbling through last night’s tequila-tinged memories for a flash of inspiration. What am I doing in his room?
He bursts out laughing as he flicks on the light. I rub my eyes.
“Sorry if I scared you.” He grins, propping himself up on his elbows.
He’s not giving a just-woken-up vibe—he’s fucking laughing at me!
“You didn’t,” I pout. “Blackouts only happen in the movies. I remember everything.”
“It was worth a try…”
“I thought we were in my room, though!” I shoot him a hard stare. “Why didn’t you drive me home?”
“You wanted to sleep in my super comfy bed. You practically begged me,” he adds.
“That didn’t happen.” I frown. Did it?
“Come back to bed—I’ll drive you home first thing tomorrow.”
“Or you could do it now.”
“Carrie, it’s two in the morning. I’m exhausted.”
I scoop my hair over my face. It’s better he doesn’t see what I’m feeling right now. All I want is to get the hell out of here. All I want is to stay. All I want is to get the hell out of here. All I want is—
“I’m going to the bathroom.”
“Sure.”
I open the door and freeze.
“Help a girl out? The last thing I want is to wind up in Lewis’s room.”
“End of the hall, gray door with the blackboard—there should be a few jerseys hanging up if you need something to sleep in. They’re clean,” he adds.
I tiptoe down the silent hallway. I already got caught red-handed on the kitchen table earlier—if anyone sees me sneaking out of Donovan’s room in the middle of the night, it’s game over. This is all so out of control.
I shut myself in the bathroom and perch on the edge of the tub. My clothes feel too tight—claustrophobic, almost. I strip and take a quick shower, holding my hair out of the way, turning the water to a trickle, keeping as quiet as I can.
I spot Donovan’s jerseys on the back of the door and briefly consider knotting them together into a rope—anything to help me slip out the bathroom window and vanish into the night. Problem is, I’m on the top floor and there is no window. I sigh and put one of them on. I’m doomed.
I stare at myself in the mirror. My hair is wild and I’ve lost my hair tie. I feel vulnerable without my bun.
Once I’ve killed all the time I can, I dart back into the bedroom, whipping the door shut behind me, pausing before I turn, my hand resting on the handle.
Could I walk home? Is that an option? No, I reason—it’s late, I don’t want to be walking across campus at this time of night.
I glance at the bed. But I’m almost as scared to sleep next to him.
“That was fast,” Donovan calls over. “Did the hallway scare you?”
“The only thing freaking me out is this room.”
I whip around. Could I sleep on the floor, maybe? I lock eyes with him, and he sighs.
“Come on, Carrie. Go back to sleep. Everything’s going to be okay—I swear I won’t hog the comforter.”
I take a deep breath in and stride over to the other side of the bed, settling myself on the mattress, keeping my back to him just long enough to still my heart. I’m being ridiculous, I know, but I can’t help it—every alarm in me is blaring.