Chapter 21 #3
Levi: Pool Party starts in 20 minutes. Bring your bathing suit and booze.
I toss my phone onto the bed and throw on my board shorts and some slides.
In the bottom of my suitcase, I find a couple shooters I didn’t drink from the plane.
I let the bottles roll against the palm of my hand.
Try to focus on the cool of the glass and not on the black hole opening in my stomach.
I untwist the first one and drop it back.
It’s an unfriendly taste, one that pulls a hiss from me.
I push my chin to my chest until the burn subsides and then do it again with the next mini bottle.
And again. The third one goes down without a fight.
I flip my hat backwards and splash some cold water on my face.
Ready. I pick up my phone from the bed. I have about ten messages of “attaboy,” a couple thumbs up, and one message from Kim that exceeds the banner. I open it because I’m an idiot.
Kim: What happened? Did she say she didn’t feel the same way? Something about Tate doesn’t seem to say she’s into pool ragers. Are you sure about this? It might be the nail in the coffin when it comes to Tay-vai...
That nickname is so bad. I think about her words and the finality of what I’m about to do.
A smart man would just tell her he’s scared.
A brave man would probably roll his shoulders back and go into the unknown, no matter the cost. But I’m neither of those.
Just a boy from the sticks and nothing is going to change that.
Levi: I know. You in?
The three little dots appear and then disappear. It’s weird, but I want Kim here. I need someone to soften the blow a bit.
Kim: On my way.
The shots are setting in and my chest feels warm as I walk out the door of my room towards the pool. I make a pit stop at Clay’s door; he usually has beers. Through the half-cracked door, I hear him slam his hand down hard on something and I stop.
“You knew I was coming out here to do this. You said you supported me.” The tone of his voice is unlike anything I have ever heard from the cool and collected Clay. There’s a pause and I wait.
“Okay, but...”
Pause.
“You’re not even...”
Pause.
“Can I please say something without you...”
Pause.
“Call me when you want to have a conversation, not a monologue.”
The sound of frustration invites me in. He looks up from the side of his bed.
The lines of his face are etched in distress, and I get a strong feeling that if I say the wrong thing he would love to have someone to take it out on.
And maybe that would help me too, but let’s start with plan A.
I pull the last shot from my board shorts and extend it between us.
“Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate.”
His eyebrows slam together in confusion. “Is that from Pirates of the Caribbean?”
“I think it is, actually. Drink this,” I tell him before tossing it next to his lap on the bed. “Let’s have some fun.”
He grabs the bottle, a small smile curling his lips. “This new enthusiasm has nothing to do with a certain brunette does it?”
“Rule number one, we don’t bring up the girls. Rule number two, we don’t bring up the girls.”
“Fight club?” He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been in your room too long.”
“That’s the truest thing you have said all day.
Let’s go have fun. This is probably the last nice day of the year.
” It’s the second week of November but apparently California never got the memo because it’s seventy degrees and sunny.
The perfect temperature to get absolutely blitzed.
I can see Clay’s wheels turning but eventually he tosses back the shot with a little head wag.
“That is awful,” he says.
“I know. It’s the best, isn’t it? You got any beers here?” I watch as he stands and nods. He crouches down and pulls a twenty-four pack of Corona from under his bed.
“You keep beer under your bed?” I say with a laugh.
“Well, I used to put them in the fridge, but they would be gone in a day. Sticky fingers.”
I nod and make my way out towards the kitchen and onto the back patio, Clay in tow. After helping him load the outdoor fridge, I pull my phone from my pocket and scroll through my playlist.
The outdoor speakers crackle to life before the all-too-familiar sound of Snoop Dogg’s “Drop It Like It’s Hot” fills the space. Clay’s braids sway as he does a few nods of appreciation.
“Yeah, my man. This is one of your better ideas yet.”
“Right!” I say, tipping the neck of my beer bottle in his direction.
He taps his with mine before we both take a long swig.
It’s warm, but I don’t care. People start to arrive in groups through the side gate.
The beers do finally get cold-ish, and there are more people in the pool than there is water.
All is well when Kim rolls up about half an hour in.
“Kim, we’re over here,” I shout with my arm lazily raised above my head.
“Who’s Kim?” Clay asks in what I’m sure was supposed to be a whisper.
I open my mouth to answer, but her voice fills the space. “I am, and you must be Clay.”
“Yes. How did you know that?” he asks, one eye squinting and a hand up shielding the other from the sun.
“I have my ways,” she says, and something about it rings familiar. The song ends before non-other than “Cowboy Take Me Away” starts to play.
“Arg, who changed the song?” I put my head in my palm, knocking my hat onto the floor, but I don’t care.
“Levi, you good?”
“Fine. Why?”
“Um, I don’t know, you just growled out loud.” Kim laughs but her eyes are still studying me. I feel hot under them. Like my skin doesn’t fit. Oh no...it’s happening. My chest feels tight. Must distract myself.
“Let’s get drunk and make out,” I say to her.
Then I stand, grab another bottle from the table, rip the cap off and walk away, hoping she follows.
I take a swig and count my breaths. One, two, three.
I kick a chair and several heads turn. I raise my hand as if to say, We’re all good! But it’s the most unbelievable thing.
“Levi.” Someone is calling my name, but the corners of my eyes have gone blurry.
Once I get to the side of the house, I slide down the exterior wall.
The stucco scrapes against my skin, the pain reminding me I’m still alive.
When I reach the floor, I pull my legs in and drop my head like I have done so many times before.
Body, why do you fail me? I visualize the ocean.
Pushing and pulling water against wet sand.
It’s warm, but not too hot. Sunset will be here soon. The water is going in and out.
“Levi...” I look up at the big blue sky. Seagulls drifting in the wind and...Tate? How did she get in here? She’s looking down at me, appraising me.
“Look, Tate,” I start to say, but that’s as far as I get before I notice.
..she’s in a swimsuit! My breath is no longer seesawing from my lungs, which might be a good sign if I wasn’t convinced that my heart just stopped all together.
It’s a black two-piece swimsuit that just seems to pop right off of her skin’s milky complexion.
It’s an athletic cut, and not meant to be sexy, but the amount of exposed skin has my hands twitching to touch her.
To run my hands over her curves. My eyes hang at her waist. At the jut of her hip, a cliff I would gladly die on just to take in the view on the way down.
This is both the best and worst visualization post-panic attack I’ve ever experienced, but I’m not rushing to shut it down.
“Levi,” she says again, but this time she starts rubbing circles over my back. Big at first before losing size with every lap.
“Ah.” I wince when she rolls over a tender spot. Am I sunburnt already?
“Levi, your whole back is cut up. We have to clean you up. Can you walk?” she asks, coming to a stand, and all of a sudden, the beach is gone. The seagulls and the sand too.