Chapter 26 #2
“You’re allowed to talk about your problems,” I say, as if I haven’t made the exact same argument. But when she says it, it feels different. Wrong. “Maybe not to someone with bigger problems, but that’s not me. My biggest problem is that I’ve been transformed into a meme.”
She bites her lip, fighting a smile. “Yeah, Logan told me about that. I’d already seen the video, of course.”
I laugh. “Of course.”
“So what’s the deal? You’re struggling with being suddenly notorious?”
A server sets a tray on the side of the bar, and a bartender fills it with mixed drinks and shots.
“It’s a long story. That’s part of it, but I had already been feeling overwhelmed about work.
Everything changed there recently, and now my roommate is leaving, and things are going to keep changing when I get back because of the video, and it’s all stressful. ”
“And what about the guy?”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” I deadpan. “As the official ambassador for single people everywhere, there is no guy.”
Breanne snorts. “It’s funny. You said Logan and Nate have stuff to figure out, but Logan left you guys in California because the two of you had stuff to figure out.”
I take a long sip of my own whiskey-and-diet and wonder how long he’s known. Was it just in Tahoe, or before that? Does Bailey know too?
“So did you figure it out?” she presses.
“It’s not…” I sputter. “It doesn’t matter. We’re enjoying a fun couple weeks together, because after this, I’m going back to L.A. and he’s moving to New Jersey.” I narrow my eyes. “You ask a lot of questions, you know. What about you and Logan? What’s going on there?”
“I’d much rather talk about someone other than myself,” she says. “But nothing’s going on. We realized very quickly after the show that we’re great as friends, but not as more than that.”
“Does it bother you that people speculate so much? I came across some weird stuff about you two on the Internet when we were trying to find you yesterday.”
She laughs. “Oh, you found weird stuff on the Internet when you were trying to stalk me? How shocking.” She exhales deeply. “Yeah, sometimes it bothers me. I used to try not to post anything that would rile people up, but it didn’t work, so now I do what I want. But it still gets to me.”
“Sounds overwhelming.”
She appraises me. “You use that word a lot, you know. Overwhelmed, overwhelming.”
I sip my drink. “Yeah?”
“This might be overstepping, so feel free to tell me to fuck off,” she says.
“But did you know that if you ask most people to name all the emotions they’ve ever felt, they only list, like, two or three?
My therapist used to encourage me to really think about what emotions I was actually feeling, because I always said I was mad.
I was mad about everything. But when I dug deeper, a lot of what I thought was anger was actually sadness.
I wasn’t just pissed when I felt like my privacy was being invaded, I was also mourning the life I gave up.
Learning how to identify what I was really feeling and why was so powerful for me. ”
“You think ‘overwhelmed’ is the wrong word?” If she only knew that the other word I use to describe my feelings is red.
“Not the wrong word,” she says. “But maybe not specific enough. It kind of seems like you’re overwhelmed by a feeling you don’t want to name.”
“I try not to dwell on anything negative. Lately I’ve been feeling like that’s not working.”
“No wonder you exploded on camera.”
I swallow. “I guess I’m afraid of what will happen if I think about it too much. I don’t have a lot of options, so if what I really need is a change…and I can’t make that change…then what? I’m stuck feeling shitty.”
“?‘Afraid’ is an emotion. Congratulations.” She high-fives me. “And you can always make a change.”
This is the perfect opening to segue into a conversation about All & Every, but I can’t make the words come out. I am so tired of hustling. Is tired an emotion? But I’m so close. I need to push through.
Before I can psych myself up, my phone hums on the bar top. Can you and Breanne come outside now?
I show her the screen. “We’ve been summoned.”
She slides off her stool and drains her drink. “Let’s go see how they’re doing.”
It’s close to midnight, and there are lots of people on the street, wandering from bar to bar. Still, I spot Nate and Logan right away. Nate’s hands are in his pockets, but his shoulders are relaxed, and Logan is laughing, his teeth bright under his dark mustache. My heart perks up.
“Quinnie,” Logan says when he spots me, wrapping me in a hug and lifting me off my feet. “Are you taking good care of Nate for me?”
“You lost your right to ask nosy questions when you ditched us in Tahoe.” I fail to sound convincingly grumpy. He shakes me back and forth, and I give up and laugh.
Behind me, Breanne is introducing herself to Nate. “You guys good?” she asks, but I don’t hear his answer.
I wiggle free of Logan. “Yeah,” I say. “Are you guys good?”
“We are,” Logan says. “And Nate’s going to be excellent when my parents sell to him.”
Nate smiles at me. He doesn’t look as confident as Logan sounds, but he looks…at peace. “Why don’t you want to do it?” I ask Logan.
He and Breanne exchange a look. “I’ve had a tough year,” he says. “I want people to take me seriously, but I haven’t been doing anything to deserve it. So I thought a lot about what I want to do and decided I need a way forward.”
“That’s why he said this trip was his last hurrah,” Nate adds. “He’s got plans.”
Logan beams and throws his arms open. “I’m going to Harvard Law School!”
My brain scrabbles for a way to make sense of what he’s just said. “Like, to visit? For a…party?”
He groans. “See? My point exactly. Give me a little credit, I graduated college summa cum laude.”
Now that I think about it, I remember flipping through Bailey’s yearbook at her parents’ house once and spotting him in the National Honor Society photo. He was our valedictorian, she told me. It’s just hard to picture given, you know, everything else about him. “Holy shit,” I say.
He bursts into laughter. “I applied last year and got in, but I deferred once I got cast on Beach House: Ski Trip. I’m going to hang with my parents through the holidays, then move up to Cambridge early and intern at a nonprofit until school starts.
Once I’m a lawyer, people will have to see me differently. ”
Logan is trying to look casual about all this, but his thumbs are twisted in his belt loops and he’s rocking on his heels, watching for my reaction. “I’m proud of you,” I say. “You deserve good things. And I fully expect you to win a murder trial within the year, just like Elle Woods did.”
He asks us to go back inside to dance—“I’m prepared to beg,” he warns, but he doesn’t need to. It’s the right way to end this adventure. Plus, what’s another three layers of glitter when you’re already covered?
“You okay?” I whisper to Nate on our way in.
“Yeah,” he says. “I really am. I understand where he’s coming from, I’m glad we talked it out, and I feel like maybe I can do this on my own.”
I squeeze his hand, and we spend the next two hours spinning and sweating and shouting the words to every dance hit of the last three decades.
When the lights come on, Breanne and I pop into the bathroom while the guys take on the task of figuring out how we’re all getting back to our respective beds.
“I split my time between Nashville and L.A., you know,” she says as she washes her hands, her voice hoarse from singing. “We should get dinner sometime.”
“I’d love that.” I have to restrain myself from wrapping her in a bear hug. Breanne is a thoughtful, genuine person. I’d be lucky to call her a friend.
If she likes me too, maybe she’ll be willing to help me with All & Every. The fact that my mind even went there makes my stomach ache with shame. But there’s no guarantee I’ll have another opportunity to bring it up. “Hey, quick question?”
“What’s up?” She pats the sweat off her forehead with a paper towel.
A lump swells in my throat. We connected tonight, but if I ask her for a favor right now, she’ll wonder if that connection was real or calculated. She’ll trust me less, and she might be hurt. And I’ll be someone who knew she would feel that way and asked anyway.
I keep thinking of myself as a decent person forced to do things I don’t like because of my circumstances. But the things I do matter more than whatever idea I have in my head about who I am.
I clear my throat. “Do you like Korean food? There’s this new restaurant I’m obsessed with. We can go there the next time you’re in town. No glitter whatsoever.”
She beams, and for once I’m sure I did the right thing.